Sometimes I Lie(26)

Claire had booked it as a girly treat for the three of us, but by the time we went she was quite pregnant with the twins. Her body had changed so much from my own, she was enormous and exhausted and spent most of the weekend in her room, which meant Mum and I had to muddle on without her. On the last day of the trip, when the rain had finally stopped and the sun we never saw had set, Mum and I went down to the restaurant for dinner.

We were seated at a small table, overlooking the vast Lake Windermere. I remember looking out to see the first stars appearing in the night sky above the rippled water and thinking how beautiful it was. I told Mum to take a look, the light was just perfect. She turned to glance briefly over her shoulder, then returned her attention to the wine list without a word. Claire had become the glue that held us together over the years, without her, we had no choice but to fall apart. Mum said she didn’t care what we drank so long as it was alcoholic and passed the menu to me. I ordered the first bottle of red my eyes found on the list, I felt like I needed a drink myself.

We were halfway through the bottle before our starters arrived. Mum drank quickly and I matched her pace, there didn’t seem to be much else to do. Our conversation had all but dried up the night we arrived, so by now the well of words was empty. The wine changed that.

‘How are you feeling, about Claire I mean? And the babies. Are you all right?’ Mum’s words stumbled and landed awkwardly. If she was trying to show that she cared, it still felt like a punch in the stomach. She wanted grandchildren. It wasn’t a secret. I was a disappointment. Again.

When Paul and I first got together, Claire and David were already having IVF. It’s really quite staggering what those three letters can do to a marriage. What they can do to a person is even worse. It changed Claire, not being able to have something she so badly wanted.

Paul was desperate for children too, everyone knew that, but I wouldn’t come off the Pill until Claire had her family. I couldn’t do that to her. My sister is younger than me but has always been one step ahead: first to get a boyfriend, first to get married, first to get pregnant, always winning an unspoken race. It’s just who we are, who we’ve always been.

The third round of IVF worked for them. Claire was pregnant and I came off the Pill, thinking it was safe for us to try without upsetting anyone. It never occurred to me that we’d have problems conceiving too. We’ve had tests, lots of tests, but they can’t find anything wrong with either of us. One of the doctors thought it might be genetic, but I know it isn’t that. Something inside me is broken, I’m quite sure of it – my punishment for something that happened a long time ago.

We carried on trying, month after month. Sex became a scheduled chore. Paul wanted the baby he’d waited for, the child I had promised, but it was clear he no longer wanted me. We weren’t making love any more. We weren’t making anything. I lost interest in it and Paul lost interest in me. He stuck to the script, said that so long as we had each other, that was all we needed. But we didn’t have each other any more, that was the problem. He thought I should have come off the Pill sooner, that we’d left it too late. He’s never said it, but I know he blames me. He wanted a family more than any man I’ve ever met and I’ve had a ringside seat to watch his grief turn into something dark and resentment shaped.

My mother never knew any of this. She thought I was putting off having a family because I was too focused on my career. I remember her staring at me that night, waiting for an answer I didn’t know how to give, busy filling in the blanks in the meantime.

‘I’m fine, I’m happy for her,’ I said eventually. For such carefully chosen words, they sounded all wrong. Empty and false. I suppose it was because I’d been caught off guard. When it comes to difficult conversations, I like to be prepared. I like to play them out in my head beforehand, consider all the possible lines that might be spoken and rehearse the answers I will give, until they are polished and learned by heart. Practice doesn’t make me perfect, but people are more likely to believe me when I have.

We talked about Claire for a while. Mum went on about how well she was coping and what a wonderful mother she was going to be. Every compliment for Claire was also intended as an insult to me, but I didn’t disagree, I knew Claire was made for motherhood, she’s always been insanely protective of those she loves. With each sip of wine, the conversation that poured out of Mum’s mouth seemed a little more dangerous. There is always a moment before an accident when you know you are going to get hurt but there is nothing you can do to protect yourself. You can raise your arms in front of your face, you can close your eyes, you can scream, but you know it won’t change what’s coming. I knew what was coming that night but at no point did I even attempt to hit the brakes. If anything, I pushed down on the accelerator.

‘Do you ever wonder why I don’t have children?’ I asked. The words were out there. They had been born into the world because my sister wasn’t there to hear them.

‘Not everyone is cut out to be a mother,’ she replied, too quickly.

Mum took another sip of wine and I took a deep breath, but she spoke before I could put my own words in the right order.

‘The thing is, to be a good mother, you have to put your children first. You’ve always been very selfish, Amber, even as a child. I’m not sure motherhood would have suited you, so maybe it’s true what they say.’