Free One Night Stand by Julie Cohen Page B

rubbish writer who’d never be good for anything except churning out second-rate smut.
     
    When I’d come back home there was nothing in the kitchen except for two used teabags and a lingering whiff of tobacco. I’d been muttering to myself and fuming ever since, too angry to eat, and my temper and my appetite weren’t improved by seeing my sister cosily curled up with Hugh in the corner of the Mouse and Duck when I came in for my shift.
     
    ‘Oh, Hugh came by and said he’d been to the bank,’ June said, ‘so I figured, why eat when you can drink? Better do me a Jack Daniel’s on ice while you’re at it, and do you want anything? Hugh’s paying.’ She showed me the twenty again.
     
    ‘June, do you ever keep any of your promises?’
     
    My heart was beating like the bass on the pub’s ancient jukebox; my body felt as if it were on the edge of a precipice, about to fling myself out of the rules of my own life.
     
    Eleanor is not like June. And Eleanor does not fight or argue. She stays detached and sensible , I thought .
     
    I put both my hands on the bar and braced myself. I’d heard enough arguments over the years, through the walls and floorboards of our house in Upper Pepperton, and sworn never to act that way myself. That I would never get so angry I lost control, lost myself, dissolved into powerless tears and accusations as my mother always did whenever she was confronted with my sister’s defiance of the way that the rest of the world behaved.
     
    My face felt stiff and red and my stomach rolled. June blinked at me. At first I thought it was in surprise, and then she blinked again and I realised she was actually fluttering her eyelashes at me.
     
    ‘Honey, I’m sorry. I’ll do it tomorrow night, yeah? It’s just that Hugh was so charming and he insisted I come out with him.’ She wiggled the twenty again. ‘You sure you won’t have a drink?’
     
    ‘No thanks.’ I poured her drinks and slapped them down on the bar.
     
    June immediately downed the Jack and held the glass back out. ‘Might as well fill that up, save me the trouble of walking to the bar again.’
     
    When I didn’t move right away she rolled her eyes. ‘Ellie, don’t get angry; it’s such a bore. I’m a lousy cook. If you knew what you’re not missing in my noodle surprise you’d thank me.’
     
    ‘It’s not the cooking,’ I said, and tumbled into it. ‘It’s the way you leave my house a mess, and smoke in it, and never help out with anything, or even tell me why you’re here or how long you’re staying, and then you promise to do something and take off the minute a man crooks his little finger. Can’t you ever grow up?’
     
    My voice, loud and shrill in the pub, suddenly didn’t sound like my own. It sounded like an echo of my mother’s, through all those floorboards and walls and years.
     
    I stopped.
     
    So it wasn’t enough that I’d discovered through my fiction that my secret fantasy was to be more like June. I had to find out that really, I was much more like my mother.
     
    June smiled. It made me clench my fists.
     
    ‘Eleanor, chill out and have a sense of humour, won’t you?’
     
    ‘I have a sense of humour,’ I shrilled.
     
    My sister put her hand on mine. Her fingers were covered with silver rings and she had perfect nails. ‘I know you do, honey. That’s why I wanted to come and stay with you.’ She squeezed my hand. ‘And you’re right, I haven’t been helping, and I haven’t talked to you about why I came to visit you. I’ll be better, I promise.’
     
    She said it with her eyes steady on mine, and my anger, though it didn’t disappear, wavered. She looked so sincere.
     
    ‘You won’t. You never have.’ I hated how petulant I sounded.
     
    ‘I will. Listen, tomorrow we’ll have a proper girly chat and I’ll tell you everything. Okay?’
     
    I nodded and tried to salvage what was left of my sense of humour by smiling at her. She beamed back and held out