Blood Loss

go to the loo?’ I ask her, as I sit down. I’ll stay for a quick chat.
‘I put the closed sign on the door but my boss doesn’t like me doing that too often. Thanks for coming.’
‘I’m lucky I don’t get migraines, but I’ve seen Lucy and Dad with them so I know how awful they can be.’
‘Is it getting any easier, being without your dad? Not that it’s ever going to be easy.’
‘Mum still isn’t great. In fact, she’s getting worse. She’s even fainted a couple of times recently because she isn’t eating properly. It’s a shock to see her like this because she’s always been so strong and capable.’
‘Maybe she should see a doctor.’
‘She’d probably refuse.’
We sit quietly for a moment then Nisha says, ‘Did you look at those brochures I gave you?’
‘They look wonderful. Amazing.’ I try to inject enthusiasm into my voice.
‘Not having second thoughts, are you? Your mum wouldn’t want to hold you back from your dream, and it isn’t as if she’ll be alone because Lucy’s nearby.’
‘True. Lucy will love having Mum to herself. She’ll be the caring daughter who stayed while I gallivant around the world. Not that she’ll do much to help.’
Lucy thinks I’m selfish and lazy. She says I should do the cleaning, but I’ve got two jobs and Lucy never did it when she lived at home. I suppose when I go travelling she’ll boss poor Grace around instead. In fact, she’ll probably ask Grace to increase her hours so there’s no risk of having to pitch in herself. Luckily Mum can afford it, especially now she’s paid the agency a finders’ fee so Grace works for her directly.
‘So, you don’t need to postpone travelling, do you? Not for longer than it takes to save up the money you need, and by then your mum should be a lot better.’
Nisha dumps a box on the desk and rips off the tape. Inside is a pile of brochures. I lean across to look at the covers but they’re for Disneyland so I sit back again.
‘How are the party arrangements coming along?’ Nisha asks.
I roll my eyes as I think of Lucy’s grand plans, but find I have to swallow as my eyes fill with tears. ‘I’m not opposed to it because it’s Lucy’s idea,’ I say, though perhaps that’s how it started. ‘I really don’t think Mum’s ready for that sort of socialising, especially not after this second fainting episode. She isn’t ready for anything.’
I blink the tears away but Nisha’s already seen them and squeezes my hand. I may not be fading away physically, but losing Dad has hit me hard too and seeing Mum become so frail is even more upsetting. I want her back as she was. I catch sight of the shop clock and groan. ‘I have to go. I’m meeting Lucy to check through the arrangements.’
I hurry outside and run as fast as my restricting long skirt and flip-flops allow. The heat from the sun bounces off the pavement and I’m far too hot. I see Lucy in the café window where we’re meeting, tapping her fingers on the table and checking her watch as I approach. My top is sticking to my damp skin when I rush through the door, and beads of sweat prickle on my upper lip.
‘You’re late.’ Lucy glares at me as I flop down onto the chair opposite her. ‘Been to the bloody travel agents again?’
I open my mouth to explain that I was merely running an errand for Nisha and don’t have anywhere near enough savings to go travelling yet, then close it again. What’s the point? She’ll still be arsy with me. I’ve tried to be friends with Lucy over the years, invited her to come shopping or see a film together, but she always says she’s busy. Anyone would have expected us to grow closer in our time of shared grief, but, if anything, we’ve moved even further apart. I want to talk about Dad and share a tear or two, but Lucy keeps everything inside. Her need for control is out of all reasonable proportion to the whole situation. She’s gone completely overboard with these party arrangements.
‘I’ve bought invites to post,’ she says.
Who sends out party invites nowadays? ‘Can’t we just put it out on Facebook and phone the oldies who don’t use social media?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. I want this done properly. Show Mum how much we care, and we have to make sure no one is missed out. You need to go through Mum’s address book to check who to put on the list and phone Liz at the University. She’ll know who to invite from there.’
I don’t realise I’m rolling my eyes until Lucy slaps her hand on the table, making me jump. Jesus, I wouldn’t want her as my boss. I bet the teams she turns around in her role as management consultant are scared witless.
‘I hate it when you do that, Jenna. It’s so disrespectful.’
‘Okay, okay. I’m sorry.’
Fucking lists, though! I’ve had twenty-four years of being subjected to Lucy’s lists. According to Mum, Lucy even made lists when I was born. She was only six but wrote down everything I needed and when I should eat or sleep. Mum and Dad humoured her – no, encouraged her, delighted she was taking an interest in her new sibling, and I’m still paying the price. I thought my life would improve once she left home and moved in with her fiancé, but she’s still trying to control me. The sooner I can set off travelling the better.
‘I’ve prepared a list for the caterers. As you’ll see I’ve added egg and cheese sandwiches for you and any other vegetarians.’
‘I’ve told you, Lucy, I’m a vegan. I don’t eat dairy produce because… You know how I feel about all animals. There might be others with dietary needs too. In fact, you should put it on the invites – please let us know if you have any special