All We Left Unsaid Page 2

  Ivy grins. ‘Deal. Oh, it’s going to be so good. We had the most epic parties at uni.’

  I smile and nod as if I know, but I don’t. Ivy went off to Sheffield to study hospitality, while I stayed here. I’d got a place at South Bank University and it felt wrong to leave Dad behind. While my evenings over those years were pretty much spent studying at the kitchen table, I know from Ivy’s stories that hers were mostly spent necking jelly shots and turning up to lectures barely functioning with the world’s worst hangover.

  ‘I’ll send out texts straight away. Any hot guys you want to invite?’

  ‘Yeah, sure. They’re lining up around the block,’ I reply as we head into the kitchen.

  It’s clean enough, but the perfectionist in me knows that I won’t be able to cook anything in here without giving it a thorough clean myself first.

  ‘I don’t want to get tied down too early.’ I hand a sponge and spray bottle of disinfectant over to Ivy and she takes it from me with a look of amusement on her face.

  ‘Nice. Life’s too short to get caught up in a relationship.’

  ‘I mean because I’m focusing on my career right now,’ I say and squirt a burst of lemon-scented cleaner onto the tiles behind the sink.

  ‘You’ve got plenty of time for that,’ Ivy replies. ‘We’re fresh out of uni and we’ll never be this young again. This is the time for F.U.N.’

  I laugh, scrubbing the tiles. ‘I always get a bad feeling when you say that word.’

  ‘It’s true. It’ll be like This Life without all the lawyering, or Friends without all the canned laughter, or Sex and the City without New York.’

  ‘You’d be Samantha, obviously.’

  ‘But only if you’ll be my Charlotte.’

  I turn to face her, leaning my forearm against the edge of the sink. ‘It will be fun, won’t it?’

  ‘Are you kidding? Two sisters, sharing a flat in London? It’s the stuff romcoms are made of.’ She grins and closes the fridge door.

  I want to tell her that there’s no possible way she could’ve cleaned the fridge properly in such a short space of time. But I don’t. How can I, when she’s standing there with that eager grin on her face? She’s like an excitable puppy. I just can’t help but love her.

  ‘I make an amazing wing-woman too, you know,’ she says. ‘Just in case you feel like getting a bit flirty.’

  I jut my chin out playfully. ‘You know what? I may well do that.’

  ‘I like it.’ She laughs. ‘There’s hope for you yet.’

  I throw my sponge at her and she ducks, laughing as it narrowly misses her.

  ‘It’s not like I plan to have a revolving door on my bedroom or anything. There’s only enough room in the flat for one of those.’

  She playfully sticks her tongue out at me and I laugh back. This feels nice. As Ivy reels off ideas for which cocktails to make and who to invite, I have to admit that I feel a thrill of excitement about the idea of a party now. She has so much enthusiasm, it’s contagious. We’ve always been close, it was impossible not to be, being so near to each other in age. But moving in together feels like an opportunity to go from being sisters to true, best friends. And, if I’m honest, the idea of shedding the mumsy role I’ve always been in doesn’t seem half-bad right now.

  Ivy bends down, grabs the sponge and throws it back over to me. I easily catch it with a grin and get back to scrubbing the tiles. She’s right, I think. This is going to be pretty fun.

  Chapter Two

  IVY

  July, nine years ago

  What was it about the sun that made everything feel so good? Ivy rolled onto her stomach on the lilo and adjusted the towel draped over the plastic material. The coconut oil she’d slathered over her skin sent tropical scented wafts under her nose and she took a sip from her home-made caipirinha as the sun tickled her back. London was positively heatwaving and even though the news blamed climate change, Ivy could only find the positives in it. She loved her city when it was like this.

  Ivy sighed with pleasure and propped herself up onto her elbows to look at Jess. ‘Isn’t this just the best?’

  Jess laughed from her deckchair. ‘A minute ago you were in absolute hell.’

  ‘That was this morning,’ Ivy reasoned. ‘And I really was.’

  She’d woken with a raging hangover – the worst she’d had in ages. She’d had to bolt for the bathroom straight after getting out of bed and had skipped breakfast altogether. If it weren’t for Jess, she’d have crawled back under the covers and stayed there, but her sister had lured her up to the flat roof of their building. Jess was like a modern-day Mary Seacole, tending to her with buttered toast and a cup of strong coffee, along with a dose of fresh air. It made being hung-over so much more bearable having her big sister there with her calm, mothering presence. Ivy had lost count of the times she’d been rescued over the last five years of living together. She really did have the best sister in the world. Two hours after waking and feeling absolutely rotten, they were now under the blue sky, coffee had been replaced with cocktails, and Ivy’s hangover was all but forgotten.

  ‘So, what exactly did you do to end up in such a state?’ Jess asked, flicking through the magazine in her lap.

  ‘Well . . .’ Ivy said slowly. Where should she start? ‘I had some dates.’

  Jess dropped her sunglasses down onto the bridge of her nose and stared at her with wide eyes. ‘Some dates? Plural?’

  ‘Three.’

  ‘Three dates in one day?’

  Ivy laughed. ‘I can’t help it if the world is full of hot men right now. It’s not like I had an orgy or anything.’ The laugh fell away as the words echoed in her head and the unfamiliar sensation of self-consciousness crept across her cheeks. ‘You think it’s too much?’

  Jess smiled reassuringly. ‘Not at all. If anything, I’m impressed you can coordinate more than one guy to date at a time when you can barely coordinate your work shifts.’

  Ivy threw the wooden stick from her long-eaten Magnum at her sister.

  ‘I’m joking.’ Jess laughed and closed her magazine. ‘Tell the truth, I’m a little jealous. I barely rack up three dates a month. Which is fine because I don’t have time anyway.’

  ‘All work and no play makes Jess a lonely girl.’

  ‘I’m not lonely. I’m putting my career first. I want to be set up by the time I’m thirty. Three more years of hard grind before I can focus on dating and settling down. There’s no point until then.’

  Ivy had to smile. It was kind of cute, Jess’s idea of the future. Build the career, then meet The One. That dream man who would tick her extensive list of boxes: just the right mix of sensitive and masculine with his hedonistic, wild oat-sowing days behind him, attractive, with an established career and faithful. In Ivy’s opinion, it was like searching for a unicorn, and she was certain they were only myths. But, she supposed, if anyone could find this perfect man, it’d be Jess. She was gorgeous. Stunning, really. She had killer legs and boobs that were small enough to get away with not wearing a bra – something Ivy had always envied. Not to mention the fact that she was incredibly smart, had a tidiness obsession that meant the flat was always clean and had a good income to boot. And she knew how to look after you when you were sick, or hung-over, which was basically the same thing.

  ‘So, go on,’ Jess said, taking her sunglasses off and shifting round to face her. ‘Tell me.’

  Ivy hesitated about sharing her escapades yesterday. On the other hand, she was dying to tell someone because it was one of those days that just kept unfolding.

  ‘So, remember that Greek guy I told you about from my barista art course? The one who can make those awesome swans and hearts with cappuccino foam?’ she asked, and Jess nodded. ‘We went for a drink afterwards—’

  ‘But wasn’t that the day before yesterday?’

  Ivy nodded. It was. They’d gone for a drink to celebrate the last day of the course. Ivy had been adamant she didn’t fancy him, despite the way
he always seemed to catch her eye. He was too cocky, wore Reebok classics and wasn’t tall enough. The list went on. But somewhere between getting their certificates and taking her first sip of wine, she realised she did fancy him. A lot. His banter was good, he was cheeky and flirty, and he’d offered her his hoodie when the evening chill set in.

  ‘We went for a drink and then had a nightcap,’ Ivy said with a little smile. ‘At his place.’

  ‘Of course. What other kind of nightcap is there?’ Jess shook her head but smiled back. ‘So, what then?’

  ‘It was good.’ Ivy grinned. ‘Really, really good. What he can do with his—’

  ‘La, la, la, la, la!’ Jess stuck her fingers in her ears and Ivy laughed.

  ‘Alright, alright, I’ll stop,’ she said as Jess removed her fingers. ‘Jeez, you’re such a prude.’

  ‘I’m not. I just don’t know why you need to go into detail. We both know what they look like and where they go.’

  Ivy rolled her eyes. ‘Anyway, I’d totally forgotten about the date I’d arranged with Filip, the Portuguese guy I met at that party last week. So when I woke up, I had to race back home from East London, shower, cram in breakfast and then go to up Camden to meet him.’

  ‘This is the doctor, right?’

  ‘Right.’ Ivy nodded. ‘And he’s so cute. Like, really cute. His smile is perfect, his biceps are perfect, even his teeth are perfect.’

  ‘So why do I sense a but coming up?’

  Ivy turned to sit up and the lilo squeaked beneath her as she crossed her legs. ‘There was no spark. None.’

  ‘Out of ten?’

  ‘One?’

  Jess pulled a face.

  ‘I know,’ Ivy groaned. ‘And it was so frustrating because I mean, the man is gorgeous. I could see the way other women were looking at him and . . .’ She shrugged and let her hands fall into her lap. ‘There was just nothing there for me.’

  ‘Maybe you could send him my way in a few years.’ Jess smiled. ‘He sounds nice. And a doctor.’

  ‘He smokes,’ Ivy replied, reaching for her pouch of tobacco.

  ‘In that case . . .’ Jess grimaced and waved a hand dismissively.

  ‘So anyway, we had a nice afternoon walking around London Zoo, taking the piss out of the monkeys and shrieking at the spiders. It was nice in a refreshingly platonic kind of way.’ Ivy smiled. ‘But, in the end, it wasn’t for me. He’s too clean-cut.’

  ‘Okay, but none of this explains why you woke up looking like something from 28 Days Later,’ Jess pointed out.

  Ivy sprinkled tobacco into her cigarette paper, crisping the dry strands between her fingers. ‘That’s Micha’s fault.’

  ‘Who’s Micha?’

  ‘The Croatian guy in the block next door.’

  ‘Oh my God,’ Jess said, shaking her head again. ‘This is like some crazy, international edition of Take Me Out. The Greek, the Portuguese and the Croatian.’

  Ivy laughed, licking her paper and rolling it shut. ‘It was fun, though. We just hung out, drinking some crazy Croatian home-made liquor until I don’t even know what time. Not a single drop of bodily fluids was exchanged, apart from sharing a shot glass.’

  The last twenty-four hours were actually much less hedonistic than they first sounded. She hadn’t slept with, or even kissed, more than one of them. If she were in New York, it would’ve been a totally typical Saturday for a single woman. Last night, before she’d gotten too drunk, she’d stood on Micha’s balcony with the balmy evening heat on her skin. The scent of doner kebab had wafted in the air from the shop on the corner, and in the distance the twinkly lights of London’s cityscape had shone against the night sky. It had been one of those days where one thing had just flowed into the next and she’d savoured every moment. Even if she had paid for it this morning.

  Ivy lit her cigarette and blew a puff of smoke through her mouth. ‘So that’s how I ended up like I did. Thanks for saving me.’

  ‘I’m pretty sure it’s in my job description.’

  ‘I know. But you do it really well and I appreciate it.’

  She really did. She’d had so much fun at university, but Ivy had missed her sister, even if she wouldn’t have much approved of the study/party ratio. Jess had a way of making everything feel homely. She was a natural caretaker and would make a great mum one day. Ivy, on the other hand, was made to help people forget about whatever was going on, usually with a glass of something chilled and alcoholic, and bring in the good times. They couldn’t be any more different. Jess was firmly in the world of early commuting, nine-to-fives and weekends spent recovering from the week. Ivy couldn’t imagine anything worse, but it was exactly that mothering, responsible side of Jess that had brought Ivy back from near death that morning and had inflated the lilos to make the most of the sunshine.

  Jess heaved a sigh that sounded like it had made its way up through the ground and all the levels of their building before finally coming out of her mouth. Ivy stubbed her half-smoked roll-up out on the gritty surface of the roof. Jess needed to let off some steam. Ivy got that she was focused on her career, but she had been ever since they’d moved in together. The last five years had been all work and minimal, sporadic play for Jess. Ivy knew where her strengths lay. She couldn’t always be relied on to make sure the loo roll was never empty, but she sure as hell could be the one who provided a healthy amount of life to balance all the work.

  ‘Alright,’ she said, blowing the last plume of smoke from her mouth. ‘Next weekend, we’re having a house party. We’re both going to get dressed up, paint the town red and have fun.’

  ‘Only you could plan a party when hung-over.’ Jess laughed before shaking her head. ‘And in case you’ve forgotten, there’s a house-party ban after the one we had when we moved in.’

  Ivy grimaced. It had been wild and fun, but Jess had fumed about the state of the flat and they hadn’t had one since.

  ‘Oh, come on. That was years ago,’ Ivy said, rolling her eyes. ‘We’re adults now.’

  ‘No. Next week is going to be all kinds of madness at work, and—’

  ‘—and that’s exactly why you need a night out,’ Ivy interrupted.

  ‘What I need is a holiday. With a beach and sand. We could probably find a cheap one before the summer’s done. Portugal, maybe? Or Tenerife?’

  ‘Sounds great,’ Ivy agreed. ‘We can absolutely go on holiday, but we can totally still party next week. You told me to remind you when you needed to have fun, remember?’

  ‘I remember,’ Jess conceded, raising her eyebrow. ‘I just don’t remember why I’d ever have said such a silly thing.’

  ‘Because you know that without me, you’d be chained to your work desk and letting your life pass you by. I know you’re all about your career right now, but these are our twenties! We’re supposed to be having fun and doing all kinds of silly stuff.’ Ivy grinned. ‘Plus, one of my old uni mates is moving back to London and this’ll be a great way to integrate him.’

  ‘Ah.’ Jess nodded. ‘So it’s about a guy. I should’ve guessed.’

  Ivy grinned and put her empty glass down. ‘It’s not just about a guy but yep, there is one and yep, he’s gorgeous.’

  ‘That’s not like you to have a second round with a guy.’

  ‘Well, we never got around to a first one.’

  Jess raised her eyebrows. ‘Also not like you.’

  Ivy laughed. ‘I just didn’t make it happen yet. But I will.’

  ‘At the party?’

  ‘Why not? Parties are a great place for such things.’ Ivy shrugged with a wide grin. ‘If we have one, that is.’

  Jess tutted and shook her head. ‘Fine. We’ll have one. But I am not cleaning up on my own and it’s a closed invite list. No waifs and strays.’

  If there was one thing Ivy knew how to do well, it was how to bring people together, create an atmosphere of fun and make the kind of memories you looked back on with a smile.

  She crossed her heart with her fingers. ‘Yo
u’re going to have a blast, I promise.’

  Chapter Three

  JESS

  July, nine years ago

  There’s a clown staring back at me from the mirror with lips painted scarlet red and eyes rimmed with black liner. I groan and shake my head, reaching for a cotton pad from the bag on the chest of drawers.

  ‘Uh-uh.’ Ivy whacks the back of my hand with her blusher brush.

  ‘I look like Lily Savage.’

  ‘A middle-aged white man? Really?’ Ivy fixes me with a look that reminds me so much of Mum it takes my breath away for a second. But whereas Mum’s look would stop us playing up in the supermarket or quieten us down on the bus, Ivy’s is much more playful, with a hint of being up to absolutely no good.

  I turn to look at Maddie. ‘What do you think?’

  She nods appreciatively from her seat on Ivy’s bed. ‘You look great. Different, but great.’

  I don’t usually do make-up, let alone like this. I look back in the mirror and try to see past the bold colour streaked across my lips.

  ‘It’s so in your face,’ I mumble.

  ‘Which is the point,’ Ivy replies, closing the blusher. I realise, as she puts it down into the bowl on the dresser, it’s actually mine. ‘You look hot. You never know, you might even pull.’

  I roll my eyes, brushing the compliment to one side. ‘I doubt that very much.’

  ‘Ugh, can’t you get some optimism into her?’ Ivy says to Maddie, who laughs and shrugs.

  ‘From what I hear the dating pool is pretty slim pickings these days.’

  ‘Exactly. You’re practically married,’ I say before turning to Ivy, ‘and you’re up for anything—’

  ‘And you’re too picky,’ Ivy says, finishing my sentence for me.

  ‘After the last two, can you blame me?’

  Ivy and Maddie both nod in reluctant agreement. One date had talked all the way through dinner about his ex-wife and the other had admitted that one of the reasons he’d asked me out was because he’d always had a fantasy of sleeping with an ‘ebony’ woman. I shudder inside just at the thought of it and sigh. Whatever, it doesn’t matter.