Five Siblings at 23, page 30
‘I think we are done,’ Billy said, forcing the words from his lips, just wanting Belinda to go away, and take her accusations and fantasies with her.
Belinda pursed her lips, content that she had said what she wanted to say, and happy that Billy had said nothing to persuade her that she had been wrong. She nodded, turned, picked up her shopping bags and left. For a moment, the lobby was filled with the noise from outside, people talking and cars roaring past. But then the thick glass door clicked shut, and the room fell silent once more.
Billy retook his seat, completely bewildered by what had just happened, not even thinking about the audition he was waiting for. He thought, over and over, as to whether he could have handled things differently, all those years ago, when Vicki had first told him of her suspicions of what Neil might be up to. Should he have just tried to resolve it with Neil, face to face, rather than allowing an entire undercover operation between HR and IT? But then he remembered what Vicki had told him, that Neil was a sexual predator, and if Billy didn’t take action to stop him, then there might be other young men working at that superstore that Neil might target instead. He pulled his mobile phone from his pocket and sent a text message to Vicki.
Billy: I just met Neil Croker’s wife. Did you know he was dead?
A few moments passed, then his phone bleeped.
Vicki: No, I didn’t. Are you OK? What did she say to you? How did he die?
Billy: Wasn’t a great conversation. She said suicide. Said it was all my fault. She thinks I lied about the catfishing to get publicity.
Vicki: We both know that’s a pile of crap. Give me a sec. I’m at my laptop. Going to Google him.
Billy could see Vicki was writing something, and he waited patiently for her response.
Vicki: OK. So, the Echo website has a story from last year, from the inquest into his death. It was suicide.
Vicki: It says a couple of days before he died, he was questioned by the police.
Vicki: Looks like Neil was a member of a chatroom where the members catfished other men and then shared the videos with each other.
Vicki: I am guessing his wife chose not to mention that.
Vicki: But that’s why he killed himself. He got caught again, and that time the police were involved. Nothing to do with you. Ignore his wife. She’s living in cloud cuckoo land if she thinks she can blame you. Everything bad that happened to that family was entirely down to Neil.
Vicki: You OK? Do you want me to call?
Billy: No, I’m good. Thank you for that. Let’s talk later. Love you xx
Vicki: Love you too xx
It was unpleasant information, a disturbing tale of a man’s life spiralling out of control, a man possessed by all sorts of urges and needs, obsessed with catfishing and pornography. Billy was able to take some small comfort from it, though, knowing that Neil’s complicated life had been filled with cruel lies and dark secrets. Even in the very last thing he ever wrote, his farewell to the world, he still hadn’t been able to tell the truth and admit what he had done.
‘Billy Fletcher?’
Billy looked up and was relieved to see a young man smiling at him, clipboard in hand. ‘Yes, that’s me,’ he replied, and stood. His nerves were frayed, and he was unsure he was in the best place to audition, but he knew he had no choice and would just have to muddle through as best he could.
‘Great, please come with me,’ the young man said, ‘They’re all very excited to see you, so please don’t be nervous.’
The young man guided Billy through the foyer to the stairs, which led to one of the rehearsal rooms on the first floor.
‘That’s good to hear,’ Billy said, and then he took a deep breath and tried his very hardest to focus on the audition and nothing else.
CHAPTER 55
Vicki stood, a glass of red wine in her hand, and watched from the door as Lizzie skilfully navigated her small kitchen, preparing a three-course meal for five people. Pots were steaming on the hob, her oven filled with trays of food which had each been inserted to a perfectly observed timetable, and the slow cooker had been positioned on the breakfast table, the only spare work surface available.
Stuart’s presence in the kitchen puzzled Vicki. He wasn’t helping with the food. Instead, he repeatedly lifted the lids on each saucepan, shaking his head or shrugging before muttering sentences like, ‘I don’t understand’ or ‘Oh for goodness’ sake’.
Vicki had never warmed to Stuart. From the moment she had met him, she had felt her sister could do better. Everything about him was average: average height, average build, average intelligence. He had a part-time job working in a call centre for a power company and rented a one-bed flat over a pub near the town’s central train station. The only thing of interest about him was his thick, brown beard, which, Vicki suspected, was probably hiding a weak chin.
‘It all smells lovely,’ Vicki said, wanting to enthuse to mitigate whatever it was that Stuart was complaining about.
Stuart stared at her, then huffed, ‘I thought we were having a nice, light, healthy meal. I don’t understand why there are all these thick sauces. Why’s everything being cooked in all this fat?’
‘They’re all from mum’s personal recipe box,’ Vicki replied, ‘There’s not a healthy meal in there. Believe me, we’ve all looked.’
‘Well, I just thought we were having a nice, light, healthy meal,’ Stuart muttered.
‘Everything is healthy if you have it in moderation,’ Lizzie replied. ‘Now if you’re not going to help in the kitchen, please go and lay the table so it’s ready for when Billy and Emma get here.’
Stuart stood upright, eyebrows raised, unhappy to have been dismissed. It appeared he was about to say something, but then he looked to his side, and saw that Vicki was observing him from the doorway, and he didn’t say anything. Instead, he huffed loudly as he walked towards her. Vicki did not step out of the way. Instead, she made a point of staying exactly where she was, clearly waiting for him to politely ask her to move. For a few seconds, they just stood, looking at each other.
‘Everything alright, Stuart?’ Vicki asked, as though puzzled.
‘I need to get by,’ he replied, curtly.
‘Oh, I didn’t realise,’ Vicki said. ‘Most people usually say, “excuse me” or something like that.’ She sipped her wine and stayed exactly where she was.
Stuart’s eyes narrowed, and Vicki could sense he wanted to say something unpleasant or rude to her. There was a part of her that wished he would, because she was desperate to tell him exactly what she thought of him, so she was left a little disappointed when he did as she had suggested, and politely asked if he could get by.
‘Of course, you may,’ she replied, stepping aside.
‘I have a bottle of champagne in the fridge. Not prosecco, proper champagne. I thought we could open it when Billy and Emma get here. To celebrate,’ Lizzie said, completely unaware of the minor drama that had just played out behind her. ‘I still can’t believe it. Billy’s going to be starring in a show, with people off the telly.’
Vicki smiled broadly at the thought of her kid brother finally realising his lifelong ambition of starring in a professional show.
Lizzie continued preparing the food, checking what she was doing against Susan’s detailed recipe instructions, adding chopped herbs to one pot, a splash of white wine to another. ‘It’s lovely, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘You grew up with this food. You, Charlie and Billy. Tyler too, I guess. And all these years later, we’re all still using the same recipes.’
Vicki sat at the breakfast table, just next to the slow cooker. ‘All I can say is this smells exactly like mum’s kitchen,’ she said, fondly. For a moment, she closed her eyes, and just enjoyed the heady sensation of the aromas dancing merrily through the air, the same delicious smells she had enjoyed as a child, sat at the table in the old kitchen at The Lodge, while Susan prepared for one of her amazing dinner parties. ‘Nice for you too,’ she said, and opened her eyes. ‘A part of Mum for you to enjoy, even though she’s not here.’
Lizzie stopped for a moment and turned to Vicki. ‘It means a lot, honestly, to have these recipes. It’s lovely hearing stories about her and seeing the old family photographs. But I know that if I follow her recipes exactly, then when we sit down for dinner, we’ll be eating the same meals, the exact same meals, that she would have dished up. And it feels like a really genuine connection, between her and me. And that really does mean a lot.’
Vicki smiled at her sister and raised her glass. ‘To Mum’s recipes.’
Lizzie hadn’t poured herself a glass and so, with a big smile on her face, she lifted the bottle of wine she was using for the sauce. ‘To Mum’s recipes,’ she said. Vicki sipped from her glass and Lizzie took a large swig of wine from the bottle, then they both started laughing.
Stuart re-entered the kitchen, an expression on his face that made it clear he was still unhappy. ‘I don’t know what cutlery you want me to use. And were you just drinking wine out of the bottle?’
The smile immediately vanished from Lizzie’s face, and she stood awkwardly, the wine bottle still in her hand. She appeared to be at a loss for something to say.
‘We were just toasting our mother, Stuart,’ Vicki interceded. ‘She died a few days after Lizzie was born, but these recipes—’
‘Yes, yes, I know the sad story about your mother,’ Stuart replied, dismissively. ‘But I don’t understand why my girlfriend is drinking wine straight from the bottle.’
‘Oh, that’s simple,’ Vicki replied, sternly. ‘It’s because my sister is a grown woman, standing in her own kitchen, and she decided to drink straight from a bottle of wine that she paid for with her own money. There. I think I’ve cleared up that little mystery for you, Stuart.’
‘Goodness, you’re grumpy this evening, Stuart,’ Lizzie said, lightly and quickly placed the bottle of wine onto the kitchen counter.
Stuart looked at her, his expression sullen.
‘You’ll find the cutlery in the blue dresser,’ she continued. ‘Second drawer. The napkins are there too. Now, Billy and Emma will be here any minute, and we’re going to be toasting Billy’s new play with champagne. So, if you could bring the flutes in too, that would be great.’ Lizzie maintained a tone that was light and airy and, without responding, Stuart left the room.
Vicki remained unimpressed. She could tell her little sister was doing all she could to keep the atmosphere cordial, but increasingly, it seemed as though Lizzie had fallen into a pattern, of trying to manage Stuart and his moods.
CHAPTER 56
Stuart sat at the head of the table, silently sipping his wine as the Fletchers excitedly caught up with each other. He had made a point of barely touching his starter, a small portion of salmon penne in a tomato and vodka sauce. Instead, he had pushed the food around his bowl a number of times before placing his spoon back onto the table. He watched as Lizzie and her guests happily shared their updates, often talking over each other, swapping topics mid-sentence, and all whilst eating and drinking and laughing.
Billy regaled them all with the story of his call-back audition and the round of applause he received on performing his monologue. Emma explained her plans to expand her barbershop, and Vicki spoke of an upcoming meeting at Blake’s school where she hoped it would be confirmed she was to be long-term linked with him.
Throughout, Vicki and Billy kept stopping to congratulate Lizzie on the pasta and praise how exactly it tasted like Susan’s original. Emma, sat beside Stuart, continued to try and include him in the conversation, even though he seemed reluctant to engage with the evening. She had only met him a couple of times, briefly on both occasions, and had assumed his unsociable behaviour was a sign of shyness, and that he might need a bit of friendly coaxing to bring him out of his shell.
After a while, Lizzie stood and began to collect the plates. She asked Stuart to replenish the drinks and hurried to the kitchen to serve the main course. ‘I hope you’ve left plenty of space,’ she said as she left the dining room. ‘Slow-cooked chicken in white wine sauce.’
Billy chuckled. ‘Has anyone noticed that all of Mum’s recipes seem to have booze in them?’
Vicki and Emma laughed, Stuart did not.
‘I seem to recall you telling me her dinner parties were always a great success,’ Emma said. ‘Perhaps that’s why.’
Stuart stood and made his way around the table, refilling all the glasses with the appropriate wine. ‘I don’t think it’s going to be anything heavy, the main course,’ he said. ‘Lizzie’s really working hard on her diet. I’m sure she doesn’t want to ruin it.’
‘Oh, and hasn’t she done well,’ Emma said, enthusiastically. ‘Most people put weight on during lockdown. I think Lizzie’s the only person I know who lost weight. And doesn’t she look beautiful?’
‘And one meal won’t ruin her diet,’ Vicki said, her tone a little sharper.
‘I just want to help her keep on track,’ Stuart replied, and retook his seat.
‘I am sure my sister is fine as she is,’ Vicki replied, not prepared to allow any space for Stuart’s opinion on her sister’s weight. ‘She’d already lost about five stone before she even met you, Stuart, so it’s pretty obvious she knows what she’s doing.’
Stuart shrugged and did not reply, and Vicki was satisfied she had made her point. She turned away from him and quickly lost herself in a conversation with Billy about his tour, which towns and cities he would be visiting, and how long he would be away.
‘So, how are things going with you and Lizzie?’ Emma asked, desperately trying to think of a topic that Stuart could actually engage with. ‘Must be quite a few months now.’
‘Well, it’s just very challenging at the moment, to be honest,’ he replied, crossly.
‘Challenging? How so?’
Stuart turned and looked Emma directly in the face and spoke to her quietly but sternly. ‘I don’t like being undermined, particularly not when I am trying to be a supportive boyfriend to Lizzie,’ he said. ‘She’s just got back from holiday. She’s put on a tonne of weight, and the last thing she needs is an evening like this. I thought you all would have cancelled, or at least postponed.’
‘Oh, I see,’ Emma said, and placed her glass of wine onto the table. ‘Look, Stuart, she didn’t put on a tonne of weight, at all,’ she replied, calmly, ‘and the last thing any woman needs is a man obsessing about her size. We obsess about it more than enough ourselves. We don’t need any help. And these dinner parties are an important Fletcher family tradition. They lost their mother when they were all very young, and it’s a way for them to keep her memory alive.’
‘Well, I’m putting a stop to them. For Lizzie at least. The rest of you can do what you want. But Lizzie won’t be taking part again.’
Emma frowned, pivoting towards him and returning his stare. ‘I beg your pardon?’ she asked, keeping her voice low, so as not to escalate their conversation by drawing Vicki or Billy’s attention. ‘That is not your decision to make, Stuart.’
‘Actually, it is,’ he said. ‘Because I am moving in, and this will be my house. And when that happens, I am putting a stop to all this nonsense so Lizzie can focus solely on her diet.’
‘Oh no, no,’ Emma replied, taking her voice almost to a whisper. ‘If Lizzie wants you to move in, that’s up to her, Stuart. But she owns this flat. This is her space. And you will not be telling her what she can do in her own space.’
‘Wrong,’ Stuart said, abruptly. ‘This will be my house. Lizzie’s already told me she’s putting my name on the deeds. And I won’t have people, including Lizzie’s family, disrespecting me in my own house.’
Emma sat back in her seat, and gazed at Stuart, a man she barely knew, and she tried to make sense of him, of what he was saying, of how he was speaking to her. But mostly, she was trying to work out his relationship with Lizzie, and the financial implications of what he was saying about her sister-in-law. ‘Stuart, you’ve only known Lizzie for a few months,’ she said, puzzled and concerned. ‘Are you actually going to allow her to sign half her house over to you? Do you think that’s appropriate? She’s a young woman, a woman who owns her own flat with no mortgage. And you’re going to allow her to just give you half of it?’
Emma knew Lizzie was new to dating and had guessed that Stuart was probably her first-ever boyfriend. But Emma still struggled to believe Lizzie was so inexperienced, so desperate to keep Stuart, that she had been the one to suggest she add Stuart’s name to the deeds of her home. Emma was greatly concerned the suggestion had originated from Stuart himself.
Stuart leaned forward and prodded his finger on the table. ‘Let me be clear,’ he said, his voice stern but quiet, ‘In future, when you Fletchers come into my house, I expect you all to respect my decisions. If I say no, to one of these dinner parties, that’s the end of the matter. And when you visit my house in future, Emma, I expect you to do as I say. Is that clear? Is there anything I have said that I need to explain again?’
His words, the way he spoke, sent a chill down Emma’s spine, and she realised Lizzie was vulnerable, far more vulnerable than anyone in the family knew. She realised they all should have done more to protect her from a man like Stuart. Before Emma could determine the best way to reply, the door opened and Lizzie walked in, skilfully carrying three plates of food. ‘Voila!’ she said, proudly, and Vicki and Billy both stopped talking and applauded as she placed their meals in front of them.
‘Slow-cooked chicken in white wine sauce with dauphinoise potatoes and green beans. Enjoy.’ She served a plate to Vicki, Billy and Emma, and then smiled hopefully at Stuart, wishing for a positive reaction. ‘I’ll just get yours, darling,’ she said to him, but he did not reply.
