Barbra

"I think I went there once. Mmm -- I can't remember what it was like. Shall we try? Saturday night at eight?"

"Yes, please. That would be nice. But I cannot manage it this week; my sister will be visiting. Next Saturday, okay?"

"It will be a long wait. But yes, of course."

"I'll be there. Right?"

"Good girl!"

John asked her cell phone number and put it into his iPhone.

The conversation was cut short by the arrival of a friend of John's, who hi-fived him and then crushed him in a bear hug before embarking on a heated conversation about God knows what. Beau Burrowes, who wore sagging pants and a reversed baseball cap, sported a good many tattoos, from his knuckles on up. Barbra looked at him from the corner of her eyes, and she reflected that here was someone she didn't approve of at all. She hoped he was not indicative for all the company John kept.

She looked at Mary and raised her eyebrows.

"He is not as ferocious as he looks, you know," Mary said.

Barbra nodded. That might be true, and her father had always taught her not to be biased. He didn't have an unfriendly face, and he didn't have any piercings, at least. Still, she'd greatly dislike meeting Beau alone after dark somewhere.

She walked over to Joan. "Hi baby," Joan said. "Made a hit with John? Good catch, girl!"

Barbra shrugged her shoulders. "Is he? Why?"

"Oh, come on! No need to be modest! Don't you know John's the manager of Robinson's -- the engine factory?"

"No? I've only just met him."

"Okay. He's going to take you out?"

"We'll meet at our local next Saturday."

"Mmm. Oh well, for a start..."

"I'm quite happy with it! So you know this Beau?"

"A little. Looking a bit scruffy now, isn't he? But he's alright." She winked, and gave her a smile. "John's handsome, don't you think?"

Barbra nodded. There was no denying he was, handsome and very attractive, and Joan and Mary apparently thought well of him. She liked both women immensely. But... Now was she or wasn't she being difficult? She sighed. Maybe time would tell.

Then she just shook all qualms off her shoulders and enjoyed the party with her friends. John and Beau stood talking with a few rather nondescript young men, and she didn't notice John again until she was about to leave and he walked up to her.

"Next Saturday night at eight, remember?" he said with a smile.

She nodded. "Sure! See you then!" she said.

She kissed Mary goodbye, and waved at the remaining members of the party before she walked to her car.

At the end of the row of cars that sat along the kerb she saw Beau and one of the young men; when they saw her coming they turned her way and waved. Beau did have a nice smile, she thought. Maybe he really wasn't too bad after all? She waved back, got into her car and drove off, happy to be on her own.

3 - On the Cliffs

Joe and Minnie, Barbra's parents, had moved to England from Trinidad when the twins were only eighteen months old. Joe worked as a circuit judge, and for the first few years the family lived in London. When they felt more or less settled they moved to a small village near Bradgate Park. The twins went to school there, and afterwards Em went to university in Loughborough while Barbra went to Glasgow. It proved a good solution to the endless quarrels they'd had in their adolescence.

After Barbra had finished her studies, she moved back to the Midlands to be close to her parents and her sister -- no matter how often they quarrelled, she had missed Emily sorely in Scotland, and she wanted to be closer to her again. Living in a village with Mike had proved to be a great success.

As Barbra had expected, Em had been rather negative when Barbra told her she was planning to move. Though they had fought like lions when they were young, and though she had always seen Barbra as a rival in their father's affection, she found it very hard to live far away from her.

Joe Kirkland had always tried to treat his daughters strictly equally. He listened to his favourite music with Barb, and went rafting with Em; he took Em to the movies and went for walks with Barb -- each to their professed preferences. Em had always tried to be with it, and so she had been unable to admit to herself that she actually quite enjoyed her father's records, too. Everyone thought she hated them but liked the ruder kind of popular music instead. She didn't, but she'd felt she had to keep up appearances within her peer group, and be cool.

Her parents' deaths had affected her just as much as Barbra, which resulted in her being even more quarrelsome than usual. She often wished she could just give up acting the way she did; but old habits die hard, and she was rather afraid to show her emotions, let alone to be seen crying. Aggression was a good shield to hide behind, and no matter how hard she tried, she would find herself being difficult again and again, even though she knew how much her sister would love to be on good terms with her. And so would she...so would she.

Bee's decision to move felt like treason to her, and at first she refused to visit her sister. But she knew that in doing so she was only cutting off her own nose to spite her face; eventually she came round, and on a Friday afternoon she drove down to pay Barbra a visit.

She had to admit to herself that it was a really comfortable house in a beautiful region. Barbra received her enthusiastically and made her feel very welcome, which made her wish even more she could get herself to react in kind. Didn't she feel like staying for a couple of days? That Monday was a bank holiday and so they could have a pleasant long weekend together. Em happily accepted. The sisters amicably did the cooking together, and they cracked a bottle of wine; then they sat talking until deep into the night, touching on their parents, and love, and Mike -- Emily had always got on very well with Mike, who somehow had not been of the quarrelling kind; it had been impossible to get him ruffled or angry. He simply used his anger in the reporting he did, always trying to nail injustice and wrongs, and his relationships were calm and sunny; just what Em needed, really.

Em went to bed very pleased with herself. They had not quarrelled and she had tried to show her sister the love she felt for her but that she usually kept hidden deep down somewhere. She slept like a log to wake up with a feeling she might get a bout of migraine soon. The day started gloomy too; it threatened rain. It somehow threw her back onto her usual behaviour, and she quarrelled with Barbra over breakfast.

Barbra tried to soothe her sister a bit but she only managed to aggravate Em's mood, and it wasn't long after breakfast that Em rushed out of the house.

"Sod it," she shouted. "I'm going for a walk. Bitch!"

"You're not dressed for it!"

Em didn't deign to reply. She legged it out of Barbra's sight and then made for the cliffs. It wasn't long before the rain that had been threatening came down in earnest; it was short but very heavy, and both Em's clothes and the topsoil got drenched. Her footsteps squelched in the grass, and her mood didn't really improve in the downpour; she was fuming and the suppressed realisation that she was making a spectacle of herself again didn't help.

It was only a short shower, fortunately, and before Em had reached the cliffs, she was getting hot in her steaming wet clothes. It was not nice but a decided improvement over the cold rain. She wished she could just return and get dry but that would be a loss of face. The idea stimulated her feelings of uncertainty and inadequacy again, and she increased her pace. When she came to the cliffs she saw there was a narrow path running down to the sea, and she decided to take it.

She was much too hasty and careless. She didn't use the handrail, and she almost immediately lost her footing on the wet chalk, and slid down on her back and bottom. She closed her eyes in horror, so she wouldn't have to see the inevitable crash, trying to brace herself...

She went down fast -- and then she stopped. Someone had grabbed her ankles.

"Whoa there!" a voice said cheerfully.

She opened her eyes and looked into a man's face. He was covered in dirt and he smiled at her.

"Do you think you could stand up?" he said.

It got her goat somehow. She knew she wasn't being reasonable, let alone nice, but she hated being seen in these circumstances. Her armour was up immediately.

"Yes," she snapped. "Let go of my ankles, please. I want to get down."

The man nodded, but he didn't let go. "You'd better not," he said. "Going down is very dangerous now. There is quite a good path at the other end of the bay. Please get a hold of the handrail."

Em did, to be released immediately. "Thank you very much," she snapped, and without granting the man a further look she turned around and slowly, laboriously made her way up.

She sensed the man following her at a distance, but when she was back up on the cliff edge again she walked away fast, away from the gratitude she knew she ought to feel. Her back and bottom hurt, and she supposed she'd have a couple of bad bruises. She hated dirty clothes, and she mentally prepared herself for what Barb would say when she came back covered in dirt. And there was no way she would admit to having almost fallen off the cliff!

To her relief Barbra didn't say anything much. She was very nice and practical about it, and Em's anger evaporated. When she had bathed and put on fresh clothes she went to her sister and hugged her.

"I'm glad I still have you, baby," she said.

4 - Pub Night

The following Saturday Barbra walked to the pub at about ten to eight. John was already there. He was standing at the bar, talking to the bar maid, flirting a bit, Barbra thought. He immediately stopped when he saw her enter, and walked up to her to take her coat. She nodded at the girl, and said hello to John. He tried to hug her but Barbra didn't feel like being hugged yet, so she extended her hand and greeted John a little formally.

"You are quite the lady, aren't you?" he said smiling. "I'm happy to see you, Barbra. What can I get you?"

"I'll have a daiquiri, please -- a sweet one."

"Good."

John went back to the bar, and Barbra sat down at one of the tables in the quiet part of the pub. She looked around; there were a few faces she recognised but she hadn't lived there long enough yet to really know any of them. The pub was alright; there were no slot machines and there was no music, and the patrons were not too young. Nice and quiet, really.

John came to the table with the drinks and sat down, too.

"You're from Trinidad, aren't you?"

"I was born there, yes, but I have no memories of it. My parents came here when I was very young. I don't know any better or I have lived here all my life; I really consider myself British."

"You never visited?"

"No. I think my father thought it a waste of money and energy. He went back twice, to visit his relatives, and he arranged for my gran to come and live with us. It seems my granddad was out of the picture completely. My parents' siblings came to visit regularly."

John nodded. "Okay," he said. "Right. So you have no emotional links there?"

"None. I'd like to go there some day, though."

"I could take you," John said. "Shall I?"

"Isn't that a bit hasty? I've only met you once before." She smiled at him, acknowledging her appreciation of his good intentions. "I'd love to get to know you a lot better. Tell me something about yourself, please." She picked up her glass and took a sip.

"Okay, baby. Where shall I start? I'm from Ghana, or my parents were, at least. But I do consider myself Ghanaian anyway. There is a large Ghanaian community in London. Lots of music, too."

"What music do you like?" Barbra asked.

"Rap, hip-hop..." He frowned. "Don't know, really. And you?"

"Ghanaian, you mean?"

"Well, do you know any, actually?"

"I like Rhian Benson."

"Really? Okay! Can't say I often listen to her stuff -- but she's good."

Barbra nodded. "There's such a lot of good music. I was told you work at Robinson's?"

"Yes. Anything for a living."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh well, it's perhaps not what I'd like to do all my life. But it's an okay job."

"What do you do, exactly?"

"I run the engine production, basically. It is all about precision and deadlines, very tightly scheduled and not very relaxed. I'm very good at it. But I'd rather laze in the sun."

"All day and all week?"

"Well, perhaps, yes. Life is hard, er? I go to the gym to relax. Working out gets my job out of my system. I love spinning and weight-lifting. Do you like sports?"

"Not particularly, I'm afraid. I didn't mind cricket or hockey too much when I was in secondary school. I wasn't really any good at either, though, and I hated gymnastics. But then, I like walking."

"You mean like strolling down the boulevard? Or hiking across country and getting your boots dirty?"

"The latter," Barbra said. She didn't like boulevards, window shopping and crowds. "It's one of the reasons I really like it here." She smiled, thinking of the rambles through the fields and along the cliffs. "I can go down the cliffs not too far from my home. I love the sea -- the sound of the pebbles and the changing colours..."

"Right. So what else do you do to have a good time?"

Barbra gave him a wry smile. "I listen to music a lot, and I try my hand at writing, though it doesn't get far beyond the sort of thing most people put on Facebook. I'm still getting over my losses, and both things help."

"So what music then? R&B, or reggae, or zouk?"

"Sometimes. The Zouk Machine, Toots and the Maytals... I do like R&B, the real thing. Louis Jordan, you know, Jay McShann, Big Maybelle..."

"I don't know who you're talking about. Are they new?"

"They're old. Forties-something."

"Oh, really? Do you really like that? You mean to say you're into jazz?"

"I was raised with it, you know. My father breathed music. He would tell me about it, and play me things. We always had a great time together." She smiled at the memory.

"Oh. I see. Well, I was raised with high-life, E.T. Mensah and Dr Gyasi, you know, but I really dislike that kind of music. I do prefer the modern stuff."

Barbra grinned. "You sound like my sister," she said.

"Really? I do have to meet her," John said with a smile. "Is she like you?"

"She's my twin. But she doesn't look like me at all; we're quite different."

"Okay. Good! Is she as sexy as you? Have you got any more brothers or sisters?"

"Nope. We were a really small family." She stared into her almost empty glass. She felt she

wasn't up to talking about it yet; not to John. Maybe to Em, or Joan? She shook her head.

"Penny for your thoughts," John said.

"Mmm... What about you? Any siblings?"

"I've got three brothers and one half-sister. I don't see them too often; they're real losers, I'm afraid. I hate being sponged on, having them come over for dinner, drinks, a room, and talking all the time... That kind of thing."

"You're the eldest?"

"I'm number two. Manae, my sister, is five years older."

"Okay. And was there ever any significant other?"

"I had a couple of girlfriends when I was younger, but it didn't come to much apart from a son. Akua moved back to Ghana with him; I never see him or hear of him." He looked into his glass. "I'd love to be in a relationship again. Hey, I'll get us another drink. Another daiquiri?"

Barbra nodded. She enjoyed listening to John's voice; it was musical and deep. But as yet she didn't feel too comfortable with him. He didn't seem to attach a lot of value to the things she held dear... Maybe he reacted the way he did due to nerves, or the newness of the situation. She rather hoped so.

She watched him as he walked to the bar. He had a lithe kind of animal grace when he walked; a little like a panther, she thought. He smiled at the girl who took his order, and checked his phone while she drew his pint. He looked smashing!

When he returned, she changed the conversation to living in the country or in town. John lived in an apartment in one of the few high rise buildings in town. It was an expensive one, in a prosperous area. He called it his penthouse. It had many advantages, he said. No garden, and a wide view, and it was large and light with lots of glass and steel. No, he didn't have too many things inside. He like space, and the living room was large, with a big flatscreen TV set and a very large L-shaped leather couch. He had two big silk-screen abstracts on his wall. Reading? He didn't have too much time for reading. He subscribed to Men's Health. As to cooking, he had a beautiful, well-equipped kitchen. Unfortunately he seldom had the time to use it so he usually ate out.

They kept on talking until a little after ten; then Barbra told John she was tired. He courteously escorted her to the door, and they went out together to John's car that sat in the middle of the car park.

John promised to call her soon. Then he got into his car -- he drove a large, new Mercedes -- and started the engine. His stereo was turned up loud, and Ludacris' Move, Bitch blared from the speakers. Barbra shuddered and made a face. She hoped it wasn't the kind of music John usually played.

5 - Matinée

Two weekends later Emily was coming to visit again. Barbra hoped she'd be in good spirits, but she wasn't too upset about Em's tantrums and she did like having her around as a rule. She did the shopping for the weekend on Wednesday, and she wondered if there were anything they could do.

There was a jazz afternoon at a small country house nearby. She wondered if it might be a good idea to go there; she rather thought Em didn't really dislike the music too much, even though she pretended to, and it was at least a place you could go to meet people. On the other hand...

She got stopped short in her thoughts by her telephone ringing.

"Hello?" she said.

"Hi, baby."

"John!"

"Aye. How's life?"

"I'm fine, thank you! And you?" It felt good to hear his voice. She realised again how musical he sounded.

"Me too. Yes. Look, you told me you are into jazz, right? There is this jazz afternoon this weekend and I've bought us some tickets. You are coming, aren't you?"

"I'd sure love to, but I'll have Emily over this weekend. I can't leave her at home, you know."

"Erm, no, I see. Look, I'll get another ticket and you can both come, okay? Beau will be there, too, and maybe some other friends of mine. We can have a good time together."

"I'll call her and ask. I'm not sure if she will want to come. Give me an hour, please?"

"Okay. Do convince her, right?"

"I will try!"

They rang off. It would be lovely to see John again, and she hoped he would be more relaxed in different surroundings. Barbra called Em and explained, and Emily readily agreed to come to the concert. John received the message enthusiastically; he would buy another ticket at once, he said. He offered to come and collect the sisters that Saturday, but Barbra declined. She preferred to be free to go when and where she liked, and she promised to be there.

Though she wasn't too certain about Beau, she thought he wouldn't be a problem on an afternoon like that, and no matter what, Em could fend for herself very well. She'd been a police officer for a long time -- dealing with child abuse, mainly, but she knew what was what. She'd hoped to get Em to come with her. Very nice, she thought. Very nice!

Emily arrived on Friday. She was in a fairly good mood again, and the sisters spent quite a pleasant evening together. Barbra told Em about John, and their night in the pub.

"Okay. Do you like him?"

"He's nice and attractive, and he's very handsome!"

"Mmm. But do you really like him?"