‘Mum would know what to do about you and Rory,’ Felix says, pointing to Rory’s Facebook profile. We’re still sat on the landing. Felix has not put my iPad away. Like homing missiles my eyes lock onto Rory’s handsome face, his curly black hair, his summer-blue eyes and his boyish smile. Inside my chest my heart performs a series of complicated flips and somersaults. Before my mind is flooded with painful memories, I snatch the iPad from Felix and stash it behind me. ‘Let’s not talk about Rory. He’s living his new life in Leeds.’
Felix turns away with what looks like a scowl. I watch him fold his arms across his chest. Before I have time to remind Felix that we’re amicable again and scowling is not permitted, I catch sight of the piece of black chiffon material I was looking for earlier. It’s hanging off the back of his chair. Irritation makes every muscle in my body clench. ‘Felix,’ I say, pointing to the material, ‘what have I told you about hiding my dressmaking stuff?’
He hangs his head. ‘Sorry, Aunty Emily.’
I try to keep my voice sounding calm but it’s a struggle. ‘Not being able to find that piece of chiffon made me shout a lot tonight. You also lied to me when I asked you where it was.’
Sometimes I wonder whether I should return to my marketing job with the insurance firm. It might be easier as Felix and I would be separated in the day, and he could go to after-school club and holiday club in the holidays. This would mean we would have less time to argue. Starting my own online vintage-style dressmaking business at the same time as becoming Felix’s legal guardian wasn’t one of my best decisions. Back in May when Vivi died and our lives were flipped upside down, it seemed like the right thing to do. Being at home for when Felix came back from school was my priority, and working till late every night in a marketing office was not going to work. So, I did what any other normal person, someone who had just been through something horrific and was struggling to think straight, would do – I decided to start an online fashion business, Forever Vintage.
On paper it made a lot of sense. Using Vivi’s life insurance money I was able to pay off her mortgage and her bills, and there was even some money left over which I set aside for Felix. There’ll be things he will need it for as he grows up.
As I’ve been saving and daydreaming all my life about having my own vintage clothing business, I had my own financial resources to set that up. Making and mending clothes has always been a passion of mine so I thought it might help take my mind off Vivi’s death
During the day when Felix was at school I planned to adopt, rescue and repair vintage dresses, in addition to making my own. All of which would sell on my Forever Vintagebusiness website. I would be at home for when he came back from school. I could help him do his homework on an evening, cook us both a meal instead of ordering takeaway, watch TV with him… while at the same timecasuallysorting out dress orders, enquiries, posting dresses on social media and making alterations.
Yes, it was a great idea on paper. It ticked my childcare box, helped me fulfil a life dream and soothed my pain over losing the world’s best sister.
In reality my great plan hasn’t worked. In fact, it has been an utter nightmare.
I’m Vivi’s older sister by three years. When she was born, I became obsessed with caring for her, my baby sister. She became my real-life little doll. This worked for our mother, who was struggling with a drinking problem which we later worked out was connected to Dad’s sudden decision to leave us after Vivi was born. Mum unofficially handed me full responsibility of Vivi when I was five because she was drunk a lot of the time and had recently started an affair with a man who lived across the street. According to Mum, Dad went to India to find himself. We never heard from him again. When I was seven, I started making clothes for Vivi’s dollies and by the age of twelve I was making amazing party dresses for her, from the forgotten and dust-ridden fancy dresses in the back of Mum’s wardrobe. All the mums at Vivi’s primary school would beg Vivi for the name of the shop her mother was buying these dresses from, but Vivi never let on and enjoyed being the centre of attention at parties. Mum never found out what I was doing to her dresses. She barely knew we existed half the time.
At school I excelled in textiles and design. After art college and many failed attempts at breaking into the fashion industry, I lost my confidence and pursued a career in marketing. The creative juices never left me and neither did my love for vintage dresses. I have spent the last ten years designing and making extravagant evening and party dresses for my friends in my spare time, and praying for an opportunity to start my own business.
I have learnt the hard way that setting up my online vintage clothing business in the days following the sudden death of Vivi was a huge mistake. All my business decisions were made in the middle of what felt like a hurricane of emotions and I disregarded my carefully crafted business plan, which didn’t bode well for my business finances. I have also learnt that when you become the legal guardian overnight of your grieving nine-year-old nephew and his naughty dog, you need patience, energy, and a clear head – all of which I didn’t have.
When I was a child and raising Vivi myself, I cooked her meals, tidied up after her, made her clothes, kept her entertained when Mum left us home alone for days, remained patient when Vivi couldn’t master riding her bike without stabilisers and made sure she was safe. We rarely argued. Vivi was an angel up until the age of fourteen, when her periods started, and the hormones took over.
‘Sorry, Aunty Emily.’
Baxter is back. This time he’s got one of my bras and his tail is wagging like crazy. Felix tries to catch him, but he trots away.
I give up with both Felix and Baxter.
Closing my eyes, I massage my temples. Felix and I have argued enough tonight. Everything has once again gotten out of hand. Felix deserves better than this.
Vivi, you must be looking down from heaven and thinking why did I put Emily down as Felix’s legal guardian? Opening my eyes, I scan the wall opposite us and spot a photo of Vivi and her two friends, Oliver and Claudia. Why didn’t you let them become his legal guardians?
They would make amazing parents. I mean – you only have to look at the photo to see they have their act together. Both are blonde, tanned, and athletic, and Vivi used to tell me at long length about how funny they are at social events. Oliver’s got a huge forehead which encases his ginormous Cambridge First Maths brain and Claudia’s got a smooth, wide forehead which holds her Cambridge First Physics brain. They take at least three holidays a year to his wealthy parents’ family home in the South of France and only wear the best designer clothes. Felix’s little life would undergo a serious transformation. Within a year he would be excelling at maths, science, fluent in French, sporting a golden tan from all the school holidays in France and be dressed in Marc Jacobs. Weekly homework struggles, wearing supermarket-branded clothes and spending his school holidays watching me wrestle with clothing mannquins would be a distant memory.
Felix follows my gaze. ‘Mum told someone on the phone that Oliver and Claudia were… weird. I heard her.’
Raising my eyebrows at him I make him giggle. ‘Do you listen to me on the phone?’
He nods. ‘Yes, but you only talk about boring dresses.’
‘True.’
Felix continues. ‘Mum said Oliver only eats one meal a day and spends all his time on his exercise bike. Claudia lives in the sea shouting at tourists. Mum called her “the angry mermaid”. It’s true, Aunty Emily. I used to go to their house with Mum. Oliver never came to see us as he was always cycling in his study. Claudia would be walking around in her wet swimming costume. Mum would always go back on her crazy diet after we left.’
I cast him a bewildered look. ‘You’re quite observant, aren’t you?’
Leaning back against the wall I think aloud about whether I could be in the ‘weird’ camp. ‘Felix, I don’t eat much, because I sometimes forget to feed us. I also do a lot of angry sewing and I shout a lot. That puts me in the weird camp too.’
Felix nods and rests his head against me.
‘After watching that angry sewing video, I definitely think I’m weird.’
He sits up. ‘Do you think I’m weird, Aunty Emily?’
