The Performer

Diary Entry

This cat is the very devil, Emily! We need to get rid of him! Margaret pinched her face in disgust as she stared at the one-eared ginger tom weaving its way around my feet.

Whatever are you saying, Maggie? I gasped, a bit shaken. Hes a living creature!

A creature, for sure! Thats the best word for him! Dont you think, Emily, that you let him get away with far too much?

The cat, as if taking Margarets side, suddenly hissed, arched its back, and sidled warily toward the unwelcome guest.

There! cried Margaret triumphantly, pointing at the cat and involuntarily stepping back. What did I just say?

I called out to my defender. Oliver, darling, please dont! Its all all right!

The cat turned to look at me, and suddenly cooled off. He returned to my side, gently nudged my sore ankle, and sat down, making it clear he was staying on guard.

Rascal! Margaret huffed, still wary as she skirted him. And yet you feel sorry for him!

Someones got to, I sighed.

Oliver arrived three years ago, during a very dark time for me. Id barely had time to grieve for my husband before my only son passed away, and I was left entirely on my ownexcept for Margaret and a couple of acquaintances. I never really had close friends.

I had Margaretmy sister.

Maggie was the eldera point our parents made frequently when we were children, whenever the topic turned to discipline or trust.

Margaret is the big sister! So responsible, so clever! You can trust her with anything, and know shell see it through, and on time. But Emily… Emily is our angel. A little joy for the soul. An absolute darling, but dreadfully scatterbrainedoh, what a bother!

We both grew up knowing the scoreMargaret was bright, beautiful, and a star, and I… well, I was a lovable klutz.

Why do they praise you? Margaret used to protest, annoyed, when I brought home a good report. Proper marks from school are whats expected! Why congratulate you?

Maggie, I’m not as clever as you! You always get perfect scores; I just muddle along.

Exactly! And still they fuss over you! Margaret would sulk, and Id hide a tiny smile, not wanting to goad her.

Margaret finished school brilliantly and made it to university, almost never coming home.

Hows life, Maggie? Id ask, snatching a rare moment, eager for news.

Same as always! I only wish I had more hours in the day!

For studying?

Studying? Margaret would scoff. I barely have time for a personal life! How is anyone meant to meet a decent man when were all running around like witches, always chasing our careers?

Oh, Maggie! I never thought of that…

Did you ever think about anything, little one? shed laugh, not seeing how her words needled me. Thats for grown-up girls anyway. Not you!

Id let it go and, despite the sting, quietly cheer her on whenever things worked out as she wanted. A star is meant to shineand I was content simply to bask in that glow.

Margaret was still single by the end of university. Boys kept their distance, intimidated by her sharp tongue and quicker wit, which no amount of urging from our mother could soften.

Mum, what do you want? That I sit in the corner like some Dickensian waif, eyes down and lips zipped? Silly! Leave all that to Emily, its her style, not mine.

Love, nobody wants you to change completely, Mum would reason. Just be a little gentlerboys like that.

Oh Mum! How would you know what boys like nowadays? Its a whole new world!

Perhaps youre right, dear…

Thunder struck unexpectedly when I, whod long been told that a proper education was wasted on me, and that Id be better off learning a trade, brought home a fiancé.

Meet Simon

Simon charmed my parents instantly. Handsome, clever, talentedhe was a young journalist, making his start on television, and his early efforts were already building him a name.

Most importantly, he was madly in love with me. Just meplain, ordinary, Emily. Id studied at a local college, nothing grand.

I always liked clothes, both designing and making them, which is why I chose the dressmakers path.

Emily, a seamstress? Margaret was exasperated.

Maggie, Im not half as brainy as you, but you try whipping up a skirt or a blouse from scratch! I love making things that make people feel goodmake them beautiful, really.

Really, Emmywhat a muddle you are!

Perhaps, but I think that dress I made you came out just right, didnt it?

For whom?

For you! For me! For everyone! When people see you and say, Gosh, she looks fantastic! Thats something, isnt it?

Hmm. Some people reach for the stars… my sister, meanwhile… Oh Emmy!

I never knew how to please Margaret. Yet, she wore my outfits with pride. I never copied; I drafted my own designs, sewing all night, embroidering bright flowers along her skirts, and smiling when I saw her twirl in the mirror.

My clothes were so admired that people often asked Margaret where shed found her dress, but she never told.

Thats a secret.

I seeforeign import then, is it, Maggie? Diplomat relatives?

Not telling! Its not only my secret, shed tease, secretly proud of her successful sister.

Simons appearance in my life hit Margaret hard.

How? How come the one with no brains, no looks, ends up a bride before me? Impossible!

Margaret sat through my wedding in stony silence. Family and friends were puzzled. For the first time perhaps, all eyes were on me: in my own handmade dress, I was noticed, even admired.

Shes gorgeous! And her husbands a catch too! May they be happy!

Margaret tasted envy for the first time in her lifesharp, persistent envy gnawing at her heart.

Your sisters landed a handsome groom? And younone at all.

The parents dote on Emily, whispering about how they cant wait for grandchildren? Youll never have that. No children for you!

Emily shines now, all that light once yours now illuminating her. Some get everything, younothing at all.

Margaret snuck away before the end of the reception, went home, and howled into her pillow until Mum and Dad came back.

But as soon as Margaret saw our parents she composed herself.

You all right, dear?

Perfectly! Dont worry about me!

Margaret married six months later, to the first eligible chap who came along. He was much older, a little bald, stocky, and very shrewd. He figured out immediately what Margaret wanted.

I can give you what you want. Itll be mutual.

Terms?

Give me a childperhaps two. Focus on your careerI’ll provide. Nanny, housekeeperwhatever you need. Ill never stray, and youll never need to worry about me. All you owe me is loyaltyno affairs, ever. Keep my housefood, warmth, comfort, peace so I can focus on my work. Understood?

Margaret agreed promptly.

As odd as it seemed, this arrangement worked. Though it lacked the warmth and tenderness that filled my life with Simon, their marriage was calm and reliable.

Margaret gave him a son, then a daughterall as agreed. The children were left in the nannys charge, their days scheduled to the minute to ensure they grew up educated and well-mannered. Margaret had little time to parent herself: theses, work, endless events where she dazzled, always guarding the secret of her wardrobe.

As for meI never rushed. Throughout the uncertain nineties, I sewed from home. Clients came by word-of-mouth, one whispering my address to another.

Shes a natural. Never takes on more than she can manage.

Is she really that good?

Extraordinary! Have you seen my pink dress? She made it.

No! Id have said it was designer.

Even designers start somewhereshell make it, fear not!

My clients included wives of upstart businessmen and politicians alike. I dressed actresses, presentersnever repeating myself, knowing full well the scandal if two women met at an event in the same dress.

Once things calmed down, I opened a tiny atelier that quickly became a salon. People dropped by to network, gossip, or just slip in and out unseen. The ground floor of a lovely old town housefound by Margaretwas converted for comfort.

Margaret herself bought the equipment, gave me a loan, and told me not to fret.

Well settle up!

It mattered greatly to Margaret to help. Looking at my life, she blamed herself for the envy she’d feltthat perhaps her shadow had dimmed my light. Watching her own healthy children grow, she sometimes howled inside, because my own precious son had been born so fragile.

He was a sunshine child, as someone once said. Margaret took up the name and fondly called him Sunny.

My dear, my lovely boy, my Sunshine! Ive brought you presents! shed greet him, and he returned her open, trusting smilethe kind that made you want to upend the world for him.

Maggie, its like you love my Ben more than your own! Id say, watching my sonwho rarely let others closecuddle her. Hes always waiting for you…

That was only partly true, but I wanted to believe my boy was well.

Margaret, knowing my struggle, found a nanny and helped with the atelier.

Get to work, Em! You need it, with Simon always away for work. You cant just stay home all day.

I cant, MagsBen needs me!

Youve a big, bright spaceset up a nursery, hire more staff. The nannys my job. Manage! Ben will be nearby, and youll be happy!

Oh, Maggie, how would I cope without you?

What else are sisters for? Oh, dont startI spent forever on my makeup. I have a meeting!

That was our life.

Margaret watched over me and Ben, found doctors, chased specialists. Ben was always poorlyhis heart weak, his organs not working as they should.

Maggie, I dont understand, Id sniffle rarely, when we were alone. Why does my poor boy have to bear all this?

Its not your fault, love. Its fate, if you likesometimes life plays cruel tricks. But no more tears, well manage. Ben will never be fully healthy, let’s be honest. But we can make him calm, contentwhat more does a person need? Family, warmth, love. Thats ours to give him, isnt it?

I suppose…

Then lets do itno more crying! Ive found another neurologistabsolute marvel, though the waiting lists a nightmare. I put Ben down already, well see what miracles he brings.

Maggie

Shush! Put the kettle on and grab us a sandwichIve not eaten a thing all day.

Even Margarets husband was supportive.

Pity theres little anyone can do for the boy. But I know youd pluck the stars from the sky if you could. If you need anything, just ask; Ill do what I can.

Those simple words meant more than youd think. Margaret had come to love her husband in a mellow, grown-up waya sturdy, calm affection born of faith and patience.

The children grew, our parents aged, and between the two of us, finally, there was neither misunderstanding nor envy.

Who else could we turn to but each other?

Of course, I helped too, when I could. When Margarets husband faced trouble at work, I asked Simon to help. His investigation nearly cost him dearly, though I only learned that years afterwards. But the truth came out, and Margaret thanked me in her usual terse style.

Youll never know, Emily, what you and Simon did for me. But I promisewhile I live, you and your family will never want for anything.

She kept her word.

Margaret stood beside me when Simon fell ill. He faded slowly, and I tried to be strong. I howled, just as she once had, face buried in her shoulder.

Why, Maggie? Why him? He was so young still!

She got me through, day by day, reminding me that Ben still needed me.

And then, Margaret held me when my Sunnys heart gave out forever. We clung to one another, dry-eyed as the doctors explained, then left the hospital together, walking home hand in hand through the city, silent the whole way.

The yellow t-shirt and red trainers…

Yes…

We both knew. Nothing needed saying. We sent Ben off just as hed have wanted.

After losing my boy, I became hollow. I ran the business on autopilot, leaving everything to my staff. Margaret would drop in, and more than once caught me slumped over my sketchbook, unable even to draw a line.

Emily…

Just let me rest a moment, all right? Id lift my lifeless eyes to hers.

You cant go on like this! Margaret would nearly cry.

I can do as I please now, Id say, with a sad smile. It doesnt matter anymore…

The turning point came the day the cat showed up at the shop.

No one knew where hed come from: battered, filthy, with a torn ear. The street outside was busycats were rare.

He crept to the doorway and was swiftly shooed away.

Off with you! Shoo!

So, he did the only sensible thingcurled up on the step and pretended to be a rag. Thats how I found him that daya master peforming for his life.

Girls, whats this? I asked, peering at the supine cat.

A cat, Mrs. Evans! He rocked up, flopped here, and wont budge!

Is he even alive? I prodded him gently with my shoe.

He cracked an eye, sighed almost like a human, then let his tongue loll out as if to say, What are you folks doing? Be kind! Im dying herestarving for a week, at least. Not even a name to leave behind, thanks to your cold hearts.

Watching him, I smiled for the first time in ages.

What an actor! Girls, look at him! Stanislavski would weep with envy! All rightIll give you lunch and a bit of kindness.

Scooping him up, I checked him over.

No, first to the vet! Your ears a worryand the rest of you…

He didnt protest, riding quietly in my passenger seat to the surgery and barely complaining when he got his injectionjust a single growl. Accepting his reward of pate, he strode grandly after me from the clinic, his owner now beyond dispute.

Well… Ive never had a cat. How shall we manage, Oliver?

He struck a pose, inscrutable as the Sphinx, staring at the turning traffic. I smiled again.

Well get along. Lets see if Margaret approves.

Of course, she didntnot openly. She huffed and chased Oliver, yet delighted in watching me spark to life under his influence. She saw the fire return to my eyesthe need to care and make someone elses comfort matter again.

Emily, he gives you funny looks!

So what, Maggie? No ones looked at me like that in years!

How?

With love!

Hes a trickster! Hes lying to you!

Let him! He warms my feet when I rest in the evenings, and watches films with megazes at the telly as if he understands!

Your own fault, should have called him Paws or Tom. Oliver, honestly!

It suits him! I laughed, Margarets heart warming.

My sister was smiling again! For that, she could forgive Oliver anything.

Even more so when she nearly lost me.

It was a Saturday. We hadnt planned on meeting, but passing near the shop, Maggie decided to drop in. Perhaps Id stayed late, as often happened lately since Olivers arrival, throwing myself back into work and drawing clients with a renewed sense of style, even if my colour choices had shifted.

The lights were on, and Margaret let herself in with her keys.

Em, its me!

A ginger blur darted at her feet and Oliver bit her ankle, tearing her stockings.

Oliver, are you mad? What are you doing?

He was behaving oddly, his eyes wild.

Hes rabid, she thought, grabbing a metre stick to defend herself, but then he meowed plaintively and dashed between her and the door to Bens old playroomthe one I could never bring myself to convert.

Whats there? she whispered to him. Wheres Emily?

Racing to the door, she forgot the cat entirely. Inside, she found me collapsed on the floor, clutching Bens photo.

Em!

Ambulance, hospital… nearly a full day in the ICU…

Margaret paced the corridors, frantic, whispering her own kind of prayer.

Dont take her, please! Let her live!

She later learned Oliver had run madly about the room, howling in a deep, guttural voice he used only when calling for me. When I came round, hed settled in a corner, refusing food but quietly taking water.

I was discharged after three weeks.

Maggie, straight to the shop!

Why? I could bring you that furry lunatic myself.

No! I want to see him!

I slowly climbed the steps. The girls burst out laughing as a ginger flame streaked down the hall, wound itself around my legs, purring so loudly even Margaret relented.

Oh, Oliver!

I scooped him up, stroked his mended ear, and confessed.

He called to me, Mags. I heard himfirst Oliver, then you. Back then, just before the hospital, and even there…

What do you mean?

I cant explain. There were Simons and Bens voices, then the catsonly his. Then you…

How odd… Margaret said, not sure what to think.

Oliver, it seemed, did know. He pawed my chin lovingly, shot Margaret a sparkling look, then curled contentedly in my arms.

I think Ive just been granted approval, Margaret grinned. Not sure for what, but stillaccepted…

Oliver winked his green eye, purred even louder, banishing sorrow, promising peace. And once more, I smiled. Margarets heart was warmed.

In the end, what does a person really need? Family close by, and peace in the soul.

So littleso much.