The Hidden Women: An inspirational novel of sisterhood and strength

‘If you want to know more about Lil, you really need to meet my sister Miranda,’ I said. ‘Mind if I give her a ring?’

It wasn’t a total lie. If I adored Lil, Miranda adored her even more and she could definitely talk about her until the cows came home. But I could do that myself, so I didn’t need Miranda to paint a good picture of our aunt. Instead I thought I wanted her there as a kind of shield. My attraction to Jack seemed to be growing by the second and I wasn’t completely comfortable with being alone with him. I thought having Miranda there might force me to be more professional and stop gazing at him with my tongue hanging out like a thirsty puppy.

Unfortunately, Miranda’s reaction was predictably similar to mine. She arrived in the bar at a trendy hotel near the office just after we did. Jack was ordering the drinks and I was sitting in the semi-circular booth he’d chosen.

‘We’ll have more room here to spread out all the papers,’ he’d said when we arrived, turning round to catch a waiter’s eye and knocking the folder off the table with his bag. I’d caught the file before everything fell out and put it back on the table top without him noticing. ‘Stay here, I’ll get some drinks.’

Miranda slid in next to me.

‘Is that him?’ she said, watching Jack at the bar with ill-disguised longing. ‘Oh, my.’

I elbowed her, hard. ‘Stop it,’ I said. ‘You’re married. And too old for him.’

‘Window shopping,’ Miranda said. ‘And I am not too old.’

Then she stopped looking at Jack and turned her stare to me instead.

‘Hang on,’ she said. ‘This isn’t just banter, is it?’

‘Jack’s getting wine, I think.’

‘Don’t ignore me. You like him.’

I felt myself flushing again. ‘He’s nice,’ I muttered. ‘And handsome.’

‘Ohhhh,’ Miranda breathed. ‘You’ve got a crush.’

I gave her a fierce look. ‘Have not,’ I said.

‘You are allowed,’ she said. ‘It’s not a crime. It’s ages since you broke up with Greg. It’s definitely time to get back on that horse.’

‘Jack is not a horse.’ I frowned at her, to warn her he was approaching. ‘And it’s unprofessional to have a crush on someone I’m researching. And how can I date anyone? I’ve got Dora to think about.’

‘Lot of excuses, there, Nell,’ Miranda said. ‘Protesting too much, I think …’

She stopped talking as Jack approached. He put a tray of drinks down, slopping some of his beer on to the table, and beamed at Miranda.

‘Hello, hello, hello,’ he said, gleefully shaking her hand. ‘I’ve heard lots about you from Helena.’

Again with the way he said my name. I imagined him saying it to other people. ‘Have you met my wife – Helena?’ and smiled to myself.

‘Nell,’ Miranda said, giving me a shove. ‘Are you with us?’

I blinked, startled out of my daydream. ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I was just thinking about Lil.’

‘Oh yes, tell me more,’ Jack said. He began taking the drinks off the tray and I helped him, trying to make sure he didn’t spill any more than he already had. I handed Miranda a wine glass and a napkin to wipe up splatters and poured some Pinot Grigio for us both.

‘Is Lil your dad’s sister?’ Jack drank a mouthful of beer.

‘No, she’s Dad’s aunt, actually,’ Miranda said. ‘Our parents are both only children. But Lil was the baby of her family, so she’s not really that much older than Dad.’

‘You said she was very special to you?’ Jack prompted.

Miranda and I looked at each other. We didn’t often talk about when we were growing up.

I took a breath. ‘We had a bit of an unconventional childhood,’ I began.

‘And you have two other siblings, am I right?’

He’d remembered what I’d told him. Miranda, obviously impressed, smiled. ‘That’s right,’ she said. ‘There’s Andy and Imogen, too.’

‘Andy’s nearly thirty, and Immy’s twenty-six,’ I added.

Jack nodded. ‘I always wanted brothers and sisters when I was growing up,’ he said. ‘I’d like to have lots of kids.’

Miranda gave me a meaningful look and I spluttered on my wine. Jack thumped me on the back.

‘Easy there,’ he said. ‘No need to gulp.’

Miranda, looking chic and businesslike in what seemed to be a very expensive suit, with her curly hair pulled back into a neat twist, leaned back in the booth and carried on talking while I wiped my mouth with the napkin Jack offered.

‘Our parents are both creative and a bit scatty,’ she said.

I snorted. ‘Scatty,’ I said. ‘Forgetful, more like.’

‘When we were growing up they weren’t great with money,’ Miranda went on. ‘Bills often went unpaid. The electricity would go off. They weren’t poor. Just disorganised.’

‘But when we were really small, it was all fun,’ I said. ‘We were too little to know any different and all we knew was they loved us.’

‘But when Mum had Imogen, things changed,’ Miranda said. ‘Postnatal depression, I guess. Though it took a while for it to really get a hold of her.’

Jack nodded. ‘I have a friend who has depression,’ he said. ‘It’s like a gradual creeping up with him.’

‘That’s it exactly,’ Miranda said. ‘She didn’t just wake up depressed one morning, it was more like a downward spiral.’

I let Miranda talk. She was two years older than me so she remembered it better.

‘Once, Mum left Andy in my classroom when she dropped me at school, instead of taking him to nursery,’ she continued. ‘When my teacher noticed him, she rang Mum to come and get him. She was so upset.’

‘Andy wasn’t remotely bothered of course,’ I added, wanting to make Mum sound less awful.

‘But that’s when things started to go downhill. Mum wasn’t really functioning and Dad – well, like I said, he was “scatty”.’ Miranda made quote marks with her fingers. ‘Things got a bit messy for a while.’

Jack smiled at me. ‘Did your mum work?’ he asked.

‘She still does,’ I said. ‘In fact, you might know of her – she’s an art historian.’

‘So that’s where you get it from,’ Jack said to me. I felt like a flower opening up in sunshine as he turned his gaze to me.