Divorce is never easy. It's worse when you live far from where you were born and brought up, away from your family and old friends. It's worse to find all the sympathy of supposed new friends and colleagues goes to that undeserving cretin your ex-husband, who works for the same company but higher up the food chain. Conditions got worse in the months after the decree nisi came through, and I knew I was heading for a breakdown.
Family came through for me, as always. One evening I was sitting in front of the TV, just staring at the screen without taking anything in, when the phone rang. It was Liam, my older brother. 'Hi, Christie, how are you?'
Just the sound of his voice brought me to tears. Before I knew it, without really wanting to, I unburdened myself. Liam is a few years older than me. He was always mature. He listened without interrupting with anything other than the gentlest questions.
At the end of my outpouring there was a moment of silence. 'Chris, you need to get out of there. Give your notice in at work tomorrow, it's not worth suffering that bad atmosphere any longer. I know a couple of people here who are looking for someone in your line of work; I'll have a word with them. You can come and stay with me until you're settled.'
'Oh God, Liam, you're a diamond!' I sighed, feeling all the weight on my shoulders lifting. Big brother, always strong and supportive. We chatted on for hours and when I finally hung up, my ear ached but I felt ready to tackle my problems head-on.
So it was that a long month later the taxi dropped me off at the door to Liam's place. He lives in a converted mews house, a quaint little area of cobblestones and old brick, miles away from my previous world of brushed concrete and steel and hard-edged corporate business. I rang the bell, Liam answered within moments and welcomed me with open arms. I literally fell into them, savouring the closeness of his strong body, his warmth and gentleness.
'You could do with a stiff drink,' he said, taking my things and dropping them in the bedroom he had prepared for me. 'Take a bath at the same time, the water's hot. I have pasta on the go, it'll be ready when you're done.'
Half an hour later I entered the cosy kitchen-diner to find a big plate of pasta waiting, with pitta bread and chilled wine to go with it. Liam smiled at me and I gripped his hand across the table as I ate greedily.
'You're the best, bro,' I said between mouthfuls. 'You'll make some lucky girl a good man.'
His lips twitched. 'Nice of you to say so, but the lucky girls seem to be looking elsewhere.'
I chewed pasta and looked him over. Sandyish hair, a strong square jaw with a hint of stubble at this late hour. Six feet tall and firm of body; I knew he worked out. 'Some people have no taste,' I commented, pointing at him with my fork. 'A hunk like you should be beating women off with a stick!'
'Yeah, right,' he grinned bashfully, then got up to fetch more wine. I let my gaze run all over him as he stood at the fridge selecting a new bottle. Perhaps it was the Chianti I'd already drunk that did it but that was the moment I looked at Liam with something other than a sister's eyes.
A week went by. Liam was as good as his word. He spoke to friends and acquaintances in an effort to find me a job and eventually found a post as PA to the deputy manager of a paint factory. It was a good placement. The guy I worked for was easy-going with his staff once they'd proved their ability. He was also that rarity, a happily married father of three, so I had no fears of being chased around his desk. My gratitude to Liam increased overnight.
We decided to celebrate by going out for the evening, taking in a movie then heading off for a good meal. I took extra care with my appearance, dressing in a black number with a low neckline I'd bought in the city the day before, with matching shoes and bag, my mother's gold necklace and a set of sapphire earings I'd picked up in Paris two years back. Liam's eyes popped out on stalks when I emerged from my bedroom. I did a little twirl for him, delighting in his soft whistle of appreciation and, yes, the brief look of lust in his eyes which he swiftly suppressed. His clasp on my arm as we headed out the door was warm and comforting and, I couldn't help but notice, a little ardent.
The restaurant was good, moderately expensive and the staff discrete. Soft candlelight turned Liam's good looks into those of a handsome stranger, an effect which increased as the night went on and we talked of this and that. I'm 25, he's 29 and a bit. Almost the same generation, and we always found a lot in common. Several years apart in different areas of the country, with only occasional visits and phone calls to keep in touch left us much to talk about and to share with each other.
The waiter had begun to hover, so I poured more wine for us, then raised my glass. 'To the world's best brother!' I saluted him. He grinned and we touched glasses, and I smiled at him warmly.
'To the world's most beautiful sister!' he responded. Again, that brief look of lust came to his eyes, and his face was flushed.
'Thanks!' I winked at him, then glanced at the waiter. 'I think we'd better go.'
We walked home through the crisp starry night, a safe walk of a few hundred yards. I clung to Liam's arm, feeling tipsier as the fresh air began to work on me. He chuckled and his arm came around my waist to hold me close. Glad of his support, I pressed against him and pecked him on the cheek, feeling a thrill at the touch of his skin.
In the hall, I took off my coat and hung it up at the third attempt. Liam thought this hilarious. 'You're drunk!'
'No more than you,' I retorted, poking him lightly in the belly.
He laughed and cuddled me, then smoothed the stray hair back from my forehead, a loving touch that sent a thrill through me. 'Aren't you tired?' he asked.
'No. I'm not ready for bed yet. And it's Friday, so no work tomorrow.'
'There's another bottle or two of wine left. Feel like a nightcap?'
I pressed his nose like a button. 'Why not?' I giggled.
We sat facing each other at the breakfast bar, the wine level dropping steadily in the bottle and our conversation turned maudlin.
'I don't trust women,' Liam sighed, shaking his head. 'Not after my problems with Heidi.'
'Bitches, most of 'em,' I agreed, nodding slowly. Heidi was his ex-girlfriend, an überbitch, hard and driving, mean-mouthed and soul-less; utterly wrong for a gentle soul like Liam. I called her "shit in silk stockings," and was so glad when he found her out and dumped her.
'But you're a woman.'
'I had noticed.'
'Then why d'you agree with me?'
'Because I know you're right, and I'm going to say something equally bad about men, okay?'
