Who’s sorry now?

Could Sarah learn a lesson from her six-year-old twins?

Mia stomped out of the school gates with her arms crossed and a face like thunder.

Her blue-checked dress looked like it might have paint all over the hem.

‘Where’s your sister?’ Sarah asked, peering through the crowd of children streaming towards their parents.

‘Don’t know, don’t care.’ The school had decided to split Sarah’s six-year-old twins up to encourage their ‘individual development.’ They rarely fell out and usually met up to walk to the gates. ‘What happened?’

‘She started it.’ Mia thrust her nose into the air and didn’t say another thing.

Sarah peered through the crowd waiting for her other daughter Daisy to appear. Right on cue, there she skipped, her hair swishing.

When she saw her sister, her face contorted and she gazed up at a cloud. ‘Now, what’s this all about?’ Sarah offered them a hand apiece, as down the tree-lined pavement dappled with sunlight they walked.

‘Ask her.’ The two girls’ words arrived in stereo.

Sarah peered up ahead, heaved a ragged sigh, then tugged them both towards the kerb. ‘Let’s cross here.’

The girls stayed silent, their shoes slapping on the tarmac as they hurried across to the other side of the road.

‘I don’t like going home this way,’ Mia said.

‘It’s a short cut,’ Sarah pointed out. ‘Now tell me why you’ve fallen out.’ They headed down an alleyway, startling a cat that shot into a hedge.

‘My class did some painting in the hall today for the play. Daisy’s class joined in and she threw paint over me.’

Daisy retorted firmly: ‘I did not.’

Mia’s nose wrinkled up. ‘I’m not talking to her now.’

‘I didn’t talk to her first,’

Daisy amended.

Children have spats now and again. By dinnertime they’ll be playing together again, Sarah told herself, taking a left turn at the end of the alleyway.

Unfortunately, at dinner, the girls still didn’t say a word to each other. They both sat perched on cushions so they were high enough to use the kitchen table.

Our family will eat together — Sarah had made that rule as soon they were old enough to use a knife and fork. Now, she sipped from a glass of wine as Ryan, her husband, sawed at his lamb chop. ‘How did work go?’ she asked. ‘Oh, fine.’ He

frowned at Daisy and Mia.

Normally their chatter lit up the evening. Mrs Clark, Mia’s teacher, told a story every day. Mia loved to give it her own interpretation.

Her version always meandered and usually missed out the moral.

Daisy, most likely, would be full of news of praise from Mrs Brown for her artwork or the fact she’d managed to spell a difficult word.

Sarah and Ryan saved their own adult discussions for bedtime. He’d recount his day, sprinkling his narrative with criticisms of his overbearing boss while she might mention his mother had dropped in to perform another militarystyle inspection.

‘Come on, girls, isn’t it time you made up?’ Sarah waggled her eyebrows at Ryan, then glanced pointedly from one girl to the other. Parenting, we need to do some, Ryan!

‘Yes, what’s the problem, you two?’ he asked right on cue.

‘Paint!’ Mia snapped. ‘I didn’t do anything.’ Daisy’s fork flashed. ‘I don’t want to talk to her ever again.’

Ryan blew out his cheeks, then stared across at Sarah. Well, go on then, she thought. Add some wise paternal advice.

Instead, he heaved a sigh. Is that it? Are you done?

Sarah’s brows creased as the girls munched their vegetables. Well, thanks for your support.

When the girls left the table, Ryan started to collect up the dishes. ‘Well, dinner seemed very… quiet.’

‘You could have been more help,’ Sarah said.

‘Could I?’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘Could I really, Sarah? I mean if you won’t listen to me, why would a pair of six-year-olds?’

Sarah glowered. She knew what he meant. She bristled like a scolded dog. ‘It’s your turn to wash and dry. Keep an eye on the twins. I’ll be in the bath.’ With that, she flounced out.

In the hall, she fumed. It’s not the same thing at all. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. ‘I don’t like going this way,’ Mia said the next morning as Sarah hurried her and Daisy down the pavement. ‘It’s the scenic route.’ ‘What does scenic mean?’ Daisy asked, avoiding her sister’s gaze.

The girls shared a bedroom. They’d normally chatter on at night until they fell asleep. Last night the air had felt as chilly as if a

Across the road, a stylish blonde woman chivvied a little boy along. Her head turned, she flinched when she saw Sarah, then she stared quickly into somebody’s hedge.

Sarah grabbed at the hand Mia raised to give a wave. Don’t your dare! Both girls peered up at her then. ‘It’s been ages. Are you ever going to speak to Cassie again, Mum?’ Daisy asked. ‘I’m never going to speak to Mia.’

‘Don’t be silly, Mia’s your sister. Cassie’s just a friend… and we had a very adult argument. You’re too young to understand.’

Sarah cast about hunting for another route, since she didn’t like the idea of trailing Cassie all the way to the school. These detours could get a little tricky since her ex-friend lived in her street too.

She’d known Cassandra since junior school. They’d developed a special connection there. They could finish each other’s sentences. They could bat jokes back and forth like tennis balls.

We were as close as twins ourselves… but not any more, Sarah thought, towing Mia and Daisy down a side street.

Before they reached the school, she pulled the girls behind a tree and took a long look at the wide pavement, just to check the coast was clear. ‘Right. Come on then.’ She tugged the girls forward again.

At the gates, she kissed Mia as Daisy scowled, then Daisy, as Mia sneered. ‘Have a good day, you two.’

Mia sent her nose skyward. Daisy examined her shoes. When they walked into the school playground they headed for separate doors.

Sarah let her shoulders sag. The night she’d fallen out with Cassie their usual camaraderie had snapped cleanly in two. Sarah had stormed out with Cassie’s words snapping at her heels: ‘Go then. Go!’ She’d sounded like a scrap-yard dog barking at an intruder.

At the school gates, she called out one last thing to her twins. ‘Be good. I’ll see you this afternoon.’

The truth is, she thought,

it isn’t always easy to make up with some people. In fact, the closer you are the harder it feels.

Have I developed ex-friend radar? Don’t look round. It might be Cassie back there.

As leaves fell from the trees just after three that afternoon, the hairs on Sarah’s neck prickled. She stood in a crowd of parents waiting to collect their children.

She’d resigned herself to another night of silence from her girls. Well, so be it. You have to respect the fact that feelings do get hurt.

Mia appeared. She grinned away, darting around one of the mothers. Daisy ran along in her wake. She was grinning too. The amazing thing was, just like on any

‘We had a very adult argument. You’re too young to understand’

normal day, the two of them held hands.

Sarah frowned, feeling oddly betrayed by this turnabout. ‘So, you made up then?’

Did you have to do it so quickly… or make it look so easy?

Mia gave her sister a smile. ‘We made up at break time, Mum. I said sorry and then Daisy said sorry about getting paint on me. We decided it was the paint’s fault for being so runny.’

‘Well, that’s lovely. Well done, you two.’ What else could she say?

‘And…’ Daisy’s expression turned grave. ‘We didn’t want to end up like you and Cassie, Mum.’

Sarah’s lips turned south.

It’s always nice to be a bad example.

‘I told you, adults don’t fall out like children. We didn’t argue over a little splash of paint. We argued over some very serious things. You’ll find out what it’s like when you’re older. Now come on.’

She only needed to hold one hand now, as Daisy claimed Mia’s for her own. She checked about for lingering ex-friends, then angled the girls towards the kerb. She decided on the Barry Road, Clifton Court route today. Yes, that might work.

She almost made it home free and clear but then, as they turned the very last corner, Cassie came walking out of the newsagents with her little boy. They were on a

collision course, like two express trains, unless Sarah crossed the road to avoid the crash.

She glanced down at Mia and Daisy’s expectant faces.

Don’t say anything, don’t you dare. I would say sorry, but what if instead of graciously accepting my apology she twists the knife? What if it all explodes like a bomb in my face?

‘Mum?’ Daisy bleated before Mia joined in.

‘Shush, both of you,’ Sarah snapped before her cheeks turned red hot. Now she’d started taking it all out on them.

She resisted the urge to edge towards the kerb and escape. Surely, she told herself, it was you not the girls who needed to set a good example today. She raised her hand and waved. ‘Cassie?’ she called, before Cassie made a hasty exit herself.

The woman turned about, standing ramrod straight, her face tight and pensive as Sarah hurried up. She blurted before she changed her mind: ‘Look, I’m sorry about what I said the other night.’

‘Oh… I’m sorry, too. I was being a bit over-sensitive. To be honest I was worried about my Jack and things

‘At least I’m not endlessly sarcastic. You do know it’s the lowest form of wit?’

going on with his job.’

‘Oh, really? I suppose I was bit tense about Ryan that way too. You could come round later for a chat… if you like?’

‘Yes. That’s a good idea,

I’d like to clear the air. I really did intend to before now.’

They both sounded like twittering birds on a branch they thought would snap beneath them at any second.

‘Well, I’ll see you later.’ Cassie walked away, smiling pensively back at Sarah as she did so.

Alone again with her girls, Sarah let out a shuddering breath. Mia and Daisy examined her closely.

‘There, you see, even when you have a very serious adult falling-out, it is possible to make up again.’

‘Yes, Mum,’ Daisy said, her face dour and serious.

‘Yes, Mum,’ Mia echoed in a grave tone.

I think you just about got away with that, Sarah thought, remembering once more her recent argument with Cassie. They’d sat in the kitchen, chatting and drinking a little wine.

In the middle of an anecdote, Cassie had knocked her glass flying.

‘Oh God, you stomp about like an elephant,’ Sarah laughed. ‘Boom, boom, boom!’ She’d mimicked the sound of a striding pachyderm, expecting her friend to giggle.

‘At least I’m not endlessly sarcastic,’ Cassie parried instead. ‘You do know it’s the lowest form of wit?’

‘I’m not being sarcastic. It was a just a silly little joke.’ ‘It wasn’t.’

‘It was.’

‘It wasn’t.’

‘It was.’

Even at 10 years old they hadn’t argued like that. Truly, there hadn’t been anything adult about their falling out at all. It had degenerated into a spat any kindergarten child could have started.

Sarah gave a dry swallow in the street where she stood with her twins. They’ll never know. Well, maybe not until they grow up. Then they’ll realise when it comes to arguments it’s very easy to revert back to childhood.

‘So the paint was too runny, was it?’ She tugged them towards home. ‘I’m so happy you two were mature enough to sort things out today.’

I’m very happy I was too, she thought. Well done me.

Arguments are very tricky things… even for a 32-year-old.