I begged my mum to 'give me' a sister. I had three brothers, and from an early age I thought that a sister would complete me. She arrived when I was 10 and it was the best thing and still is the best thing ever. That’s not to say that we don’t tear each other apart verbally on a regular basis or that we have the perfect sibling relationship.
She’s cold via text but she’s my best friend. In fact, because I have her, I’m extremely lazy when I comes to socialising. But I don’t mind being a self-described loser as long as she thinks I’m cool.
In lots of ways the age gap has closed up as we’ve got older, but I think my favourite stage was when she was a toddler and I was old enough to take her to the shop down the road and pretend she was my child. I would progress to taking her for coffee as an anxious weight obsessed teenager and get her hot chocolates and muffins or weirdly giant cookies, living vicariously. I would miss her so much when I started university that I’d race home each weekend and cry on her little shoulder. My friends would be partying hard and enjoying their new adult freedom while I’d be wishing I was at home, sitting next to her on the sofa, watching The X factor.
Now I watch her, in her early twenties, being glamorous, having a boyfriend and going to parties (something which have always terrified me) – and I do feel like she’s doing her twenties better than me.
I dropped out of university at 19 and had no idea what I was going to do with my life. All I knew was that I wanted to 'make stuff' and that Bebe, aged 9, was available. So I started using her in YouTube videos and I wrote my first Edinburgh show about a bookclub and cast her as my 'assistant' who I kept trapped in a little cardboard house. She stole the show. I didn’t mind.
In a way that was the basis of my twenties. I wrote stuff and Bebe was in it and performed better than me. Now I watch her, in her early twenties, being glamorous, having a boyfriend and going to parties (something which have always terrified me) – and I do feel like she’s doing her twenties better than me.
Still, she is making many of the same mistakes as me, in an almost eerily identical fashion. I tell her to be assertive, to fight her corner. I am her drill sergeant. I write lists, I tell her exactly what she needs to do to get herself sorted. I make sure she writes, that she is creating her own work and isn’t waiting for anyone to give her a break in our ridiculous industry that is entertainment. I am boring and stable and encourage her to do work and be healthy and focused. And when she listens to me and is happy I feel so proud. But no matter how hard I try to teach her, or to warn her, I understand that she has to find her own way.
And accept that her way might be better than mine. I am in awe of her most days, and prefer her personality. My first novel, Sunset, is inspired by our complex relationship and sibling bond. It is the story of two sisters Hannah and Ruth, who are both an amalgamation of both me and bebe’s best and worst traits. Bebe was the first person to read it and help me edit the book. She’s the only person I’m not afraid to show my unedited, unfiltered, bitchy and neurotic self.
There have definitely been times when our stages of life have been at odds with each other. But it seems to always get back on track.
I got pregnant after a one night stand at 26, when Bebe was 15. The baby arrived, and Bebe was just finding out about alcohol for the first time at sixth form, coming back drunkenly from fancy dressed foam parties as I was coming downstairs to put breast milk in the fridge. I went through an exhausted, hormonal and terrified new mother phase but she always made me feel better, especially if she was in her unicorn onesie.
There have definitely been times when our stages of life have been at odds with each other. But it seems to always get back on track.
Now, at 34, I have three children and she is, annoyingly, their favourite person. She’s my therapist and my relationship coach. Even my boyfriend takes her side sometimes which can cause minor explosions. The pandemic has amplified our anxiety about our careers and made us value the ability to work together even more – we were one of the millions to start a podcast. The most fulfilling work that I’ve done has been with her, or because of her. We work best together because we can be the worst versions of ourselves and cut through the stuff that doesn’t matter, find the funny in the bleak.
I think she envies my ability to form a routine (or the necessity of having a routine with kids). She sometimes wishes that she could do things first. Even though we are now both grown adults and have the ability to hold intelligent conversations the fights inevitably stem from the most cliché of silly things. Food, alcohol, who stole that top. Or the killer: Who to took the most unflattering photo?
Our brother tragically dying in an accident two years ago has made us closer. I feel bad that she’s experiencing grief so young, when most of her age group are going wild, seeking joy. She feels bad that I’m experiencing it with super young kids. It’s not easy for either of us and has made us aware of how short and brutal life can be. It’s made me appreciate the sibling bond so much more than I did before.
Fights that would have lasted a week now last a day. I realise how very lucky we are to have each other, to play with and to fight with, and I want to make sure no time is to be lost between us.
Sunset by Jessie Cave is published on 24 June and Jessie Cave’s Sunrise is available to stream from Soho Theatre On Demand
READ MORE: [Thousands Of Twins Have Been Separated By The Pandemic - Including Me And My Sister](http://READ MORE: Thousands Of Twins Have Been Separated By The Pandemic - Including Me And My Sister)