My Sister’s Lies: A gripping novel of love, loss and dark family secrets. S.D. Robertson
herself as an author, although she hoped that would change soon. Once she’d held a physical copy of one of her books in her hand – seen it on the shelves in stores – surely that would change.
As for her second novel, pushing on with it was all she could realistically do. She considered writing a few words now. There wouldn’t be time to do much before she had breakfast with Mia, one way or another. But something was better than nothing.
Hannah sat down at the desk and opened up her laptop, buoyed by a wave of optimism. Then she proceeded to spend the next ten minutes on the Internet looking up the sleeping patterns of teenagers. She read that most tended to fall asleep and wake up later than they had as children, with their sleep patterns varying from one day to another. Teens usually required eight to ten hours of sleep per night to function at their best, apparently.
Well, that’s interesting, Hannah thought. However, she wasn’t sure what to do with the information and felt annoyed she’d looked at it rather than write.
‘Stuff it,’ she said, slamming the laptop shut and striding over to Mia’s bedroom.
She knocked on the door three times before announcing: ‘I’m making us some breakfast, Mia. See you in the kitchen in ten minutes?’
There was a slight pause before a gravelly voice replied: ‘Right.’
‘Would you like tea or coffee?’
‘Um, coffee.’
‘A boiled egg?’
‘Sure.’
‘Great. See you soon.’
Hannah smiled to herself, pleased with how her wake-up call had gone. Mia’s replies could have been a bit more polite: a please or thank-you wouldn’t have gone amiss. But in her niece’s defence, it had sounded like she’d just woken up.
As Hannah walked to the kitchen, she wondered how to keep Mia occupied for the rest of the day. She and Mark had spent much of the previous forty-eight hours trying to make their visitor feel welcome and at ease. They’d told her to call them both by their first names, rather than Aunt Hannah and Uncle Mark. Considering her age and the fact that they’d not been in her life for such a long time, it seemed more sensible – less forced – than the alternative; hopefully it would help her to feel comfortable in their presence.
They’d also spent a good amount of time showing Mia around Manchester. On Saturday they’d strolled around the city centre, pointing out the location of the main shops and so on, before grabbing some food at a new pizza restaurant that had recently opened near Deansgate.
Yesterday, they’d gone out in the BMW to give Mia a flavour of some of the countryside around Manchester. They’d walked around Hollingworth Lake in Littleborough, a short drive out of the city, although Mia hadn’t given much away in terms of whether she’d enjoyed it or not. She hadn’t spoken a great deal on either day, mainly responding to their questions rather than making conversation.
This wasn’t a huge surprise, considering her age and the fact she was only now getting to know her aunt and uncle. But it did mean Hannah was feeling apprehensive about being alone with her today. She really hoped to avoid a return to the awkward silences of last Friday, when Mia and her mum had first turned up.
Mind you, over the weekend, Hannah had done much more of the talking than Mark. He’d seemed more reserved than usual – not quite himself – but she guessed that made sense, considering his views on children. He probably needed time to adapt to Mia’s presence.
As she put two eggs on the hob to boil, Hannah’s mind turned to her sister, wondering when she was likely to contact them. Surely she’d phone or text today, having so far remained quiet since her departure on Saturday morning. If not, Hannah decided she probably ought to make contact herself soon.
She switched on the kitchen radio and laid two places at the small table. This was where she and Mark usually ate when they didn’t have company. She had considered using the dining room again, as they always had with Mia so far, but it seemed silly when there were only the two of them.
After a couple of reminder calls that breakfast was ready, Mia eventually appeared. Bleary-eyed and with her dark hair tied up in a messy bun, she was wearing grey jogging pants and a creased pink crop top.
‘Good morning,’ Hannah said. She smiled despite feeling annoyed at how long it had taken Mia to emerge. ‘Grab a seat and I’ll pour you some coffee.’
Mia stifled a yawn as she sat down on one of the two chairs.
‘Did you sleep well?’
‘I woke up a few times.’
‘Oh dear. Did you hear Mark getting ready for work?’
Mia shrugged. ‘Maybe.’
‘He left just before seven, so …’
Hannah thought Mia might respond to this information, but instead there was a long silence.
As Hannah poured some coffee into her niece’s cup, it occurred to her that maybe this wasn’t an appropriate drink to serve a fourteen-year-old. How was she supposed to know? She struggled to remember at what age she’d started drinking coffee, and it wasn’t like Diane had left her with an instruction manual.
She’d definitely had coffee with them yesterday morning, but Hannah couldn’t recall what she’d had on Saturday morning when Diane was still around.
‘Sorry, is coffee what you usually drink for breakfast at home?’ Hannah asked as Mia added milk to her cup. ‘It occurred to me that … well, I’ve no idea what the norm is for someone your age.’
‘Coffee’s fine,’ Mia replied.
Hannah nodded. She handed Mia a boiled egg, instructing her to help herself to some of the toast she’d already placed on the table. ‘There’s cereal too, if you’d like some,’ she added without getting a response.
‘So, um, your mum’s all right with you drinking coffee? It’s just that … I wouldn’t want to step on any toes.’
‘Uh-huh.’
Hannah, feeling awkward at the lack of interaction, took a slow sip from her own cup of coffee, which she enjoyed black as usual. Once upon a time she used to be able to knock back coffee all day long, but nowadays she had to be careful not to drink too much, for fear of the caffeine making her edgy.
She heard an unfamiliar pinging sound all of a sudden, which had her looking around the kitchen, wondering where the noise had come from.
Then she saw Mia pull her mobile phone out of her trouser pocket; she realised it must have been the sound of her receiving a message.
‘Oh, would you mind not using your phone at the table, please?’ Hannah asked before she had the chance to look at it.
Mia turned bright red and shoved the mobile back into her pocket without a word, staring down at her plate. A moment later Hannah noticed tears trickling down her cheeks, which made her feel awful.
‘There’s no need to get upset, Mia,’ she said in a gentle voice. Part of her wanted to reach out and squeeze her niece’s hand or similar, but it felt like the wrong thing to do in the circumstances, like she would be overstepping boundaries. ‘I’m sorry if I sounded like I was snapping at you. If it makes you feel any better, I’d have said exactly the same thing to Mark, had he taken his mobile out during a meal. It’s a pet hate of mine. Everyone’s glued to their phones enough as it is, rather than talking to the people around them. So under this roof mealtimes are a phone-free zone, I’m afraid.’
Mia continued to look down at the table in silence. She refused to meet her aunt’s eye while painstakingly peeling the shell off her egg. Finally she placed it on her buttered toast, slicing it up and spreading it out.
The sight tickled Hannah, who recalled Diane switching to eating a boiled egg like this in her late teens, having picked up the method from a boyfriend. Previously,