Sister Sister: A truly gripping psychological thriller. Sue Fortin
within me.
The next few weeks pass quickly and I’m surprised at how fast events move. I had anticipated that there would be a gradual exchange of emails and possibly some phone calls before Mum and Alice decided it was time to meet in person. In my mind, it would be at least two or three months but, no, in two more emails, they decide they want to meet sooner rather than later. In person, straight off. No phone calls, no Skype.
‘Are you sure you’re ready for this?’ I ask Mum, the evening before Alice’s arrival, as Mum goes into Alice’s bedroom to make sure the room is tidy and ready to welcome her. I had suggested to Mum that she redecorate the room, but she had insisted the baby-pink walls and the polka-dot curtains were to remain. She was convinced Alice would remember them. I want Alice to remember them, if only for Mum’s sake. I wonder whether I should prime her first, but decide against it. I haven’t been involved in the emails. I don’t feel quite so connected to Alice yet.
‘It looks really nice, Mum,’ I say. ‘I’m sure Alice will love it, but don’t get upset if it takes her a while to remember things. It was a long time ago and she was very young.’
I place a hand on Mum’s shoulder and give a gentle squeeze.
‘It’s okay, love,’ says Mum. ‘I know it may be a bit difficult, and even upsetting, but I’m prepared for it. I’m not as naive as you may think.’
We go into the guest room across the landing and take a cursory glance at the room. Everything is in place for our additional house guest. Fresh towels are on the end of the bed, a spare dressing gown and some toiletries. ‘It looks like a swanky hotel,’ I say.
‘Do you think it will be okay?’
‘Of course. I’d be delighted if I was staying in a room like this.’ I check my watch. ‘It’s late. We’d better get to bed. We have to be at Heathrow for seven-thirty.’
Despite encouraging Mum to get a good night’s sleep, I don’t sleep well myself and am somewhat relieved when the alarm goes off at four-thirty. Mum is already waiting in the kitchen, obviously suffering the same pre-meeting nerves as I am. We creep quietly out of the house so as not to disturb Luke and the girls. I feel as if I’ve hardly seen Luke the last couple of weeks. Since his trip to America, he’s been pretty much locked away in his studio all day and all night. He came back enthusiastic to get the London commission finished so he could start on the Miami commission.
‘How’s Luke getting on with his work?’ asks Mum.
I focus on the road ahead. ‘Really well, thanks,’ I say. ‘This could be a big break for him. We’re talking several thousand pounds. This American client is all over Luke. Loves his work.’ I realise I’m rambling slightly. I always feel very defensive about Luke with Mum when it comes to his artwork and money. At the back of my mind, I’m aware that she doesn’t totally approve of our set-up. She’s behind me having a career, a successful one that preserves my independence, but she’s not so keen on me supporting Luke. She once told me that supporting Luke financially was a ransom note. It would keep me tied to him and the girls; that I’d never be able to strike out on my own should I need to.
I know she’s thinking of what happened between her and Dad. Mum had been wise when it came to money. She had her own income from her career as a teacher and from the money she had inherited. She had always kept it separate from Dad, she told me, who was wealthy and could support himself. Financially, neither needed the other. Turned out it was just as well. Mum might have been left stranded emotionally but financially she could survive – and survive comfortably.
‘That sounds promising,’ says Mum, breaking my thoughts. ‘It could take some of the pressure off you.’
‘I’m not under any pressure.’
‘No, but you know what I mean. It will be great if Luke can earn the equivalent to a decent wage.’
‘Mum, please. Not now.’
‘I’m just saying, you won’t have to feel so responsible financially for everyone. It’s good to have your own independence, both of you.’
‘Like you did. In case something goes wrong. That’s what you’re saying, aren’t you?’ I can’t help feeling more than a little irritated at the comment and it prickles me into a terse reply. I can feel the static coming off Mum. I sneak a look at her out of the corner of my eye. She’s staring straight ahead, but I can see her body is tense.
‘Yes. I do, actually,’ she says.
‘Mum, me and Luke are fine. We’ve been happily married all this time. We’ve known each other since we were at school. If something was going to happen, I’m sure it would have by now.’
‘But you don’t really know that. Sometimes being complacent is the worst thing. You don’t see it coming and it blindsides you.’
We drive along in silence for a few minutes. I can feel the weight of Mum’s words. I know she is looking out for me. You don’t stop being a mum just because your kids are grown up and married with their own family. I know Mum is fond of Luke, but he’s not her own flesh and blood so she’s bound to be biased. I’ll probably be just the same when the girls grow up and get boyfriends. I pick my next words carefully and say them with equal care.
‘What happened to make Dad leave?’
Mum has never told me the exact reason why Dad decided to take Alice on holiday on his own. Although, in hindsight, we both realise that to Dad it was never a holiday – it was always going to be for ever.
‘Your Dad didn’t want to stay with me any more,’ replies Mum. ‘You know that.’
‘But you’ve never told me why,’ I press. Somehow it seems important that I know now. Maybe it’s because Alice is coming home. Surely she will want to know.
‘It was a long time ago,’ says Mum. ‘I have no intention of picking old scars and wounds. I don’t want to dwell in the past. We have a future to look forward to with Alice.’
‘But she might ask you. What will you tell her?’
‘Exactly what I’ve just told you. Now, please, Clare, I don’t want to talk about it any more. It’s a corrosive subject and it will eat you away if you allow it.’ She pauses and then lets out a small sigh. ‘I don’t want it to poison you, like it has me. I’ve never wanted that for either of my girls. All I want is for us to be happy now.’
I let the subject go just like I always do when we get to this point.
The flight from Orlando arrives on time and Mum and I wait patiently at arrivals, scanning the throng of passengers who make their way through the glass doors.
A family of four, a couple in their thirties with their two small children. The mum is carrying the toddler and the dad is pushing the trolley laden with suitcases, a child of about five tags along, holding onto the trolley. A man in a business suit with a small carry-on case in one hand, a briefcase in the other, early-morning stubble grazing his chin. He marches through, not looking for anyone, eyes straight ahead. He’s obviously done this journey before, it’s not new to him, there’s no excitement in being in the UK. I wonder idly if he’s American or British.
I see a young woman with dark hair round the corner and for a moment I think it’s Alice, but as she comes into view, I see she’s with a guy. They have backpacks and are wearing shorts and hoodies. The girl’s face lights up and she nudges the boyfriend as she points ahead. I look over and see a middle-aged woman waving back. The passengers file through but still no sign of Alice and Martha.
‘They would have emailed if they had missed their flight, wouldn’t they?’ says Mum.
‘Relax, Mum, I’m sure they won’t be long now. You know what it’s