Читать книгу The Memory Collector: The emotional and uplifting new novel from the bestselling author of The Other Us - Фиона Харпер - Страница 14

CHAPTER SEVEN

NOW

‘Did you know about this?’

As her sister enters the communal hallway of her flat, Heather flies towards Faith waving the newspaper clipping wildly. Faith has arrived to collect Alice’s photograph. She backs up, tripping slightly over the threshold, and ends up on the porch.

Heather has been sitting inside all morning, holding the scrap of newsprint in her hands. Obsessing. When the door buzzer sounded, it had the same effect as a starter’s pistol. Heather knows she’s acting like a complete lunatic, but on one level it’s quite pleasing to see the look of shock and confusion on her sister’s face, rather than the well-worn eye roll and look of saintly forbearance. It’s an admission that something really, truly is wrong.

‘Did you? Did you know?’

Heather finally stops moving enough for her sister to see what she’s waving around. Faith’s eyes fall on the grainy photograph in the newspaper cutting and she goes pale. ‘Why don’t we go inside?’

Heather stares at her. She’s whipped herself up into such a tornado of fury that she hasn’t thought about how she’ll react if Faith actually answers in the affirmative. It’s only because she’s so flabbergasted that Faith manages to grab her by the arm and manoeuvre her inside.

‘Hey, Heather,’ a voice calls from the stairs. It’s Jason. But Faith bustles her past him and into her flat, glancing up at him with her mouth set in a thin line. Heather can’t unscramble her brain enough to say something sensible to him at the best of times, so maybe it’s a blessing in disguise.

She regains her language skills as Faith steers her into the kitchen. ‘You did, didn’t you?’ she asks, surprised at how calm and rational she sounds after her outburst only moments before.

Faith looks at her for a few seconds, then nods.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Heather says, her volume rising again. ‘Why didn’t anyone ever tell me?’ A rush of pure hatred for her mother leaps through her like a flame. She wants to throw things, to scream so loud that Mrs Rowe in the top flat will get worried and call the police. She picks up a mug, feeling the smoothness of the china under her fingers, and imagines hurling it towards the kitchen units. It’s only the fact that this was precisely the sort of thing her mother used to do that stops her.

Faith is looking confused. ‘You don’t remember?’

Heather’s fingers grip the mug tighter. The urge to launch it towards the opposite wall is almost overwhelming now. ‘I was six!’

‘But I remember things from when I was that age, and less traumatic things, too. I always thought those sorts of memories – the ones accompanied by strong emotion – were supposed to be the clearest.’

Heather makes an incredulous little cough of a laugh. ‘Wasn’t the fact I’ve never once in my life mentioned it a bit of a giveaway?’

Faith eyes the mug in Heather’s hand with a concerned expression, which only makes Heather want to fling it all the more. ‘I suppose I assumed you just didn’t want to talk about it. You’ve got to admit, you’re not big on sharing, are you?’

Heather slumps into one of the chairs surrounding her tiny, two-seater dining set. The mug falls from her fingers and totters for a second before making contact with the tabletop, landing gracefully on its base.

‘Why?’ she whispers, more to herself than to her sister. ‘Why would you think that? Why would you never even think to mention it?’

Faith looks helpless. Heather realizes she’s never seen her sister look helpless before. ‘Well, none of us talked about it. We just… didn’t.’ She pauses and frowns before carrying on. ‘Okay, maybe that’s not true. I remember Dad and Aunt Kathy talking about it a couple of times after it happened, but if they ever mentioned it to Mum she just shut down or got hysterical. I learned very quickly not to raise the subject.’ Faith looks long and hard at the table before raising her eyes to meet Heather’s again. ‘I loved Mum, despite all her flaws, but she was a very controlling person.’

Heather can’t help laughing. Is her sister living in a parallel universe? ‘What are you talking about? She had no control over anything! Do you not remember how we lived? It was chaos!’

‘The freaking out, the meltdowns. That was her way of avoiding things she didn’t want to face, and making sure we didn’t bring them up again. If that’s not being manipulative, I don’t know what is. She might have seemed weak, but she controlled us all.’ Faith lets out a long, memory-laden sigh. ‘She was a master at it.’

Heather stares at her sister. What she has said is shocking, something Heather had never considered, but even more shocking is the expression on her face. It’s calm. Not serene and at peace, but accepting. If Faith really feels that way, why isn’t she shouting and screaming with the unfairness of it? That’s what Heather wants to do.

This is all Mum’s fault, she thinks, feeling venom pulse through her veins. How things are between me and Faith, the shoplifting, everything… And now I find she’s landed me in this mess, too.

She turns to her sister. She only has one point, but she’s going to keep hammering it in until Faith understands. ‘It doesn’t matter what Mum was like. We’ve been grown up and out of that house for years now. You should have told me.’

Faith sits down on a chair and pulls her hand through her hair. ‘I was only nine myself,’ she says quietly. ‘And all I know is what I remember from back then. To be honest, I haven’t thought about it in years.’

This makes Heather’s spine stiffen. ‘The most horrible, momentous thing that’s ever happened to your little sister and you don’t even think about it? How very telling.’

‘Don’t be like that.’ Faith sighs wearily. ‘I did used to consider mentioning it, but I really wasn’t sure if it would help. I mean, help you, if it was all dredged up again. Sometimes you just seem so…’ Her expression softens, begs forgiveness for what she’s about to say. ‘Fragile. And I suppose, to some extent, I did block it out, bury it. I don’t know if you’ve realized it, but our family is very good at that kind of stuff.’

Heather sits down across from her sister. Yes. Very good, she thinks, and all the energizing adrenaline begins to leak away. ‘So what do you know? I went missing… Did I wander off and get lost? What?’

Faith takes a moment. Heather can see her eyes making tiny movements, as if she’s pulling up memories and facts from a dusty drawer in the back of her brain. ‘You were taken.’

Heather breathes the word, echoing her sister. ‘Taken.’

Faith looks worried. She nods.

‘You mean… kidnapped?’

‘Sort of.’ Faith’s voice is scratchy and dry. ‘“Snatched” is what I remember hearing people say. I don’t think there was a ransom or anything. Nothing like that.’

‘But I was obviously found. Returned home. How… how long was I gone?’

Her sister looks pained. Heather suspects she’s not 100 per cent sure of the facts any more. ‘It seemed like forever at the time, but I think it was only a week or two.’

Heather swallows. Long enough. For exactly what she doesn’t want to think about.

Faith leans forward, looks genuinely distressed. ‘Mum was such a mess afterwards. She just… fell apart. Everyone was walking on eggshells. Even one mention could set her off and send her into a downward spiral for days.’

Heather nods. She knows what their mother was like.

‘I was cross with her at the time, but now I understand totally.’ Faith’s eyes fill. ‘If anything were to happen to Barney or Alice…’ she trails off, unable to finish.

Heather finds a lump in her throat, too. Losing a child, whichever way it happens…

‘You don’t know anything more than that?’

Faith shakes her head. ‘I’m sorry it’s come as such a shock. I would have said something if I’d known you had no memory of it, believe me.’

Unfortunately, Heather does, which leaves her with a ball of anger, curled up in the slingshot of her chest, with no one to fire it at. No one alive, anyway.

Faith looks at Heather. ‘What are you going to do?’

Heather just looks wordlessly back at her. She really has no idea.