Читать книгу My Sister’s Lies - S.D. Robertson - Страница 11

Hannah was standing outside the spare bedroom, or Mia’s room as it had now temporarily become, with her right ear to the closed door.

She was listening to see if she could hear any sound from within; trying to work out whether her niece was awake yet. It was 10.05 a.m. on Monday: two days since Diane had left Mia in her and Mark’s care.

Hannah had been awake since just before 7 a.m. when Mark had kissed her goodbye as he left for the office. She always found it hard to sleep in when it got light so early during the summer months. Blackout curtains or blinds would fix that. But she actually quite liked to be up early: to gaze out of the window and watch the city below move through its own morning routines while she did the same from the comfort of the apartment.

Off her and Mark’s bedroom, as well as an en-suite bathroom, was a small balcony with a table and two chairs. Sometimes she liked to drink a cup of tea or coffee there and enjoy the sounds as well as the sights of Manchester. There was a communal garden on the roof, which had sounded wonderful when they’d moved in, although in practice they rarely ever used it.

If Hannah was going properly outside – actually leaving the apartment – she preferred to do so at street level. There was so much more to see close up: not least a bottomless supply of characters and dialogue to feed her fiction.

Unfortunately, the weather today didn’t make her want to go outside at all. Not even on to the balcony. The sunshine of the past few days had vanished, replaced by grey skies and incessant drizzle. Typical Manchester weather.

It made Hannah feel sorry for all the schoolkids, like Mia, who were finally free from the constraints of education and deserved better. It was the end of July, for goodness’ sake. Mind you, if Mia was planning to stay in bed all day, the weather didn’t really matter.

Hannah tiptoed away from her position in front of the bedroom door, having stayed there for at least a minute without hearing any sign of life whatsoever. She walked through to the lounge, shutting the door behind her and finally feeling like she could make some noise again. Just as well this wasn’t one of the typical open-plan apartments that were so prevalent nowadays. Hannah and Mark had specifically sought out one like this, with separate rooms around a central hallway, which they both preferred. In the last few days, thanks to their unexpected visitors, it had proved useful.

But what was she doing, creeping around her own home? It was ridiculous when she thought about it. And in doing so, rather than making the noises she normally would at this time on a Monday morning, she was only increasing the likelihood of Mia staying in bed longer.

So what should she do: start hoovering? No, that would be a bit over the top. She hadn’t had breakfast yet, thinking it rude to do so without her guest; how much longer was she going to have to wait? Until what time did fourteen-year-olds usually sleep? Mia had been up of her own accord by 9 a.m. yesterday, although the sound of Hannah and Mark moving around and chatting had probably roused her.

What if the poor thing was lying awake in her bed, waiting to hear Hannah moving around, and, because she’d been so quiet, still hadn’t got up?

Wow. Who would have guessed how awkward this was going to be?

Hannah made a decision: she’d switch the radio on here in the lounge, not too loud but enough to make it obvious she was up and about. If that hadn’t worked by 10.30 a.m., she’d start making breakfast and knock on Mia’s door to let her know.

Meanwhile, after tuning the hi-fi in to Radio 2, she looked over at the desk in the corner of the room. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the laptop lying there on top of it, gathering dust next to the printer. That was where she ought to have been for the last couple of hours. Instead of worrying about what time her niece would get up and how they would spend the day together, she could have used this quiet period to get some writing done.

Hannah’s first novel was due to be published next January. Although that was still a way off, she’d finished working on it now, at least in terms of writing and editing. However, from what her editor and publicist had told her, there would be plenty more to do promotion-wise near to release. She didn’t even want to think about that yet. It made her nervous. Meanwhile, her mind was on the next novel: the second part of the two-book deal she’d signed, which she was due to deliver next March.

She hadn’t even got halfway through her first draft yet and, although her editor had been enthusiastic about the synopsis she’d written initially, Hannah was far from happy with how it was going. There was still plenty of time, but she wanted to get ahead of the game, particularly as she feared not being able to produce something as good as her debut release.

Chatting in bed last night, Mark had asked her how she was getting on with it.

‘Um, okay, I guess.’

‘That doesn’t sound too convincing, Han. What’s up? Anything I can help with?’

‘Not really, unless you want to write it for me.’

Mark had crossed his eyes at this and pulled a wonky face. ‘Hmm. Maybe not. Don’t think I’ve got that in me like you, darling. I could read what you’ve got so far, if that would help.’

‘No, thanks,’ she’d replied, somehow finding a way to grin despite her frustration. ‘It’s not fit for human consumption yet.’

‘Hey, I never said I wanted to eat it,’ Mark had replied, deadpan. ‘I love you a lot – but not that much.’

‘You know what I mean. I’m just not very happy with it at the moment. I suppose I’m anxious the publishers will be disappointed. And that March deadline somehow doesn’t feel very far away.’

Mark had reassured her, as he was always so good at doing, that such doubts were only normal in the circumstances. He’d recommended she have a chat with her literary agent, Bruce Wilks, about them.

‘Yeah, maybe,’ she’d replied. ‘But I don’t want him to start doubting me too. Plus he’s on holiday at the moment. I’m not going to bother him while he’s away.’

Hannah was embarrassed by her doubts and fears. She still struggled to refer to 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, she’d always cut off the top and dipped soldiers inside or scooped out the contents, as they’d learned at home. As far back as Hannah could remember, if a chance had ever presented itself to do things differently – particularly from the rest of the family – her sister had always jumped at it. Classic Diane.

Hannah wondered if Mia was the same way. She’d not known her long enough yet to be able to tell.

After a short period of listening to the radio and eating in silence, allowing Mia time to get over the phone incident, Hannah decided to try to make fresh conversation. ‘So is there anything you particularly fancy doing today, Mia?’

‘Not really.’

‘Well, as you must have noticed, it’s not very nice weather this morning. And according to the forecast, there’s little chance of any improvement later on. In other words, we’re probably best doing something indoors.’

Mia nodded, keeping her eyes on her plate and the food she’d been poking and prodding with her cutlery more than eating.

‘There are several nice art galleries and museums nearby, but … well, I’ve honestly got no idea whether that’s the kind of thing you would enjoy doing or not. I wouldn’t want to drag you around somewhere you’d find boring.’

There was a long pause before Mia replied. ‘I, er, I’m not actually feeling that well. My stomach hurts. I think I might be starting my period.’

This threw Hannah somewhat, as it was a long way from the response she’d expected. Despite the evidence right in front of her, she still hadn’t got used to Mia being fourteen. Mind you, it wasn’t like she’d had any preparation for this. Until a few days ago, the only Mia she knew – apart from the odd photo she’d spotted at her dad’s house over the years – was the pre-schooler she’d been when Diane moved her away.

‘I see,’ she replied. ‘Sorry to hear that. Do you, um, have everything you need: tampons, pads, paracetamol, perhaps? Because if not, I can always—’

‘I’m fine,’ Mia said. ‘But can I chill in my room for a bit and read my book?’

‘Of course. That’s fine. I thought you’d want to be out and about, rather than stuck here with me, but if that’s how you’re feeling, I understand. I’ve had my fair share of period pains over the years. Why not take it easy this morning and then see how you feel later on?’

Mia nodded, looking teary again all of a sudden.

Oh dear, Hannah thought. Surely she wasn’t still upset about the mobile phone reprimand. Unless she was afraid Hannah might confiscate it, as her mum had the other day. She could understand how that might be a scary prospect for a young teenager staying with people she barely knew, miles away from home.

‘Are you all right?’ she asked. ‘You’re not still upset about what I said earlier, are you? There’s no need to be. I’m not cross, particularly as you put it away so quickly.’

‘It’s just … I thought it might be Mum at last.’

‘Oh, right. I see. Haven’t you heard from her today?’

Mia shook her head. ‘Not since Saturday evening when she sent me a text to say she’d got home.’

‘Oh dear.’

I’ve sent her a few messages since then and I’ve tried to call her, but she’s not answered.’

‘Right. Well, I’m sure there’s a good explanation. She’s probably busy. She said she had a few things to do while you were staying with us, so that’s most likely it.’

Hannah eyed the food in front of her niece, which she’d barely touched, and then looked down at her own plate, which was empty save for a few crumbs. She helped herself to another piece of toast, which was cold now, and slapped on some butter and marmalade. This was as much about giving her something to do with her hands as it was about still being hungry.

She cut the toast into two triangles and, before taking a bite, asked: ‘Aren’t you feeling hungry?’

Mia said not, sliding her plate forward on the table to emphasise she was done and then nursing her coffee.

Seeing her niece so downhearted proved too much for Hannah. ‘Listen,’ she said. ‘I can waive the no-phones rule this once, seeing as it’s obviously upsetting you not knowing if it’s your mum or not. Go ahead and have a look.’

Mia’s face instantly brightened, only to sour again after she pulled out her mobile and read the message.

‘What’s wrong?’ Hannah asked.

Mia shook her head, slipping the phone back into her pocket. ‘It’s not from Mum. It’s one of my friends.’

‘Never mind. I’ll try and get hold of her later, if you like. Is there anything in particular you need to ask her?’

She hesitated, frowning and scratching her head before continuing. ‘I, um, was wondering when she was coming back for me. She did say it would only be a few days.’

Hannah couldn’t help feeling dismayed by this, although she did her best to hide the fact by smiling and nodding. ‘Of course. I totally understand. I was your age once. It’s only normal that you’d rather be at home with your friends and so on than here with us.’

Later, when Mia had returned to her bedroom and Hannah was in the lounge, glad of a break from struggling to make conversation, she pondered Diane’s lack of contact with her daughter.

It was odd she hadn’t been returning Mia’s calls and messages, especially after leaving her alone here with a strange aunt and uncle. What was Diane up to?

Hannah stared at her number: the latest entry in her smartphone’s long list of contacts. The last time Diane had featured would have been on a much simpler device – something clunky by modern standards, with a rubbish camera. The world of technology had moved on a lot in the years they’d been apart, as had Hannah. She could only assume the same applied to her estranged sister.

Her thumb hovered above Diane’s name on the touchscreen. She knew all she had to do to call the number was press down. And yet, for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Was this because she dreaded having to talk one-to-one with her again? Or was she afraid of not getting an answer?

Hannah decided it was probably a combination of the two, although the latter was of particular concern in light of Mia not being able to reach her. It was strange they’d not heard anything yet about when she was coming back for Mia.

God, what if something had happened to her? What would they do then?

No sooner had she decided to stop dithering and call the number than her mobile began to ring of its own accord.