Читать книгу The Girl Who Lied: The bestselling psychological drama - Sue Fortin, Sue Fortin - Страница 11

I take the plate away from Mum, the pork chop barely touched and the vegetables only picked at.

‘Would you prefer a light sandwich?’ I ask.

Mum shakes her head. ‘Maybe later. A cup of tea would be nice, though. I’ll put the kettle on.’

‘No, you sit there, I’ll do it,’ I say as I flip the lid to the bin and tilt the plate to let the food slide off. Mum hates wasting food and takes it personally if anyone leaves so much as a morsel on the plate, so for her to leave pretty much all her dinner isn’t a good sign.

‘Erin, did you remember to get the café keys?’ says Mum.

‘Yeah, they’re in my bag.’ I try to suppress a frown as I recall my encounter with Messrs Wright.

‘I was so glad Kerry was there the other night,’ says Mum. For a moment she looks lost in her thoughts, then giving herself a little shake, she’s back with us. ‘Nice lad, he is.’

‘I remember him from when we were teenagers,’ I say. ‘He used to come down in the summer holidays.’

‘He’s been living here for quite a few years now. He works there with Max’s son, Joe,’ Mum explains, albeit needlessly, since I’ve established this myself.

‘Didn’t Max take him in because he was in some sort of trouble?’ asks Fiona, as she takes on tea-making duty. ‘I can’t remember the details, but wasn’t Kerry kicked out by his mum?’

‘Yes, that’s right.’ Mum looks thoughtful again. ‘Apparently, when Max’s brother died, that was Kerry’s father, the lad went off the rails a bit. Got into trouble with the Guards, I believe. The final straw was when his mum got a new husband. A clash of personalities, you could say. Lots of arguments. That type of thing. Anyway, Max felt he owed it to his brother to look after Kerry.’

We sit in silence for a few moments and I mull over the conversation. Kerry comes across as laid-back and I have a vague idea of him being pretty chilled out when we were teenagers. From what I saw today, I’d say he’s not changed much. It sounds like he had a troubled home life. I can relate to that.

‘So…,’ begins Fiona bringing over a cup of tea for each of us. ‘What’s happening tomorrow with the café?’

‘I’ve been thinking about that. I need to open up,’ says Mum. ‘It was closed all day yesterday and today; we can’t afford to lose another day’s takings or have our regulars find somewhere else. Your father won’t be happy if we stay closed.’

‘You should try and rest,’ says Fiona. ‘Anyway, aren’t you going to be at the hospital tomorrow?’

‘Of course I am, but I thought I’d go in the afternoon so I can open up the café first thing.’

‘No you won’t,’ I say. ‘I will.’

‘You will?’ The surprise in Fiona’s voice is evident.

I take a sip of my tea to stall for time. I haven’t actually thought it through properly, but I know Mum needs a break. She looks tired and drawn and I’m not entirely convinced that is just from the shock of Dad’s accident. It looks a deep-rooted tiredness, one that has been weighing her down for a long time. I can feel Fiona’s eyes on me, waiting for a response.

‘I can open up and do the breakfast rush – I assume the menu is the same: bacon, sausages, eggs, beans, that type of thing. I’m quite capable of cooking that and when you’ve dropped the children to nursery and school you can come and help me get ready for the lunchtime rush.’ I smile at Fiona, pleased with myself for making it sound so easy.

‘Ah sure, there’s no need for that,’ says Mum, looking at us both. ‘I can manage, honestly.’

‘No,’ I say firmly. ‘There’s every need. Now, please don’t argue. We want to help. Don’t we, Fiona?’

‘Yes, of course we do.’ Fiona squeezes Mum’s hand.

After we’ve finished our tea, Mum goes upstairs to the bathroom and I make a start on rinsing the plates and loading the dishwasher.

‘That’s good of you to offer to open up the café,’ says Fiona. ‘I seem to remember you saying something along the lines of never wanting to step foot in that greasy spoon again.’ There is no malice in Fiona’s words and we exchange a wry smile.

‘I’m only doing it for Mum. One less thing for her to worry about.’ I scrub at the saucepan to remove some of the mashed potato that has already hardened around the edges

‘When do you have to go back to London?’ asks Fiona.

‘I’m not sure. Ed has shuffled the staff rota around, but I don’t know how long he can do that for. I don’t want to stay here longer than necessary.’

‘It’s not that bad here,’ says Fiona, cleaning the work surfaces with anti-bacterial wipes. ‘I came back and, if I’m totally honest, I’m glad I did.’

I pause from rinsing the saucepan. ‘It was different for you, though,’ I say eventually. ‘You liked it here. You had lots of friends. You had Sean and Sophie. And since then, Molly. I have nothing and no one to come back for. You came back to happiness, I’ll come back to misery.’

‘That’s not strictly true,’ says Fiona. ‘You have your family to come back to.’

‘It’s not that easy.’

‘Things do change. People change.’ Fiona drops the used wipe into the bin. She comes and stands beside me and brushes a strand of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. ‘We miss you.’

‘I know. I miss you and the kids too. And Mum.’ I study the bottom of the pan as I tamp down the unchecked emotion churning in my stomach. Confident I have it under control, I look up at Fiona. ‘Just meeting Jody Wright again and the mention of the Marshalls is bad enough. And then I bumped straight into them.’

‘Oh no, did you?’ Fiona’s face creases into a wince. ‘Did you speak to them?’

‘Didn’t have much choice. They were parked right next to me. I just explained about Dad.’

‘Are you okay?’ There’s real concern in Fiona’s voice.

‘I’ll be fine,’ I say, as much to convince myself as my sister.

‘There’s something you’re not telling me,’ says Fiona.

I should have known it wouldn’t be easy to hide anything from her. She has always had this uncanny knack of being able to read my moods, my body language, or whatever it was.

‘Erin! Erin, your phone’s ringing!’ Mum’s voice comes from the hallway.

‘It’s okay,’ I call back, about to add that I’ll leave it to go to voicemail, when Mum appears in the kitchen carrying my handbag. I dry my hands and take the bag, but by the time I’ve fished around for the phone, it has stopped ringing. I check the screen. ‘It was only Ed. I’ll phone him later.’

‘Are you ready, Fiona?’ asks Mum. ‘I want to get back up to the hospital before it gets too late.’

‘Sure,’ says Fiona. ‘Have you got your coat?’ She turns to me. ‘We’ll chat tomorrow. It will be okay, whatever it is. Trust me, I’m your big sister.’ She gives me a brief hug before ushering Mum out to the hall to find their coats.

Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t hesitate to believe her. She’s never let me down in the past, but this…this thing with Roisin, well, it’s bigger than anything either of us have had to face before. Certainly since I left Rossway as a teenager. For the first time in my life, I have doubts about Fiona’s ability to make things right.