Читать книгу Sister Sister: A gripping psychological thriller - Sue Fortin, Sue Fortin - Страница 11

It’s Saturday and I welcome the weekend with open arms. And an empty bed. I turn over and through bleary eyes inspect Luke’s side of the bed. The pillow is as puffed up as when I got in it the night before and the fitted sheet is smooth; not a crease to be seen. He clearly didn’t make it to bed last night.

He’s having a creative spurt. He’s been working on an abstract landscape for a gallery in America. He was commissioned by a client who was visiting the UK last year and saw one of his pieces on display at the Pavilion in Brighton. Luke has been both excited and distracted by it. When I got in from work yesterday, he was already in his studio, having got the girls ready for bed and left them with Mum.

It’s still early, not even six o’clock, but my own body clock doesn’t appear to be able to factor weekends in. I get up, slip my dressing gown around me and, bare-footed, sneak along the landing, poking my head in at the girls to make sure they’re both okay. They’re still asleep, although I probably only have half an hour before Chloe will begin to stir.

I avoid the creaky stair, second from the top, and also the one halfway down, level with the spindle that has a small scratch at the bottom from where I’d dropped a toy car down the stairs when I was about six years old. Living all my life in this house, I am fully aware of its quirks and how to avoid detection when nipping up and down the staircase to get midnight snacks or to stay out of Dad’s way when he was in one of his moods.

Luke’s studio is at the end of the hallway that runs at a right-angle from the main hallway. While it is still very much part of the house, it’s far enough away so that he doesn’t get bothered by the comings and goings of the rest of the house.

I tap on the door and go in without waiting for him to answer. Sometimes he’s so lost in his work that he doesn’t always notice me at first. Today is one of those days. His back is to me and he is facing the canvas, brush in one hand, paint palette in the other. He’s wearing a pair of slouchy cotton trousers and a white T-shirt. His feet are bare and various splodge marks on his toes give a clear indication as to what colours he has been working with. I dread to think when he last brushed his hair, the untamed curls are all over the place. It could really do with a cut but I usually have to make the appointment and frogmarch him down there. Mum says it’s like having another child and I should let him look after himself. Most of the time I let the little remarks go over my head. I like looking after my family. They are everything to me.

I lean back against the wall, admiring my husband as he waves the paint brush back and forth, from palette to canvas and back again. The radio plays quietly in the background. I think it’s Strauss, but I’m not sure.

‘You’d never make a spy,’ says Luke after a few minutes and I hear the amusement in his voice. He continues with the paintbrush, working on an area of sky. It looks perfect to me, but then I don’t have a trained eye.

I push myself away from the wall and move behind Luke, slipping my arms around his waist and kissing his shoulder blade. ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to disturb you. I just woke up feeling a bit lonely. You never made it to bed last night, then?’

Luke turns in my embrace and kisses me. ‘Sorry, but I wanted to get on with this. There’s been an exciting development.’

‘With the painting?’ I let go of Luke and look at the canvas and acrylics. I don’t really know what I’m looking for.

Luke lets out a small laugh. ‘Not with the painting itself.’ He puts the palette on the sink over by the window, along with the paint brush. ‘I had a phone call in the night. From Teddy Marconi.’

I wrack my brains trying quickly to locate the significance of Teddy Marconi. ‘Your American client?’

‘You got it. Well, he’s only invited me over to his house in Miami.’

‘Miami! Wow!’ It’s not unusual for Luke to meet with clients in their own homes, but usually it’s the UK. Luke likes to see where his paintings are going to be displayed; he says it helps him get a sense of what they want. The painting he’s working on now is for Marconi’s London apartment. When Luke had gone to meet with Marconi in Kensington, I had taken the opportunity to do a bit of sightseeing and we had met up afterwards for a night away in a hotel. It was a very romantic evening, as I remember.

‘Yeah, can you believe it?’ says Luke.

‘So, do I get to go with you again?’ I tease. A trip to London and leaving the girls with Mum for the night is one thing, but both of us away to America for at least three nights would be too much to expect of Mum.

‘Ah, sorry, Babe, I was just getting to that bit,’ says Luke. ‘Marconi wants me there next week, Tuesday in fact. He’s paying for the flight and everything. Said all I have to do is turn up. So, unless you can get the week off work, I’m flying solo.’

I pull a mock-sad face. ‘So you’re leaving me behind while you go and have fun in Miami.’ I slip my arms around his neck. ‘I hope you’re going to make this up to me.’

Luke pulls gently at the belt of my dressing gown and slides his hands inside. ‘I’m sure I can do that.’

After our little interval, Luke decides that he has probably worked as much as he can for the day. It’s not unusual for him to work twenty-four hours solid when the mood takes him. However, he’s going to have a snooze for a couple of hours.

‘I’ll take the girls out for breakfast,’ I say. ‘Shall we take a walk along the seafront? It’s such a nice day for the time of year, would be a shame to waste it. We could get the girls an ice cream?’

‘Sounds good to me,’ says Luke. ‘Come and wake me up at lunchtime.’ He yawns and we pad out of the studio together, just as Chloe comes down the stairs.

‘Right, we’re going out for breakfast,’ I say, scooping her up in my arms. ‘Let’s go and get dressed.’

Upstairs in my bedroom, I dive in the shower quickly while Luke entertains Chloe. I can hear them playing the tickle-monster game. It’s a simple game but Chloe loves it and it keeps her entertained until I’ve got myself dressed.

I hear my mobile ping to tell me I have an email from the charging dock on the bedside table.

My heart gives a double beat as I see the sender’s name.

‘You all right, Babe?’ asks Luke, rolling over onto his front and looking up at me.

‘It’s an email.’

‘And what do you usually do with emails? You read them and reply to them.’ Chloe squeals and jumps onto Luke’s back. He makes an umph sound as she knocks his breath out.

I pick up my phone. I don’t know why I’m suddenly apprehensive about looking at the email. I have such a mix of emotions flying around inside me about Alice getting in touch. I suppose it’s the reality check now. First there was shock, then happiness and now caution. I wonder if there are stages of emotion for being reunited with a family member, a bit like there are supposed to be stages of grief. I’ll Google it later.

‘It’s Alice. It’s come through on the email account I set up for Mum,’ I say. ‘I’ll get her to open it on the computer downstairs.’

‘Don’t you want to vet it first?’ says Luke.

‘Why?’

Luke swings his legs off the bed and plants his feet on the floor as Chloe hangs around his neck. ‘I don’t know. Just in case you have to prepare your Mum for bad news.’

I frown. ‘How do you mean?’

‘Forget it. It doesn’t matter.’

‘No, what did you mean?’

Luke stands up, Chloe still hanging on like some sort of circus act. ‘In case Alice has changed her mind or something.’ He gives a shrug and unhooks Chloe’s arms from his neck. ‘Like I said, forget it. I’m sure everything will be okay.’

I pause while I think about what Luke has said. He may have a point. ‘Okay, I’ll just have a quick look.’

I sit on the bed and tap the email to open it. There’s a paperclip icon indicating an attachment and it takes a bit longer for the message to download. Before I can read what Alice has said, I find myself scrolling down to look at the attachment. It has to be a photograph of her, surely. I’m going to finally see what my sister looks like. I close my eyes for a moment, thinking back to the last time I saw her. Her little face looking out at me from the back of a car window.

I open my eyes, expecting to see a young woman. I’m surprised when two faces appear smiling out at me. They look to be sitting on a sofa. It’s not a selfie as the shot is too long. Maybe taken with a camera on a timer or maybe someone took their photo. They both have the same dark coffee-coloured hair, which has been curled into big, loose waves and one cut slightly shorter than the other. The two young women look to be the same sort of age; early twenties. I zoom in to have a closer look at their faces, their eyes in particular. I’m looking for those beautiful blue eyes which have haunted me all these years. The picture becomes pixelated and I can’t make out their eye colours. I look back at where Alice has signed off and the P.S. underneath her name. I’m the one on the left.

‘Alice,’ I whisper.

‘Which one is Alice?’ says Luke looking over my shoulder.

‘The one on the left.’ Chloe, now deposited on the floor, is occupying herself with the shoes from my cupboard. I smile and lean back into Luke. ‘Do you think Alice looks like me?’

Luke peers closer. ‘It’s hard to say. Maybe? The hair’s the same and possibly the cheekbones too. Who’s the other girl?’

I scan through the letter, skimming across the words. ‘It’s her friend, Martha.’ I go back and read the email properly. ‘Oh, shit.’

‘What’s up?’

‘She wants to come over and she’s going to bring her friend with her.’ I look at Luke. ‘Why would she do that?’

‘Is it a problem?’

‘Well, it would be better if she came alone. But, then again, maybe she’s nervous. Maybe she wants someone there who she knows.’ I press my lips together in that sympathetic way people do when they want to show someone they know how they’re feeling without having to say any words. Usually accompanied by a sorrowful or resigned expression. ‘Suppose I’d better tell Mum.’

Mum cries when I open the email on the computer downstairs and show her the picture. She touches the screen, caressing the image of Alice. ‘My darling Alice,’ she says several times. ‘I can’t wait to hold her for real.’

‘She’s bringing her friend,’ I say gently. ‘Did you read that bit?’

‘Yes. It’s fine. If that’s what she wants, then I don’t mind at all. Whatever makes Alice happy.’

I exchange a look over the top of Mum’s head with Luke. He gives me the eyes which say to let it go. That’s one of the reasons I love Luke. He knows what I’m thinking without me even saying a word. He knows I’m thinking Mum is perhaps being a little more soppy than I expected and he can probably guess that I’m wondering whether I should say anything to her. From the small shake of his head, clearly, Luke thinks not.

‘Marion, would you like me to print the email and photo for you?’ he says.

‘Oh, would you, Luke? That would be wonderful. I mean, it’s lovely that emails are so instant, but you can’t beat holding a letter in your hand.’ Mum smiles gratefully at Luke and then turns to me. ‘I’m going to put it with all of Alice’s other things.’

‘That’s a good idea,’ I say, knowing she’s referring to a small black suitcase, where she has kept Alice’s favourite dress, some of her old cuddly toys, like the brown teddy bear who has lost its eyes and the bunny rabbit in the blue jacket like Peter Rabbit, her nightdress with ladybird print, her book about the zoo, anything that provided a connection to her daughter, in fact. There’s also a small stash of presents Mum has bought every birthday and Christmas.

Luke prints out the email and photograph and Mum goes off to her room with it. Luke stands behind me and massages my shoulders. ‘She’s bound to be a bit emotional. It’s a lot for her to take in. And you.’ He turns me to face him. ‘Are you okay, yourself?’

I nod. ‘Yeah. If Mum’s happy, then I am.’

‘That’s not what I asked.’

‘I am happy. It’s just …’ I hesitate, not wishing to sound like I’m put out by my sister coming on the scene and displacing me. Luke says nothing as he waits for me to continue. ‘It’s just all happening quite fast and I’m not sure about this friend coming, if I’m honest. Seems a bit of an odd thing to do when you’re going to meet your family for the first time.’

‘It is a little odd, but let’s try to relax and go with the flow, eh? Perhaps Alice just wants a bit of moral support.’

‘You’ve changed your tune,’ I say.

‘I have no control over it,’ Luke says. ‘Alice is making plans to come over, whether we like it or not. So, we had better get used to it and embrace it, that’s all I’m saying. I’m sure everything will be all right.’

‘I wish I had your laid-back attitude.’

‘Clare, Babe. I know you must be feeling all sorts of things. Christ, I know I am and she’s not even my sister, but I’ve invested the time and emotion in Alice too. Not on your sort of scale, granted, but all those times we’ve tried to find her, to track her down. The money we’ve spent … okay, you’ve spent, trying to find her. And now, that’s all behind us. She’s found us. You’re getting your sister back, your mum is getting her daughter back, I’m getting a sister-in-law and the kids are getting an aunty. Let’s concentrate on the good things.’

‘Speaking of the kids,’ I say looking up at the ceiling as I hear the sound of feet cross the landing and descend the staircase. ‘Sounds like Hannah is up.’

I put on a brave smile as I take the girls out for what is turning into a brunch. Luke is right. I must think of the good things, the positives. My little sister is coming home. Yet, despite this mantra, I can’t shake the disquiet that has settled within me.