by Sue Fortin
Alice returns the smile and drops her hand away from Luke’s arm. ‘That was just totally awesome, Clare,’ she says as they near me. ‘I have never been on anything like that before. You should have come.’
‘I have done it once before with Luke,’ I say. I move the buggy into his path. ‘Here, you push.’ I tell myself it’s because Chloe likes it when Luke pushes her. I slip my arm through Alice’s as we walk along the seafront, the wind whipping our hair around our faces.
Alice scoops her hair to one side and gives a shiver. ‘Much as I love being here, I do miss the Florida sunshine.’
I laugh. ‘By British weather standards, this is good for mid-October. You’ll have to get used to it.’
‘I should have brought some more suitable clothing.’
‘I can lend you a jumper or two,’ I say. ‘We’re pretty much the same size.’
‘Like twins,’ says Alice.
‘When you were little you always wanted to dress up in my clothes,’ I say, thinking back. The recent memory of the mushroom incident comes to mind again. ‘Do you remember when we had a teddy bear’s picnic in the back garden and you were sick all down a pink-and-white-striped t-shirt of mine you were wearing?’
‘Yes, I do!’ says Alice. ‘The T-shirt was more like a dress on me.’
‘That’s right, we put a belt around the middle. And all the sick got caught in the buckle. It was disgusting.’
‘I ate way too much candy that day,’ says Alice.
‘Candy? No, it was mushrooms. I gave you mushrooms and they made you sick.’
‘Oh, really? Sorry, it was a long time ago.’
‘You wouldn’t eat mushrooms after that and Mum couldn’t understand it. She thought it was the berries that had made you sick.’ I really want Alice to remember. It’s one of my strongest memories from our childhood; a secret we had shared and kept. ‘Don’t you remember at all?’ I persisted. ‘And what about now – do you eat mushrooms now?’ This time I find myself willing Alice to say she hates mushrooms, at least that will substantiate my memory and even if she doesn’t recall the incident, it will give some sort of validation.
‘Sorry, but I do like mushrooms. Don’t beat yourself up about it, Clare, it obviously didn’t cause me any lasting psychological damage. And, just to prove there’s no hard feelings, I’ll buy you a new T-shirt.’ Alice gives a laugh and hugs my arm closer to her, which I know would normally be a natural gesture between sisters, somehow feels awkward – almost too intimate.
We carry on our walk along the pier as I muse over how different people can have the same experience and yet totally different memories. I’d hoped Alice and I would have at least one or two shared memories, something to bond over, to give us a starting block on which to rebuild our sisterhood. While it makes me sad to think we haven’t found that yet, and despite what I said to Mum about Alice being too young to remember things, I can’t help wondering if there is anything she does remember. Surely there’d be something, wouldn’t there?
That evening, when we go up to bed, I clamber in next to Luke and snuggle up to him. ‘That was a lovely day,’ I say, ignoring the green-eyed monster that was never far away.
Luke wriggles down in the bed and cuddles me. ‘It was,’ he says. ‘Is everything okay, Babe?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Sure?’
‘Absolutely.’ I’m certain Luke knows I’m not exactly telling the truth. He can read me like a book. He says he can tell as soon as I walk into the room what sort of mood I’m in. To be fair, I can usually tell with him too. I suppose it’s because we’ve known each other for so long.
‘You okay with Alice being here?’ he asks.
‘Yeah. It will be fine. Just feels a bit odd,’ I confess.
‘How do you mean?’
I blow out a long breath. ‘I don’t know. A bit awkward, maybe. Not how I thought it would.’
‘Which was?’
‘More of a connection, I suppose. She’s Alice. She’s my sister, but the vibe is missing. I can’t feel it.’
‘Give it time and don’t overthink it. You know what you’re like,’ says Luke. ‘It must be strange for her too. Give her a chance.’
I raise my eyebrows at him. ‘So, I take it you like her, then?’ And there it is, the jealous streak I never knew I had. I can’t help myself.
Luke rolls onto his back. ‘She’s a nice girl,’ he says, cocking his head to one side. ‘It must run in the family.’
I prop myself up on my elbow. ‘Nice?’ I say. ‘What does “nice” mean? Nice in what way?’
Luke looks out the corner of his eye at me. ‘Not jealous, are you?’ There’s a note of amusement in his voice.
‘Me? Jealous? Why would you think that?’
Luke grins and bundles me onto my back, climbing on top of me, his leg astride, and kisses me. ‘Don’t worry, Babe, you know I have eyes for you and you alone.’
‘I’m not jealous.’
‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks.’ He smothers my reply with kisses.
Chapter 9
‘How does a panini and a glass of vino at the wine bar sound?’ says Tom, poking his head around the door of my office. Tom has been in court for most of the week and only now, as we head towards the weekend, do we catch up.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ I say looking at the list of emails still awaiting my attention. It had been a long week. The Monday rumble had been drawn out, Leonard giving me a good grilling about the McMillan case. Sometimes it’s as if I’m still an employee rather than a supposedly equal partner. I resisted the urge to say anything, though. It was easier to answer the questions than to get into an argument with him. I’d made that mistake once before, and that was before I even worked for him. It was when I was at university and had taken my eye off the ball and been distracted from my studies by my search for Alice. He had helped a bit at first, but he was adamant that I shouldn’t let my grades suffer.
‘Come on, you could do with a break,’ says Tom. ‘It will do you good to get out of the office for an hour. We could just grab a sandwich from the kiosk and sit in the park, if you like? I can tell you how I wiped the floor with the defence this week.’ He polishes an imaginary badge of honour on his lapel.
I feel myself relent. It’s a nice day and there probably won’t be many more chances to get out and enjoy the local park before the weather shifts properly into winter.
‘Okay, why not?’ I say, standing up and grabbing my bag. ‘The park sounds like an excellent suggestion.’
Tom ushers me out of the office, his hand resting between my shoulder blades. ‘If we go stealth mode, we can sneak out before Leonard spots us,’ he whispers.
I stem the giggle. We’re like school kids playing truant.
We both have a bacon and Brie panini and a coffee. The park is quieter than at weekends and we plonk ourselves down on one of the benches that edge the fountain. The white stone basin has recently been sandblasted and the blue-tiled floor cleaned. Brown, yellow and red leaves from the surrounding trees have begun dropping and float in the water like little boats. In the centre is some sort of mermaid and fish statue, the water spouts out of the fish’s mouth. When we’ve been here with the girls, Luke has remarked how hideous the whole thing is. I don’t think it’s that bad, but then I haven’t got the artistic eye he has.
‘Congratulations on your win in court,’ I say.
‘Thanks. Wasn’t sure if the witness was going to crack at first, but fortunately I’d done my homework about her reliability and was able to dish the dirt. Once the jury heard how she’d perjured herself in court before, it was game over.’
‘I’m glad I won’t ever have to come up against you in court. I expect Leonard was pleased.’
‘Oh yeah, although he took the credit, of course, and said I’d learned it all from him.’
‘That sounds like Leonard,’ I say. ‘Anyway, how was your weekend? Did you have Lottie?’
‘No, next weekend Lottie
is with me. I had a pretty quiet couple of days, to be honest.’ He leans back and stretches his arm across the back of the bench. ‘What about you? How’s it going with Alice?’
I knew he was going to ask and it’s probably half the reason why he invited me out for lunch. ‘Good,’ I say. ‘It’s going well.’
‘Is that it? That’s all you’re going to say? That it’s going well?’
I look at him and shrug. ‘It’s the truth. She seems very nice. Mum is over the bloody moon. Luke and the girls seem to get on well with her too. I don’t really know what else to say.’
‘You seem very underwhelmed by it. I thought you’d be buzzing with excitement.’ He gives my ponytail a gentle tug. ‘Come on, Clare. I know you better than that. What’s the deal with Alice?’
I rest my head back on his arm and close my eyes for a moment. I’m still having trouble processing my emotions and feelings about Alice. I open my eyes and look at Tom. He gives a sympathetic smile. I let out a sigh. ‘Okay. To be honest, I don’t know how I feel. No, that’s not right.’ I sit forward. ‘It’s very confusing. I feel all sorts of things, but most of all, and don’t you dare repeat this.’ I pause and wait for Tom to promise. He obliges and makes the Cub Scout promise sign. ‘Most of all, I feel like it’s a bit of an anticlimax. It’s not as exciting as I thought it would be. I feel a bit flat and, if I’m honest, a bit grumpy. I shouldn’t feel like this, surely?’
‘You’ve had years of building up to this point; times when you’ve been excited, enthusiastic, frustrated, sad and resigned to never finding her.’ Tom is right. I have experienced all those emotions and many more. ‘And now it’s actually happened, now you’ve found Alice, or rather, she’s found you, all those emotions have gone and you’re left with what? Love? Probably not. You may love the memory of your little sister Alice, but now you’re confronted with the real-life, adult Alice. Those two people are poles apart. You probably can’t even work out what you’re feeling. The euphoric feeling when she first wrote, that’s long gone. The fairytale ending has happened. Now you’re in for the long, hard slog of trying to build a relationship from scratch. Trying to love someone you don’t know.’
‘You know what?’ I say. ‘You actually sound like you know what you’re talking about.’
Tom gives another playful yank of my hair. ‘Yeah, well, sometimes I do, actually.’
‘In my mind I thought, assumed even, that I would have this instant connection with Alice. A bond so strong that twenty years apart wouldn’t matter,’ I say. ‘And now the reality isn’t quite as romantic as you see in the films or read in books. The reality is that it’s difficult and strained.’ I look down at the ground, not wanting to say out loud what I’m thinking, yet at the same time wanting to tell Tom. He seems to understand how I’m feeling. I decide to say it. Talking to Tom is safe. ‘I know this will make me sound like some crazy woman, but last weekend …’ I pause, wondering if I can say it.
‘Last weekend?’ prompts Tom.
‘Last weekend, I even had a few bad thoughts about her and she’s only just got here. No, that’s not right. Not thoughts, feelings, really.’
‘In what way?’
Now I’m regretting starting this part of the conversation, but I know Tom won’t be fobbed off. ‘Jealous feelings. Just tiny little ones, but they were there all the same. Jealous the way Mum is fussing over her. For example, Alice wanted peanut butter and jelly. I offered her jam, which wasn’t good enough, so Mum was all set for sending Luke off to find exactly what Alice wanted. And then there’s Luke. On Sunday she went on the i360 with him and when they came off, she was hanging onto him like she owned him. And when Hannah didn’t want to hold Alice’s hand, you know what? I felt a small ounce of victory wash over me.’ Truth be told, I had wanted to high-five Hannah at the time and shout, in very American cheerleader way, go Hannah, go Hannah!
Tom laughs. ‘Well, this is a first. I do believe it’s called jealousy.’
‘I know! What the hell’s wrong with me?’
‘You do trust Luke, don’t you?’ His voice has taken on a serious tone.
‘Of course I trust him,’ I say, without hesitation. ‘Luke loves me. I know that. He’s never once done anything to make me even question his honesty.’
‘I know, it’s just that men of a certain age can get their heads turned if a pretty young woman starts to take an interest.’ He drains the rest of his coffee. ‘I’ve handled plenty of divorce cases where an older man has been flattered by the attentions of a younger woman.’
‘Luke wouldn’t do that to me, so I don’t even know why we’re having this conversation.’
‘If I recall, you brought it up in the first place. Anyway, you know your husband best. Who am I to say what he is or is not likely to do? We’re both probably reading far too much into it. That’s what comes of being a solicitor.’ He takes the empty panini wrapper from me, scrunching it up with his own and getting up, chucks it into the rubbish bin. ‘Everything will be fine. You’ll be fine, Clare. Give yourself a break. And Alice.’ He begins to walk away. ‘Come on, we’d better get back before Leonard puts out an APB on us.’
I catch him up and we walk back through the park. ‘I think I’m tired. Emotionally. I’ll be okay, though. Just a bit of an overreaction on my part.’ I drop my empty cup into the next bin we pass. ‘Anyway, when do you fancy coming over to meet her?’
Tom pulls a face. ‘I don’t know. Is it a good idea?’
‘Of course it is. Come over on Saturday with Lottie. Hannah would love to see her; they can play in the garden. You can’t not meet Alice after all the years of me banging on about her and roping you in to try to trace her. Leonard’s coming.’
‘Maybe.’
‘Absolutely no “maybe” about it,’ I say. ‘You won’t be intruding or anything. I’d like you to come. Really, I would. Please?’ For some reason it’s suddenly very important to me that Tom meets Alice.
‘Okay,’ says Tom with a lack of enthusiasm. ‘I’ll come.’
‘Excellent. Don’t let me down.’
‘When have I ever let you down?’
Driving home that evening, I make a conscious decision to try to relax a bit more about Alice being here. I need to recapture that initial enthusiasm I felt when she first got in touch. I put my unease down to not only Alice’s return, but also the pressure I’m under at work with the McMillan case.
A reminder pings on my phone and I glance down at it and swear. It’s that bloody school governors’ meeting tonight. I had completely forgotten about it. I can’t dip out. I’m part of the sub-committee who have been overseeing the application for new parking restrictions and a build-out into the road to make it safer for the kids to get to school. It will be more hassle not attending and passing on the information than it will to actually attend.
I check my watch. It’s not worth going home. I might as well go straight to the school. Hannah’s school is in the next village, but due to rural spread of new house-building, the villages of Little Dray, where we live, and Budlington, have almost merged. A small strip of road, about one hundred metres long, is the no-man’s-land between the two places. Little Dray’s primary school was closed two years ago and the children now all attend Budlington Primary, which has put an increased pressure on the village infrastructure. Traffic flow through the village at school dropping-off and picking-up time has increased considerably. The flock of 4x4 vehicles and MPVs that swarm in and out of Budlington twice a day, when I’ve been privy to witness it, reminds me of a flock of starlings. They arrive en masse, dipping and diving in unspoken synchronised manoeuvres as they queue to enter the small turnaround in front of the school, drop their children off, or pick them up, and then move on out. The locals living near the school are not very happy, to say the least. I give a sigh and mentally prepare myself for the governors’ meeting as I pull up in the school car park. Before I go in, I tap out a quick text message to Luke.
Sorry, school govs meeting. Be home as so
on as I can. Xx
A reply comes back just as I’m getting out of the car.
Okay, Babe. See you later. This is accompanied by a sad-face emoji.
If I was of the praying persuasion, I’d run off a quick thank you that I have such an understanding husband and that Luke doesn’t highlight the guilt trip I’m already on. Only one more academic year and then I can give up the governor’s role. I had taken it on as a favour to the school, really. They needed some legal advice, which I was happy to give for free but, before I knew it, I was more involved than I had anticipated.
As I walk across the car park, I meet with my friend, Pippa Stent. ‘Hiya! How are you?’ I ask, as we walk together.
‘Not so bad. Got a million things to do tonight, as usual. Why do these meetings always fall on the busiest night of the week, when Baz is away and my mother has a new boyfriend to distract her from grandmother babysitting duties?’
‘Oh, yes. How is your mum’s love life these days?’
Pippa pulls a face. ‘Don’t ask. Honestly, there should be an age limit on those dating websites. I tell you, the old ones are the worst, I’m sure. Not that I’ve been on them, of course, but you know. I feel like my mum has turned into a teenager!’ We laugh at the thought. ‘To be honest, I nearly forgot about tonight.’
‘Me too,’ I confess. ‘Our routine is totally out of the window at the moment.’
‘Oh, yeah. How’s it going with your visitor? Your sister, I should say, sorry.’
I wave her apology away. ‘Good. Yeah, good.’
Pippa stops walking as we get to the main entrance. ‘Well, that sounded convincing,’ she says, eyeing me suspiciously.