Sister Sister

by Sue Fortin

  Hannah comes running in and gives me a quick hug and kiss. It wasn’t so long ago that she would greet me with the same enthusiasm as her sister. I guess the more reserved greeting is a sign she’s growing up.

  ‘Do you want to see my pictures?’ she says, grabbing the camera from the table. She fiddles with buttons and holds it in front of me.

  ‘Hannah,’ says Luke. ‘Let Mummy have her cup of tea first. She’s literally just got in from work.’

  The look of disappointment that crosses my daughter’s face tugs at my heartstrings. ‘Why don’t I have a look at a few now and then tonight, when Chloe’s gone to bed, we can sit down together and go through them all? Just the two of us. You can tell me all about them, then.’

  Hannah seems happy with the compromise. I know she likes to have some time alone with me, just as much as I do with her. ‘Okay, look this is the octopus. Chloe called it an octa-poos!’

  ‘I know, she just said it to me now.’ I laugh with Hannah as we look at the camera. She clicks the button and another image appears. This one is of some sort of eel. ‘Ooh, I don’t like that. It looks like a snake.’ She clicks again. An image, this time of Luke, appears. He’s holding Chloe in his arms and they’re looking into a tank. ‘That’s a nice one,’ I say, although it’s a little dark in there and the flash has reflected off the glass of the tank. Hannah flicks through a couple more photos without stopping, but as she does, one image catches my eye. Something in it is different and stands out from the others. ‘Go back a minute,’ I say. Hannah clicks back. ‘And again.’ She clicks back a further frame. And there it is. A pain spikes at my heart as the two faces look back at me. I look up at Alice. There’s a small, smug look on her face. No one sees it. They’re too busy looking at me.

  ‘Alice went too.’ My voice is tight and I can feel my breathing deepen. Alice went too and no one thought to tell me!

  ‘So did your mum,’ says Luke. He gives me the eyes, which are clearly saying keep your shit together.

  ‘But you hate the Sea Life Centre,’ I say, turning to Mum. ‘You always say it’s too dark and dingy, that it makes you feel claustrophobic.’

  ‘I didn’t actually go into the centre myself,’ says Mum. ‘I let Alice and Luke take the girls in. I had a coffee in one of the tearooms across the road. They do lovely scones in there.’

  ’Here’s a picture of a shark,’ says Hannah. I can see her look uncertainly from me to Luke and I’m aware that she has picked up on the change in atmosphere. I wonder if Mum has too or whether she’s purposefully ignoring it and rattling on about how nice the sodding scone was, to defuse the situation, but all I can think of is Luke and Alice playing happy families, Alice taking my place and Luke seemingly content for her to do so.

  ‘You don’t mind do you, Clare?’ says Alice. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.’

  ‘Will you stop asking me if I mind and stop apologising?’ I push my chair back, astonishing myself at my little outburst as much as I seem to have taken everyone else by surprise.

  ‘Clare! What’s got into you?’ says Mum, her voice taking on the tone she would use to one of the children when they might have forgotten to say please or thank you, or like the time Hannah said ‘shit’ once when she dropped a glass of water on the kitchen floor. Her tone that says she is particularly shocked; that’s the one I’m getting now.

  I rest my hands on the table and close my eyes for a moment. This is all getting out of hand. I’m getting out of hand. I open my eyes and smile at my family. ‘Sorry. I’m sorry, everyone. Alice, please, I didn’t mean to snap like that.’

  ‘Hey, it’s okay,’ says Alice. She exchanges a sympathetic look with Luke, which causes me to take a deep breath to stop my jealousy once again rising to the surface uncontrolled.

  ‘I’ve had a tough day,’ I say, by way of an explanation. It’s a pretty poor one, but it’s the truth. ‘I’ll go and freshen up, I think. Get out of these work clothes and then I’ll be able to relax properly.’ I notice Luke hasn’t said anything. I meet his gaze and he raises his eyebrows, giving a tiny shake of his head. He has the look of exasperation. I know my husband well enough to realise I’ve upset him properly now. Luke is very easy-going; it takes a lot for him to get cross. I think I may have just pushed him over that line.

  When I go back down, Luke has disappeared into his studio; a sure sign he’s pissed off with me. I find the girls in the living room, sitting on the sofa with Alice. Chloe is one side of her and Hannah the other. I make a Herculean effort to ignore the bubble of jealousy that stirs once again. ‘What are we watching?’ I say, sitting down on the chair next to the sofa. Chloe mumbles a reply but doesn’t take her eyes from the screen.

  Something makes me look over at the photographs on the sideboard. Straight away, I notice the glass in my wedding photograph is cracked.

  ‘Oh, no! How did that happen?’ I jump up out of my seat. I inspect the shattered glass. There’s an impact spot right in the middle and the glass has cracked like a spider’s web all around it.

  ‘What’s up?’ asks Alice. She comes over and looks at the picture. ‘Oh, Clare, that’s your wedding photo.’

  ‘Do you know how it happened?’ I look accusingly at Alice and then around at the girls. ‘Hannah. Chloe. Do you know anything about this?’

  ‘Picture broken. Poor picture’ says Chloe and turns back to her programme.

  Hannah keeps her eyes firmly fixed on the TV. ‘Hannah, did you hear me?’ When she looks up, I’m not sure what I see. Is it fear? Or is it guilt? ‘Do you know how this picture got broken?’ She shakes her head. I go over to her. ‘Look, I’m not cross about the glass getting broken, it’s the fact that no one is owning up. If you tell me the truth, it can all be forgotten about.’

  ‘I didn’t do it,’ says Hannah.

  ‘Who did? Was it Chloe?’ I press. Hannah sticks out her bottom lip and shakes her head. ‘Well, someone knows what’s happened.’ I leave the room to get rid of the glass in the bin.

  Mum is in the kitchen washing up. ‘Oh, dear, what a shame,’ she says when I show her. ‘You can easily get another piece of glass, though. Don’t get yourself upset about it.’

  ‘That’s not the point,’ I say. ‘I just wish someone had told me.’

  ‘Actually, I didn’t want to say anything in front of the girls, but …’

  I look around as Alice comes into the room. ‘But what?’ I say.

  ‘The girls were already in the living room when I went in and Hannah was over by the photographs,’ says Alice, then adds quickly. ‘I’m not saying she did it, but she did look, well, you know, kinda guilty.’

  ‘Okay, thanks,’ I say, although I don’t really mean it. I’m embarrassed that Hannah may have lied to me. I look down at the photograph, now removed from the frame. It has an indent and a crease from whatever pressure was applied. I can’t help but feel it might not have been an accident.

  Chapter 13

  Later that evening, when I put Hannah to bed, she’s still a little subdued.

  ‘Shall we look at the other photographs now?’ I ask, waving the camera that I had picked up from the kitchen.

  ‘If you want.’ She may be in her cute kitty pyjamas and her hair brushed, her skin all clean and her teeth sparkly, looking every inch the seven years she is, but she has an attitude of a grumpy teenager. It’s not that she’s being rude or bad-tempered, but she’s treating me with an indifference, as if she’s just putting up with me.

  I sit beside her on the bed and switch on the camera, reminding myself not to react adversely to any of the pictures with Luke and Alice in them. I begin to scroll through, asking Hannah questions about each photo and, little by little, the tension eases from her and she talks more enthusiastically the further through the collection we go. Oddly, I don’t come across the picture of Luke and Alice in the Sea Life Centre. I was sure it was one of the first ones when Hannah showed me earlier. I don’t voice my surprise – I don’t want to spoil Hannah’s now-upb
eat mood.

  When we come to the end of the shots, I’m glad I took the time to sit and look through them with her. Luke had warned me there were a lot, but I honestly don’t mind as it’s lifted Hannah’s mood.

  I pull the duvet up to her chin and give her a kiss on the forehead. ‘Goodnight, darling,’ I say. ‘I love you very much. You do know that, don’t you?’

  She smiles. ‘I love you to the moon and back.’

  ‘To the moon and back and back again,’ I say.

  ‘To the moon and back and back and back again,’ replies Hannah. I smile and give her a cuddle.

  ‘Now, go to sleep. You have school in the morning.’

  I flick the light off and am about to close the door when Hannah speaks. ‘I didn’t break the photo frame,’ she says. Her little voice comes through crystal clear in the darkness.

  I switch the light back on and sit on the edge of the bed. I stroke Hannah’s hair and look at her face. ‘I know, darling,’ I say. ‘It’s all forgotten about now. Don’t be worrying.’

  ‘It was already broken. Alice said not to tell you. That you’d be cross.’

  I feel my eyebrows involuntarily rise and although I want to abide by the best mother’s handbook and ignore the remark, I can’t help grilling my daughter a little further. ‘She did, did she? What else did she say?’

  Hannah shrugs. ‘Nothing. Just said to leave it.’

  ‘Okay, well don’t be worrying about it now. It’s just a piece of glass that can easily be replaced.’ I settle Hannah back down. ‘Ooh, I just remembered. I asked Daisy’s mummy about her coming for a sleepover and she said yes.’

  Hannah’s face lights up. ‘Yay! Can we paint our nails? What about watching a film?’

  ‘Of course. And popcorn.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum, you’re the best.’ Hannah snuggles down under her duvet and I’m relieved to be sending her off to sleep with happier thoughts. I just wish it was so easy to lift my own.

  When Luke comes up to bed eventually later, I’m sitting up reading a book, or at least pretending I am.

  ‘All right?’ He says, going into the en suite. He doesn’t close the door and I watch him brush his teeth and splash water over his face. He runs his wet hands through his hair and I can’t help feel a surge of love for this man. I hate it when we’re on edge with each other. Luke doesn’t go in for big showdown arguments; he prefers to let things blow over and then talk about it when everyone is calm and more rational. He strips off down to his boxer shorts and climbs into bed next to me, reaches over and takes the book out of my hands. ‘Now, do you want to tell me what’s going on up there?’ He taps my head gently with his forefinger.

  ‘I don’t want us to fall out about all this,’ I say.

  ‘Neither do I, Babe. Look, today, that wasn’t down to me. Your mum invited herself and Alice along. What could I say?’

  I close my eyes briefly. ‘I know. It’s just … Alice. Oh, God, this sounds so childish but … but it’s like she’s taking over everything. My entire family.’ It sounds so stupid when I say it out loud. In my head, it sounded very plausible, but now I’m starting to doubt myself. Then I remember the look on Hannah’s face and this spikes my resilience. I lean over and pick up our wedding photo, now frameless, and hold it out to Luke. ‘It’s the one that’s usually in the living room. I went in this evening and saw the glass was broken.’

  Luke takes the photo from me. ‘Ah, that’s a shame and it’s creased too. I can get another printed off, it’s not a problem.’

  ‘I know that, but that’s not the point. The glass wasn’t just cracked like it had been knocked over, it had been crushed. You could see where something had been driven into it. The glass was shattered all around it.’

  ‘It could have fallen and hit something.’

  I sit up and take the photograph back. ‘No, it couldn’t have. Or if it did, I have no idea what would have caused it to damage the actual photograph. No, this was done on purpose. Maliciously.’

  Luke lets out a sigh and puts his head back against the headboard. ‘Please don’t tell me you think Alice did it.’

  ‘She tried to blame Hannah. She said Hannah was playing with the photos, or something, and when I asked Hannah, she said it was already broken, that Alice was in the room first and Alice told her not to say anything.’ I look triumphantly at Luke, as if I’ve solved a major crime ring.

  ‘Either could be telling the truth,’ says Luke.

  ‘Are you telling me you believe some stranger over your daughter?’

  ‘Stranger? She’s your sister.’

  ‘If that’s what she’s like, then I’d sooner she wasn’t.’ I throw the duvet off and get out of bed, grabbing my dressing gown. ‘And I don’t want you painting her fucking portrait either.’

  ‘So much for not arguing,’ mutters Luke as I storm out of the room, my dressing gown billowing like a sail behind me.

  I resist the urge to slam the door as I don’t want to wake the children, so I strop across the landing instead and almost bump into none other than Alice. She’s leaning back against the banister that looks over the hallway below, her elbows rest on the top rail, one leg is bent, with her foot against a spindle. It’s as if she’s posing for a photo shoot – a sleazy one.

  ‘Jesus, Alice, you made me jump.’

  ‘Is everything all right, Clare? Only, I heard raised voices.’

  I fasten the belt around the dressing gown and wonder how long she’s been standing there. ‘Yes, I’m fine. Just going to get a glass of water. You okay? Not still suffering with jet lag are you?’ I can’t keep the little note of sarcasm from my voice.

  ‘Oh, I’m fine, sister. Absolutely fine. I mean, why wouldn’t I be after such a lovely day with your girls and your husband?’ The smile that accompanies her words chills the air.

  ‘You stay away from my family,’ I hiss the words as loudly as I dare, without wanting anyone else to hear. Least of all Luke. He thinks I’m a crazy woman as it is.

  The smile remains on her face and she pushes herself off the banister, taking a step closer to me. ‘Remember, Clare, your family is my family.’ Her words are a whisper.

  ‘Don’t. Take. Me. On.’ I punctuate each word with invisible full stops. ‘You’ll be sorry.’ I have no idea what that threat means, it just came out. I don’t wait for a reply and, sidestepping her, I take the stairs, which sweep around to the ground floor. I glance up as I reach the bottom and Alice is now leaning on the rails, looking down at me with that condescending smile still plastered on her face.

  I get a glass of water and sip at it slowly in a bid to calm myself. I’m not sure what that was all about upstairs but I feel it was a game-changer moment. Both Alice and I have shown our true colours now.

  I don’t know why but I feel myself drawn to Luke’s studio. I would never normally go into his studio on my own. I’ve never needed to. It’s Luke’s workspace. Sure, I go in there when he’s there himself, but never on my own. I hesitate, my hand on the door handle, but something drives me on and I ease open the door and step inside, closing it gently behind me. I walk slowly around the room, taking in the paints and canvases I have seen plenty of times before. There’s a pot of paint brushes standing on the draining board. The smell of white spirit hangs in the air and I see the bottle next to the brushes without its lid. The red lid is next to it and, instinctively, I replace the cap, turning it tightly before putting the bottle back on the draining board. There are oily rags in a basket next to the sink. They remind me of a kaleidoscope, the different colours merging into each other to form weird and wonderful psychedelic patterns.

  As I wander around the studio, I can’t help feeling like an intruder.

  In the centre of the room is the London commission he’s been working on. To my untrained eye, it looks complete and would grace any wall beautifully, but I know, to Luke, there is still much to do. It’s all in the detail, he often tells me.

  My gaze fixes on a canvas at the back of the studio. It�
��s on an easel but is draped with a white cloth. I know instinctively what the subject is and I can’t help myself going over to it and lifting the sheet. And there she is. Alice. My sister. That familiar feeling of jealousy kicks me hard in the stomach. My hand reaches out to the worktop at the side and my fingers curl around something metal. I draw it towards me and look down at my hand. The silver cross-hatched handle fits neatly in my palm. The triangular tip of the Stanley blade pokes out about an inch from the end. Luke never slides the blade away safely. I look back at the picture. ‘Bitch,’ I mutter, as the jealousy gives a two-footed flying kick inside me.

  That night, when I get back into bed, I cuddle up against Luke’s back, slipping my arm around his body. He stirs in his sleep and mumbles incoherently before rolling over to face me. His hand slides up my waist and cups my breast.

  ‘Love you, Babe,’ he slurs through his unconsciousness.

  He takes a deep breath and, sliding his hand down to my hip, pulls me towards him. For a moment I think we might make love, but Luke’s breathing deepens and he slips back into sleep. I’m a little disappointed, but considering the time and the fact that I have work tomorrow, it’s probably best to get some sleep myself.

  In the morning, I wake before the alarm and go about my usual routine. It’s all back to normal today for school and nursery. As I take Chloe downstairs, stopping in Hannah’s room to wake her, I go back over last night’s tête-à-tête with Alice. I’m not sure how it’s going to play out now, but I feel slightly regretful, as this is not how I envisaged my relationship with Alice going. I remind myself of the traumatic time she’s had, what with her dad passing away and then finding me and Mum and then coming over and meeting us. It must be difficult for her. I should ignore the little transgression of last night. I make up my mind to be more accommodating and less, dare I say, paranoid about her every move and motive behind it.