Salt Sisters

by Katherine Graham

  We went to kill some time in the amusement arcade. Amy and I used to hang out there as teenagers and most of the year it was a sorry story, a place for rain-soaked day-trippers to dry out and curse the British weather as they counted down the hours until their bus home. But in the summer, when the village swelled with holidaymakers and the population quadrupled, the arcade had been a great spot to meet boys.

  Today it was empty, apart from a couple of old ladies at slot machines. I happily changed a twenty-pound note into pound coins for the kids, congratulating myself on finding a way to keep them amused and entertained.

  ‘Legal guardianship’ – it sounded so official, so serious. As much as I wanted to fulfil Amy’s wishes, perhaps it didn’t need to be a full-time gig. Mike was more than capable of looking after the children on his own, especially with Rachel, Mum, and Auntie Sue right on the doorstep. What more could I add? Perhaps I could come home every month or two for a few days, just to check in on them and be the fun aunt. Puffin Cottage could be my home away from home.

  Adam must have read my mind.

  ‘You’re pretty good at this, you know. Better than you realise. And they clearly like having you around. Who knows – after three months, you might decide to make it a more permanent arrangement?’

  ‘And what about that small matter of my own life? Not to mention my career?’

  He sighed. ‘There are other careers, you know. You would find some other way to fill your days.’

  Betsy came and climbed onto my lap, clutching her tummy. ‘Auntie Izzy, I feel sick. I want to go home.’

  We trudged back up Main Street, past The Ship and along the road to their house, determined to make it back before Betsy threw up and ruined my winning streak.

  With Adam returning the hire car to the airport before he flew back to Hong Kong, I needed some wheels, too. Rachel suggested we pay a visit to Phil’s garage to see if he had any cars that were between owners and available for hire.

  The garage was at the end of a side street, out towards the caravan park. It was a modest business, and the space was scarcely big enough to hold two cars, with three more parked outside. The door was open when we got there, and a pair of long legs were sticking out from underneath a rusting Vauxhall. I coughed loudly and the rest of Phil appeared.

  He only had a Mini, but that was perfect – I wasn’t planning any long trips. As long as the children could comfortably fit inside, that would do. Phil offered a discount on a long-term rental if I paid in cash, and I agreed to come back once I’d been to the bank. Once again, he looked like he was about to cry just at the sight of me. I was clearly radiating sadness these days.

  With new digs and a new set of wheels, we had achieved a lot in one day. Now I just needed to persuade my boss to give me extended bereavement leave – figuring out how to resuscitate my career was a problem for three months down the line. I fired off an email to Toby, officially requesting a short sabbatical.

  Adam had been my rock, and I was dreading saying goodbye to him. We decided to spend our last night together in the pub. Auntie Sue was taking care of dinner for Mike and the children, and we called at the house first so Adam could say goodbye to them. Mum was worryingly chipper, playing with Betsy and asking Hannah if she wanted her hair plaited. She wrapped Adam in a tight cuddle and thanked him for everything. Auntie Sue pulled her off to help peel vegetables and gave me a knowing look.

  Back at The Ship, Adam packed his case and came to meet me in the bar. We shared a steak pie at our usual corner table and I started to drown my sorrows.

  Adam eyed me as I poured a third glass of wine. ‘Easy, tiger. You’re not in Honkers anymore.’

  Gina was serving behind the bar, dressed in a low-cut leopard print blouse and big hoop earrings, and not even in an ironic way. Adam caught me watching her. ‘You know, you will need some friends around here once I’ve gone. She’s a nice girl, which you would know if you gave her half a chance.’

  We went up to my room to do a face mask before bed. Adam was leaving early in the morning, so we had decided to do our goodbyes the night before – I always handled the emotional stuff better when alcohol was involved. He’d promised to come for a visit at the end of next month, but that was an eternity away.

  ‘So, what’s next?’

  I sighed. ‘I don’t know. Surviving one day at a time seems to be a reasonable goal right now.’

  ‘You’ll be great. Just remember – your sister wouldn’t have asked for your help if she didn’t think you could do it.’

  He had way more confidence in my ability than I did. What had made Amy so sure I’d be any good at this?

  ‘Thank you for everything. You were a true friend when I most needed one.’ I started to cry, unable to stop myself.

  ‘Now listen here: I’ve seen you do a lifetime of crying these past couple of weeks. But you’re strong, Izzy. You’re stronger than you know.’

  For the last time, Adam tucked me in. From now on, I was flying solo.

  Chapter Six

  Adam had left by the time I woke up the following morning. My head pounded and my mouth was dry – that had been a bigger night than I’d realised. I drank a whole bottle of water and followed it with a swig from my hip flask, just to soften the sharp edges that were poking in my brain.

  I checked out of The Ship and made my way to Puffin Cottage, wheeling my single suitcase noisily down the back lane. Sandra was waiting to meet me at the gate to the yard. She boiled the kettle for tea as I looked over the rental agreement. I noticed the name on the contract: Wheeler. The name of my favourite schoolteacher.

  ‘Are you related to Mrs Wheeler, by any chance? I mean, er, Diana Wheeler?’

  ‘Yes, she’s my mother. This is her house.’

  ‘She taught me and my sister at St Helen’s. She always… Let’s just say, I was very fond of her. Please tell her I said hello. It would be lovely to see her, if she ever wants to stop by.’

  Sandra shook her head. ‘She’s not doing great, I’m afraid. Losing her touch, a bit.’ She tapped a finger to her head.

  I felt a pang of sadness for the woman who had once played such a big role in my life. ‘Sorry to hear that. She was a wonderful teacher.’ And had fabulous taste in interior design, I thought to myself as I admired the kitchen cupboard curtains again.

  As soon as Sandra had left, I sent a message to the family chat:

  Hello from Puffin Cottage! Do you want to come over for tea and biscuits?

  The responses came quickly:

  Hannah: Yes, would love to. See you soon

  Auntie Sue: Me and your mum will come. Love Auntie Sue. x

  Auntie Sue: Do you need us to bring anything? x

  I smiled, replying:

  Yes please! Tea bags, milk, sugar and biscuits…

  Hannah: LOL

  Rachel: I’m in too – extra biscuits coming right up! xxx

  I selected an eclectic mix of tea-cups and saucers from the cupboards in preparation for my guests’ arrival. After welcoming them and giving the grand tour, we raised our teas in a toast my new home. Mum looked uneasy.

  ‘Is everything all right, Mum?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘The feng shui in here is way off. We should rebalance it or you’ll be wallowing in negative energy.’

  I resisted rolling my eyes. This was exactly why I wasn’t moving in with her and Auntie Sue. I desperately tried to think of some way to change the subject, but was saved by a knock at the door.

  It was Gina, holding an enormous bouquet of red roses.

  ‘Gina, you really didn’t have to…’

  ‘They’re not from me,’ she blurted. ‘They were delivered to the pub this morning, after you left. I think there’s a card in there.’

  I opened the small envelope and read aloud: ‘To Isabelle. Sorry for your loss. Glad to hear you’re staying in Seahouses for a while. But no name. That’s strange…’

  Mum clapped her hands in delight. ‘Looks like you have a secr
et admirer – how romantic!’

  I shook my head, frowning. That was odd – who could they be from? Obviously, the whole village knew by now that I was staying for a while – these people had nothing better to talk about. But why not leave a name? Was Mum right – did I have a secret admirer?

  A tiny part of me hoped that maybe they were from Jake Ridley, and the thought caught me off-guard. Really, this was not the time for romantic aspirations. Besides, it was probably just someone trying to be friendly. It would be weird to woo a girl right after her sister had died.

  I hunted through the cupboards for a vase – the best I could find was a large ceramic jug. I tried to arrange the roses in the jug, but they were too tall, and leaned awkwardly. I looked around for somewhere to display it, and then had a better idea.

  ‘Come on, everyone. I know just the place for these.’

  Amy’s grave was still a brown mound of freshly dug soil, with grass seeds scattered on top that would take months to root. The air smelled of new earth, and a light drizzling of rain dusted us in droplets of water.

  We gathered around the grave, holding on to one another. It hurt to be here, but it was a necessary pain. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I wanted to be closer to Amy, and I wanted the kids to form a connection with this place. Or was it too much? Maybe we should have let them heal in their own time and grieve in their own space.

  I pushed my doubts aside. This felt like the right thing to do, and I had to go with my instincts. We scattered the roses onto the hill where Amy was sleeping, red petals tumbling in the wind across the graveyard.

  It was my turn to make dinner for the family. I hadn’t cooked in years, and I couldn’t remember having prepared anything more complicated than a salad in Hong Kong. It was too easy there to go out to eat, or have food delivered, and I had been spoiled for choice with so many places on my doorstep. Seahouses – that was a different story.

  I decided it was best to start simple, so I boiled a bag of dry pasta that I found at the back of the cupboard. When it was cooked, I stirred in tins of tuna and sweetcorn with some mayonnaise. I surveyed and sampled my efforts – not too bad for a first attempt.

  ‘That smells great,’ said Mike with sincerity.

  The kids were less excited.

  ‘I don’t think Mummy ever made this,’ said Betsy. ‘Except maybe for barbecue days. It’s very nice though. It’s like eating party food for tea!’

  Hannah smiled as her sister tripped over the attempt at a compliment.

  Amy had been a good cook. She’d started when Mum left, and as we’d found our way into our new routine, cooking had become her thing. As the family ate, I vowed to look online that night for some simple recipes and make a proper go of it tomorrow, with fresh ingredients and everything.

  After dinner I was left to clear up – that was when I really noticed Rachel’s absence. Perhaps she was trying to give us some space to find our feet.

  Mike had been quiet for most of the meal, and left the table as soon as he finished eating. He hadn’t said anything else about contesting Amy’s will, and I hoped he had changed his mind. The idea just didn’t feel right, and I couldn’t see how we could do it without putting more strain on the children. I loaded the dishwasher and went upstairs to find him.

  As I came up the stairs to his office, I heard him on the phone.

  ‘Listen, it’s under control – you’ll get your money back. I’m working on it. I’m going to go and see him, and I’ll tell him myself.’

  Mike was speaking quietly, but I could hear the tension in his voice.

  I stood statue-still at the top of the stairs, half of me wanting to stay and the other half wanting to run. Who was he on the phone to? Was this about his business, or something else? And was this why he was so anxious to get the insurance money? One thing I knew for certain – Mike would not want me listening in on this.

  I crept slowly, carefully, silently down the stairs and slipped back to the living room where the children were watching TV. I squeezed in next to Betsy, who was sucking her thumb again, and she curled into me. I just hoped she wouldn’t hear how hard my heart was pounding.

  Mike came in some moments later. He was calm and cool, like nothing had happened.

  ‘Listen, kids – and Izzy – I have to go away for a few days.’

  ‘No! You can’t!’ Lucas wailed.

  ‘Sorry mate, but we have bills to pay and it’s my job that pays them. That’s why Auntie Izzy is here, to look after you lot so that I can carry on working.’

  What the actual…? I raised a quizzical eyebrow at Mike, but he missed it.

  Hannah was outraged. ‘Dad, you promised you wouldn’t leave us!’

  ‘I’ll be back in five days.’

  ‘But that’s practically a whole week!’

  He raised his hands, palms towards her. ‘It’s only Amsterdam and I’ll be home by the weekend.’ Mike sighed. ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart. I know the timing’s not great, but they didn’t give me any choice.’

  That was weird – because just minutes ago, I’d heard Mike insisting on going. And he worked for himself. Who was this ‘they’ that he was talking about?

  I followed him into the kitchen. ‘Couldn’t you have let me know first? Shouldn’t we discuss these things?’

  ‘Sorry, it’s just that – well, that is why you’re here, isn’t it? To help look after the kids?’

  ‘Still… don’t you think you should ask me first?’ I tried to keep the anger from the edges of my voice.

  ‘Right, sorry…’ Mike’s lip started to tremble.

  I found myself relenting a little. Perhaps I shouldn’t have snapped at him. ‘I mean, I’m happy to help and everything – but just let me know, OK? Let’s work together on this.’

  His eyes filled. ‘It’s just… I miss her so much.’

  I looked down, shuffling my weight from foot to foot. Looking anywhere except at Mike.

  ‘Clearly, I’m not the parenting expert here, but don’t you think the kids need you right now?’

  He shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t go if I could avoid it. But this is work, it’s my business – I can’t take time off.’

  I thought back to the days after Dad died, when Mum started to slip away from us too.

  Mike knew what I was thinking. ‘Look, if I keep working, I’ll keep sane. I want to be there for them – of course I’m going to be there for them. I just need to do this as well. For me.’

  I had to sympathise – I would have loved a distraction right then, too. Looking after three grieving kids was a lot of work. But I couldn’t shake my suspicions about the phone conversation I’d heard.

  ‘You are all right for money, aren’t you?’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Because if you need cash—’

  ‘We are fine.’ There was an edge to his voice that told me to back down.

  We were facing each other across the galley of the kitchen and I could feel my heart thundering in my chest. Mike’s face was red. He turned his back to me to search for something inside the cupboard, and I slipped away to join the children.

  So much for settling into a new routine, I thought as I unpacked my overnight bag in Amy’s spare room. This would be the third bed I’d slept in this week.

  Mike had gone to the airport early that morning, and the day stretched ahead – terrifyingly long and empty. How to fill it? Rachel was coming over after her shift and it was Mum’s turn to help with dinner, but that was hours away.

  I suggested to Hannah that we go through some of her mum’s things with her brother and sister, starting with the box of photos she had found. After Dad died, we’d put off sorting his stuff, believing it would be too painful. But when we’d finally started, we’d found the opposite – it was like having him back with us. Amy and I had spent weeks on it, savouring the process for an hour or two each evening. I fingered his hip flask in my pocket now, running my thumb over the grooves of the inscription.

  Hannah, Luca
s and Betsy each picked out a photograph to have framed, and I took a couple for Puffin Cottage – one of me and Amy on the beach, and one of us from Edinburgh. In the Edinburgh photo, we were at a party in the kitchen of a house I couldn’t remember, and she had her arms around my shoulders in a protective hold. We were both smiling brightly at the camera with wide, toothy grins.

  And suddenly I remembered a fragment of a conversation I’d had with someone that night – a guy in a bucket hat and anorak. He’d asked who was the older sister, because it was hard to tell who was looking after who.

  My phone rang, snapping me back to the moment: Jake Ridley. I went out onto the landing to answer it, making sure the children wouldn’t be able to hear.

  ‘You asked me to let you know if I heard any news on Amy’s case?’

  ‘Yes.’ My voice was a thin croak. I sat on the stairs, biting my lip and digging my fingernails into the palm of my free hand.

  ‘Only, I was speaking to a contact in the coroner’s office. Apparently Amy’s blood tests showed high levels of benzodiazepines. It’s a type of medication prescribed to patients with anxiety disorders. When it’s taken with alcohol, it can have psychoactive effects.’

  Amy had been on anxiety meds? This was the first I’d heard of it. And she’d had a glass of wine the night of the accident. I gripped the phone.

  ‘So what happens now?’

  ‘The police have spoken to Mike and it was news to him, unfortunately. So they’ll speak with her GP to find out if she had a prescription. Do you know if she was taking anything?’

  ‘I… I… Sorry. I have no idea.’

  How could I not have known this? I ached for my sister – for what she must have been going through, and the gulf between us widened. What had she been unable to tell me?

  Jake told me not to worry, and that the police would check it out. He was cushioning my feelings, but it didn’t lessen my guilt.