The Good Sisters

by Helen Phifer

  Her heart was racing. It had been so long since he’d held her, since anyone had held her, and it felt good. She let him wrap his arms around her as he bent down and began to softly kiss her ear and neck. Just like he used to in the days before the girls came along and they actually liked each other.

  ***

  Ollie wondered why it had gone silent and he looked over the banister. His heart sank. He was angry, partly with Kate for being taken in by Martin, but mostly he was fuming at Martin. He wanted to run downstairs and drag him off her, not stopping until the both of them were outside and he’d punched him in the face a few times. He knew then that it was time to leave. He was in way over his head. He made his way to the small staircase that led down to the kitchen from the first floor and he went out of the back door, closing it quietly behind him. He got into his van and drove away so fast the tyres spun on the gravel, spraying it everywhere.

  If he’d have waited a few more minutes he would have seen what Martin would think of as his greatest seduction fall to pieces in a spectacular fashion, but he hadn’t. So angry with the both of them he’d driven home, where he’d gone inside and taken a cold bottle of lager out of the fridge, drunk it down in two gulps, then gone and stood under the cold shower to snap out of feeling sorry for himself.

  ***

  Kate led Martin down to the room that was her temporary bedroom and closed the door behind them. He’d continued to kiss and nuzzle her the entire way and for the time being every hurtful, hateful thing he’d ever done to her had been forgotten. He kicked the door shut with his foot and began to unbutton his shirt. He did have a nice body, a bit too ripped for her liking, but he always had loved staring into the mirror more than she did.

  As he began to unzip his trousers, his phone started to ring in his pocket. He pulled it out along with a small, black velvet box, which fell to the floor. As he answered his phone she bent down and picked it up. She opened it and the word Tiffany that was stamped on the inside screamed inside her head. Resting on the black silk cushion inside was the most beautiful heart-shaped diamond ring that she’d ever seen. He turned to see her staring at the ring and ended his phone call, holding out his hand for the box.

  ‘Sorry, did I drop that?’

  ‘This is an engagement ring.’

  He didn’t even blush, or look embarrassed. ‘Yes it is. Can I have it back?’

  ‘But why would you have an engagement ring? We’re still married so obviously it’s not for me.’

  ‘Well it’s for Tamara. I wanted to ask you if you’d have the girls for a couple of weeks whilst I took her away to Mauritius and proposed. Of course we’ll wait until the divorce is finalised before we make any concrete plans, but I think she’s the one. Now that you seem to have sorted yourself out I think I can trust you with the girls.’

  Kate tried her best not to lash out, but the anger that exploded simultaneously inside her head and chest made it very hard to think like a rational human being. She picked up the first thing to hand, which was her only bottle of perfume, and threw it at him. It caught his ear then smashed against the wall. The strong smell of Chanel Mademoiselle filled the air. He lifted his hand to his head.

  ‘You fucking maniac. What are you doing? You could have killed me.’

  She took great pleasure in the shade of deep red his face had turned and didn’t care. She looked for another object to throw and picked up one of her work boots, which she then launched through the air. It hit him square in the chest with the most satisfying thud she’d ever heard. He turned and began to run down the passage and she followed him screaming.

  ‘Get the fuck out of my house, you smarmy bastard, and don’t you ever come back. How dare you think you could get me into bed for one last shag before you got the divorce papers through and then propose to that slut who is young enough to be your daughter.’

  He ran along the hall towards the front door, not even stopping to grab his shirt off the floor. Semi naked he made it to his car and opened the door to shield himself before she launched something else at him. She stood on the doorstep and aimed the small, black box at his head. It hit the driver’s door window and then fell to the ground.

  Not being able to look at him for a minute longer, she slammed the front door shut and left him scrabbling around in the dark looking for his expensive ring. She leant against the door. Her hands were shaking she was so furious with him. He must have found the ring because his car door slammed and the engine started. Good, let him go and explain to Tamara why he had no shirt on. She had a good mind to sign up to that bloody Facebook and send her a message to tell her what he’d been up to.

  The house was silent, too quiet. Then she remembered that Ollie had stayed behind to get the tiling done. Oh God the embarrassment. She ran upstairs to see if he was in the room he’d been working on. The door was closed and the light was off. She didn’t remember him leaving before and wondered if he’d seen her and Martin kissing. Oh the shame of it. What had she been thinking? Not that it really mattered. What went on was between her and Martin. It had nothing to do with Ollie, but she couldn’t push away the nagging feeling that it did matter what he thought; it mattered very much.

  She began to cry then. She couldn’t hold it in. Martin had once again reduced her to a snivelling wreck. There was a coldness around her that chilled her to the bone. The air was several degrees cooler up here than downstairs. Making her way back down to the kitchen and the fridge for a drink, she thought that it was no wonder she was like she was. It was all his fault and after a few years she wouldn’t be surprised if perfect Tamara left him or turned into a raging alcoholic as well. Perhaps the pair of them would end up best friends at the AA meetings, both sitting and reminiscing about how he took their lives and shredded them to pieces.

  She grabbed the bottle of wine and unscrewed it. Not even bothering to get a glass, she just sat at the kitchen table and drank from the bottle. Big, long gulps of wine – the faster the better. If she got drunk she might just be able to blot the last thirty minutes out. He’d never let her have the girls now, not after she’d assaulted him twice in one day, and she had worked so hard to make sure she did nothing wrong that would stop her. You’ve completely screwed up big time, Kate. Now what?

  The wine began to take hold and the familiar feeling of warmth spread up inside of her chest, but she needed something else – something stronger. She wanted to go to sleep and forget about it for a while, blot it all out. If she drank enough there would be no bad dreams either, just an all-consuming blackness.

  There was a bottle of Jack Daniel’s in her bedside table, out of sight of the workmen but more so out of sight of Ollie. She didn’t want him judging her. As she went to her room to retrieve it she heard the footsteps again on the floor above her. They were light, but there was no mistaking that someone was up there. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and thought about phoning the police. That was a definite no. Martin might have already phoned them for all she knew; in fact they were probably on their way to arrest her right now.

  There was Ollie – nice, kind Ollie – only he would see she’d been drinking. She grabbed the bottle of whisky and went back to the kitchen, sitting down at the table. There was nothing of value upstairs. It was still a building site. Whoever it was could crack on with whatever they were doing and besides if those cameras worked they would be on them anyway. In front of her on the table was one of the sharp knives from out of the kitchen drawer. She didn’t remember putting it there. She opened the whisky and began to swig from the bottle.

  The acrid smell from earlier filled the room and Kate watched as she exhaled and her breath came out as a white, smoky cloud. She shivered. The temperature had dropped and she hadn’t even noticed. The light bulb above the kitchen table began to crackle and fizz as it blinked on and off. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end as the overwhelming feeling that there was somebody behind her filled her with fear.

  Not sure she could turn around and fac
e whatever it was she felt the hot, salty tears begin to fall down her cheeks. The fear inside her too great to ignore. She slowly began to turn her head to see what was in the room with her. The whole time she couldn’t help wondering if she’d be better off dead than living this sad, scared existence. There was no one behind her and she let out a huge sigh. She could see how dark it was out in the hallway though. Light had filled the house moments earlier but now it was shrouded in shadows. It looked as if there was something standing out there waiting to come into the kitchen. Kate’s hands were shaking. She looked at the back door. She could run outside and escape, but would it let her go and where was she going to escape to?

  A woman’s voice spoke in her ear, as clear as if someone was standing next to her. She whipped her head around to see who was behind her, but there was no one there. ‘What are you waiting for, Kate? You know you want to. You’ve lost it all and you’re never going to see your kids again. You might as well end it now. It won’t hurt – not if you slice deep enough into your arm. I won’t tell anyone. It will be our secret.’

  The voice was calm, soothing – almost sing-song – and reminded her of someone she’d known a very long time ago when she’d been little.

  ‘Come on, Kate, it won’t hurt and all of this will be over. Amy will be waiting for you. Have you not heard her calling out for you? She is wandering the halls of this house hoping you’ll join her. She’s just as lonely as you are. You could be together again. Just pick up the knife and slice.’

  Kate let out a huge sob. She was going mad, but the voice was right. She could be with Amy again and she had nothing worth living for. She’d been scared of killing herself with her reckless lust for life when she was younger – the fast cars driven by bad boys, the even faster motorbikes – living her life on the edge as if daring God to take her, but he hadn’t. He’d let her live. Now with her drinking, it was only a matter of time before she choked on her own vomit or her liver packed in. So why couldn’t she stop?

  It was as if she had some internal switch that was hell-bent on self-destruction that she couldn’t turn off. The whole point of this house had been to provide an income and a nice family home for her girls, which was never going to happen now after tonight. Martin would see to that. She picked up the smooth, blue, plastic-handled knife and held it in one hand. In the other she lifted the whisky to her lips and drank, hoping that if she drunk enough of the stuff it would numb the pain.

  Chapter Eight

  Oliver had the television on even though he wasn’t watching it. His mind wouldn’t shut off enough to enjoy the programme. All he could think about was Kate and how easily she had let Martin seduce her even after everything he’d done to her. He hadn’t realised he felt so attracted to her that the hurt inside his chest was an actual physical pain. Kate’s world had also been turned upside down and she’d lost everything in the space of a week. They’d both been through such a lot. He’d been hoping that they could make a go of it as a couple. He’d finally plucked up the courage to ask her out and then tonight had happened.

  He had watched Ellen the last five years of her life fade away until there was nothing left and he’d sworn to her there wouldn’t be anyone else. But Ellen had scolded him and told him that he was far too young to spend the rest of his life a lonely widower. She’d wanted him to meet someone else and be happy. Now he was in turmoil because he hadn’t realised just how much working with Kate and being with her all day almost every day was having an effect on him.

  Martin had cheated on her numerous times and when she’d needed him the most he’d thrown her out of the family home and taken away everything: her children, her job, her life. No wonder she was keeping herself cocooned up in her own little world. She probably felt much safer there. He wondered what the prick had wanted tonight. Why had he come around? He also wondered if Kate was okay. Why would she let him come back into her life on a whim like that?

  Ollie slammed his fist against the cushion on the sofa. Despite everything he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. He needed to go and see if she was all right. It was completely ridiculous, but he knew he wouldn’t settle if he didn’t. The more he thought about it the more he felt as if she needed his help. After pulling on his trainers he grabbed his car keys and ran outside. He needed speed so he jumped into his VW Golf and drove off.

  Praying tonight wasn’t the night he was about to be pulled over by the police, he felt as if something was telling him that Kate needed him. He didn’t understand what it was about but he trusted his instincts too much to ignore it.

  When he finally reached the drive to her house he sped up it, relieved to see that Martin’s car had gone. It had been less than an hour since he’d left so maybe it hadn’t gone as well as Martin had hoped. Ollie really hoped to God that Kate had thrown him out and seen sense. The house was in darkness. He parked out the front and ran up the steps to the front door where he hammered on it. There was no sign of life from inside, which made his stomach flip.

  What if she’d gone back to his house with him? He felt in his pocket for the spare key and swore. It was in his van back at home. Running around the side to her bedroom window, he felt better to see the glow from the lamp shining through the crack in the curtains. Cupping his hands he peered through. The room was empty. There was no sign of her. He ran around to the back of the house and the kitchen, where the lights were blazing brightly. He hoped to God she was in here. As he peered through the glass in the door he felt his legs begin to shake. She was slumped on the floor in front of the fridge and lying in a pool of bright red blood.

  ‘No.’

  He rattled the door but it was locked so he pulled his hooded jacket off, wrapped it around his fist and punched the glass as hard as he could. He knocked the shards out of the frame so he could get his hand inside to unlock it. The door opened and he ran towards her, his heart threatening to jump from his chest it was beating so fast. He bent down and pressed two fingers against her neck. She had a pulse, but she’d lost a lot of blood. He could see the two, incredibly deep four-inch cuts in each of her forearms and he felt sick.

  Why, had she done this? He was going to fucking kill Martin Parker if it was the last thing he ever did. Grabbing two tea towels from the rack he tenderly wrapped each arm up as tightly as he could, the whole time talking to her. He didn’t have time to wait for an ambulance. There was a good chance it would get lost or not find the house in time.

  ‘Kate, can you hear me? It’s Ollie. Everything’s going to be okay, I promise. I’m taking you to the hospital now, please hold on.’

  Scooping her up into his arms he ran with her through the house to the front door and his waiting car. She was only a slight thing, but she was a dead weight. The whisky fumes that permeated from her were overpowering as they mixed with the strong smell of copper from all the blood. He felt as if he was going to throw up. He was relieved he hadn’t come in his van. He didn’t know if he’d have been able to lift her high enough into the cab on his own, but he managed to bundle her into the passenger seat and clicked her seat belt into place.

  He ran around to the other side and drove off even faster than he’d driven to get here. They reached the hospital in no time at all and he talked to her constantly, telling her everything was going to be just fine. In reality he didn’t know if it was. She’d lost an awful lot of blood. They might not be able to do anything. This thought hit him hard. He didn’t want to lose her even though she probably wanted nothing to do with him. He was falling in love with her. They shared the same sense of humour and he found her so easy to talk to about almost everything. He wanted more than anything to help her get her life back together.

  He drove and parked on the double yellow lines outside the double doors of the accident and emergency department. He managed to scoop her out and carry her in, abandoning his car. He was relieved when a nurse came running towards him with a trolley to lay Kate on. They pushed her through the double doors – pointing at the receptio
n desk, for him to book her in. As he did, his hands were shaking and when he spoke his voice trembled with the shock of the last fifteen minutes. All he could tell them was her name, age, address and telephone number. He knew very little about her in reality.

  He left to go and move the car in case an ambulance needed to park out the front. He felt ill. He walked back in and took a seat on one of the hard plastic chairs. The receptionist came over and asked him who her next of kin was, and he didn’t know. He doubted that she wanted Martin to know about this so he shrugged and said, ‘Me’. He then rhymed off his address and mobile number for the woman.

  The waiting room was fairly busy and he could feel every single person staring at him. They had probably already labelled him a wife beater or a bad husband, thinking that he was the reason she was in this state, when that couldn’t be further from the truth. He’d never once lifted his hand to Ellen in their eighteen years of marriage. Yes they’d argued and she had been the feisty one at times but it had never ended in violence. After what felt like for ever a doctor dressed in blue scrubs called his name and he crossed towards him.

  ‘How is she?’

  ‘She’s opened her eyes a couple of times, but has gone back to sleep. We’ve stopped the bleeding and one of the nurses is currently in the process of stitching the wounds back together. Does she drink a lot, or do you know how much she’s drunk tonight?’

  He debated on lying to protect Kate from embarrassment and then wondered if he did whether it would it hamper them giving her the help she so desperately needed.

  ‘When I found her there was an empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s next to her and yes she likes to drink – most nights I think. I’m just a good friend. She’s got an ex-husband. He’s been around her house tonight and this has to be something to do with him because when I left she was fine.’