‘What’s up now?’
Ellie gritted her teeth. ‘You’re so . . . tight.’
‘I’m frugal!’
‘I’m not just talking about the money! It’s everything! You’re so tightly wound, so not relaxed! And look around you!’ Ellie waved her arm towards the beach. ‘You’re in the most perfect place with the most perfect life—’
‘It’s not as straightforward as you think.’
‘No? You want to swap?’
‘I needed to escape.’
‘Don’t we all.’
‘It was more than that.’ Abby looked at her uneasily. ‘I’ve needed to escape ever since I was small—’
‘I’ve settled up, girls.’ Susanna was standing next to the table, smiling carefully at them. Ellie had been so irritated she hadn’t even seen her mother leave. ‘Just popped to the till,’ continued Susanna, ‘while you were,’ she lowered her voice, ‘arguing.’
Abby started to protest, to get out her purse, and in exasperation, Ellie flounced out of the restaurant.
TWELVE
They drove back to the villa in strained silence. The car was unbearably hot; black seats burned bare skin and, even with the windows fully down, only a blast of warm air filled the car as it wound its way over the shimmering tarmac. Feeling faint from the heat, Ellie found herself smouldering at Abby further – she’s got enough money, why can’t she get a car where the air conditioning actually works?
She was first out and didn’t wait for Abby to open the front door but unlatched the side gate and made her way around the back to the terrace. As she approached, a lizard stopped dead on the flagstones. The sun beat down. The leaves on the lemon trees in the large terracotta pots were utterly still. Ellie felt a rivulet of sweat trickle down her lower back. She heard the patio doors slide open behind her. Her shoulders stiffened.
‘Are you all right? Ellie?’
It was her mother. Her voice was soft, gentle and full of understanding, and it triggered neuron pathways that had been set when she was a child, sick and reliant on her rock of a mother. Embarrassingly, Ellie felt herself well up. She quickly brushed away the tears.
Susanna came out and walked over to her, resting a hand on her shoulder. ‘Why don’t I get you a drink?’ she said and then went back inside.
Ellie looked down at the lizard. It was still there, not even an eyelid blinking. The sun was burning her shoulders and she half thought about moving into some shade. She heard footsteps behind her and turned – she was so thirsty – but it was Abby standing there, not her mother. Abby crossed the terrace until she was standing next to her.
‘I know you think I have everything I could ever want . . . a charmed life . . .’ said Abby. ‘But you could have the same too.’
‘Oh, pur-lease,’ said Ellie.
‘But you could.’
‘I was not given the gifts you were, Abby. Or if I was, they were stunted in childhood.’
‘No, but that’s the point. All those years you felt your illness was holding you back—’
‘It was holding me back. I was too ill to learn. It affected everything. Whereas you – you were able to do whatever you wanted. You just . . . took off, and I was left on the sidelines. No Girl Scouts, no trampoline club, no going to friends’ houses to play, half the time not even any school . . . just a struggle, everything a struggle. You didn’t even look back over your shoulder. Thank God for Mum. She understood, not just that I was ill, but what it was doing to me.’
Abby was watching her, a contorted look on her face. Maybe some of this is finally getting through, thought Ellie.
‘Mum didn’t care what it was doing to you,’ said Abby.
Ellie thought she’d misheard. ‘What?’
‘She’s a liar. She’s been lying to you for years.’
Ice clinked in a jug. Both girls turned to see Susanna framed in the doorway, a tray in her hands filled with glasses and iced water, her face white.
‘Really, Abby? You’re going to try to claim that?’ she said.
Ellie looked from her mother to her sister. ‘What’s going on?’
‘This mother of ours is not the tender, caring soul you think,’ said Abby.
‘Stop that right now, Abigail,’ said Susanna, walking towards them, the tray still in her hands.
‘You were ill because she made you ill,’ said Abby.
‘You are a wicked, wicked girl. How dare you spout such lies.’
‘She poisoned you. For years.’
A loud crash splintered the air; glass shattered and water spilled across the darkening flagstones. Stunned, Ellie looked down. The lizard darted off into the dry undergrowth. Ellie kept her eyes on the space where it had been, trying to understand what she’d just heard, but her mind was spinning with thoughts of alarm and disbelief. She raised her head.
‘Mum?’ she said in a small voice, a child seeking reassurance.
‘Your sister is lying,’ said Susanna. She reached out a distant hand but Ellie felt herself pull back.
‘I saw her,’ said Abby.
Ellie’s eyes bulged in horror.
‘When I was nine.’
Susanna scoffed. ‘This is utter rubbish. Do you want to know the real truth?’ she said to Ellie, stepping her way through the broken glass towards her. Ellie saw her mother’s foot catch on a shard, saw her wince, blood seeping onto the stones, but Susanna hardly seemed to notice, she just kept coming at her.
‘Don’t come near me.’
Susanna smiled. ‘Don’t be silly.’
‘I said don’t come near me.’
‘You need to listen to me.’
Susanna was still approaching, making bloody footprints on the ground, her arms outstretched. The heat was searing Ellie’s head and it was all too much, too hot, too bright, and as her mother went to touch her, Ellie pushed her back and Susanna stumbled; her foot already in pain and her step unsteady, she lost her balance, and with a small cry she fell and her head hit the terrace with a loud crack.
THIRTEEN
Abby stared at her mother lying on the ground, unable to fully take in what had just happened.
Beside her, Ellie was dumbstruck. Shock contorted her face, her hands over her eyes, fingers splayed.
Abby moved over to where Susanna lay on the terrace. She bent down.
‘Mum?’
There was no answer. Her mother was so still. Hands trembling, Abby went to pick up Susanna’s limp wrist. She placed her fingers tentatively on the space under her mother’s thumb. She frowned, not immediately finding what she was searching for. Her hands just wouldn’t stop shaking. Then a trickle of blood began to form under her mother’s head. Slowly, slowly it spread, creeping, edging its way along the paving. Abby’s eyes widened in horror. The pressure she had on her mother’s wrist instantly weakened and her hand fell from her grasp as the realization kicked in.
She couldn’t find a pulse. Susanna was dead.
Slowly, Abby stood up, her shivering hands hanging by her side. She turned to Ellie who was now crouched into a ball, sitting back on her haunches, muttering to herself. Abby could make out, ‘Oh God, oh God, oh God.’ Ellie looked up at her, a terrified question in her eyes, and Abby gave an imperceptible shake of the head. Her sister froze and then seemed to visibly crumple. She looked so small to Abby, so vulnerable, so utterly paralysed with fear. Just like she had as a child. A memory roared into her head. Ellie coming into her bedroom, frail and wan from throwing up, and asking if Abby would play dollies with her.
Abby suddenly felt an overwhelming surge of panic. She grabbed Ellie’s hand, even as her sister barely seemed to register it, and pulled her into the house. She sat her on the sofa with barked instructions not to move, unsure if Ellie was hearing her. Then Abby raced upstairs and, pulling a holdall from her wardrobe, she started stuffing it with clothes. She was about to turn away when she saw the safe. She punched in the code and the door swung open. Her passport lay on one side and she grabbed it. At the back of the
safe was Matteo’s gun. Abby froze. Her panic was overriding everything other than a primal knowledge that she had to be prepared for any eventuality. Her hand reflexively closed over the weapon and she threw it in the bag.
Then she went into Ellie’s room and searched urgently for her suitcase. Finding it under the bed, she pulled it out and opening the wardrobe and the drawers, she filled it with some essentials, then carried both bags down the stairs, the suitcase banging against the banisters. She took them out the front and chucked them into the boot of her car. She went back inside and grabbed Ellie’s hand again.
‘Come with me,’ she said, and Ellie followed her to the front of the villa and allowed herself to be put in the car. Abby buckled both of them in, then started the engine and drove away.
FOURTEEN
She didn’t know where she was going. She didn’t even know what she was going to do. There was only one thing clear in her mind: get her sister away.
Abby drove fast, propelled by an urgency she had no control over, a sensation that had no boundaries of thought or logic.
She knew there was a ferry crossing to the mainland in fifteen minutes and they had to be on it. She bought tickets at the terminal and drove the car onto the lower deck. Ellie was still numb, unseeing, unaware. As the ship’s ramps rose up and it began its journey across the sea towards the Tuscan coastline, Abby took Ellie up to the on-board cafe and bought her the strongest coffee she could get.
She got one for herself too and they sat at a table outside, Abby choosing the one furthest from the other passengers. She took hold of her espresso cup, added two sachets of sugar and downed it in one. She blinked and swallowed, waiting for the drink to shock her into a state of clarity.
‘Now you,’ she instructed Ellie, who was sitting staring at nothing, her coffee untouched.
Ellie’s glazed eyes moved across to Abby and she seemed to understand what Abby was saying. She looked down, was surprised to see a coffee there and lifted the cup to her lips. She drank some, wincing at the bitterness.
‘All of it,’ said Abby, adding sugar to Ellie’s coffee too, then watching as her sister tipped her head back until the cup was empty. Ellie put it back on the saucer as Abby sat tensely, waiting for a reaction, and then Ellie crumpled.
‘Mum,’ she wailed, tears beginning to roll down her cheeks. ‘What have I done?’
‘Pull yourself together,’ whispered Abby quickly, glancing over her shoulder to see if anyone was watching.
‘We’ve left her,’ Ellie wailed again.
‘Shush.’
‘But she’s all on her own. We didn’t even call an ambulance.’
‘It was too late.’
‘But what if it wasn’t?’
‘I checked.’
‘But what if there was somethi—’
‘I CHECKED,’ snapped Abby and Ellie recoiled. Abby took a deep breath. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to shout.’ She glanced around again but it was noisy up on the outer deck; the engine and the waves had drowned out her voice and no one was looking.
‘I . . . I . . .’ Ellie faltered, couldn’t seem to bring herself to speak. ‘Jesus, I killed her.’
‘Don’t ever say that again.’
‘But I did, I—’
Abby took hold of Ellie’s hands across the table, held them tight. ‘It was an accident,’ she said. Ellie’s eyes were brimming over again; guilt and fear made her break Abby’s gaze.
‘Look at me,’ said Abby firmly, but Ellie wouldn’t. ‘Look at me,’ instructed Abby, giving a sharp shake to her sister’s hands until she raised her eyes. ‘It was an accident,’ repeated Abby. ‘An accident, an accident. Not deliberate. Not like what she did to you.’ They sat there for a few moments, neither saying anything. Then Ellie slowly pulled her hands away as she looked around her, taking in the endless blue horizon, seeming to notice for the first time that she was on a ferry. ‘Where are we going?’
‘I don’t know. A trip. We need some time. I need to figure it all out. What the best thing is to do.’
‘What about Matteo?’ asked Ellie.
Abby grimaced. She was well aware he’d be home later and he’d find Susanna on the terrace. As awful as it was, Abby had no idea what she could do about it. It was another problem on top of everything else and she just couldn’t deal with it right now.
‘I don’t know,’ she repeated.
The journey was short and within another fifteen minutes, passengers were being asked to return to their cars. Abby led Ellie downstairs and the girls waited silently while the ferry docked, before taking their turn to drive off.
Abby headed into Piombino town and parked up in a busy district, leaving Ellie in the car. She told her to wait and then crossed the road to a bank. Taking a deep breath to compose herself, she stepped into its air-conditioned interior. She went up to the first available cashier and smiled at the woman in her uniform shirt of white and green stripes.
‘I need to withdraw some money,’ she said in her stilted Italian.
‘How much would you like?’ asked the cashier.
Abby placed her bank card on the counter. ‘The maximum possible, please.’
The cashier asked her to place her card in the reader and enter her PIN, which Abby duly did. The cashier viewed her screen and then wrote a number down on a piece of paper and pushed it under the window. ‘This is your balance.’
Abby didn’t need to look at it. She knew exactly how much she had in the account. She suddenly wanted out of there, didn’t like leaving Ellie so long, didn’t like drawing attention to herself. ‘So how much can I take out?’
‘Well, usually for sums over two thousand euros, we ask for advance notice, just so we have the cash available,’ started the cashier.
‘I need more,’ said Abby. She forced a light smile. ‘Whatever you can do.’
‘OK,’ said the cashier slowly. Abby smiled again, as casually as she could. I mustn’t seem weird, she swiftly reminded herself. They agreed on a figure, Abby produced her passport and then she waited while the cashier counted the notes, mentally urging her to hurry up. Keep calm, keep calm. Eventually it was done and with an envelope of euros padding out her bag, she hurried back to the car.
‘Let’s go,’ she said to Ellie, starting the engine. She needed to get away. The experience in the bank had left her guilty, nervous, feeling like a fugitive. A heavy responsibility suddenly weighed on her shoulders, its load crushing her. She felt her heart race, had to fight for breath.
‘Are you OK?’ asked Ellie.
I have to be, thought Abby. But I need time to think. To fix this.
‘Give me your phone,’ she said to Ellie.
Her sister looked at her quizzically but did as she was bid. Leaving the engine running, Abby got out of the car and strode up the road. She took Ellie’s phone and, with a quick check that no one was watching, dumped it in a bin. Then, with reluctance, she took her own out of her battered old handbag and did the same thing. The money would pinpoint them here anyway. But nothing else. Not for a while. Not while she worked out what to do.
Going back to the car, she got in and drove away.
FIFTEEN
Every now and then Ellie would glimpse the Tyrrhenian Sea from the car window, and every time she did, somewhere she registered it was further away, until she suddenly realized she could no longer see it at all. She made herself sit up and pay some attention for the first time in what felt like hours. She looked out of the window – properly – and saw they had long ago left the town and were deep in the Tuscan hills. The road was quiet and, as they climbed, Ellie could see olive groves and vineyards for miles and, at a distance, the occasional hilltop village, its russet roofs glowing in the late afternoon sun. The horizon was punctuated with the stately height of cypress trees that cast growing shadows across the landscape.
‘Where are we?’ Ellie asked.
‘Heading north,’ said Abby.
Ellie looked over at her sister, with her hands fixed firmly o
n the wheel, her gaze set ahead. She was leading, as ever, had made all the decisions ever since . . . Ellie shuddered. It had all been so quick, such a blur, that part of her didn’t think it was real.
Then a picture flashed into her mind – her mother’s closed eyes as she lay on the patio. Everything quiet, everything still, and then slowly came the blood. The horror of that deep red trickle would stay in her nightmares forever. Her mother. Her dear, darling mother. The woman she loved so much. The woman who poisoned me as a child.
The agony of grief that had been hurtling through her at an unstoppable speed was suddenly halted. Ellie was speared by confusion and a need to understand.
She tried to think back all those years, tried to remember scenarios, moments, meetings with doctors, anything to ground what Abby had said, to make sense of it, realize it for herself, but all she could recall was her mother’s tenderness.
‘What did she do?’ she started tentatively. ‘When you saw her that time. What did Mum do?’
Abby glanced across. ‘She was pouring liquid paracetamol into your food.’
‘Oh my God.’ Ellie was silent for a moment. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘How old was I?’
‘Six.’ said Abby.
Ellie calculated. ‘And you were nine.’ Still quite young. Maybe Abby made a mistake.
‘Can you tell me exactly what happened?’
‘It was a school day. You were in the living room, lying on the sofa, unwell. You hadn’t been to school that day. Mum was in the kitchen, making dinner. She thought I was outside, playing in the street, but I’d come in for a snack. I was starving. You remember the blue fruit bowl that she used to keep on the counter by the kitchen door?’
Ellie nodded. It had had white flowers painted around the outside.
‘I was getting an apple and I saw her with the medicine bottle. She had her back to me and was measuring it out into the small plastic spoon, then tipping it into a plate of casserole. Then she stirred it in. I remember being puzzled because whenever I’d had medicine, she’d just given it to me straight from the spoon. I must have made a noise because she swung around and I’ll never forget the look on her face. She was panicked, then she became angry, really angry. I asked her what she was doing and she just looked at me with the apple in my hand and told me to put it back – it was dinner time and I shouldn’t just help myself without asking.’
Sisters Page 6