Sisters

by Michelle Frances

  ‘What?’ Abby said, her jaw dropping.

  ‘You were jealous of me, Abby, for years. I was always the one who got Mum’s attention. Maybe some of that stuff still hangs over you. Don’t try and deny it,’ snapped Ellie, seeing Abby about to open her mouth.

  ‘I wasn’t,’ said Abby quickly. ‘I . . . it’s true. Yes, there. You know this. I didn’t like you much when we were younger. But as for now . . . what are you suggesting?’

  ‘It’s all gone? All that resentment?’

  Abby looked awkward. ‘We have our moments. But I’ve never disliked you enough to want to kill you, for God’s sake. How on earth did you get that idea anyway?’

  Ellie watched her. Said nothing.

  ‘Please, will you just put the gun down,’ said Abby. ‘It’s making me nervous. Frightening me out of my wits, actually.’

  ‘Why did you bring it?’

  ‘Um . . . I don’t know. Spur of the moment thing. I just saw it there, when I was throwing our stuff together. I was scared. Mum was dead and . . . I don’t know, I just felt as if I had to be prepared. For anything. Look, if it makes you anxious, me having it in my bag, then you carry it.’

  Don’t be fooled, thought Ellie.

  Abby kept her expression blank. ‘If you kill me, you don’t get the money.’

  Thrown, Ellie’s arms dropped slightly. ‘What money?’

  ‘In my will. It’s split between you and Matteo.’

  ‘You what?’

  ‘But I should imagine that if you murder me, OK, I’ll be dead, but I don’t think the law lets you inherit.’

  Jesus! Abby had left half of her two-million-pound fortune to her? Oh my God. On paper, she was potentially a millionaire. This act of generosity floored her. The idea that her sister had thought of her in such a way was mind-boggling. It left her with a warm glow and Ellie unexpectedly felt her eyes fill with tears.

  ‘If I come towards you, you won’t lift that thing again, will you?’ asked Abby gently.

  Ellie looked down to see her arms had fallen to her sides. She shook her head. She couldn’t have used it, even if she wanted to. Suddenly exhausted, the tears started to fall. Abby came over and tentatively embraced her.

  ‘Shall we go?’ Abby said softly in her ear. ‘I’m certain Jamie will call back today and then we can talk to him and get ourselves out of this mess.’

  Ellie stiffened. She was reminded of her earlier fears – and how Jamie would serve to help Abby in defence. Did she trust her sister now? Suddenly Ellie wasn’t sure if she’d just been expertly manipulated.

  ‘What if he doesn’t? I can’t keep on like this, Abby.’

  Abby looked at her watch. ‘OK, let’s give it until this evening. If he hasn’t rung by eight, we’ll call someone else.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘I don’t know. Anyone. You choose. Use my phone. Google someone. The best person you can find. I’ll pay for it.’

  There it was again. That same look of genuine care and concern.

  Back in the car, Ellie still held the gun in her hand. She didn’t want it touching her skin anymore; she found it abhorrent. Should she put it in her own bag? As she hesitated, Abby put a hand over hers.

  ‘I meant what I said. You keep it.’

  Ellie dropped it into her bag and pushed it away from her with her feet. Abby started the engine and as she pulled out onto the quiet country road, she exhaled.

  ‘Wow . . . Thank you.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘Not shooting me.’

  Ellie shrugged. ‘Welcome.’

  ‘How did you even know how to use that thing?’

  ‘You just pull, don’t you?’

  ‘Don’t know.’

  Ellie looked at her sister. ‘You brought a gun and you don’t know how to use it?’

  ‘Well, it’s not like I’ve ever needed to find out.’

  ‘Is it even loaded?’

  ‘Not sure. I wouldn’t know how to check.’

  Ellie pondered. ‘I think it was.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah. It was heavy.’

  Abby looked across and Ellie saw her sister’s mouth twitch.

  ‘You could feel the weight of the bullets?’ asked Abby.

  Ellie frowned. ‘What’s so funny?’

  By now, Abby had erupted into giggles that she was finding impossible to suppress. ‘Sorry,’ she said, still trying to be serious.

  Ellie smiled. ‘There was a definite feel of lead, lots of lead.’

  Abby was laughing outright now.

  ‘Is that right?’ said Ellie, the laughter infectious. ‘Are bullets made of lead?’

  Abby looked at her and lost control, giddy on the post-adrenaline comedown. Soon both girls were wiping away the tears streaming down their cheeks.

  FIFTY

  The sun was veering into its mid-afternoon furnace, building on the day’s heat to almost unbearable levels. Matteo’s mother-in-law had gone for a lie-down several hours ago and still showed no signs of resurfacing. Kathleen had long since left the house. Staggered at the lack of air conditioning, she had retreated to the comfort of her hotel. Matteo suspected she was going to stick around for a while.

  Inactivity didn’t suit him. He wished he were at work, able to take his mind off these latest revelations.

  Abby had a brother who had died as a baby. No, not just died. He had been murdered. And Susanna had covered it up.

  It rattled him deeply. Up until now he’d been concerned about his wife’s disappearance, yes, but it seemed there would be an explanation. One that would cast his mother-in-law in the less favourable light. At no point had he been fearful. At no point had anyone actually died.

  Abby had never mentioned she’d had a baby brother to him. Susanna said she wouldn’t have remembered. She’d been so young when he’d died and Susanna had never mentioned him to either of her daughters. She’d also asked Kathleen not to say anything and Kathleen, not wishing to cause more agony, had complied. Until now.

  Matteo needed to get out of the house. He crossed the terrace and took the steps down to the sea. At the platform, a welcoming breeze came off the sea, catching in it the scent of broom from the rocks beside him. He looked at the water rocking gently against the edge; today’s clarity was amongst the best he’d seen. Peering over the edge, he could see down four, five metres. Tiny fish flitted against the rocks, searching for food.

  Matteo pulled off his shorts and T-shirt and dived in. He swam out, arms circling over his head as he cruised through the water until his muscles began to tire. Then he stopped and looked back at the shoreline. His home was a tiny doll’s house on the horizon. He kicked his legs, treading water, knowing there was a great depth below him, a dark unknown, and it felt good to be away from other human beings, an outsider in a watery world.

  He tried to think in facts. He was a policeman, after all. A baby had died. Of this he had no doubt. Both Kathleen and Susanna had spoken openly about it. The infant had ingested too much salt and this was the cause of death. Again, neither of the women had denied this. He’d heard stories before of parents – usually mothers – who’d harmed their children in order to gain emotional or financial reward. Fabricated or induced illness, it was now called. There had been a case at work once. A mother had shaved her two-year-old’s head and pretended he had cancer. She’d dragged him from doctor to doctor, exaggerating and claiming false symptoms, insisting on tests, manipulating results. She’d been found guilty and the child had been taken away from her.

  But Susanna was saying it wasn’t her at fault, it was Abby. A jealous older sister who had refused to accept a new sibling. He knew some children could be monstrous towards a new arrival. He also knew they had no real concept of the finality and tragic consequences of death. Toddlers just wanted immediate gratification, order restored. A toddler would struggle with a sense of remorse, would be unable to grasp the extreme overreaction of causing a death to avenge – what was it? – her Lego model being destroye
d.

  So did he think it was Abby? With a cold jolt, Matteo realized that he didn’t know. Doubt sat uncomfortably in his stomach and the calm of the sea left him. He started to swim back, more slowly this time. He climbed onto the rocky platform and sat there, looking out at the water, allowing the sun to dry him off. After a few minutes he heard footsteps behind him and stiffened. He wasn’t in the mood to speak to Susanna.

  He turned and was surprised to see Lieutenant Colonel Baroni heading towards him, the sun glinting off her shades and her regulation belt buckle. She arrived at the platform, resplendent in her uniform, and looked down at his crotch area. He was suddenly reminded he’d gone swimming in his underwear. He didn’t flinch. Let her disapprove. He held position, reclining back on the flats of his hands. Waiting for her to speak. Just then his phone rang in the pocket of his shorts.

  ‘You can answer it,’ said Baroni and Matteo bristled. He did not need her permission. Still, he pulled out his phone and saw it was a number he didn’t recognize.

  Somehow he knew.

  ‘If that’s Abby,’ said Baroni quickly, seeing the look on his face, ‘then you need to find out where she is.’

  He almost didn’t answer, but the need to speak to his wife was too strong. He swiped right.

  ‘Pronto.’

  ‘Hey.’

  She sounded subdued, but it was so good to hear her voice he broke into a spontaneous smile. Baroni was looking at him, searching for confirmation. He gave the briefest of nods.

  ‘Are you OK?’ he asked Abby.

  ‘Yes, fine. We’re both fine.’

  Matteo glanced up to see Baroni finishing off writing something in her notepad and thrusting the page at him.

  Where is she?

  He turned away, but nevertheless asked the question. ‘Where are you?’

  Abby hesitated. ‘Are you on your own?’

  His heart stopped. Did he cross over the line?

  ‘Yes.’

  He heard her exhale with relief. An exhausted, dispirited breath. ‘A place called Saint-Jean-de-Luz,’ she said. ‘Almost on the Spanish border.’

  Matteo swallowed, weighed down by his betrayal. ‘Saint-Jean-de-Luz?’ he repeated out loud. ‘So you’re in France?’

  ‘Yes. The police . . . they’ve been leaving me messages.’

  He started. ‘They’ve got your number? This number?’ He turned to Baroni, who was busy on her mobile, searching urgently for something. She looked up at his words, clocked his frown, but simply shrugged at him, then went back to her phone.

  ‘I must’ve been on CCTV at a retail park. No doubt the guy in the phone shop had to hand over my new number. Although, I’m still not sure how they managed to locate me so quickly.’

  Because your sister rang your still-alive mother from a payphone at that retail park, thought Matteo.

  ‘You’re probably wondering what’s going on?’ said Abby.

  He let out a strangled laugh. ‘You could say that.’

  ‘Susanna – my mother – hurt Ellie as a child. I told Ellie all about it. It ended in a fight. Nothing deliberate,’ she quickly added, ‘but Ellie pushed Susanna away and she fell. Hit her head. There was nothing we could do. I’m sorry you had to come home to that.’ She took a breath. ‘What do the police think happened?’

  ‘They don’t know for sure.’

  ‘But they suspect foul play?’

  Matteo ducked her question. ‘What messages have the police been leaving you?’

  ‘Oh, you know: “We can help.” “Please contact us.” “Let’s talk.” All the usual.’

  Baroni was tapping him on the shoulder. He turned to see her holding up her notepad.

  Tell her to go to Hernani. The Palacio Hotel. Tell her you’ll meet her there. That you will help.

  He pushed the paper away, shook his head angrily.

  ‘Do you know if they’re close to finding us?’ asked Abby.

  ‘They’re not telling me much,’ said Matteo. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I can’t let Ellie go down for our mother’s death. It’s not right.’

  Baroni was tapping him again. More forcefully this time. He turned. She held her notebook out at arm’s length. This time she’d written in capital letters and underlined:

  ASSISTING AN OFFENDER

  She was giving him a long, hard look. The bitch. He closed his eyes, knew he’d walked into a trap of his own making. He wouldn’t just lose his job; he’d be up in court as well, facing a jail sentence.

  ‘Let me help,’ he said, almost choking on the words.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I know that area of northern Spain where you’re headed. There’s a hotel in a place called Hernani. It’s called the Palacio. Go there and wait for me. I’ll get to you as soon as I can. I’ll check the flights. I can be there by tomorrow, I’m certain of it.’

  ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But your job . . . won’t this put you in a really difficult position?’

  ‘I’ve already lied to them,’ said Matteo. And you, he added silently, his heart splitting.

  Abby was quiet for a moment. ‘OK.’

  ‘Turn your phone off now,’ said Matteo.

  ‘I will.’

  ‘Or the Carabinieri will be able to trace you.’

  ‘It’s OK. I’m going to do it.’

  ‘I’ll see you, Abby.’

  ‘See you, Matteo. I love you.’

  He nodded. ‘Me too,’ he said quietly. Then he hung up.

  ‘What was that stuff about turning off her phone?’ asked Baroni.

  Matteo glared at her. ‘She’s been doing it anyway, as you already know. Or you would have pinpointed her exact position with that new phone she has, which you didn’t bother to tell me about.’

  ‘We weren’t certain you’d say the right thing. If you called her.’

  ‘You could have given me the benefit of the doubt.’

  But she wasn’t listening, she was on her own phone, calling her superiors, requesting a helicopter.

  Matteo followed her up the steps, marched past her. He stopped and blocked her path. ‘I’m coming too.’

  She smiled wryly at him, impatient to get going. ‘I don’t think so.’

  He held up his phone. ‘Or I call her right back. She’ll pick up the message, you know. And she won’t go anywhere near that hotel.’

  Baroni paused. Knew she was beaten. ‘Fine.’ She made to head up the steps again but Matteo called out.

  ‘Why did you come?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh. I was going to ask you to call Abby, now we have her number. Only to make sure it all went the way we wanted it to.’ She smiled brightly. ‘Which it did.’

  She turned and walked away. Matteo watched her as she went back into the house. Very soon he would see his wife. Then he would get some answers.

  FIFTY-ONE

  It had felt so good to speak to her husband. Abby hadn’t told Ellie she was going to call him – she hadn’t even known herself until the moment arrived. They’d stopped for a break, just a few minutes to use a bathroom, stamp out the fatigue in their legs. Abby had pulled up at a roadside cafe, a place that offered little more than croque monsieur and frites with a curl of lettuce alongside it.

  They’d ordered a cold drink and taken a moment to look at the map, and Abby had seen how close they were to the Spanish border. She’d wondered whether the police knew where they were. If they’d be stopped as they crossed into Spain, Ellie dragged off to a station. Or both of them, actually, for Abby knew she was up to her neck in it as much as her sister.

  When Ellie had gone to the bathroom, Abby had risked switching on her phone. She was checking it every thirty minutes just for a few seconds to see if Jamie had rung. There was a message. Her heart raced as she listened to it – but as she’d feared, it was the police, a woman called Baroni. Her third, sympathetically claiming to understand her predicament, pleading with her to call. Abby didn’t trust a word she said.


  She’d found herself wondering how Matteo was dealing with it all, whether he was helping the Carabinieri. She missed him terribly. She wondered what he was thinking. What Ellie had said had struck home, that thing about not knowing which sister had pushed Susanna. Abby wondered if Matteo thought badly of her, if he thought her capable of cruelty and harm. It made her incredibly sad to think like that and she couldn’t bear the idea that he might. She’d also wondered if he knew anything, if the police had confided in him. Before she changed her mind, she’d called him.

  The sound of his voice had transported her back home. To their house that sometimes she wondered if she’d ever see again. She could hear the sound of the Tyrrhenian Sea lapping against the rocks and knew he was on the platform. She looked around at the plastic formica-filled cafe and felt a tsunami of homesickness.

  When Matteo had offered to help, she’d not known what to say at first. It was the first time someone had offered to ease the burden of what she was carrying alone and she’d felt such a sense of relief, she’d agreed. This was the man who had picked her up after her traumatic attack in Florence, who had held her when the nightmares came night after night. He was the one who’d encouraged her to walk the streets again. He had made her feel safe.

  After her call, she hadn’t switched her phone off again immediately. There was something else nagging at the back of her brain, something that made her feel off guard. She knew the gun was a Beretta; Matteo had mentioned it once when he’d put it away in the safe. Abby looked around the cafe but there was still no sign of Ellie. She held the phone in her hand and opened up a search page. It didn’t take long to google it. In two minutes thirty-nine seconds she had all the answers. She’d watched the video, noting the position of the safety catch, seeing exactly how to fire it. Only when she’d committed everything to memory did she turn off her phone.

  A movement made her look up and she saw Ellie come out of the toilets. Abby quickly stuffed her phone in her bag, smiling as her sister approached.

  Abby considered whether to tell Ellie about her call to Matteo but knew almost instantly she wasn’t going to confide in her. Ellie didn’t know Matteo like she did and would likely freak out. Instead they returned to the car and pored over the map together, debating how far they’d get before Abby needed to rest for the night. Abby tried to sound spontaneous as she suggested a place called Hernani.