Sisters

by Michelle Frances

  Kathleen smiled, a mocking, dismissive smile. Her eyes popped open. ‘And there I was hoping for honesty, but I can understand why you won’t admit it. I didn’t treat you right when we cut you off. A lot of what you have become is my responsibility.’

  Susanna didn’t know what to say, what was expected of her. She stayed silent.

  ‘It was hard for you. Financially.’ Kathleen took another sip of her drink. ‘I’m well aware of how you survived.’

  The knots in her stomach tightened. ‘I got a job.’

  ‘Yes, yes, a piddly little thing in a clothes shop. Could’ve barely kept you in toilet tissue. No, it was your ex-husband’s alimony that stopped you going under.’

  Susanna’s stomach started to churn. She considered just getting up and walking out of the room – knew she should, if she had the courage – but the part of her that despised herself knew she wouldn’t be able to do it.

  ‘He didn’t pay, though, did he? Humiliating enough that he left you because you turned out to be penniless, but for his new wife, the one who’d dazzled him with her millions, for her to be the one who paid your monthly allowance . . . Devastating, I should imagine.’

  Susanna sat, writhing in misery.

  ‘If we hadn’t cut you off, would he have stayed with you? Was your money good enough? I rather think it would have been.’

  ‘I hate you!’

  ‘Just like a child, lashing out. My God, you’re in your late fifties now, surely you’ve grown up? My fault again, I suppose. I think it’s time I made amends.’

  Susanna wasn’t sure if she’d heard right at first. Not the words – she was familiar with her mother dropping bait in order to manipulate – but it was her tone. It had sounded strangely contrite. A word she would never attribute to her mother. She remained wary. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘When Matteo called me, of course I came to see what’s happened to my grandchildren. But I was also curious to see you. It’s been so many years.’ She paused, portentously. ‘Time has slipped by. And I don’t have long left.’

  Shocked, Susanna sat up. ‘What is it . . .? Cancer?’

  Kathleen’s eyes flashed in exasperation. ‘Goddammit, Susanna, do you always have to be so . . .’

  Stupid, thought Susanna instantly.

  Her mother pulled herself up short. Took a breath. ‘Old age, for crying out loud. Simple old age. Except there’s nothing simple about it.’ She sighed. ‘It’s a great leveller. It gives you a perspective on life that’s impossible when you’re young. It’s why I think it’s time we were truthful with one another. Apologize where an apology is due.’ Kathleen held up a hand. ‘I know I should be first in line. I’m guilty of worse crimes to you than you are to me. But that’s why I thought you might understand. How, as a mother, I feel remorse at how I treated my child. I thought we should both come clean, confide in one another. Each of us is guilty of harming our children, albeit in different ways.’

  ‘I—’

  ‘Please, let me finish. I am old and I am tired of dishonesty. I rattle around in that huge house with all my money and I’ve realized I haven’t even been honest with myself. I owe you, Susanna, for past misdemeanours. I have nothing to give to you except what was rightfully yours, all those years ago. It’s your legacy. But as I wish to confess, so I think you should too. Strip us both of the blankets behind which we hide our crimes. Take us both back to the beginning. How it should have been.’

  Susanna was struggling to take it all in. She shook her head. ‘Sorry, do you mean . . . you’re going to . . .’ She couldn’t say it.

  Kathleen smiled. ‘Give you everything. Yes. When I die, you should have it all. But I can’t go to my grave with us like this. Call it catharsis if you like. I’m being selfish. Old age has made me want to atone. Maybe it’s what happens when you stare mortality in the face. I think you’re more like me than you know. And that makes me feel less lonely.

  ‘So what do you think? I’m asking you to be brave and honest. No judgements. I know it’s all because of me anyway. I want to hear what I’ve been responsible for so I can apologize. It’ll be between you and me. And I’ll thank you for it. With your rightful inheritance.’ Kathleen stood. ‘I’m not expecting you to decide now, I realize that’s unfair of me. These are big things to admit to.’

  She made her way to the front door, Susanna following.

  ‘Let’s speak again tomorrow.’

  As her mother opened the door, Susanna saw a taxi outside. Clocking them, he started the engine, and Susanna watched as Kathleen made her way over to the car and was helped inside.

  She closed the door behind them and collapsed against it.

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  ‘Move.’

  Abby looked up to see their kidnapper was indicating up into the trees. She was suddenly overwhelmed by the smell of pine, its sweetness making her nauseous. Time was running out. He wouldn’t have to take them far, just enough of a distance so they were out of sight of the path. It was likely no one came up here anyway; the track had appeared unused and Abby doubted it was a place that saw much human presence. It might be months before anyone found their bodies.

  Ellie was staring at her, her eyes brittle with fear. The man had one arm around her sister’s upper body, pinning her hands by her side. The other still held the knife at Ellie’s throat. Abby saw the blade glint. Light had caught the metal and she looked down to see the yellow warmth from the inside of the car. The doors had been left open and the interior lights were the only brightness for miles. Oh, how she longed to get back inside. Grab her sister and run for it. Slam the doors shut and lock them. Drive like a maniac back down the path, mowing down the monster who had kidnapped them. She knew she wouldn’t care if he died, if she killed him. She imagined his body crushed by the wheels, his agony as he screamed out, but she would keep going. The key was waiting in the ignition, dangling. Just a couple of metres separated her from them.

  ‘Now!’ shouted the man. ‘Fucking move!’ Ellie whimpered in terror.

  Abby looked at him, saw his fear, his need to get them in the woods. Shaking, she took a step in the direction of the trees. She had to go around the front of the car to do so. He was standing at an opening in the pines, just beyond the front passenger door. Abby continued edging forwards until she was almost around the other side of the car. It was dark and she didn’t notice a rock in the ground. She stumbled and reached out to grab the passenger door handle to steady herself. As she did, she saw inside the car, in the footwell.

  Ellie’s bag.

  ‘Hurry up!’ He was getting jittery, dangerous. Abby edged around the door, pretending to limp, holding on to the door frame.

  ‘I’ve hurt my ankle,’ she said tearfully.

  ‘I don’t fucking care. Start walking or I cut her throat.’

  Ellie began to cry then, gasping out sobs as she struggled to breathe, the man’s hold on her tightening, the knife pressing against her windpipe. Abby stumbled again and cried out in pain as she fell against the sill of the car. The movement threw the man and in the millisecond of confusion, Abby twisted and flung her arms into the footwell and into Ellie’s bag. She felt the coldness of the gun in her hands and as she turned to face the man she pulled back the slide, disengaged the safety catch and fired.

  The noise pierced her eardrums like nothing she’d felt before, disorientating her as it throbbed in her brain. She was aware of her attacker falling backwards, pulling Ellie on top of him. Then Ellie scrabbled away, shrieking and crying, and Abby watched, dumbfounded, as the man lay on the ground, his eyes staring up at the dark sky, the knife still in his hand. Dark liquid oozed swiftly from behind his back.

  Abby stared, still in shock. Then she remembered her sister.

  ‘Are you OK?’

  Ellie was curled up in a ball, her hands wrapped over her head as she rocked back and forth.

  Abby got up, the gun still in her hand. She edged towards the man, her heart hammering. As she got closer, she knew that he co
uld dart out a hand and grab her ankle. She quickly kicked at his hand. The knife scattered away into the damp earth. He didn’t move.

  Abby went over to Ellie, grabbed her elbow. ‘Get up,’ she said urgently. ‘Get up!’

  Ellie stood and Abby manhandled her back into the car. She slammed the door shut, then ran around to the driver’s side. Throwing the gun onto the back seat, she started the engine, rammed the car into reverse. Then she let her foot off the clutch and they hurtled backwards down the hill. The car rocked over potholes and roots as Abby desperately tried to keep control.

  She looked up, fearing the man wasn’t dead, that he would be following, throwing himself onto the bonnet, but the headlights picked up nothing except the dark, empty track. She kept driving, bouncing down the path until she could see the main road in the rear windscreen. She reversed into the road, then turned the car and sped away.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she said, glancing over at Ellie.

  Her sister managed a weak nod. ‘You shot him,’ she whispered.

  ‘What, you wanted me to leave him to kill us?’

  ‘No!’

  They raced down the road in silence for a while before coming back to the first junction where they’d been forced to turn. Abby looked expectantly at Ellie.

  ‘What?’ asked Ellie.

  ‘Which way?’

  Ellie stared at her.

  ‘I don’t think we should go to Hernani,’ said Abby. ‘We need to get as far away from here as possible.’

  ‘You’re acting like nothing’s happened.’

  ‘Plenty’s happened but we still have to get away.’ She looked at Ellie, indicated out of the windscreen. ‘So?’

  ‘Oh my God, you’re insane.’

  ‘Just pick a route, Ellie.’

  ‘Um . . . left. Fuck it, left!’ Ellie blurted in exasperation.

  Abby put the car in gear and pulled away.

  FIFTY-EIGHT

  Ellie hunched in her seat, hugging her arms to keep out the cold. Except the cold seemed to be coming from inside her. She would shiver uncontrollably every now and then – it wasn’t the air temperature, it was the aftershock. How close had death been? It was a question that, if she faced it, she got a sense of fear so great it was as if she was on the edge of a black hole, falling, falling, soundless, meaningless, snuffed out into nothing. She’d gasp, realizing she’d been holding her breath, and try to fixate on something else.

  Ellie swallowed and in doing so felt again the tenderness; her throat was bruised. She instinctively lowered her chin, closing up the vulnerable gap where her jugular vein was exposed for anyone to slice through. Stop it. It’s over. Except that man was lying near the trees, his blood soaking into the ground. And her sister was the one who’d put the bullet in him.

  Ellie glanced across at Abby, seeing her focus on the road ahead. Who exactly was she sitting next to? No, she should be grateful. Goddammit, she was grateful. If it hadn’t been for Abby, they’d both be dead.

  ‘How did you do that?’ Ellie asked quietly.

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘You were so brave. So quick. You got the gun.’

  Abby gave a small smile.

  ‘He could have killed you. Both of us. I couldn’t do anything,’ Ellie said.

  ‘He did have a knife to your throat.’

  ‘I know, but even so . . . I was numb. Petrified.’

  ‘I was pretty scared myself.’

  ‘Yes, but you still did it. You didn’t give up.’

  ‘It was chance. I saw your bag in the footwell. I just went for it.’

  ‘I’d all but given up, Abby,’ insisted Ellie. ‘But you . . . you fought back.’

  Abby pondered. ‘I did, didn’t I?’ She paused for a moment as it sank in. ‘Oh my God, I fought back. I fought back!’

  Abby was punching the steering wheel as she spoke, her eyes suddenly alive on adrenaline. ‘I bloody fought him. And I won! I won!’ She let out a whoop, then threw her head back in a victorious laugh. ‘Oh my God, Ellie, you’re right. I fought back.’

  Ellie gave a nervous smile. Her sister’s behaviour was a little unnerving. She’d never seen Abby quite so . . . animated before.

  ‘You stood up to him,’ she agreed.

  Abby grinned. ‘I did. I stood up to you, you nasty bastard!’ she shouted. ‘I didn’t let you beat me!’

  Ellie yelped as the car suddenly swerved across to the other side of the empty road, then back again. Abby was driving like a maniac, back and forth, whooping and yelling.

  ‘Stop,’ said Ellie, gripping the dashboard. ‘Please stop.’

  Abby hardly seemed to be listening. ‘I fought back,’ she yelled again and then was suddenly weeping, huge wracking sobs convulsing through her body.

  ‘Abby?’ said Ellie in alarm. The car was veering uncontrollably. ‘Pull over.’

  To Ellie’s relief, Abby steered the car back to the right side of the road and slowed until they’d stopped. Tears were still pouring down her face and she was trying to wipe them away but it was as if a dam had broken.

  At a loss, Ellie picked up her handbag, rummaged inside. ‘Here,’ she said, pulling out a tissue and handing it to her sister. ‘It’s scented. Rose and sandalwood,’ Ellie said apologetically, expecting another reprimand about frivolous spending, but Abby just blew her nose.

  ‘Are you OK?’ asked Ellie, once Abby had quietened.

  ‘Last year,’ said Abby, ‘when I was mugged, in Florence . . . it was the most terrifying thing that had ever happened to me. Not because he stole my bag or my phone, or even because I got stabbed. The worst thing was that they stole who I was. Brave, independent Abby.’ She turned to look at Ellie, her voice breaking. ‘I did nothing when they attacked me. Just lay there. I was too pathetic to even shout out.’

  ‘I’m sure you didn’t—’

  ‘It has stayed with me ever since. I knew that if anyone decided they wanted something from me, I wouldn’t be able to defend myself. I was a free target. Come and get it. She won’t fight back. Take what you want.’ Abby wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘Until tonight.’

  Ellie was quiet. Then she squeezed her sister’s arm. They sat there for a while in a pensive silence, looking out at the dark road while the moths flitted in the car headlights.

  ‘Is that why you brought the gun?’ asked Ellie. ‘Because of what happened to you in Florence?’

  ‘Yeah . . . I think so. It was instinct, you know? I just picked it up out of the safe.’

  Ellie nodded. ‘And there was me thinking you’d brought it to do away with me,’ she said lightly. She looked across at her sister. ‘I wish you’d told me before. About the mugging. How it affected you.’

  Abby shrugged.

  ‘Did you tell Mum?’

  ‘Course not,’ said Abby. ‘I just told her the bare minimum. Played it down.’

  ‘But why? She’s your mother.’

  Abby turned patiently to Ellie. ‘She and I didn’t have that kind of relationship. Not like you.’

  ‘But . . . something big like that . . .’

  ‘No, Ellie. We didn’t talk.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Ellie. ‘It must have been lonely.’ She thought of all the times she’d called up her mother to whinge, offload or just have a friendly ear. ‘She was a good listener.’

  ‘I could see that. You two were always close.’

  ‘I’d tell her everything. I’d call just to moan about the fact someone had queue-jumped me in the supermarket.’

  ‘Seriously? God, I feel sorry for her now. Was there anything you didn’t share with her?’

  There was one thing, thought Ellie. Something she hadn’t told anyone. Something she guarded with every fibre of her being.

  She looked over at her sister, saw her sniff. ‘Want another tissue?’ she asked. ‘I’ve got lavender and chamomile as well.’

  Abby let out a small laugh. ‘Sure. Why not?’ She blew her nose again, loudly. ‘Right. Are you ready?’


  Ellie nodded. As Abby continued along the road, Ellie had a sudden realization. That was probably the first time Abby had confided in her. Ever.

  Then a second thunderbolt hit her. If her sister was supposed to want to harm her, why had she just saved her life?

  FIFTY-NINE

  Matteo listened to his wife’s phone go straight to voicemail for the second time that night.

  ‘Call again,’ said Baroni.

  ‘What’s the point? It’s obviously switched off.’

  ‘Where are they?’ Baroni stomped across the gravel to the entrance of the Palacio Hotel, not caring, it seemed, if Abby and Ellie were to drive in. Except they wouldn’t, thought Matteo. They should’ve arrived hours ago. Santini was sitting on a wall, smoking.

  Baroni spun around, fixed Matteo with an accusatory glare. ‘Did you call her again earlier? Tell her about this?’ She waved her arm at the hotel.

  ‘When was I supposed to do that? I’ve been with you the entire time.’

  Baroni glowered at him, then stared out at the dark road. ‘They’re not coming. They’ve either changed their minds or . . .’ She shrugged in frustration.

  Or what? thought Matteo. That was the trouble. Something had happened to his wife to make her change her plan to meet him and he couldn’t think of one positive explanation as to what that might be. Which left him with only a dark sense of foreboding.

  SIXTY

  Susanna had needed a drink after her mother had left. She’d looked through Abby’s kitchen cupboards until she’d found a bottle of wine and then searched in frustration for a corkscrew. The wine was warm so she’d added a handful of ice cubes to the large glass and taken several great gulps. Then she’d laid her hands on the counter and allowed herself to think about what had just happened.

  Everything will go to me. It was huge – millions. The house itself was worth five million, the business – well, she had no idea, but it would be another significant chunk. She would never have to worry about money again.