Her Sister's Lie

by Debbie Howells

“Really?” Curtis looked up sharply. “It just happens that I have an old telescope. It was a passion of mine too—a few years back. If you like, I could bring it over and show him how to use it.”

  * * *

  I was restless after Curtis left. Maybe he was right. Maybe Abe would relate better to a man. The way things were between us, anything was worth a try. Wandering through to the sitting room, I sat at the piano, my fingers wandering up and down the keys for a few brief moments before I got up again and collapsed onto the sofa.

  As I sat there, drowsiness hit me, the combination of a difficult day after other difficult days. Trying to keep my eyes open, I focused on the few pictures that were hung on the walls.

  They were nothing special—the small landscape painted by a local artist, which I liked because it captured the emptiness of the open pastureland. Then there were a couple of larger abstract paintings on either side of the fireplace that Nathan had bought and hadn’t wanted to take with him. I’d never particularly liked them, but the room needed something of their size, and I’d never got around to replacing them.

  They were striking rather than attractive. Then as I looked at them, I frowned suddenly. I was sure they’d been moved. The one on the right of the fireplace had been on the left. I was sure it had. Or maybe not—when had I last looked at them closely? As I tried to think, a feeling of unease came over me. They had been swapped. I distinctly remembered the darker of the two being hung closer to the window, where the light would catch it. And now it wasn’t. Had I moved them and simply forgotten?

  * * *

  I was still puzzling over the pictures when I went to bed. It was later than usual, and I lay there, floating in and out of consciousness, lulled by the rain beating against the windows, listening as it gradually grew heavier, drowning out my thoughts. As I drifted off to sleep, I was dimly aware that my bedroom door creaked open.

  Drowsily, imagining it could only be Abe, I tried to call out. Abe? Is that you?

  But no sound came from me. As my eyes flickered open, slowly they adjusted to the darkness, making out the gap where the curtains didn’t quite meet; all the while, I was aware of the rain beating against the window, heavier than earlier, I vaguely registered. Then from somewhere out of sight, I heard what sounded like slow footsteps.

  I was suddenly wide awake, my heart thumping as I tried to turn to see who was there. Then the realization slowly sank in. I couldn’t move. My body was completely frozen, paralyzed, as though a heavy weight was pressing on me.

  Another sound sent a rush of fear flooding through my veins. Panicking, I fought to lift my body off the bed, but my only movement was the involuntary racing of my heart, as pure terror rose in me. Someone was there. I could sense their presence, hear the sound of their breathing, slower than mine as they edged closer, until it was coming from just behind me.

  Overwhelmed with the need to escape, I was powerless. Then a pair of eyes loomed out of the darkness, too close, as they stared into mine.

  Before I could scream, there was a loud bang. I sat up, petrified, relief flooding through me that I could move again. My hand shook when I reached for the bedside lamp and switched it on. In its dim glow, the room was empty.

  I was convinced someone had been in my room. Collapsing back onto my pillows, my heart still racing wildly, I found the sound of the rain against the windows oddly reassuring as I contemplated what had just happened. My heart slowed; logic gradually crept in. It had been terrifyingly, vividly real, leaving my body coated in sweat, but it had been a dream. It had to have been. Then I thought of those eyes that had stared into mine, as a crash of thunder made me jump while the room lit up in the electric glare of a lightning flash.

  It must have been the thunder that woke me. Then I heard another noise—the sound of a door slamming somewhere downstairs. I leapt out of bed and crossed the room to the window, as another flash of lightning lit the garden, briefly illuminating a dark figure crossing the grass.

  As I watched, I couldn’t be sure if it was Abe or not. Pulling on my slippers, I ran along to his room and knocked. When there was no answer, I pushed the door open. A draft of cold air reached me. “Abe? Are you there?”

  When he didn’t respond, I switched on the light. The covers were thrown back, and his bed was empty, rain blowing in through the wide-open window. Going over there, I pulled it shut and closed the curtains, then went downstairs.

  Quickly I searched each room, but there was no sign of him. Should I call the police? I remembered DI Collins’s reassurance, that first day when he went off, that he would come back, and he had. But I was panicking. I’d no idea why he’d gone out at this time of night, in this storm. What if he didn’t come back? What if something had happened to him? Glancing at the time, I decided I’d give him an hour. If he wasn’t back by then, I’d call the police.

  From his bed, Gibson opened his eyes briefly, then ignored me. Pulling out a chair, I sat down at the table, listening to the storm outside, uneasy as I remembered the dream again. The fear, my racing heart, the eyes staring into mine—it all still seemed so real. Had they been his eyes? Could Abe have been in my room?

  Then I remembered the paintings. I still wasn’t sure if I’d moved them or not. Right now, I didn’t know what to think. Leaning forward onto the kitchen table, I rested my head on my arms, closing my eyes for a moment, thinking of my earlier conversation with DI Collins. It was possible someone had killed Nina and tried to make it look like a suicide attempt. If that was the case, who would do that—and why? The police hadn’t mentioned any sign of a break-in. And there would have been nothing worth stealing. Nina had never been interested in possessions. I couldn’t remember her ever owning anything of value. My sister may have been weak. But weakness wasn’t a crime. I couldn’t imagine why someone would want to harm her.

  As the memory of the dream faded, I must have dozed. I was woken abruptly by the door slamming shut. Drowsily I looked up to see Abe standing there, water dripping off of him.

  “Where’ve you been? I was worried.” My voice was husky from sleep.

  “Out.” He glared at me furiously, as if I had no right to be there.

  I pulled myself together. “What were you doing outdoors?”

  “Does it matter?” Hands thrust in his pockets, he hunched his shoulders. “I can go outside, can’t I?”

  “Of course,” I said weakly. I didn’t want to start a fight with him. “I was worried, that’s all.”

  “Yeah.” He stood there. “So worried you fell asleep.”

  I frowned at him. “I was giving you time to come back. If you didn’t, I was going to call the police.”

  “The police?” He stared at me, utterly incredulous. “For fuck’s sake, I was watching the storm.”

  “I didn’t know that, did I? And you’re soaked. You better change your . . . ,” I started.

  He backed off. “Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” he said aggressively, fleetingly meeting my eyes with a look that chilled me, before disappearing out of the kitchen. I heard his footsteps on the stairs, then along the landing, before another door shut loudly as he went into his bedroom.

  As I sat there, I was overcome with frustration. I didn’t understand his rudeness, his contempt toward me. I’d never have imagined he’d simply been watching the storm, and I was too exhausted to think about it now. But on top of everything else, his behavior had unnerved me. I knew that at some point I had to confront him.

  6

  Back in bed, I listened to the storm rumbling in the distance, aware of the faintest glimmer of daylight creeping through the curtains before I finally drifted off to sleep. It was only a couple of hours later that I woke up. As I lay there, I was still thinking about Abe.

  It wasn’t the first time I’d felt intimidated by him. Suddenly I was angry. I was trying to do the right thing by him, yet I got nothing in return. I made up my mind. I’d had enough of him hanging around the house. It was time I got him into a local school. Then I was goi
ng to take Curtis up on his offer, if Abe would go for it. After getting dressed, I made a couple of phone calls to the two closest schools to arrange to visit them, surprised at how easy it was once they knew the circumstances. Then I went upstairs and knocked on Abe’s bedroom door.

  “We’re going to look at a couple of schools. We need to leave in half an hour.” My tone was no-nonsense. I didn’t wait for a reply. I wasn’t going to give him the opportunity to be rude again.

  To my surprise, he was ready to leave on time. Not just that, but he was wearing clean clothes, and he’d combed his hair. I’d steeled myself, expecting more rudeness and resentment rather than the indifference he displayed as we were shown around the two schools. In the end, the decision was made based on distance. We went home with a uniform tie and sweater, and the following day, even though I’d offered to take him, Abe walked down to the village and caught the bus.

  I was hoping that the routine would bring much-needed normality back to my life. What I hadn’t expected was the sense of relief I felt once Abe had left the house. Suddenly I had it to myself for a few hours—and with it, the space to reflect. But maybe too much space wasn’t necessarily good; it wasn’t long before my head filled with thoughts of Matt.

  For the first time in days, I tried to call him, but he didn’t pick up. Hating how powerless I felt, I got up and started pacing around the kitchen. Then, unable to settle, I whistled to Gibson and, pulling on my jacket, took him out.

  I hadn’t been out walking since Abe had arrived. Taking the path that led across the fields, I went in the direction of the village, breathing in the earthy scent of the cool air. The sky was a clear blue and the ground waterlogged after the storm, the short grass spongy underfoot. Gibson kept running off, following trails known only to him, while in the peace and stillness, at last I felt as though I could breathe.

  In the distance, I could hear the rumble of a tractor coming from one of the nearby farms, then as I got closer to Burley, through the trees ahead, a scattering of houses came into view. Listening to the chatter of birdsong, I was beginning to believe I had my life back. That after losing Matt, I could start to imagine moving forward. In the fleeting moment of optimism, I felt the heaviness that had weighed on me lift slightly.

  Across the field, I noticed a couple of other people out walking. At this time of year, I rarely met anyone, but as we drew closer, my heart sank. The Denhams had lived here for thirty years and prided themselves on knowing everything about everybody.

  “Hannah.” Colin Denham’s customary greeting, as he stopped a few feet away. “How are you?” Then without waiting for an answer, he added, “I haven’t seen that young man of yours for a while.”

  I felt myself tense. “He’s been busy.” I could feel his wife’s eyes boring into me, rooting for details. I forced a smile that hid my irritation with them. “Beautiful day, isn’t it . . . How are you both?”

  “That boy we’ve seen around . . . Is he staying with you?” Colin’s manner was overly jovial.

  I stiffened. I had no time for their blatant intrusiveness. All they wanted was gossip. I should have guessed they’d have noticed Abe, and I wondered where they’d seen him. But they didn’t need to know about Nina. “Yes. He’s my nephew.”

  Mary Denham stared a little too long at me, clearly wanting to know more. “I thought there was a family resemblance.”

  “I hope he hasn’t been making a nuisance of himself?” I kept my voice breezy.

  “No, no . . . We just couldn’t help noticing him. A new face, you know how it is around here . . .”

  Only too well, I wanted to say. People like the Denhams who liked prying into other people’s lives were the reason I kept away from them. “Of course,” I said politely. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I really should be getting along . . .”

  “Yes . . . quite . . .” They both stood back and let me pass. Feeling their eyes on me as I walked away, I was sure I could hear them muttering to each other. But my personal life had nothing to do with them, and I wanted to keep it that way. I was reminded of something Nina had always said. The more you tell people, the more they want to know. She’d been right. It was far simpler not to tell them anything.

  * * *

  That afternoon, I was about to do some laundry when I remembered the clothes Abe had been wearing the night he was out in the storm. He hadn’t told me what he’d been doing out there, and I hadn’t asked. Going upstairs, I went along to his bedroom. It was untidy in there, his clothes and possessions strewn everywhere, the damp things in a pile on the floor where he’d left them. But as I bent down to pick them up, something else caught my eye, under his bed.

  It was a laptop. But I’d distinctly remembered him handing one over to DI Collins, the irritation he’d made no attempt to hide. I’d no idea where this one had come from. As I stood there, I heard the kitchen door slam. It had to be Abe, just back from school.

  Quickly gathering up the damp clothes, I went downstairs. Abe was at the bottom. When he saw what I was carrying, he frowned.

  “I was about to do some laundry,” I said brightly. “Then I remembered these. They got soaked when you were out in the storm.” I nodded toward the armful of clothes. “How was school?”

  “OK.”

  “That’s good . . . Was it much different from your old school? Were they friendly?”

  “It was just school. Can I get past?”

  I wanted to ask him about the laptop, but his hostility stopped me. “Of course.” I stood to the side and let him go upstairs, then went to put the wash in, but I was still thinking about the laptop. I was in a quandary. As far as the police investigation went, I wasn’t sure if Abe was withholding evidence—and if I knew about it and kept silent, I would be guilty of doing the same.

  I could imagine what Abe’s reaction would be if I mentioned it, but I knew I had to. In my head, I rehearsed what I was going to say. Abe, when I went to get your clothes, I couldn’t help noticing another laptop. Don’t you think you should have handed it over to the police? But I knew that, however I worded it, he’d be angry with me. I decided in the end to leave it—at least, for now. My hesitancy didn’t resolve anything, but we had to live together. Another confrontation was hardly going to help build trust between us.

  I was distracted by the front doorbell ringing. Looking at the time, I realized it was my first student of the day. Piling the washing into the machine and switching it on, I went to the door.

  For the next couple of hours, I was focused on teaching, pushing thoughts of Abe from my head, until the last of my pupils had gone. When I went through to the kitchen, I found him already in there, pulling on his jacket.

  “Do you like Indian food? I thought I’d cook a chicken curry.”

  Loitering in the doorway, he nodded briefly. “I was going to take Gibson out.” His sideways glance was brief, without making eye contact.

  “Of course. Good idea. It’ll be about an hour.” As Abe called him, Gibson trotted over, then followed him outside.

  When they came back, Abe was the most relaxed I’d seen him since he’d arrived here. As we ate, I told him what Curtis had said about bringing his telescope over. If not exactly enthusiastic, he didn’t dismiss the idea.

  Again, I thought of the laptop, but I couldn’t bring myself to lower the mood, putting the question off, justifying the delay to myself. If Abe had thought it would help the police inquiry, he’d have handed it over, surely. Out of all of us, it would be Abe who’d want Nina’s death resolved more than anyone.

  Abe

  Where did it start, Hannah? Was it with the band falling apart? Your teenage years? Your childhood? I’m curious. What was it that turned you into what you are?

  The past is heavy, isn’t it? A weight on you. Did it lift briefly when Matt was with you? Before the twist of fate that wrenched him away for good? So that you didn’t walk, head down, hunched, loneliness clouding your eyes, as you do now; nervy, in your leather jacket and skinny jeans, your eyes
flitting around, never settling on anything for long.

  It doesn’t seem fair, does it? That however hard you’ve tried, no matter how much time passes, you can’t escape the past. Bad things always happen to you, don’t they, Hannah? As if there’s some kind of agenda against you, but if you’re honest, there’s a part of you that knows it’s what you deserve.

  Your past is a book slammed shut, buried at the back of a dark cupboard, because it’s not your fault, but there’s one chapter that you and you alone are accountable for. A decision you made that altered lives.

  Do you think about that time? About Abe, Jude, and Summer? Are you haunted by the fallout of your actions? Or are you too selfish, too preoccupied? Don’t turn away, Hannah. Even you can’t pretend it didn’t happen. You know only too well what I’m talking about.

  And now there’s Abe. People have noticed him, but people in villages notice most things. They’re already talking about you both, wanting to know more. Why has he come here? Who is he? Why is he living with the music teacher her students are slightly in awe of, the same woman that Matt left and Curtis is still in love with, whose sister was an addict and killed herself? They may not know that yet, but when the press gets hold of what happened, they will.

  But she didn’t kill herself. You killed her, Hannah, caused her slow, steady suffocation from the abandonment and loneliness you could have prevented, the bleeding from the problems you could have helped her with, which started as a scratch, but, unchecked, became a severed artery. You could have cured her pain with love.

  But you chose not to. You had your reasons—a hundred of them—why you had to do what you did, all of which make perfect sense to you, but you’re still guilty, Hannah. And somewhere deep inside, you know.

  7

  More than anything, I yearned for the return of peace to my world. Peace that had been ruptured, first when Matt left, then again, when Abe came to live here. Even when he was at school, the house felt different, as if it held the echo of his presence. My home, my life, seemed to have shifted.