Her Sister's Lie

by Debbie Howells

  “God.” I jumped as Abe came through the doorway.

  “What?” He glowered at me.

  “I think I heard someone. Outside. They were knocking on the window. It wasn’t you, was it?” Was he for some reason trying to put me on edge? But it couldn’t have been him, I realized. The sound had barely stopped when he’d opened the door.

  He looked at me as if I was mad. “No.”

  “Someone was there,” I told him urgently. “I’m sure they were. Just now. We need to lock the back door.” As I hurried toward the kitchen, Abe followed.

  “I’ll go and look. If you want.” It was the first time he’d volunteered to do anything.

  I gasped, as relief filled me. “Would you? Be careful, though. We don’t know who’s out there. Take Gibson.”

  As he pulled his jacket back on, I watched him go outside, Gibson following at his heels. Suddenly I was overcome with guilt that I wasn’t going with him, but the noise had unnerved me, and I felt too shaky.

  Less than five minutes later, he came back in. “There’s no one there.”

  I hurried to lock the back door behind him. “You are sure, aren’t you? It’s just I know I heard something.”

  He frowned at me. “I’m sure. It’s stopped, hasn’t it?”

  “It seems to have . . .” I hesitated.

  “Maybe it was a bird or something.” Or maybe you imagined it, I could almost hear him thinking as he turned and started walking toward the stairs.

  “Thank you,” I called after him, but he didn’t respond. It was as if he hadn’t heard me.

  Still on edge when I went to bed, I didn’t sleep well, waking earlier than usual, thinking of the tapping on the window again, as I realized it could only have come from one of the shrubs planted along the back of the house. Most likely one of the long, arched stems of the rose had come untied. Suddenly wanting to know, I got dressed and went downstairs, then pulled on my boots and hurried outside.

  Breathing in the earthy scent of the cool air, I walked across the grass, taking in the dew glistening in the early morning sunlight, pausing for a moment to watch a blackbird perched on a branch, in full song.

  Around me, nothing moved. Apart from the bird, it was silent. I carried on walking, the sun briefly dazzling me as I reached the back of the house, continuing toward the window that looked out from the den where I’d been last night. As I examined the plants, it was just as I’d thought. The climbing rose was firmly tied back, and there were no loose stems that could have reached the window. Studying it, I was puzzled. I knew I hadn’t imagined the noise. Then, as I looked around, I saw something lying in the grass under the window. Walking closer, bending down, I picked up a stick.

  Uneasily, I turned toward the window, tentatively tapped the stick against the glass, then let go of it as if I’d been burned. It was no accident that the stick was there. Someone had obviously dropped it. It was the same noise I’d heard last night, I was sure of it.

  The rest of the day, I was on edge, locking the door after Abe left for school, listening for unusual noises, constantly glancing outside. I wasn’t sure what was happening, or why, but I knew something wasn’t right.

  That evening, when Curtis turned up with the telescope, disappearing into the garden with Abe, I didn’t join them. I knew Abe wouldn’t want me there. Instead, I waited inside until an hour later when Curtis came back in.

  “I’ve shown him how to use it.” His eyes were bright as he walked into the kitchen. “He’s still out there. I asked him if you’d mind, but he said you wouldn’t.”

  I shook my head. “It’s fine. It’s where he spends most evenings. Did he say much to you?”

  Curtis frowned. “Not really. But then he has just lost his mother. It’s a difficult time for him.”

  “Yes.” I was silent for a moment. It was what everyone was saying to me. “But what I find difficult is that most of the time he doesn’t react to anything. It’s like he’s switched off.”

  Curtis shrugged. “It could just be that it’s early days.” He paused. “You haven’t told me what happened to your sister.”

  “No.” I sighed, aware that if he was getting to know Abe, even slightly, I should tell him. “The police think someone killed her.” I glanced at Curtis, taking in the look of shock that fleetingly crossed his face. “But I can’t imagine who would have done that to her. She was a gentle person who would never have knowingly hurt anyone. At first, the police thought she’d been drinking or taken something, then fell and hit her head. But now they think someone else was involved in her death.”

  Curtis shook his head, a look of sympathy on his face. “Did she drink a lot?”

  “She drank, but not that much. Nina’s thing was drugs.” I frowned, watching him nodding. “What?”

  “It might explain why Abe is so detached—switched off, as you put it. He’s had to find a way to protect himself. If your only parent is permanently out of it, that rather leaves you on your own, I’d imagine.”

  I frowned. Since when did Curtis know about these things? Before I could ask, the back door opened and Abe came in. “How was the telescope?” I called out.

  Closing the door, he came through to the kitchen, his cheeks pink from the cold. “Good.” He looked at Curtis. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. It’s good to see it being used. Here, I’ll give you my mobile number, so you can text me if you have any problems with it.”

  Abe’s expression became more guarded. “The police took my phone.”

  “Oh.” Curtis looked surprised. “OK. Well, I’ll write it down for you.”

  I’d been about to interrupt, telling Abe I already had Curtis’s number, but Curtis caught my eye, and I stayed silent. Abe nodded, watching as he wrote it on a piece of paper, while I went over to the fridge and got a beer out for Curtis. The exchange between them was positive, but it was needling me. If Abe was open toward Curtis, why was he so different with me? I could only think he had something against me, but I had no idea what it was.

  After Abe went upstairs, I told Curtis about the noise I’d heard last night, mortified by his apparent amusement.

  “Hannah, it could have been anything!” He was trying not to laugh at me.

  I was irritated. “Actually, this morning, I went and had a look in daylight and found a stick that had been dropped there. And the other morning, something else happened. There was this knocking on the door. It went on for a few minutes—I was upstairs. Gibson was barking. But by the time I went downstairs to open it, there was no one there.”

  “Probably kids,” Curtis said briefly. “Out here with no neighbors, you’re a bit of an easy target. There are a lot of places to hide out there.” He must have seen the expression on my face. “I wasn’t entirely serious, Hannah. I’m sure it was nothing.”

  In all the years I’d lived here, the neighborhood kids had never done that kind of thing. Somewhat guarded, I decided to tell him about the pictures. “There’s something else. You know those two pictures in my sitting room?”

  “I think so—the ones Nathan left behind?”

  Even though I didn’t particularly like them, the paintings somehow symbolized my old life, when the band was successful. My marriage to Nathan may have been brief, but the paintings had been here almost as long as I had. Remembering how drawn Curtis had been to them when he first saw them, I nodded. “The other night, when I went in there, someone had moved them.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I hung the darker one by the window because of the light, but when I went in there the other night, they’d been swapped.”

  He shrugged. “You could have moved them and forgotten.”

  I spoke quietly. “I could have. But, Curtis, don’t you think I’d have remembered? And I don’t move paintings. The only time I’ve changed anything since Nathan left was when I cleared out some stuff before Matt moved in.”

  He was frowning as he got up. “Show me.”

  I knew he’d notice strai
ghtaway that they weren’t where they’d always been. Going through to the sitting room, I turned on the light and led him over to the paintings. “There.” I stood frowning, gazing at the paintings in silence. “I don’t understand,” I said at last.

  His arms were folded as he stared at them. “What’s wrong?”

  But I wasn’t listening to him. Someone had been in here again. “They’re back where they used to be. But it definitely wasn’t me who moved them. It had to be Abe.” Suddenly I wanted to have this out with him. I started marching toward the door, prepared to go upstairs and challenge him, but Curtis stopped me.

  “Hey, not so fast. What exactly are you going to say to him?”

  “I’m going to tell him to stop fucking with my stuff.” I was furious. “If this is his idea of a joke, it’s really not funny.”

  Just then I heard Abe’s footsteps on the stairs. “Abe?” I called sharply. “Can you come here please?”

  There was silence; then he appeared in the doorway. “What?”

  Glancing at Curtis, I took a breath. “Have you by any chance moved my paintings?”

  His face was blank. “What?”

  “Those two.” I pointed to the two abstracts on the wall behind me.

  “But that’s where they always are, isn’t it?” Suddenly, he sounded less sure.

  “They are now.” I was impatient. “But they weren’t.”

  Abe shrugged. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  As I stood there, a sense of helplessness came over me. It was clear that neither of them believed me, but I knew what I’d seen. “Never mind. I probably imagined it.” But I didn’t mean it. I knew someone had been in here and moved the paintings, and if not Abe, then who? I started walking back toward the kitchen, trying to cover up what I was really thinking. “It doesn’t matter.”

  After pouring another glass of wine, I sat down, still thinking. Neither of us spoke until Abe had gone back upstairs. “He’s a strange one,” Curtis said quietly.

  My skin prickled. “He’s had a tough time. Cut him some slack.” After all the problems I’d had with Abe, I couldn’t believe I was defending him.

  Curtis looked at me oddly. “I don’t know. It’s probably nothing. He’s just completely different from other kids I’ve met. But how many kids have had a life like the one he’s had? It’s hardly surprising.”

  “Would you like another beer?” I got up, wanting to change the subject. For reasons I didn’t want to think about, dwelling on the hardships Abe had endured was too uncomfortable.

  “Thanks, but I’d better not. I’ve got an early start in the morning. I’d better go.”

  * * *

  There was something else strange that I hadn’t told Curtis about. A couple of things were missing. One was a small bronze statue of a naked woman that Nathan had brought back from his travels. I’d liked it even less than the abstracts. After he left, I’d moved it, and for years, it had sat tucked away on a windowsill, almost out of sight. Before Matt moved in, I’d moved some of Nathan’s collection out to the shed, making space for Matt and singling out the pieces I wouldn’t miss. Maybe the statue had been among them—I couldn’t remember. I’d have to check.

  The other was a framed photo of the Cry Babies, which again I’d hidden, but only because of the memories it evoked. Maybe I’d put it in the chest with everything else that reminded me of those days, secreted so I didn’t have to look at any of it.

  Just before I went to bed, on impulse I went into the sitting room again and switched the light on. Collapsing on the sofa, I stared at the pictures, in the same places they’d always been. Curtis was right. The most likely explanation was that I’d imagined it. I frowned. It was easier to believe him, but I’d been so sure.

  * * *

  On Saturday morning, Abe and I set off for Nina’s house, Abe sitting next to me in typical silence. Every so often, I glanced across at him, but each time his expression was blank as he stared ahead, not moving.

  It was early enough that the roads were quiet. As we drove through the miles of open countryside, more signs of spring were appearing, hints of color breaking through. I loved it most out here when the heather flowered, its dusky mauve stretching in every direction as far as the eye could see. This morning, we disturbed a small herd of deer that froze, watching my car for a few seconds, before suddenly taking flight. It was a habitat that belonged to wildlife. It never failed to amaze me how many animals the countryside supported, and that they managed to survive the winter.

  “Have you heard from Jude since you’ve been here?” It was a reasonable question. I was still convinced someone had been hanging around, and the only possibility I could think of was Jude.

  “No.” He muttered the word.

  “I’m surprised. I would have thought he’d want to see you.” Was he lying? Why was I questioning everything he said to me?

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the diffident shrug that was his reply. I gave up at that point, driving in silence, watching as the fields and trees that flanked the highway were replaced by industrial complexes and vast warehouses. The closer we got to London, the heavier the traffic got. At some point, I lapsed into thoughts of Matt. In the short time since I’d seen him, hurt had turned to anger. All I wanted was to bury the chapter of my life that contained him alongside other lost chapters. Whatever had changed between us, he wasn’t the man I’d fallen in love with—that much was clear. But it didn’t stop the aching sense of loss I felt. It would take more than one difficult exchange for me to move on. But I had to start. Love didn’t always endure. It could brutally end, leaving you bruised and broken, abandoned, somehow lessened. Maybe it was better not to love. It wasn’t worth the pain.

  * * *

  As I turned into Nina’s street, it felt like months had passed instead of the two weeks it had been since I’d come here that evening to collect Abe. I managed to park in the street, then, with Abe’s help, gathered up the boxes we’d brought from the back of the car. Leaving them on Nina’s doorstep, I went next door to get the key.

  I knocked, then stood there waiting, listening to the backdrop of traffic noise and the blare of music from farther down the street. I wondered if any of the neighbors had got to know Nina, remembering what DI Collins had said. Then I saw the curtain move, just before a woman opened the door.

  “Yes?” She had a hardness about her, not just in her eyes, the way she stood there, but in her unsmiling face, her hair dyed the wrong shade for her skin tone.

  “I understand you have the key for next door? I’m Nina’s sister.”

  She peered past me to look at Abe, clearly recognizing him. “You’ve got the boy then?”

  I nodded. “He’s staying with me.”

  Then she frowned. “There was shouting that day. You know . . . when it happened.”

  “Really?” My ears pricked up. “Have you told the police?”

  She shook her head. “I wasn’t here when she dropped the key.”

  “You should tell them. Speaking of the key—” I paused, then asked again. “Could I have it, please?”

  As she turned and walked down the passageway, I made a mental note to tell DI Collins what the woman had said about the shouting. Seconds later, she reappeared and handed me the key.

  “Thanks.” As I started walking away, I was aware of her watching me.

  “You bringing it back?” She sounded suspicious.

  I paused, turning briefly. “Should I?”

  She shrugged. “Police asked me to keep it. Makes no difference to me.”

  The woman made no attempt to hide the fact that she was still watching us as I unlocked Nina’s door and opened it, pushing against the volume of mail lying just inside, which made it clear no one had been in for a while. Relieved to be inside, I closed the door behind us, bending down to pick up the mail.

  Unlike last time, the house felt damp as well as cold—I shivered. The heat had clearly been turned off. I glanced at Abe. “Can you put some lights on?�
�

  I almost wished I hadn’t asked him to. The harsh overhead light only accentuated the state of the house, which, even in a short period of time, had deteriorated still more. I passed Abe a couple of boxes. “Why don’t you make a start on your room?”

  As I went through to the sitting room, I heard his footsteps going upstairs. Opening the curtains, I looked around the room. I hadn’t been in here that night I came to get Abe. Like the kitchen, it was unloved, with dated wallpaper and a faded sofa I was amazed I recognized from the cottage. As I stood there, I scanned the room for photos or anything personal that Abe might like in the future. But apart from the sofa and a dilapidated armchair, there was only a pile of magazines under a cheap coffee table and a small TV that Abe might want for his bedroom, but little else worth taking.

  Going through to the kitchen, I opened cupboards and drawers, but apart from one drawer that was stuffed with utility bills and envelopes, some of which were unopened, there was little of interest. Collecting the paperwork together, I piled it into a carrier bag, then looked under the sink, slightly shocked when I saw the empty vodka bottles crammed in there. Looking more closely, I saw more bottles, the kind that would have contained pills, but unlabeled. I thought of Abe’s denial of his mother’s problems, his insistence that she’d stopped drinking. Whatever she’d been on, she must have tried to hide it from him.

  I paused for a moment, hit by a pang of sadness that this was how my sister’s life had been. Being in such run-down surroundings could only have made matters worse for her.

  Oh Nina . . . All this time, was it really so unbearable? But you went through so much; took the brunt of everything. Now it’s my turn to protect you.

  Upstairs, I knocked on Abe’s door before pushing it open. “Are you OK?”

  He nodded.

  I glanced around the room, taking in how sparsely furnished it was, how grim. “If you want to bring your own bedding back, we can roll it up and take it with us,” I offered. “Or anything that will make your room feel more like home.” But looking around I could again see there wasn’t anything. Not pictures or photos. He’d piled a few books in one of the boxes and some clothes in another. “What about your bedside lamp?”