My Sister’s Secret

by Tracy Buchanan

  ‘But I didn’t say I would, Dan. Really, I—’

  The door swung open and the overwhelming scent of musky perfume wafted in as Lana stepped into the room. She was wearing a short red V-neck dress with huge shoulder pads that engulfed her tiny frame. It was more suited to a society party than dinner. She blew Dan a kiss then quickly strode down the room and took the chair across from Charity’s, leaning over the table and taking her hand. Her glossy curve of caramel hair covered Bambi-like eyes. She licked her bee-stung lips nervously. Charity noticed her hand was trembling.

  ‘Thank you so much, Charity, you were so lovely the other morning,’ she said, her words almost tripping over one another, her navy blue eyes bright.

  ‘It’s fine, I’m pleased I was there to help you. How are you feeling?’

  ‘Oh fine,’ she said, sweeping her hand through the air. ‘Back to my old self.’

  The truth was, beneath the glossy veneer were telltale signs all was not entirely well. Lana’s movements were erratic and jittery; she was incredibly thin, even thinner than she’d been in the photos Charity had seen of her in the papers; the purple bruises under her eyes suggested problems sleeping; and, though immaculate from the front, her hair was all matted at the back. There was also a large stain on the hem of her dress and bruises down her legs.

  Dan stared at his wife’s matted hair then he looked imploringly at Charity.

  Lana glanced at Charity’s glass of wine and smiled. ‘It’s delicious, isn’t it? We got it from this wonderful vineyard in Umbria last year. Did you know the rate of divorce is at its lowest in that part of Italy? They say it’s down to the Umbrian “super” wine, as they call it. It makes couples crave each other.’ Lana looked into Dan’s eyes. ‘I can confirm it’s not just an urban myth.’

  Charity took another gulp of wine, feeling increasingly uncomfortable.

  Lana peered towards the door. ‘Is Niall in the bathroom?’

  Charity spluttered on her wine. ‘Niall?’

  ‘Lana managed to find him in the end,’ Dan explained. ‘He’s been staying just out of town.’

  ‘He’s coming to dinner?’ Charity asked, struggling to get her words out. Dan nodded.

  ‘Didn’t you both come together?’ Lana asked Charity, a confused look on her face.

  Charity shook her head. She should never have come. She looked towards the door. She ought to make her excuses and leave right now. What would Hope say? What would the whole town say?

  Dan frowned as he looked at Charity’s face. ‘Have we put our foot in it by inviting him?’

  Charity didn’t know what to say.

  ‘But the way he looked at you the other day,’ Lana said, looking at Charity. ‘I really thought you were together.’

  ‘We weren’t together,’ Charity said, peering at the door to the dining room, imagining Niall walking in any minute. What would she say to him? ‘We haven’t been in touch for years,’ she added, trying to compose her face.

  ‘Oh well,’ Lana said, reaching for the bottle of wine and sloshing more into her glass. ‘It’ll be good for you to catch up then, won’t it?’

  Dan looked at his wife, an exasperated expression on his face.

  ‘So what’s the deal with you two, anyway?’ Lana asked, scrutinising Charity’s face. She smiled. ‘Oh look, she’s blushing!’

  Dan put his hand on his wife’s arm. ‘Darling…’

  ‘Were you childhood sweethearts?’ Lana continued, ignoring him.

  The door clicked open and Niall stepped in, a bike helmet under his arm. So Niall was riding a motorbike nowadays.

  His eyes rested of Charity, a frown appearing on his face.

  Dan rose from his seat, shooting Charity a concerned look before composing his face and smiling. ‘Please, do come in, Niall.’ He walked around the table and pulled out the seat next to Charity. As Niall walked behind her, Charity looked down at the table, trying to control her thumping heart.

  He sat next to her, the scent of him making her think of the sea and the summer evenings they used to spend together on the beach.

  She curled her hands into fists. Damn it, why had she come?

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were coming,’ he said quietly.

  ‘I didn’t realise you were.’

  His frown deepened. She took the chance to properly look at him. He was wearing black jeans and a grey t-shirt, his cheeks flushed from the cold. The long black hair she’d once so loved was now shaved close to his head. There were fine lines around his eyes that weren’t there ten years before and a small scar across his chin. She wondered if that had happened in prison, and her stomach twisted with nausea at the thought.

  There were new tattoos entwining his arms too, black warped clock faces and gothic anchors, even a whole tree stretching up the olive skin of his right arm. And then that tattoo etched onto the side of his neck, the same tattoo she had on the small of her back, a black cresting wave beneath a blue moon. As she stared at it, she could almost feel the needle burning into her skin.

  He caught her eye and a host of emotions seemed to run over his face.

  Niall shifted uncomfortably.

  She could pretend to be ill and leave, couldn’t she? Say the wine had been too rich, that her tummy was fragile. What would it matter? She didn’t have to see any of them again.

  Dan looked from Charity to Niall and took a deep breath. He could definitely sense the atmosphere. ‘What can I get you to drink, Niall?’ he asked.

  ‘Do you have beer?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Niall looked around him, brow furrowing as he finally noticed the explicit murals on the walls.

  ‘Oh, do you like them?’ Lana asked, twisting around in her chair, one thin arm elegantly draped across the back of Dan’s chair. ‘I had them done when we moved in. They’re wonderful, aren’t they?’

  ‘They’re different,’ Niall said.

  Dan handed his beer to him and sat down.

  ‘Your house is gorgeous,’ Charity said, desperate to bring some sense of normality to the dinner. ‘You must feel a bit lost in a big house like this, just the two of you?’

  ‘We manage to fill it with all Lana’s knick-knacks, don’t we, darling?’ Dan said to Lana.

  ‘I may have a teensy bit of an obsession with antiques,’ Lana replied, laughing. ‘It fills the time. We’re off to Paris soon so I can’t wait to do some shopping there.’

  ‘You really do live the life, don’t you?’ Charity said, smiling.

  ‘A very bourgeois life,’ Niall said as he looked around him.

  Dan frowned. ‘We’re hardly bourgeois. Lana’s dad was a dustman. My father worked on ships, my mother was a nurse. My shipping business wasn’t handed to me on a plate, I started out in the docks with my father, hauling equipment about.’

  Niall’s eyes lit up the way Charity remembered they did when the subject turned to politics. ‘Doesn’t matter how you got there,’ he said, ‘you’re still an owner. That makes you bourgeois. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, I’m just making the point.’

  ‘Fine,’ Dan said with a smile. ‘If working hard makes me one of the bourgeoisie, then so be it.’

  ‘What about your staff, do they work hard too?’ Niall asked Dan.

  ‘I don’t operate that kind of business culture,’ Dan replied. ‘My staff aren’t expected to work long hours.’

  Niall fixed him with his blue eyes. ‘But they do, don’t they? Some of them, anyway. And yet you’re still the one with the mansion, the fast cars, the expensive champagne,’ he said, gesturing around him.

  Charity noticed the tops of Dan’s cheeks going red.

  ‘Ladies and gentleman,’ she said to ease the tension, ‘meet the modern-day Karl Marx.’

  Dan’s shoulders relaxed and Lana laughed.

  ‘Never could impress you with my political rants, could I?’ Niall said, holding her gaze.

  ‘So, Charity, what brings you back to Busby-on-Sea?’ Dan asked her. ‘You work
ed as an NHS counsellor in London, right?’

  ‘Counsellor?’ Niall asked. ‘I didn’t realise that was your thing.’

  ‘It is now.’ She turned to Dan. ‘I was made redundant so had to return.’

  ‘Bloody Thatcher,’ Niall said.

  Dan smiled to himself.

  ‘I bet that must be fascinating,’ Lana said, ‘hearing about people’s more intimate secrets as they lie on a couch.’

  ‘It’s not quite as exciting as that,’ Charity said. ‘More like a battered old chair in a stuffy office with stained carpets. People are referred by their GPs and a lot of the issues are ones many people deal with: insomnia, anxiety, depression.’

  ‘Oh, you must speak to Dan then,’ Lana said. ‘He’s a terrible sleeper, up most of the night.’

  ‘That has nothing to do with my state of mind, darling,’ Dan said, ‘and everything to do with your snoring.’ He turned to Charity. ‘So what’s next for you? I presume the plan isn’t to work in your sister’s café all your life, as wonderful as it is?’

  Charity sighed. ‘I’m looking for jobs but there’s nothing out there.’

  Niall nodded. ‘Hearing that a lot lately.’

  ‘Have you thought about going private?’ Lana asked. ‘Setting up your own practice?’

  ‘I’d love that. But I don’t have any capital.’

  ‘Dan can give you money,’ Lana declared, clapping her hands. ‘I can decorate your office!’

  Dan laughed. ‘Darling, you’re getting a bit ahead of yourself.’

  ‘Why couldn’t you?’ Lana asked. ‘It would help Charity out.’

  Charity laughed nervously. Lana didn’t seem to have any kind of filter. ‘I’m sure Dan has better things to do with his money.’

  ‘Like buy my wife antiques in Paris,’ Dan said with a raised eyebrow. He turned to Niall. ‘What about you, Niall?’

  ‘I’m not into antiques,’ Niall said with a smile. ‘Don’t have a wife either.’

  Dan laughed.

  Niall leant back, his long legs stretching out in front of him. Charity glanced at his thighs, remembering how she had found it hard to hide her feelings from her sisters as she watched him strip his wetsuit off to reveal his muscular thighs the day after their first kiss.

  ‘I’m an underwater photographer,’ he said. ‘Mainly advertising jobs.’

  Charity looked at him, surprised. Sure, he used to lug around an old camera, but she didn’t realise that was what he’d ended up doing.

  ‘Wonderful. How did you get into that?’ Lana asked.

  ‘Happened by accident really,’ Niall replied. ‘An old school friend ended up working for an advertising agency, knew I was a photographer and that I could dive, asked me to do a last-minute job a couple of years ago. More assignments came in.’

  ‘Is that why you’re back in Busby-on-Sea, an assignment?’ Dan asked.

  ‘No. I’ve been trying to find a submerged forest that’s supposed to be here actually.’ His eyes caught Charity’s briefly then flickered away.

  Charity went very still. Faith’s underwater forest?

  ‘Why would a forest be submerged?’ Lana asked.

  ‘They were once land forests,’ Niall explained. ‘But due to lots of different reasons – dams bursting, floods – they get submerged by water. They’re all over the world, in oceans and lakes, even rivers. Some are quite beautiful to look at.’

  ‘So, like a woodland Atlantis?’ Lana asked. Charity thought back to the first time Faith had told her and Hope about them. She’d asked the same thing.

  ‘Exactly like that,’ Niall said. She wondered if he was thinking of Faith too. She wished he’d change the subject, this was becoming too painful.

  ‘What makes you think a submerged forest lies off the coast here?’ Dan asked Niall.

  ‘A fisherman got lost at sea once and thought he saw it,’ Niall explained. ‘Became a bit of a local legend.’

  Dan went quiet, a thoughtful look on his face. ‘I think that fisherman may have been right about that forest, you know. I have a viewing glass on my boat and I saw something very interesting during a trip the other day.’

  ‘Really?’ Charity and Niall asked at the same time.

  ‘Really.’ Dan rang a bell by his side – an actual bell! – and an older woman with dark hair walked in. ‘Those photos you had developed for me the other day, Clara, can you bring them down?’

  When Clara reappeared with a bunch of photos. Dan handed one to Charity and her eyes widened. In the top right corner of one was a shadowy outline of what looked like branches.

  ‘Where exactly did you see this?’ she asked Dan.

  ‘Across from the lighthouse. The co-ordinates are in the top right corner, see?’

  She looked at Niall, unable to contain her excitement despite how painful the memories were. It was just where he’d suspected. He smiled at her and Charity’s stomach contracted. He rarely smiled but when it happened, it set the room on fire, the lines around his mouth deepening, his blue eyes sparkling. It suddenly felt like something was blossoming inside Charity again; something she’d stifled for so long. Had she ever stopped loving him?

  She thought of Faith. If she hadn’t started loving him maybe her sister would be there now?

  ‘Can I have the co-ordinates?’ she asked Dan.

  ‘I can do one better,’ Dan said. ‘How about we go out on my boat tomorrow. You can both dive off it, see if you can find the forest for yourself?’

  Charity looked at Niall. How could she possibly spend the day with him? It was out of the question. ‘I’m afraid I’ll be working at the café.’

  ‘The weekend then?’ Dan asked.

  She shook her head. ‘Sorry.’

  Niall sighed, looking down at his plate.

  The door opened and Clara walked in again with a large gold tray. At first, Charity thought it was a tray of seashells of all different shapes and sizes but, as Clara drew closer, she noticed eight plump oysters in their shells were lying on a bed of seashells, a dollop of what looked like black beads on each one.

  Niall’s eyes lifted to meet hers. She knew he too was thinking about their first date.

  Dan lifted one of the oysters into the air and looked at Charity then Niall. ‘To real-life heroes and damsels in distress.’ Then he tipped his head back and let the oyster slither into his mouth, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. When Charity ate hers, it tasted just as the oysters had that moonlit night with Niall: of the sea, salty and earthy, the subtle taste of the caviar now making it even more delicious.

  ‘So how did you first meet?’ Lana asked Charity and Niall.

  Charity looked down into her drink. She didn’t want to talk about the past.

  ‘On the beach,’ Niall said. ‘We were just kids.’

  Lana leant her chin on her hands and smiled dreamily. ‘Oh, how romantic, meeting on a windswept beach!’

  ‘Don’t get ahead of yourself,’ Dan said, laughing.

  ‘No. I have a nose for these things,’ Lana said, tapping the side of her nose. ‘You can sense the chemistry oozing off these two. I’m right, aren’t I?’

  Charity squirmed in her seat while Niall’s neck flushed red.

  ‘I am right!’ Lana said.

  Dan put his hand on Lana’s. ‘Darling, I don’t think—’

  ‘So you’re not together now,’ Lana said, tapping her lower lip with her finger as she narrowed her eyes at them. ‘Why did you break up?’

  Charity peered at the door. She should have left.

  Niall opened his mouth to say something but Lana put her hand up. ‘No, wait, let me guess. You cheated on Charity!’

  ‘Lana, that’s enough,’ Dan said sharply.

  ‘No, wait,’ Lana said, looking between Charity and Niall. ‘She cheated on you.’

  ‘It wasn’t like that,’ Niall said quietly.

  Charity felt tears sting her eyes. She took a quick sip of wine and looked away. Her last meeting with Niall had been so abrupt, a few
moments on a windswept dark beach the week after Faith died, the terrible incident throbbing between them. It had been horrific enough to be told by her parents the day after she’d learnt of her sister’s death that she’d been knocked down in a hit and run. But then to discover Niall’s car was seen screeching away from the scene of her death. It was unbearable.

  Hope had been livid. ‘You must never see him again,’ she’d hissed at Charity.

  ‘It was an accident,’ Charity had said, so confused, still in shock and trying to process the news herself.

  ‘He killed our sister.’

  Charity hadn’t said anything. What could she say? She knew she must talk to Niall. But she hadn’t seen him since Faith had died and he wasn’t in their usual spot that night either. Each night, she waited for him, until a few nights later when she saw him waiting in the moonlight, head down, shoulders hunched.

  That’s when he’d told her they couldn’t see each other again; that she had to get on with her life. She’d been devastated. People might think him a murderer but she knew he wasn’t. He was as grief-stricken as she was. He’d loved Faith too, spent many summers with her.

  It was a terrible, terrible accident.

  But Charity knew he was right. When she got back to the house, Hope was waiting for her.

  ‘You don’t have to say anything,’ Charity had quickly said, before Hope could say anything. ‘It’s over.’

  Relief had flooded her sister’s face. ‘Thank God.’

  How would she feel now, knowing Charity was having dinner with him?

  Charity stood up. ‘I’m sorry, but I have to go.’

  Niall looked up at her, brow creased.

  ‘Oh, that’s a shame,’ Lana said, pouting.

  Niall stood with her. ‘I’ll walk you out.’

  ‘No,’ she said, her voice firmer than she’d intended. ‘Please don’t.’

  His blue eyes flickered with an unbearable sadness. She felt that same sadness well up inside her. That fateful night had changed the course of both their lives. Charity hadn’t just lost a sister and Niall a friend. They’d lost each other too. Seeing him again made her realise just how utterly sad that part of the whole tragedy was. And how painful it was to dredge it all back up again. It also made her realise how much she still cared for him.