My Sister's Lies

by S. D. Robertson

  ‘Oh, would you mind not using your phone at the table, please?’ Hannah asked before she had the chance to look at it.

  Mia turned bright red and shoved the mobile back into her pocket without a word, staring down at her plate. A moment later Hannah noticed tears trickling down her cheeks, which made her feel awful.

  ‘There’s no need to get upset, Mia,’ she said in a gentle voice. Part of her wanted to reach out and squeeze her niece’s hand or similar, but it felt like the wrong thing to do in the circumstances, like she would be overstepping boundaries. ‘I’m sorry if I sounded like I was snapping at you. If it makes you feel any better, I’d have said exactly the same thing to Mark, had he taken his mobile out during a meal. It’s a pet hate of mine. Everyone’s glued to their phones enough as it is, rather than talking to the people around them. So under this roof mealtimes are a phone-free zone, I’m afraid.’

  Mia continued to look down at the table in silence. She refused to meet her aunt’s eye while painstakingly peeling the shell off her egg. Finally she placed it on her buttered toast, slicing it up and spreading it out.

  The sight tickled Hannah, who recalled Diane switching to eating a boiled egg like this in her late teens, having picked up the method from a boyfriend. Previously, she’d always cut off the top and dipped soldiers inside or scooped out the contents, as they’d learned at home. As far back as Hannah could remember, if a chance had ever presented itself to do things differently – particularly from the rest of the family – her sister had always jumped at it. Classic Diane.

  Hannah wondered if Mia was the same way. She’d not known her long enough yet to be able to tell.

  After a short period of listening to the radio and eating in silence, allowing Mia time to get over the phone incident, Hannah decided to try to make fresh conversation. ‘So is there anything you particularly fancy doing today, Mia?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Well, as you must have noticed, it’s not very nice weather this morning. And according to the forecast, there’s little chance of any improvement later on. In other words, we’re probably best doing something indoors.’

  Mia nodded, keeping her eyes on her plate and the food she’d been poking and prodding with her cutlery more than eating.

  ‘There are several nice art galleries and museums nearby, but … well, I’ve honestly got no idea whether that’s the kind of thing you would enjoy doing or not. I wouldn’t want to drag you around somewhere you’d find boring.’

  There was a long pause before Mia replied. ‘I, er, I’m not actually feeling that well. My stomach hurts. I think I might be starting my period.’

  This threw Hannah somewhat, as it was a long way from the response she’d expected. Despite the evidence right in front of her, she still hadn’t got used to Mia being fourteen. Mind you, it wasn’t like she’d had any preparation for this. Until a few days ago, the only Mia she knew – apart from the odd photo she’d spotted at her dad’s house over the years – was the pre-schooler she’d been when Diane moved her away.

  ‘I see,’ she replied. ‘Sorry to hear that. Do you, um, have everything you need: tampons, pads, paracetamol, perhaps? Because if not, I can always—’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Mia said. ‘But can I chill in my room for a bit and read my book?’

  ‘Of course. That’s fine. I thought you’d want to be out and about, rather than stuck here with me, but if that’s how you’re feeling, I understand. I’ve had my fair share of period pains over the years. Why not take it easy this morning and then see how you feel later on?’

  Mia nodded, looking teary again all of a sudden.

  Oh dear, Hannah thought. Surely she wasn’t still upset about the mobile phone reprimand. Unless she was afraid Hannah might confiscate it, as her mum had the other day. She could understand how that might be a scary prospect for a young teenager staying with people she barely knew, miles away from home.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she asked. ‘You’re not still upset about what I said earlier, are you? There’s no need to be. I’m not cross, particularly as you put it away so quickly.’

  ‘It’s just … I thought it might be Mum at last.’

  ‘Oh, right. I see. Haven’t you heard from her today?’

  Mia shook her head. ‘Not since Saturday evening when she sent me a text to say she’d got home.’

  ‘Oh dear.’

  I’ve sent her a few messages since then and I’ve tried to call her, but she’s not answered.’

  ‘Right. Well, I’m sure there’s a good explanation. She’s probably busy. She said she had a few things to do while you were staying with us, so that’s most likely it.’

  Hannah eyed the food in front of her niece, which she’d barely touched, and then looked down at her own plate, which was empty save for a few crumbs. She helped herself to another piece of toast, which was cold now, and slapped on some butter and marmalade. This was as much about giving her something to do with her hands as it was about still being hungry.

  She cut the toast into two triangles and, before taking a bite, asked: ‘Aren’t you feeling hungry?’

  Mia said not, sliding her plate forward on the table to emphasise she was done and then nursing her coffee.

  Seeing her niece so downhearted proved too much for Hannah. ‘Listen,’ she said. ‘I can waive the no-phones rule this once, seeing as it’s obviously upsetting you not knowing if it’s your mum or not. Go ahead and have a look.’

  Mia’s face instantly brightened, only to sour again after she pulled out her mobile and read the message.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Hannah asked.

  Mia shook her head, slipping the phone back into her pocket. ‘It’s not from Mum. It’s one of my friends.’

  ‘Never mind. I’ll try and get hold of her later, if you like. Is there anything in particular you need to ask her?’

  She hesitated, frowning and scratching her head before continuing. ‘I, um, was wondering when she was coming back for me. She did say it would only be a few days.’

  Hannah couldn’t help feeling dismayed by this, although she did her best to hide the fact by smiling and nodding. ‘Of course. I totally understand. I was your age once. It’s only normal that you’d rather be at home with your friends and so on than here with us.’

  Later, when Mia had returned to her bedroom and Hannah was in the lounge, glad of a break from struggling to make conversation, she pondered Diane’s lack of contact with her daughter.

  It was odd she hadn’t been returning Mia’s calls and messages, especially after leaving her alone here with a strange aunt and uncle. What was Diane up to?

  Hannah stared at her number: the latest entry in her smartphone’s long list of contacts. The last time Diane had featured would have been on a much simpler device – something clunky by modern standards, with a rubbish camera. The world of technology had moved on a lot in the years they’d been apart, as had Hannah. She could only assume the same applied to her estranged sister.

  Her thumb hovered above Diane’s name on the touchscreen. She knew all she had to do to call the number was press down. And yet, for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Was this because she dreaded having to talk one-to-one with her again? Or was she afraid of not getting an answer?

  Hannah decided it was probably a combination of the two, although the latter was of particular concern in light of Mia not being able to reach her. It was strange they’d not heard anything yet about when she was coming back for Mia.

  God, what if something had happened to her? What would they do then?

  No sooner had she decided to stop dithering and call the number than her mobile began to ring of its own accord.

  CHAPTER 5

  ‘Hello?’ Hannah said, answering the phone in a clipped tone, as if Mark had caught her in the middle of something. ‘Is everything all right?’

  ‘Hi,’ he replied. ‘Yes, I’m fine, thanks. What about you? You sound busy.’

  ‘Oh? I’m not really.
’

  ‘How’s everything going with Mia? Are you finding it okay on your own with her?’

  Hannah brought Mark up to date about Mia sleeping in, their stilted breakfast chat, and lastly her niece’s claim to have period pains.

  ‘I see,’ he replied, glad not to have had that particular conversation with their guest. He knew it would have embarrassed him, even though modern men were supposed to be able to talk comfortably about the time of the month. Dads in particular, he thought, feeling the knot in his stomach tighten. The knot that had been there since he’d read Diane’s letter.

  But it was Hannah’s next comment that really got Mark’s attention. Lowering her voice, she said: ‘I think the real reason Mia’s feeling off this morning is because of her mum. Diane’s not been replying to her calls or messages, apparently.’

  ‘What? Not at all?’

  ‘She sent her one message on Saturday to say she’d got home; nothing since.’

  This surprised Mark, who’d assumed mother and daughter had been in regular contact. He’d certainly seen Mia typing and receiving various messages on her phone while she’d been staying with them. These must have been to and from her friends at home.

  Unbeknown to Hannah or Mia, he’d also tried and failed to get hold of Diane several times yesterday.

  He’d grabbed her number from Hannah’s mobile. When Diane hadn’t answered, his mind had gone into overdrive, reading all kinds of potential meanings into this. Now he had a new perspective on the situation.

  ‘That’s a bit odd,’ he said into his phone, which was tucked between his chin and right shoulder as he made a brew for himself and a handful of colleagues in the kitchen at work. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done this, but judging by the shocked looks on his co-workers’ faces when he’d offered, it was long overdue. In truth, he’d wanted an excuse to make this call away from prying ears in the open-plan office, since all the meeting rooms were occupied. Mark wasn’t one for sharing personal information with colleagues; the last thing he wanted this morning was to face nosy queries about who Mia was and why she was staying with them.

  At times like this he’d have appreciated having his own private office, but that was far too traditional to fit in with the firm’s modern, open ethos.

  ‘What’s that noise?’ Hannah asked.

  ‘I’m brewing up. It’s probably the kettle you can hear.’

  ‘What? I thought you said you never had time for that. Are you feeling all right?’

  ‘Very funny. So where’s Mia now?’

  ‘In her bedroom, reading. I mentioned the art galleries and museums, but she said she didn’t feel up to going.’

  ‘Look on the bright side: at least you might get the chance to do some writing.’ Mark bent down to get the milk out of the fridge as he spoke, cricking his neck in the process, forcing him to switch the phone back into his hand with a groan.

  ‘What was that?’ Hannah asked. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘It’s nothing. I’m just trying to do too many things at once. So what do you think is going on with Diane?’

  He heard the sound of his wife sighing down the line. ‘Who knows?’

  ‘It certainly seems strange for her to go silent like this … assuming Mia’s telling the truth.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Yes, good point. What did he mean? The idea that Mia might be fibbing had only occurred to Mark as he’d said it. It was based solely on a paranoid, unsupported fear that she might be working against him – in cahoots with her mother.

  ‘Never mind,’ he said. ‘Ignore me. I’m, er, just thinking out loud.’

  ‘Why would she make such a thing up? You weren’t here. You didn’t see how upset she was. I felt so sorry for her that I even let her check her mobile at the breakfast table.’

  ‘You what?’ Mark replied, grinning in spite of the guilt and fear that had been eating him up ever since Diane’s flabbergasting revelation. ‘That can’t be right. You must be going soft in your old age. You’ll be answering a call in the cinema next.’

  Hannah had long had a bee in her bonnet about people using mobiles at mealtimes. She found it the height of rudeness and, although Mark wasn’t quite as offended by it as she was, over the years she’d converted him to the cause. He hadn’t spotted Mia doing it so far, perhaps because Diane had similar feelings to Hannah, which she’d instilled in her daughter.

  That didn’t sound like the Diane he remembered, who’d always been far better at breaking rules than following them. Maybe motherhood had changed her. She’d confiscated Mia’s mobile for some reason when they’d first arrived, so there were obviously boundaries in place.

  ‘And you’ve still not heard anything from Diane either?’ Mark asked.

  ‘No. I told Mia I’d try to get hold of her. She wants to know when her mum is coming back for her.’

  ‘That’s understandable. She is only fourteen. She’s probably homesick. So are you going to try calling Diane yourself?’

  She cleared her throat. ‘I guess so.’

  Hearing reluctance in Hannah’s strained tone of voice, Mark spotted an opportunity. ‘You, er, don’t sound very keen.’ He held his breath for a moment before adding: ‘Would you rather I tried to get hold of her instead?’

  ‘You’d do that?’ she asked, already sounding happier.

  ‘Of course, if it makes life easier for you.’

  ‘That would be amazing. You’re the best.’

  Mark winced at this, wishing it was true, before forcing himself to add: ‘Could you text me her phone number?’

  Once he’d dished out the brews to his bemused colleagues – one of whom actually took a photo of him handing over their cup ‘to prove it really happened’ – he returned to his desk and tried to distract himself with work.

  When lunchtime came around, Mark popped out, having taken Diane’s letter from his briefcase and stuffed it into a trouser pocket. He read the contents over again at a crumb-covered table in a quiet back-street sandwich shop where no one knew him.

  Diane’s words hadn’t got any better or less terrifying with time. As Mark’s eyes scanned the letter’s contents, the cheese-and-pickle sandwich he’d ordered lying untouched next to his can of cola, he felt his heart pounding at the prospect of what he might say if he managed to reach her by phone.

  He didn’t have the slightest clue what Diane was up to, but he was desperate to know. He needed to discover whether she was definitely telling the truth in her letter and, if so, why she’d chosen to tell him now. Something specific must have sparked her recent actions – and Mark was determined to get to the bottom of it.

  Meanwhile, he’d done as she’d asked. He’d looked at Mia to see if he could see himself in her. He’d scrutinised the girl, as surreptitiously as possible, over the last couple of days. He’d examined her physical appearance, from her eyes and smile right down to the shape of her feet. He’d considered the way she walked and talked; her gestures; the type of things she said and did; what made her laugh; what made her frown.

  At certain moments, he’d thought he’d seen hints of himself or other family members, such as his mother. At other times, he’d become convinced these were mere projections and there was nothing concrete at all.

  There was plenty of Diane, though. Over the years, particularly before the big falling-out, Mark had seen loads of old snaps of Diane and Hannah together as girls. Fourteen-year-old Mia could easily pass for their sister.

  But could she pass for his child?

  Could she really, truly be his daughter?

  And if so, why had Diane lied to his face about it when he’d asked her previously?

  His mind jumped back to one particular conversation. It had been in 2008 during those awful, raw days following the death of her and Hannah’s mother, Maggie, and before the disintegration of the sisters’ relationship. Little had he known at that point how much was about to change, and how drastically it would affect all of their lives.

>   The sisters had spent a couple of days at their parents’ home. They’d both wanted to be there to console and support their dad, who was so devastated he could barely function, and to start planning the funeral. To make things easier for them, Mark had agreed to move into Diane’s house, a small terraced property in Withington, to look after Mia while they were away. This was despite him being pretty clueless when it came to children.

  Mia had recently turned three and had at least stopped wearing nappies during the daytime. With the help of a list of instructions left by her mum, detailing mealtimes, toilet habits and other daily routines, he’d just about managed, thankful she had a placid temperament for a young child.

  However, unbeknown to Diane, there had been several phone calls to his mother, Alma, along the way. Having no grandchildren of her own, she’d been only too happy to give him tips and advice. She’d even offered to come over and lend a hand, but he’d said that wasn’t necessary.

  That afternoon there had also been a minor incident in his car. He’d taken Mia out to the park and, while stuck in traffic on the way back, she’d announced she needed a wee ‘right now’.

  ‘You can wait a few minutes, can’t you?’ Mark had asked.

  Her only reply had been to shake her head vigorously, turn bright red and do it there and then in her car seat before starting to cry.

  Luckily, he’d managed to keep a cool head and, somehow, to juggle cleaning the car and putting Mia in the bath and then bed before Diane arrived home.

  ‘Thanks so much for looking after her,’ she said after popping up to give her a kiss goodnight. ‘She’s zonked. You must have kept her busy.’

  ‘I did my best. I’m pretty shattered too. Maybe I should text Hannah and ask her to run me a bath.’

  Diane smiled. ‘She’s probably in there herself. It’s been a tough couple of days.’

  ‘I bet. How’s Frank managing?’

  ‘He’s not. He’s in a mess. Mum might have been ill for ages, but it’s like Dad never faced up to the fact this would happen one day. I mean, it’s not something you can really prepare yourself for, is it? But the way he’s acting, you’d think she’d been fighting fit and her death was a total shock. He’s all over the place. He’s even said things like there’s no point in him carrying on without her.’