‘Yeah, the train was terrible,’ I reply. ‘Sweltering.’
‘Cara? You want some water, love?’
‘No, I’ll have a can of Coke.’
My mum nods and goes into the kitchen. Now that I’m here, it all seems so surreal. I want there to be a reasonable explanation for Piers’ revelation. I want it all to have been a stupid misunderstanding. My mum comes back with the drinks and sits down, shoving Cara along a bit. Cara tuts, takes her Coke and sits up, crossing her legs. She opens the can and takes several deep gulps. I take a seat opposite them on the other sofa.
‘It’s so good to see you again, Mia,’ my mum says, taking a tiny sip of her water and putting her glass down on a coaster. ‘Do you want to do anything special today? We could go into town if you like? See some sights, do a bit of shopping. What do you think?’
‘Yeah, maybe,’ I reply. I may as well launch right into it. No point sidestepping the issue. ‘But the reason I’ve come… I really wanted to talk to you both.’
‘Oh, okay,’ my mum replies.
They glance at each other and then back at me.
‘What was it you wanted to talk about, sweetheart? Do you want to hear some more stories about when you were a little girl?’
‘That would be nice. Maybe later. No, I really wanted to ask you something.’
‘Go on,’ my mum says.
Cara drains her drink and puts the empty can on the floor. I feel her eyes boring into mine, but I’m focusing on my mum. It’s somehow easier to look at her than at Cara.
‘Before Friday,’ I say. ‘When was the last time we saw each other?’
My mum’s expression changes from one of expectant interest to something else I can’t define. It’s a look of sadness, anger and… embarrassment. I risk a glance at Cara. She has a look of sarcastic indignance, one eyebrow raised, her mouth curled into a mocking sneer.
‘Well,’ Cara says. ‘You probably already know the answer to that, don’t you? Seeing as how you asked the question in the first place.’ Her voice is tight and accusing.
I’ve opened the can of worms, so I’d better deal with it. ‘I haven’t come here for an argument,’ I say. ‘I just want to know what happened between us. How we fell out so badly.’
‘I’ll tell you what happened,’ my sister says bluntly. ‘You were a bitch.’
‘Cara!’ my mum says, slapping my sister gently on the leg. ‘Mia says she doesn’t want an argument.’
‘So,’ I continue, refusing to be drawn, ‘is it true that before this week we hadn’t seen each other for three years?’
‘Yes,’ my mum replies. ‘It’s true. Oh, Mia, it’s been horrible.’ Tears begin to drip down her cheeks.
‘Now look what you’ve done,’ Cara says to me with a twist of her lip. ‘Every time you show your face, you make mum cry.’ She puts her arm around our mother’s shoulders.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I just want to understand what’s happened between us.’
‘What’s happened,’ Cara says, ‘is that you inherited a shitload of money from your dad, and then you pissed off out of London without even saying goodbye. You just left us a crappy little note.’
‘Cara, that’s enough,’ my mum says, sniffing loudly. ‘We all did and said things we shouldn’t have. It was a tense time. But maybe now we can move on. Make up. We are family after all.’
‘Pity she didn’t remember that at the time,’ Cara mutters.
‘What is your problem?’ I say. ‘I’m here because I lost my memory. I have total amnesia. I’m trying to find out what happened between us. That person you’re talking about – the old me – I don’t even know that person. This is who I am now, so your bitching and whining means nothing to me. Okay?’ My voice is harsh, almost aggressive. I haven’t a clue where that outburst came from. My heart is hammering. I’m not at all prepared for this confrontation.
Cara’s hostility radiates from every pore of her body. I can feel its bite. She sticks out her lower jaw and folds her arms across her chest.
‘Why did I leave London?’ I ask. ‘What happened to make us fall out? Was it to do with the money?’
‘For a start, your precious dad didn’t help mum out at all,’ Cara says.
‘What, you mean financially?’ I ask.
‘Yeah. Financially, physically, morally. Nothing. He just left her, skint with a baby – you. And then, years later, we found out he was loaded. And he didn’t leave anything to mum in his Will. He left it all to you. And you didn’t give mum anything.’
‘That’s not exactly true,’ I say. ‘I gave her fifty thousand pounds. And I gave you double that.’
‘You had another fifty thousand, Cara?’ My mum looks up sharply at her.
Cara flushes.
‘Cara?’ my mum says.
‘Mia agreed to pay off my debts if I promised to leave her alone.’
‘Leave me alone?’ This is becoming more complicated by the second. And I still don’t know if I can trust anything coming out of either of their mouths. It even looks like they were keeping things from each other. I wish more than anything that my memory would choose to return now. I’m at such a disadvantage, not knowing what I did or said, how I behaved in the past, who I trusted, and who was using me.
‘You said you’d give me another fifty thousand if I stopped contacting you,’ Cara explains. ‘You even made me sign an agreement.’ She shakes her head and rolls her eyes.
‘Why would I do that?’ I demand. ‘Why wouldn’t I want you to contact me?’
Cara doesn’t answer. Her lips are pursed. I look at my mum, but she’s looking expectantly at Cara, too.
‘Cara?’ she says.
‘What?’
‘Why didn’t I know about this extra money?’ my mum asks her.
Cara doesn’t reply.
Suddenly, I’m fed up with the whole situation. It seems ridiculous to be arguing about stuff that I can’t even remember.
‘Look,’ I say. ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m willing to forgive and forget the past if you are. Maybe we can―’
‘Oh, well that’s just super of you,’ Cara says in a mocking tone, cutting me off. ‘Miss Moneybags is willing to forgive us poor peasants. Thank you, Your Highness. How kind.’
‘For goodness’ sake, Cara,’ my mum says, rising to her feet. ‘Just stop running your mouth off for once in your life. I can’t hear myself think!’
Silence descends on the room. I wish I’d never come. This hasn’t achieved anything other than to make me feel sick and depressed. It seems Piers was right. My sister is a cow.
‘Okay, Cara,’ I say, ‘I can see you don’t want to put this behind us or be “friends” or whatever, so why don’t you go ahead and answer my question.’
‘What question?’ she sneers. ‘You’ve asked so many since you waltzed back in here.’
‘Why did I give you an extra fifty thousand pounds to leave me alone? Why would I need you to leave me alone?’
She doesn’t reply.
‘Are you going to answer your sister?’
‘Why are you both ganging up on me?’ she whines. ‘She’s the one who left with all her money.’
‘I’d just like to know what you did to make me want to cut off all contact with you,’ I say. ‘Is that an unreasonable question?’
‘Fine.’ She uncrosses her arms and pushes her hair back off her face. Suddenly she looks nervous… and a lot younger. ‘I’ll tell you. But you blew it up out of all proportion. It’s not as bad as it sounds.’
‘Cara, spit it out.’ My mum’s face is hard, her eyes hooded, her lips pressed in a firm line.
‘Okay, fine,’ she says, re-crossing her arms. ‘But you won’t like it.’
Fifteen
I can’t imagine what my own sister could possibly have done that was so bad I had to pay her to leave me alone. I almost don’t want to know.
‘Well,’ Cara says. ‘For a laugh, I took a video on my phone of Mia and her ex having sex.’
‘You did what!’ my mum cries.
‘It was just a laugh. I told her I’d put it online if she didn’t help me out. But I would never actually have―’
‘Cara Richards!’ My mum rises to her feet. ‘I am ashamed! She’s your sister for crying out loud!’
‘Half-sister,’ she mutters.
‘You were blackmailing me?’ I shake my head and stare at her, open-mouthed. Of all the things I expected to hear, this wasn’t one of them. ‘You’re telling me that you were going to post sex tapes of me online if I didn’t give you more money?’ My stomach churns. How could she do that? Firstly, that she would video me… and secondly, that she would use it to get money.
‘You’re making it sound worse than it was,’ Cara says.
‘How can I make it sound worse? Blackmail is blackmail, isn’t it?’
‘There’s no point me trying to explain it,’ Cara says. ‘You’ll just twist it like you always do.’
‘Twist it? It sounds horrific enough without any “twists”.’
My mum’s face has gone white. It’s obvious she knew nothing about this.
‘Surely you didn’t need to resort to blackmail?’ I say. ‘I would’ve given you the money if you needed it. You’re my sister.’
‘Yeah, you’d think that would count for something, wouldn’t you,’ she says.
‘Where’s the video now?’ I ask.
‘You deleted it.’
‘How do I know you’re telling the truth?’
‘You don’t… But I am.’
‘Great,’ I say. ‘I can see that Piers was right. I really shouldn’t have come back.’
‘You weren’t going to give us anything, Mia,’ Cara says. ‘Nothing at all. I had to beg you for the pittance you did give us. And what about Mum? She―’
‘Don’t bring me into it, Cara,’ my mum says. ‘I’m disgusted with your behaviour. I don’t even want to look at you.’ She turns to me, ‘I’m sorry, Mia, but I think it’s probably best if you leave.’
I stare back at her. ‘Oh,’ is all I can say. I stand up, feeling a little unsteady.
‘It’s nice that you came, but I think tempers are running a little high around here. Maybe we should have a break and meet again when we’ve had a chance to let the dust settle. Okay?’ It’s not a question she requires an answer to.
‘Fine,’ I say. ‘I was just trying to―’
‘I know.’ She cuts me off. ‘But now it’s time for you to leave. In fact…’ she turns to Cara, ‘you can get out, too.’
‘What!’
‘Yes. I’m actually sick of the pair of you. Out! Leave me in peace.’ Her voice has become loud and quavery.
‘This is your fault.’ Cara shoots me a venomous look. ‘And if you want to know why there aren’t any photos of you here, it’s not because they’re “in storage” – she mimes air quotes – ‘It’s because, after you left three years ago, I ripped them up and threw them in the bin with all the other rubbish. I didn’t want your smug face staring at me. I didn’t want you as a sister anymore. I still don’t. You might have lost your memory, but you still think you’re better than us.’
‘That’s enough, young lady,’ my mum snaps at her.
I’m stunned by the depth of Cara’s hatred for me. That she would destroy all my childhood photos seems worse than anything else she might have done. I quickly turn to go, loath to leave the house at the same time as my sister.
‘Sorry you have to go, love,’ my mum says, reaching out to touch my arm. ‘But it’s brought all the nastiness rushing back, and I can’t cope with it. My nerves won’t take it.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I didn’t mean for it to―’
‘I know you didn’t,’ she says. ‘But that’s how it is. We’ll talk again soon, when I’m feeling up to it.’
‘Okay,’ I say, guilt plucking at me. I didn’t think I’d personally said anything that awful, but Cara had behaved like I was the devil. I’d almost expected her to physically attack me, she was so angry and bitter. I don’t know how today has spiralled so out of control.
I leave the flat in a rush. Dazed, I head back to the tube with my pulse still racing. What the hell was all that about? I went there to get answers, hoping for a reconciliation. Instead, I feel more alone than ever. My goal of getting my memory back seems to be receding. I had hoped that spending time with my family would make me remember who I am. Instead, it’s thrown up more questions. Questions I’m not sure I want the answers to.
The train journey home is a blur. Today has been way more than I ever bargained for. The words blackmail and sex tapes are lodged in my brain – ludicrous words that shouldn’t be anything to do with me. Is my sister for real? Any hopes of us reconnecting have been well and truly severed.
I step out of the taxi and slot my key into my front door. I’m home. Safe. I make a resolution to leave the past alone. If my memory doesn’t return, I’ll start my life from scratch again. No family. No Piers. Just me, and whatever life I can create for myself. I’m rich. I have the luxury of doing what I want. I do like it here in Christchurch, but maybe I should go away somewhere where nobody knows me.
Dance music filters down from somebody’s balcony. The sound of laughter – someone else’s Saturday evening. As I open my front door, the music gets louder. It’s coming from… upstairs. It’s really loud. Thumping. Piers is here again! The mood I’m in, I feel like marching up the stairs and telling him to get lost. I don’t care if he is my boyfriend. This is my house and he can’t keep letting himself in anytime he feels like it. It’s like I’m under attack from all sides. I want to scream. Instead, I slam the door behind me and stomp up the stairs, anger pulsing inside my head, growing, pounding, prickling at my skin.
‘She’s here!’ a woman’s voice cries out above the music.
What the hell?
A pair of feet appears on the stairs, walking down towards me. Denim-clad legs, a white shirt. It’s Piers. His eyes are bright. He’s smiling, holding a bottle of beer.
‘What’s going on?’ I hiss. ‘Are there people here?’
‘I know you’ve had a crap time recently,’ he says, kissing me with beer breath, draping his arms around my body. ‘And I know today’s visit will have been shit, so I rang round a few of our friends and invited them over. Thought it would cheer you up. It’s Saturday night, babe. And I know how much you love to party.’
If I’d thought today couldn’t get any worse, Piers just proved me wrong.
‘Who knows,’ he adds, his voice slurred with drink. ‘Maybe you’ll recognise someone and your memory will come back. What can I get you to drink? Wine? Vodka tonic?’ He doesn’t notice my glare, or if he does, he chooses to ignore it.
I’m suddenly defeated by his cheerful onslaught. I feel my shoulders slump. ‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Vodka tonic sounds good.’
All my anger evaporates. Piers has filled my house with friends who may as well be complete strangers randomly picked up off the street, because I know I’m not going to recognise a single one of them. Could my boyfriend possibly be the most insensitive man on the planet? Short of storming upstairs and yelling at everybody to get the hell out, I have no choice but to make the best of this. The only choice now, the only way for me to get through this farcical evening, is to get spectacularly wasted.
‘Make it a large one,’ I say.
‘That’s my girl,’ he says with a grin.
I run my fingers through my hair, push my shoulders back and follow him up the stairs, wondering what new hell I’m about to encounter.
‘Mia!’
‘Oh my God, Mia, we heard what happened.’
‘How are you?’
‘Piers told us what happened. We can’t believe it.’
‘Mia!’
‘Hey, Mia.’
As the music throbs, pulsing through my core, my house swarms with beautiful people, all crowding around me, kissing me on the cheeks, hugging, offering condolences and well wishes. The women w
ith their shiny hair, bright designer dresses, perfume, lip gloss and sparkling jewellery. The men confident and tanned in shirts and shorts, their aftershave subtle but expensive. Everyone’s giving me the same weird, fascinated smiles and pitying looks, like I’m some strange museum exhibit. I bet they’ve all been gossiping about me. Loving the drama.
I smile back and nod, saying I’m fine, knocking back the vodkas, letting all the people merge into one big smiling face of concern. Piers steers me from one to another, introducing them, telling me how I came to know each person. I don’t even attempt to take in the information. I simply nod and smile politely, gulping at my drink, waiting until the blissful moment I can pass out and forget this hellish day.
I pretend I’m happy to see them all. I laugh at their jokes, kiss Piers, hang off his arm, make a good show of enjoying his concerned attention. But inside I’m fuming. He says this will help me get back to normal. That maybe I’ll recognise someone. But I don’t. Of course I don’t. If I can’t even recognise my own mother, how would I recognise a bunch of strangers? Inside I’m laughing hysterically. Laughing and screaming.
‘This is Suki and Matt Willis,’ Piers says. ‘From next door.’
My heart skips a beat as I realise I recognise them. But disappointment hits me when I realise I don’t remember them from before the accident – it’s the couple I saw arguing in the driveway the other morning when I was having breakfast on the balcony. They look a little older than me and Piers, maybe in their mid-thirties. They don’t fit in well with the rest of the crowd here tonight. They’re older and more conservatively dressed. Matt is short and broad, he’s almost square, half a head shorter than his wife. But he has an open, friendly face with grey-flecked short, brown hair. Suki is an English-rose with a dark brown bob, dressed in an expensive-looking, knee-length fitted dress. She doesn’t smile or acknowledge me in any way. She just looks bored.
I nod and smile at them, my eyes becoming heavy as the vodka does its work.
‘Hello, Mia,’ Matt says warmly. ‘Sorry to hear about what happened. If there’s anything Suki and I can do to help, you will let us know, won’t you. We’re just next door, and Suki’s home most days.’
The Girl from the Sea: A gripping psychological thriller with a heart-pounding twist Page 9