The Sister's Secret

by Penny Kline

  ‘She came to help,’ she said. ‘When Maeve was a baby. And stayed on. They’ve put off telling her. Jon wanted to but Diana wouldn’t let him. Yes, I know, he should have insisted, but—’

  ‘What’s she like? Not Diana, Maeve?’

  ‘Great. Perfect. Apart from being a little clumsy and not very good at Maths. Oh, and she suffers from allergies but I’m not sure what.’

  If Jon had told Maeve the truth, none of this would be happening. But, even though she was an expert at concealing it, he knew now how unstable Diana was and had felt compelled to protect his little sister. Something he had done for most of his life.

  Stella was asking if she had been to the house.

  ‘Only once. Maeve’s lovely, so bright and so affectionate.’

  She was being cruel, rubbing it in, but how could this woman have abandoned her? If she had stayed, made a life with Jon, Diana would have been a shadowy figure in the background, Auntie Diana.

  ‘Left here!’ But she had told her too late and there was a screech of brakes and hooting from the car behind them. Stella took the next turning on the right, made a U-turn, and waited, muttering under her breath, for the oncoming traffic to pass. What time was it? Nearly twenty past. Was Maeve on her way home?

  ‘Next on the right.’

  ‘I know where we are.’ Stella swung round the corner. ‘There’s Diana’s car. Further up on the other side of the road.’

  ‘Perhaps we’d better go straight to the school.’

  ‘You know where it is?’

  ‘I think so.’ They should have followed Diana as soon as she drove off, but how could they when Erin was naked and freezing cold. Even so, they had wasted time, talking when they should have been thinking about Maeve’s safety. ‘I hope they come out at three-thirty. It’s not far from here so—’

  ‘Check the house first.’ Stella made it sound like an order, switching off the engine but staying put. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be watching like a hawk.’ She took a packet of mints from the glove compartment. ‘Don’t smoke, do you?’

  ‘No.’

  Standing in the porch, Erin felt her strength returning. No response when she banged on the door so she looked through a downstairs window. Nothing. Had Maeve come home already? Or never gone to school in the first place? No, Diana would never have left her on her own. Stella’s head was moving, as if in time to the beat of music, then she opened the car window and shouted.

  ‘She’s coming down the road.’

  For a split second, Erin thought she meant Diana, but it was Maeve, and running back towards the car, she saw Stella step out and block Maeve’s way. She was guarding her, but that was not the way Maeve saw it.

  ‘What are you doing? Who are you? Oh, it’s you.’

  Erin caught up with them. ‘It’s all right, Maeve, this is Stella.’

  ‘She took a photo of me and Rex. What’s happened? Why are you . . . ?’

  ‘We need to talk to your Mum. Have you got a key?’

  ‘Why? Is someone—’

  ‘Key!’

  She lifted a string over her head. ‘Is it Dad?’ The puzzled look had been replaced by one of fear. ‘He’s gone to London. Has there been a train crash? Is he dead? Please tell me.’

  ‘No, nothing like that. I promise. We just want to talk to your Mum. I’ll explain everything, but first we have to make sure your Mum’s—’

  ‘She wasn’t feeling well. She had a headache. But she ate some of her breakfast, muesli with soya milk.’ She glanced at Stella. ‘Is she a friend of yours?’

  ‘I’ll wait here,’ Stella said, ‘in case she comes back.’

  Inside the house, Maeve raced from room to room.

  ‘I’ll try upstairs,’ Erin said, but Maeve pushed past her and ran on ahead. Doors were flung open and her heavy footsteps echoed through the house. ‘She’s not here,’ she shouted. ‘Where is she? She never goes out when it’s time for me to come home.’

  Erin was in a utility room. A washing machine. Dryer. Large chest freezer. Her hand shook as she opened the lid but it was empty, apart from some bags of peas and a tub of strawberry ice cream.

  ‘I know,’ Maeve shouted, ‘she must be in the garden.’

  Erin was the first to reach the back door and one glance told her the garden was deserted. A bird flew up from a branch of the beech tree. Next door, someone was singing The Phantom of the Opera, and she thought she heard the sound of a rake. Maeve had reached the fence at the end and was looking at an adjoining garden. Then she turned to check behind a shed.

  ‘Perhaps she’s gone to the shops,’ Erin called. ‘Is there one near here? Where’s the nearest one? She could have—’

  ‘No!’ Maeve let out a piercing shriek. ‘Quick! She’s in the greenhouse. She’s hurt.’

  ‘Don’t go in.’ Erin grabbed Maeve but she broke free, dragging open the door and kneeling beside her mother. ‘Mum? Did you hurt yourself? What’s wrong with you? Mum!’

  Diana was jerking up and down, clutching her throat. Her skirt had ridden up, exposing the white skin of her thighs, and her parted lips looked dry and stiff. ‘It’s all right. What happened?’ Erin turned to Maeve. ‘Has she ever had a fit before? Does she suffer from epilepsy?’

  ‘No. Never. What’s wrong with her?’ Maeve opened a cupboard, full of gardening tools and old clothes. Folding a hoodie into a pillow, she tried to ease it under her mother’s head, but Diana rolled away. ‘She’s got rabies. I think she’s got rabies. She must have been bitten by a mad dog.’

  The greenhouse was airless and the smell of herbs was suffocating. ‘Does she take any tablets?’

  ‘No, not even for headaches. Can you sit up, Mum? If we make her sit up. Please, Erin.’ Tears streamed down Maeve’s face. ‘What’s wrong with her? If Dad was here . . . He’s in London. I don’t know when he’ll be back. We could lift her, she’s not very heavy. If we carried her into the house . . .’

  Stella was standing in the doorway. She had a faint smile on her face, and was still holding the packet of mints. ‘Leave her where she is,’ she said. ‘There’s an ambulance on its way.’

  EPILOGUE

  It’s the first of April and Erin is in Claudia’s kitchen, preparing Phoebe’s bottle. Claudia’s kitchen – she will have to stop calling it that, although it’s unlikely she will stay in the house. She has started paying instalments on the mortgage and quite soon, she and Ollie will need to discuss what to do about it. But not yet.

  Maeve will be coming round soon. Poor girl – the last few weeks have been awful for her – but she loves Phoebe and, now she’s been allowed to come home, helping with her seems to be a comfort. There’s no antidote for monkshood, the herb in Diana’s greenhouse, that has purple flowers in the winter. And by the time she reached hospital she had ingested the poison and it was too late. Why did she grow it? How could she possibly have known what was going to happen? Had she always dreaded that Stella would return, or Jon would find a partner, and she would lose Maeve? But she knew what she had done, killing Claudia, then creating a new threat in her mind, first Stella, then Erin, as the person who was going to steal her daughter and her brother.

  Stella did the right thing, attempting to induce vomiting with a tablespoon of salt in a cup of warm water, but it was too late. Diana had died of heart failure.

  Maeve knows everything. How Stella left after she was born, and Diana came to help. I miss her, Erin. I know she wasn’t my real mother but I thought she was because nobody said. Being Maeve, she is able to talk about it and ask endless questions. Will she want to see Stella again? She says not, although it’s possible she may change her mind when she’s older. Stella returned to London the day after Diana died, without saying goodbye to Maeve, just a brief word to Erin, ringing her bell to make sure everyone was all right.

  Of the two of them – Maeve and Jon – Jon seems to have taken Diana’s death the hardest, probably because he blames himself. The day Diana saw Stella standing in the road, and recognised her fro
m an old photograph Jon had hidden away, he returned home to find her hysterical. He thought he had convinced her Stella had no right to Maeve, but she must have watched out for her and followed her back to the basement flat. Later, she saw her talking to Maeve and the cat, and, losing all judgement, made the plan to set fire to the house. Was that what happened? They will never know for sure.

  It was Kent who sent the toy cat to the hospital. Erin had visited him in hospital a few days before he died and his confirmation that he was Phoebe’s father had left her with mixed feelings. She could have arranged a DNA test. Hair from Claudia’s comb. Another plucked from Kent’s white mane. But there was no need. Impregnating a dear friend. How could the two of them be so cold-blooded? One day, Phoebe would want to know about her father and she would tell her the truth, but not the sordid details of her conception.

  Ollie is still staying with Hoshi, but he comes round to Claudia’s house quite often, and they have discussed the money in Claudia’s desk and decided it should be spent on stuff for Phoebe. She asked him about Claudia’s phone, and it turned out she had thrown it away, after it fell in the bath. Erin often thinks about the girl who knocked on the door and asked for “Clowda”. Had she paid money and never received a dissertation or was she someone Claudia had helped? After all, Claudia could be generous and kind, and that is how Erin wants to remember her.

  Phoebe is gaining weight all the time and looks a little like her mother, or does Erin imagine it? Under pressure, Jon admitted he feared Diana might have killed Claudia. He knew she had followed him and seen Claudia fling her arms round his neck and kiss him. If he had told Diana about the dissertations . . . But she would have insisted he inform the university, and of course she would have been right. As it was, Claudia used her seductive charms to swear him to secrecy. Sealing her fate with a kiss.

  That fateful Saturday afternoon, Diana had been working in the health food shop and must have caught sight of her and Claudia, followed them, and decided to join the protesters. Should Erin tell the police? What good would it do? And how would Maeve feel? So no police. And no recriminations. Claudia’s death will remain a tragic accident.

  The illustrations have been despatched to Sara, who appeared satisfied but said nothing about how long it had taken Erin to complete them. She has more work for her and Erin is not going to complain, although fitting it in round looking after Phoebe will not be easy. Obviously, Maeve will continue with her art classes, and Erin guesses the two of them will take it turns to pick up Phoebe when she cries. Jennie has offered to help, says it will be good practice, and later, after her baby is born, they will walk round the park together, with their buggies.

  Inevitably, a social worker was brought in, but he agreed to Erin fostering Phoebe for the time being, and said there would be no objection to adoption. The tiny shoes, with an engine on one foot and a carriage on the other, are still far too big and Erin is going to keep them in mint condition, so Phoebe can see them when she was older and she can tell her how she and her mother bought them for her. On that fateful day . . .

  She can hear Maeve outside the front door, and hurries to let her in.

  ‘Can I give Phoebe her bottle? Dad’s parking the car. There weren’t any spaces near your house. Actually, he won’t be back for a bit. He had some shopping to do. He’s going to buy a lemon drizzle cake.’

  The noise has woken Phoebe and she is making whimpering sounds, preparing to cry. Erin lifts her out of her Moses basket and holds her tight. ‘Not time for her bottle yet, but if you sit on the sofa, Maeve, I’ll hand her to you. Can you hold her for a few minutes while I write a letter?’

  ‘A letter? Why not an email, or a text?’

  ‘I don’t know the email address. I don’t even know her second name. I’m going to send it to the hospital and hope it reaches her.’

  Maeve holds Phoebe, propped up so she could see what was going on, ‘What’s her name – the person you’re writing to?’

  ‘Andrea.’

  ‘Is she a doctor?’

  ‘No, a nurse.’

  ‘Was she there when Phoebe was born?’

  Erin nods. ‘And before that.’

  Miss Havisham has put in an appearance but Maeve ignores her, addressing her next words to the baby. ‘Yesterday, I had this brilliant idea, Phoebe. I thought either you and Erin can come to live in my house, or me and Dad can move in here with you and Erin.’ She looks up, grinning. ‘Then we’d be a proper family!’

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