The Forgotten Sister

by Nicola Cornick

  Lizzie withdrew her hand from the stone as though she had been burned. She turned to look for Johnny but she could see nothing other than his shadow, a bar of darkness falling across the blinding sunlight. The sense of seeing into the past was more powerful even than when she touched familiar objects. She had stepped into the past instead of simply viewing it, and it was immediate and terrifying, all the more so because she had not anticipated it. She had not for one moment expected this.

  She felt sick. The world spun like a loose wheel. Darkness pressed close and with it a sense of time spiralling away. She thought she must have fainted even if only for a moment because she came around to the feeling of water on her face – either rain or tears, she was not sure – and the coldness of the London night. People were talking over her head, a jumble of voices, curious and eager:

  ‘I’m calling an ambulance—’

  ‘It’s Lizzie Kingdom—’

  ‘What’s happened to her?’

  Hard wood scored her cheek and she realised that she was slumped on one of the benches along the edge of the river embankment. People were crowding around her. She felt confused and disoriented.

  ‘Johnny?’ she said, remembering. She tried to raise her head. It felt weighted with lead. There was a bitter taste in her mouth as though she had swallowed dust and ashes. ‘What happened? Where’s Johnny?’

  ‘…An ambulance…’ someone repeated. ‘The police—’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Lizzie said. ‘Really, there’s no need for an ambulance.’

  A flash went off adding to the sense of unreality, and then another. Lizzie wondered how long she had been unconscious. She had absolutely no idea but she had the oddest feeling that time had skipped a beat, that it was dislocated, that the moment she had thought no more than a second had somehow stretched into an hour, or even an infinity.

  She levered herself up onto her elbows and then to a sitting position, looking around. All she could discern were strange faces, crowded close, giving her a momentary sense of panic and claustrophobia.

  ‘Where’s Johnny?’ she repeated. ‘He was here a moment ago…’

  Another flash from a phone exploded in her face. The crowd seemed to be growing exponentially, like sharks drawn to blood. It was frightening when Lizzie felt so off-balance and so ill-equipped to deal with it. If this had happened a few weeks ago she would have chatted to everyone and made light of it all as she hurried back to the flat but that had been in the days when everyone liked her. Now there was an edge to the crowd. She could sense their mood.

  ‘Johnny?’ She craned her head, searching the dark sea of faces, but he was nowhere to be seen. A chill crawled over her skin. Johnny had been right beside her when she had reached out to touch the plaque. She’d seen his shadow against the light. She remembered the vivid kaleidoscope of images before the dizzying spiral down into darkness…

  ‘Who’s Johnny?’ someone asked. No one was offering any practical help; they were jostling to take pictures and viewing her like a zoo animal.

  ‘Excuse me.’ She stood up and immediately felt horribly sick. Her stomach lurched. She had to find a way through the crush of people. ‘I need to go home—’ she said. ‘Excuse me.’

  Her phone was still in her pocket. She felt a clench of relief as her hand closed about it. She could call Bill. He’d get someone to help her within five minutes. There was no need to panic. She felt shaky and light-headed as she dialled his number.

  Suddenly the crush of people moved, falling back. Lizzie could see flashing blue lights at the top of the alleyway and several dark figures running towards her. There were voices calling out. She was blinded by the glare of torches. She pressed the button to end the call just as Bill’s answering message cut in.

  ‘Someone reported that Lizzie Kingdom had fallen in the river.’ A policewoman had come to a halt in front of her. Lizzie recognised her from the Blackfriars station. She was breathing heavily, resting her hands on her thighs, as though she’d run a marathon. ‘Does anyone know what happened…’

  ‘Nothing happened,’ Lizzie said. She was desperate to get away before this became any more of a circus. Panic clawed at her. ‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry for the false alarm.’

  The policewoman straightened up and swung her torch around to Lizzie’s face. ‘Oh. It’s you, Ms Kingdom. You haven’t drowned.’ She sounded disappointed.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Lizzie repeated. She smiled weakly, trying to force a way through the press of people that had closed about them again. ‘I’m sorry for all the fuss. I felt a bit faint but I’m all right now.’

  ‘Take it easy, Ms Kingdom.’ A paramedic and another police officer had joined them now. The paramedic caught her elbow as she stumbled. ‘We should get you to hospital, check you over—’

  ‘Definitely not,’ Lizzie tried to sound authoritative. ‘Thank you so much for coming out but really, I’ll be OK now. My flat’s just around the corner. I’ll head back for a cup of tea.’

  ‘We found her slumped on the bench,’ a man in a striped sweatshirt and matching baseball cap pushed forward. ‘I thought she was drunk—’

  ‘Which I’m not,’ Lizzie put in hastily.

  ‘She was asking for someone called Johnny,’ the man said, as though she hadn’t even spoken. ‘Said he’d gone – disappeared. Into thin air, she said—’

  ‘I don’t think I did,’ Lizzie said. ‘I’m sure I didn’t say that.’

  ‘Well,’ the policewoman said as she and her colleague started to herd Lizzie through the crowd. ‘Let’s get you back home and we can talk about it.’

  Lizzie swallowed her irritation at being treated like a child. Perhaps this was standard operating procedure. Anything that would get her away from this rather volatile crowd had to be good anyway. Once she was home, she could ring Johnny and see what had happened to him. It would all be fine. Perhaps he’d been scared and run away when the psychometry had grabbed her so violently and so suddenly. That would hardly be surprising even though he already knew she possessed the gift. He’d said he was fine with paranormal stuff but that was in theory. Seeing it in practice was a different matter.

  A light rain settled against her skin and made her shiver again. The paramedic placed a foil blanket around her shoulders.

  ‘Thanks,’ Lizzie said, teeth chattering.

  The cobbles were slippery beneath her feet as they climbed back up to the main road, a rat slinking across their path and away behind the overflowing wheelie bins. Predictably there were paparazzi outside the flat. Flashbulbs went off, all the more so when the photographers saw she was being escorted by the police. It was starting to feel ridiculously like a premiere, except that Lizzie suspected she looked far from red carpet ready.

  The foyer of the flats felt too bright. Lizzie blinked, disoriented all over again. What time was it? How long had it been since she and Johnny had gone out? She wanted to ask Jason but there was no way she was going to do that in front of the police.

  ‘Ms Kingdom—’ The paramedic was touching her arm. He was tall, lanky and laidback with a strong Liverpudlian accent. ‘It really would be a good idea to check your blood pressure and a few other things just to make sure you’re OK.’ He glanced over his shoulder at the crowds outside. ‘I think mine would be sky high if I had to cope with that lot,’ he added with a grin.

  ‘Thanks,’ Lizzie said, ‘but I’m fine. I don’t want to waste any more of your time but thank you so much for coming out.’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure…’ He shrugged. ‘Can I have your autograph for my daughter? She loves your books.’ He fished a dog-eared receipt out of one pocket and a biro out of the other, holding them out to her.

  ‘Of course,’ Lizzie said, taking them and scribbling ‘Lots of love from Lizzie Kingdom’ on the crumpled paper. The weird disconnect between reality and what had happened down on the embankment seemed to deepen. She couldn’t relate to either.

  ‘Cheers for that,’ the paramedic said, pocketing it deftly.
With a wave he disappeared out into the street, shrugging off the eager questions and camera flashes.

  ‘Thank you.’ Lizzie turned her best smile on the policewomen, hoping they would follow suit. ‘I really appreciate your help and I’m sorry to have called you away from more important business.’

  The police were not so easily dismissed. One rummaged in her pocket and snapped open a notebook whilst the other gestured Lizzie to a seat.

  ‘Could we ask you a few questions, Ms Kingdom?’

  ‘Of course.’ Lizzie looked around. The reception was brightly lit; she felt as though she was in a goldfish bowl. ‘Would you like to come up to the flat? It’s a bit exposed here.’

  ‘It’s fine.’ The PCs directed her towards some chairs in a corner by the lifts. ‘We’ll only be a moment.’

  Even sitting with her back to the window Lizzie thought she would be lit up like a Christmas tree. She could just imagine the pictures already circulating on Twitter.

  ‘Would you tell us exactly what happened, please?’ The first policewoman, PC Morgan, according to her badge, leaned in whilst the other sat with her pen poised. ‘Just for our report, so it’s clear.’

  ‘Of course,’ Lizzie said again. ‘I was with Johnny Robsart. He came to see me earlier for a chat. We walked down to the river together for a breath of fresh air on his way to Blackfriars tube. I felt a bit faint so I sat down on the bench. I must have lost consciousness for a moment. Like I said, I’m sorry to have caused a fuss about nothing.’

  She could hear the whisper of the pencil on paper as the other PC recorded her words. It made her feel nervous. PC Morgan simply looked at her. That too was unnerving.

  ‘Would that be Johnny Robsart who is the brother of Amelia Lester?’ PC Morgan asked after what felt like several minutes.

  ‘Yes,’ Lizzie said. She felt panic tighten its claws in her chest again. She wanted to blurt out all the stuff she had already told the police; that she knew nothing about Amelia and Dudley’s quarrels, that she had had nothing to do with Amelia’s death, that it was all just a coincidence and an ongoing nightmare… She kept her lips tightly pressed together.

  ‘Are you a friend of Mr Robsart?’ PC Morgan asked. ‘Only he was here a couple of days ago, wasn’t he, demanding to see you, and you had him thrown out.’

  ‘No, I didn’t!’ Lizzie moderated her tone at once when PC Morgan raised her brows. ‘I mean, yes, he did ask to see me and there was some trouble with the security people here but I didn’t tell them to eject him… It wasn’t my fault—’ She stopped. ‘Johnny’s brother came and took him away,’ she said. ‘I would have been happy to talk to Johnny then just as I was tonight.’

  ‘Did you contact him to invite him here?’ PC Morgan asked sharply.

  ‘No,’ Lizzie said. ‘He contacted me.’

  PC Morgan nodded as though Lizzie had just said exactly what she expected her to say. ‘Our colleagues are checking whether Johnny has been in touch with his family since he left you,’ she said. ‘Hopefully he will have arrived safely home…’ She let the phrase hang. Lizzie resolutely held her gaze and said nothing.

  ‘Did you also see Dudley Lester this evening?’ PC Morgan said after a moment.

  The hairs on the back of Lizzie’s neck prickled. When the police had interviewed her in the aftermath of Amelia’s death they had focussed heavily on her relationship with Dudley and it was impossible to escape the feeling that they thought she and Dudley had cooked up an accident for Amelia so they could be together. Lizzie had told herself at the time that she was being paranoid but now she felt anxious all over again. Was PC Morgan implying that she and Dudley had conspired to get rid of Johnny too because he knew something that incriminated them both in the death of his sister? Lizzie told herself to get a grip. Her imagination was running away with her.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I haven’t seen Dudley Lester today.’

  ‘We’ll check the CCTV,’ PC Morgan said, and it sounded like a threat.

  ‘Of course,’ Lizzie said. She wondered whether there was also CCTV footage from down on the embankment and if so, what it would show. She was aware she had been somewhat economical with her description of what had happened with Johnny, but talk of psychic powers and psychometry was unlikely to help the police view her any less suspiciously.

  ‘The gentleman we spoke to down by the river said that you told him Johnny had disappeared,’ PC Morgan reminded her. ‘He said that you seemed distressed and confused.’

  ‘I don’t remember talking to him at all,’ Lizzie said. ‘I suspect he was making it up.’

  The officers exchanged a look before PC Morgan nodded and they both stood up. ‘That’ll be all for now, Ms Kingdom,’ PC Morgan said. ‘Thank you. Please don’t go anywhere without informing your local police station. We may have some more questions for you, given that the investigation into Mrs Lester’s death is still ongoing and Mr Robsart’s whereabouts are currently unknown.’

  ‘Of course,’ Lizzie said numbly. ‘I understand. Please do let me know if there is any news of Johnny,’ she added, and saw suspicion deepen in PC Morgan’s eyes. She wondered why on earth she felt so guilty when she hadn’t done anything wrong. It didn’t help that she felt so oddly out of it, so disconnected. The whole experience of reading the history of the old palace had been weird. She hadn’t thought twice about touching the plaque because it had looked modern but perhaps it had been mounted on one of the old stones that had made up the Tudor walls. Even if she had known that, though, she wouldn’t have hesitated because she had never had a vision involving a place before rather than a person. But then she had never connected directly to a person before she had met Arthur again… She frowned. It seemed her gift was a great deal more complex than she had thought and she didn’t really like that. Regardless of what Johnny had said about not being afraid of her paranormal abilities she still felt spooked by them.

  She watched the police head off down the road towards Blackfriars then pushed the button for the lift. It purred up to the penthouse. Lizzie’s steps made no sound on the thick carpet of the corridor. It felt almost as though she was not there. The flat was equally quiet, as though Johnny’s presence had left an indelible imprint and now there was a vacuum where he had been. She took out her phone and automatically checked for calls. There was nothing from Johnny so she texted him:

  Good to see you this evening. Hope you are OK. Let me know when you’re home.

  She hoped she didn’t come across like a fussy older sister. Johnny had given the impression he had enough of those. Perhaps that was why he dropped out of his life every so often; she could imagine the pressure he must feel with Arthur and Anna and the others trying to look after him. It would be their anxiety and their attention that would push him further away. Yet they had every reason to worry. Hell, in their place she would have worried too. She was worried anyway; everything seemed so bizarre, and Johnny wasn’t the sort of person she could imagine walking out on someone who was ill or in trouble. He seemed too responsible for that. She rubbed her forehead again. If only she could remember what had happened but there was nothing; the vision of the palace, the sensations of sound, smell and touch so vivid and real, and then the fall into darkness, just like when she had touched the stone angel…

  Seeking a bit of normality, she checked her phone messages. Alessandro had called to invite her to have dinner with him and Christy. ‘Keep the faith, Lizzie,’ he had said. ‘We know you haven’t done anything wrong.’ Lizzie felt the tears spring into her eyes and rubbed them away with an impatient hand.

  There were no voicemails from either Bill or Kat. It was unprecedented. She thought they must both be really angry with her. Or more likely they were waiting for her to admit she couldn’t manage on her own and beg for help. She felt relieved she hadn’t succumbed to the temptation of asking Bill for help when she had been down by the river – although if the police came back again, she supposed she would have to call the lawyers. She had no clue how to do that witho
ut his help.

  She felt a sudden sharp ache of loneliness. She wished Jules was there. How long would it take her to get back from France? She needed someone she could trust. She’d been lonely all her life in the deepest sense of the word, and she was used to it now, but sometimes it was hard.

  She wandered into the living room. The chair where Johnny had sat still retained the dent of his weight. Lizzie sat down opposite, as she had done earlier in the evening. The silence of the flat pressed closer on her. She could hear it, actively, as though it were breathing. It felt oppressive, smothering. She needed something to steady her and help her fight off the irrational waves of fear and reaction that were starting to swamp her. She needed to ground herself. She reached for the golden oak leaf-shaped necklace but it wasn’t around her neck. She knew she had been wearing it earlier when she had been packing her bags. The links were very old and worn; perhaps she had dropped it in her bedroom. Jumping up, she hurried down the corridor.

  The blank panels of the bedroom door confronted her. That was odd. She knew she had left it open. She hesitated, feeling fear tiptoe up her spine. Had someone broken in to the flat whilst she and Johnny were out? But that was impossible; the flat was like a fortress. No one could get in.

  She threw the door open. The room was in darkness. She’d left it with all the lights on. The snap of the switch sounded loud in the quiet and when the light flooded the room again it seemed brighter than ever. Nothing was different. Nothing had changed. Lizzie thought she must have turned out the lights and closed the door after all, and that she was losing her mind. She’d been sure…

  Then she saw the jewel box. It was a big old bronze box that was another vintage piece she had inherited from her grandmother. She’d left it on her dressing-table whilst she’d been packing, intent on selecting a few bits and pieces to take with her when she’d finished choosing her clothes. Now, though, it was lying on its side on the bed, the contents scattered across the duvet. Lizzie stared. Her first thought, that it had been a burglary after all, was almost immediately followed by the realisation that nothing was missing. All her really valuable stuff was in the safe anyway, and she could see the diamond earrings she’d bought in Hong Kong and the gold bracelet she’d picked up in a souk in Dubai…