The Lost Sister

by Tracy Buchanan

  He looked wounded.

  ‘I think it’s time I go back home,’ I added.

  He looked down at his hands, a frown puckering his tanned forehead. ‘The night I saved the boy, I saw you first. Among all the crowds, I saw you. Your sadness, your complexity.’ He looked up at me, eyes deep in mine. ‘Now I see your wings unfurling and the idea of you leaving, just as it’s all about to take flight, it kills me.’ He took my hand, our fingers lightly touching. ‘I feel my wings unfurling with you and it hurts. I know how much it hurts as it’s so new to us. I’m sorry if I hurt you just now, Selma. I really am. It won’t happen again, I promise. And there is nothing going on between me and Oceane.’ He took a deep breath, his thumb caressing my hand. ‘There’s only one person I desire and I think you know who that person is.’

  I felt my breath quickening, ripples of feeling building inside as I looked at him.

  ‘We’re both so afraid to take the leap,’ he said. ‘But isn’t it time we jumped that final hurdle together?’

  I swallowed. That was my problem. I was always so scared. I should have left Mike years ago. I should have told my mother to go fuck herself earlier, left home way before I was eighteen. I should have written a novel when I had more time, at university. I should have, I could have, but I always left everything too late. Just like coming to this cave, running away from a life that made me miserable at a time when my daughter needed me most, not when I should have done it – years ago.

  And what of Idris? Was that another opportunity I was about to let slip through my fingers?

  I put my fingertips to his face, felt the soft bristles of his blond beard. Then I glided my fingers towards his neck, gently curving my hand around the back as I kept my eyes in his.

  His long hair brushed against my knuckles and I sighed.

  ‘I’ve been trying to fight this,’ he said in a low voice as he put his hand to my face too. ‘I was worried how it would look, being attracted to someone in the group. But I can’t resist any more.’

  He leaned towards me, pressing his lips against mine, his arm circling my waist and pulling me close, both of us growing more and more frantic, our fingers in each other’s hair.

  I felt something release inside me then. Something I hadn’t felt for a long time. With Mike, I always felt a calmness, a sense of coming home. But with Idris, I felt untethered, unravelled, heart thumping to an uneven rhythm, every fibre in my body frantic to get as close to him as possible.

  He pushed me against the cool stone of the rock and I felt him hard against my thigh as I lifted my leg up, hands moving down to his buttocks as I pressed myself against him.

  Then I suddenly became conscious of my lumps and bumps.

  ‘Why me?’ I asked. ‘You could choose anyone.’

  ‘The way you write,’ he replied in a whisper. ‘The words you choose say a million things about you. Your strength and leadership. Your beauty,’ he added, tangling a lock of my hair around his finger. ‘Your cynicism,’ he added with a smile.

  We were both breathing hard, pressing into each other, one heart thumping against the other. The ebb and flow of the waves outside seemed to match that rhythm, the silver ripples cast by the moon in sync too.

  I leaned my head back, felt his lips on my neck, trailing down to my collar bone and under the top of my blouse, his thumb nudging the silk material of my bra aside and circling my nipple. I groaned, sensation throbbing within me as I ran my hands over his taut muscles.

  He turned onto his back, bringing me with him so I lay above him, my legs either side of his waist. I leaned down, dipping my tongue into his mouth as he groaned against my lips. Our kisses grew more urgent, more intense, barely noticing as rain started thundering down outside, the wind picking up.

  Idris hitched the bottom of my skirt up, fingers finding the wetness beneath my silk knickers. I slipped my hand beneath the waistband of his shorts, felt him hard in my palm. Thunder roared outside, the waves now frantic as I pushed Idris’s shorts down and guided him between my legs, eyes still in his.

  Then I lowered myself onto him.

  ‘Oh God,’ he moaned, seeming more human now, less godlike.

  I moved up and down on top of him, bending over to kiss him, my fingers running through his long sandy hair as he thrust his hips up, deeper within me, making me cry out.

  As I arched my head back, I thought I saw two eyes blinking at us in the darkness. But the next time I looked, they were gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Becky

  Birmingham, UK

  30 June 2018

  ‘I guess this is a bit different from your little village in Sussex?’ Kai asks as he and Becky walk up the busy street where he grew up, just outside the main centre of Birmingham. Bustling shops line the road, people enjoying their Saturday morning errands. People pass the red-brick buildings in colourful saris and swaying dreadlocks, a multicultural hotspot. This is very different from Becky’s little village. It feels so vibrant, so full of energy … just like Kai.

  She’d called him when she’d touched down in the UK. She’d wanted to broach the subject of him coming to Russia with her to try to find her sister and explore the cave where Idris’s painting had been found. As she’d been flying into Birmingham airport – it was the cheapest flight she could find from Slovenia – he’d suggested they meet up in the town. She’d been hesitant at first. But then she’d thought why not? She’d flown back a day early anyway and David wasn’t expecting her home yet. Plus she was intrigued to see where Kai lived.

  And now here she is. A group of teenagers pass, looking her up and down. She smiles at them, resisting the urge to pull her bag close to her. Just because they are teenagers wearing hoods doesn’t mean they’ll steal her bag.

  ‘Yeah, you might want to zip that bag of yours up,’ Kai says to her in a low voice. ‘I love it around here but there are a few – how shall I put it? – troubled youths hanging around. I know because I was one of them once,’ he adds with a sigh. ‘Anyway, we live just up the street. You’ll love them all. It’ll freak you out at first, there are a lot of them. But trust me, you’ll soon feel at home.’

  Becky stops walking. ‘Them? What do you mean?’

  ‘My family!’

  ‘But I thought we were going to your house?’

  ‘We are. I live with my mum.’

  Becky can’t help but laugh. ‘How old are you?’

  He shoots her a look. ‘Thirty-three. And so what? I travel so much there’s no point getting anywhere myself yet. Plus my mum cooks a damn good curry goat.’

  Becky swallows, suddenly nervous. Hadn’t Kai said he had five sisters?

  ‘They know I’m not your …’ She lets her voice trail off.

  He laughs. ‘Girlfriend? Of course. They won’t believe it but who cares? Come on, I’m starving.’

  Becky takes a deep breath and follows him for a few more minutes until they get to a quieter end of the street, a line of red-brick houses with bay windows. He swings the gate to one of them open and walks towards a red front door. Before they even reach the door, Becky can smell the mouth-watering cooking.

  ‘Breathe it in,’ Kai says, wafting his hand to his nose and closing his eyes as he inhales. ‘It’s a thing of beauty.’

  ‘Smells amazing.’

  He lets them in and a cacophony of noise hits Becky: girls arguing, pop music being played, the bash of pots and pans and, above it all, the sharp loud shout of a woman.

  ‘Keep your pipes down, child. Kai’s lady will be here any minute.’

  ‘Lady?’ Becky says, raising an eyebrow.

  ‘I told you, Mum won’t accept it.’

  ‘Kai!’ A girl of about ten comes hurtling down the hallway, throwing herself into Kai’s arms. She’s tiny and beautiful with black hair tied into tight braids.

  ‘This is Tashel, my niece,’ Kai says, swinging her around as she giggles. Two women appear at the end of the hallway then, both in their twenties and identical apart from
their dress senses, one dressed conservatively in a smart black dress, the other in ripped jeans and a low-cut red top.

  ‘The twins,’ Kai says, disentangling himself from his niece and giving the two women a high five. ‘Janique and Chrisette, Tashel’s long-suffering mum.’

  Tashel crosses her arms and gives him a faux angry look.

  ‘Hello, Becky, welcome to the madhouse,’ the smartly dressed sister says. ‘So good our big bro’s found himself a lady.’

  ‘I hate to break the news but we’re just friends,’ Becky says.

  ‘But Mum said …’ The other twin sighs, shaking her head. ‘Why does she think every woman you meet is your future wife, Kai?’

  ‘It’s hope,’ the other twin says, ‘desperate hope her oldest son will settle down.’

  ‘Never!’ Kai declares.

  They all laugh.

  ‘Come through,’ Kai says, jostling past his sisters and going into the kitchen. It’s a long galley kitchen looking out onto a neat garden. Sitting at a round table is a couple in their thirties, another one of Kai’s many sisters, Becky presumes. At the hob is an older woman with braided grey hair down her back and a beautiful long patterned dress. She turns when Becky enters and her face lights up.

  ‘Becky!’ She jogs forward and pulls her into a hug then holds her at arm’s length, examining her. ‘Nice and curvy, good. Kai doesn’t like them stick thin.’

  ‘Mum!’ Kai says, exasperated. ‘We’re just friends.’

  She ignores him. ‘So, has my boy been behaving?’

  ‘I don’t really know,’ Becky says. ‘I’ve not been with him much.’

  Kai’s mum whacks him with a wooden spoon. ‘Take her out more!’

  Kai opens his mouth to protest but his sister shakes her head. ‘Don’t waste your breath – she’s in denial.’ She smiles at Becky. ‘I’m Pheebie, this is my husband, Antwan.’

  Becky waves at them. ‘I’m Becky.’

  ‘Where are Chanese and Thea?’ Kai asks.

  Becky takes a deep breath. All these names to remember, all the hustle and bustle of family life, she just isn’t used to it.

  ‘Dining room,’ his mum declares. ‘Lunch ready in five minutes. Get out of my kitchen, all of you! It’s getting too damn hot in here.’

  Kai rolls his eyes and leads Becky out, but his mum stops him. ‘Not our guest. Stay, Becky.’

  ‘Mum, don’t grill her,’ Kai says with a sigh. ‘She really is just a friend.’

  ‘I know, I know. I just like to get to know my guests without all of you harping in my ear.’

  Kai shrugs at Becky and she smiles. ‘It’s fine, maybe I’ll get an early taste of the curry. It smells delicious.’

  Kai’s mum winks at him. ‘I like her already.’

  The others leave the room, the sound of the TV turning on in the next room.

  ‘Can I help?’ Becky asks.

  Kai’s mum shakes her head. ‘No, sit,’ she replies, gesturing to the table.

  Becky does as she is told and sits down, looking around the kitchen. It’s a modern room with wooden tops and colourful blue units. Spices hang from a rack, various bottles of oils and more lining the sides. It’s clearly the hub of the house and Kai’s mum is in her element in there.

  ‘Kai tells me you’re searching for your sister?’ she asks Becky as she stirs the curry.

  Becky nods. ‘I think I’ve tracked her down in Russia.’

  Kai’s mum raises her eyebrow. ‘Russia? Always thought it looked like a strange place. Will you go?’

  ‘I hope so.’

  She nods. ‘Good. Family’s important. You want children of your own?’

  ‘One day, I hope.’

  ‘Better hurry up, you’re not young.’

  Becky laughs. She ought to be insulted but she likes Kai’s mum’s refreshing honesty. ‘Just thirty-five, it’s not so old.’

  The woman waves her spoon up and down, gesturing to Becky’s tummy. ‘Those little eggs will be shrivelling soon and then what?’

  ‘I’m sure I’ll be fine, I have my dogs.’

  ‘Dogs, pah! Dogs won’t run you ragged and ruin your beautiful new kitchen, will they?’ she says, gesturing to a burn ring on her wooden surfaces.

  ‘You want to bet?’ Becky replies.

  They smile at each other.

  ‘So you and my son, just friends?’ Kai’s mum asks.

  ‘Absolutely.’

  She looks at Becky sideways as she pours some sauce into a huge pan. ‘You have a man?’

  ‘Not right now.’

  ‘Ever had one?’

  ‘One serious relationship when I was a teenager.’

  ‘What happened?’

  Becky sighs. She’s not sure how she feels being quizzed like this. Half of her likes it, the other half feels a bit overwhelmed.

  ‘He left me out of the blue ten years later. I never really knew why.’

  The woman turns around and smiles sadly. ‘Now I understand.’

  ‘Understand what?’

  ‘Why you and Kai have connected. You know he was engaged to be married last year?’

  ‘I had no idea. What happened?’

  ‘He will tell you all in his own time.’ She takes her apron off and sits across from Becky, taking her hand. ‘Your mother died not long ago?’

  Becky nods, looking down at their conjoined hands as she tries to contain her sadness. It hits her sometimes, like a sledgehammer to the core. She’s barely stopped for breath since she’s started searching for her sister, so she hasn’t had much time to properly process the grief.

  Hasn’t allowed herself much time.

  ‘Kai says you were with her when she went,’ Kai’s mum says softly. ‘That’s a luxury. I was thousands of miles away. Hold that in your heart.’

  Becky smiles sadly. ‘I do. Does it get any easier?’

  Kai’s mum shakes her head. ‘Not really. And the moment you think it has, it comes at you like a wave out of nowhere again. Especially milestones, you know? When my youngest was born, just after my mum passed, I thought how sad it would be she would never know her grandmother.’

  Becky thinks of her own grandmother, seen only in photos bitterly shoved back into boxes by her mum.

  ‘Did you know yours?’ Kai’s mum asks, as though sensing her thoughts.

  ‘No, my mum never saw her. They had a difficult relationship. She used to be a singer.’

  ‘Oh yes?’ Kai’s mum says.

  Becky nods. She remembers the rare times her mum talked about her grandmother, of how she always told her having a child had derailed her career.

  She remembers her mum imitating her grandmother. ‘I was destined to be the next Patsy Cline. The Brunette Patsy Cline, my manager once called me. Then you came along.’

  Her mum was a mistake, so she was constantly told. Becky had overheard her dad telling Cynthia about it once during a playdate when she was a child, how her mum’s poor relationship with her own mother could be detrimental to her relationship with Becky. He told Cynthia that Becky’s grandmother had met her first husband while singing at a nightclub in Margate. He was a manager at the local Dreamland theme park and she had been impressed at first, seeing him in his smart suit and hat. After an impoverished childhood, Becky’s grandmother yearned to never have to worry about money as her parents had.

  But by the time she was pregnant and she’d married him, it transpired that the man behind the smart suit and hat was riddled with debt and would never be able to guarantee her a good life. Selma’s mother had eventually kicked him out when her main – her only – reason for being with him gone. As money dwindled, they’d had to downsize, ending up living in a tiny flat in Margate, the same flat her grandmother lived her later years in, only once or twice living somewhere with one of her many ex-husbands during short-lived and tempestuous marriages.

  Becky had visited the flat in Margate once, long ago sold. It sat above a fish and chip shop a five-minute walk from Margate’s main promenade. She remembers s
tanding outside, peering up and imagining her mother up there as a child, the smell of chips and vinegar floating up, the shouts of drunk tourists outside on the streets. It couldn’t have been easy, but at least she’d had her mother with her until she left when she went to university, unlike Becky who’d lost her mum at eight. Or so it felt. Would it have been better if Becky’s mum had been without her mother from eight? From what she could glean from the way her parents talked about her grandmother, it couldn’t have been pleasant living with her. Maybe that was why her mum was the way she was. But then plenty of people had difficult childhoods, didn’t they?

  ‘Want a taste?’ Kai’s mum asks, getting back up and going to the pot.

  Becky shakes the memories away. ‘Yes please.’

  She scoops up a spoonful and brings it over to Becky. Spices and herbs and the most succulent goat’s meat hits her tongue as she sips from the wooden spoon.

  ‘Incredible,’ Becky says.

  Kai’s mum smiles. ‘Good. Let’s set the table then, shall we?’

  Twenty minutes later, Becky is sitting at a packed table with Kai’s mum, sisters, their partners and his sweet little niece. It’s a clatter of chatter, words machine-gunned out between mouthfuls of his mum’s amazing stew. They’re all fascinated by her job as a vet, laughing and flinching as she tells them stories, and Kai fills them all in on his latest cave adventures. His other two sisters are the youngest, in their early twenties, one with her short hair dyed red and a piercing in her nose, the other glamorous in bright pink lipstick. They’re each so different but all as lovely as each other, and Becky can see why Kai is so natural and fun.

  As she watches them all interact, she imagines things being different with her mum. Maybe she would have had more children if she hadn’t have left for that cave? Or if Becky’s dad had been more relaxed about it all, Becky could have shared her mum’s life, spending half her time in the cave with her sister, growing up around the noise and fun of a community.

  But more than anything, Becky feels a loss at having no real female influence in her life. Kai moans about his sisters taking up the bathrooms and filling the house with the stench of perfume and hairspray, but Becky craved that as a child. Some noise, some clatter, even someone to argue with. It was always just so calm and clean with her dad.