My Sister’s Secret

by Tracy Buchanan

  ‘Yep.’

  He stares out at the sea, a look of deep concentration on his face, like he’s trying to figure something out. Then he shakes his head. ‘Jesus. Revenge, that was what it was all about.’

  ‘Woah, wait, slow down!’ I say. ‘What are you talking about?’

  He’s quiet for a few moments then nods to himself. ‘Dan was the main witness against me during the trial for Faith’s death. Different name, different hair colour. But I found out later that it was him who testified to seeing my car drive away from the scene.’ His blue eyes spark with anger. ‘And yet he never let on all the time your mother and I knew him…all the time your mother was with him.’

  I think of the dad I knew, the handsome, charismatic man everybody loved. He didn’t seem the type to tell such a huge lie.

  ‘Why would he do that?’ I ask.

  ‘Revenge?’

  I think of my dad’s kind face, his all-encompassing smile. Was he really that bitter about Faith’s death that he was willing to lie to Mum?

  ‘Niall?’ a croaky voice asks from behind us.

  Niall looks over my shoulder, a confused expression on his face. I follow his gaze to see Mad Shoe Lady watching us with narrowed eyes. Her wild white-grey hair is static around her head, her face grubby, a long man’s coat swathed around her thin body, the bottom trailing the ground.

  ‘Do I know you?’ he asks her.

  She smiles, revealing gaps in her brown teeth. ‘You know who I am.’

  ‘I really don’t,’ he says.

  ‘We slept together, you and I.’ She smacks her lips together at him, laughing.

  I look between them both, incredulous.

  Niall peers closer then realisation dawns over his face. ‘Lana?’

  ‘Bingo!’ she says, clapping her hands.

  Niall clutches on to her trolley, looking her in the eye. ‘It’s really you, isn’t it?’

  She pulls the trolley away from him, wheels rattling along the path. ‘Maybe. Maybe not.’

  ‘Who’s Lana?’ I ask.

  ‘Willow, this is your dad’s ex-wife.’

  Mad Shoe Lady – or Lana, as I know her now – frowns, the dirt in the wrinkles of her forehead crackling. ‘Dan was your dad?’ she asks me.

  ‘Yes,’ I say, finally being able to mean it, too.

  Pain registers in her eyes for a moment. Then she looks at Niall. ‘She’s Charity’s daughter?’

  ‘She is,’ Niall says sadly.

  She turns to me, scrutinising my face. ‘Yes, I can see it. Same hair and you have Dan’s nose too.’ Her eyes harden. ‘Are you evil like them two as well?’

  ‘That’s not very nice, Lana.’

  ‘You know I’m right,’ Lana says. ‘Are you going to tell this girl what her mother did?’

  Panic floods Niall’s face.

  ‘What’s she talking about?’ I ask.

  ‘It’s nothing, let’s head back.’ Niall softly grasps my arm and tries to steer me away.

  I pull away from him and look at Lana. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘That second time – you remember, Niall – after Charity found out about the first time.’ Lana turns to me. ‘While Niall was sleeping, I did a bit of rifling around in his rucksack. I’ve always been a bit nosy. I found some rather enlightening letters your mother had written to him.’

  She opens her mouth but Niall grabs her arm. ‘Don’t, Lana. Let me tell her.’

  Lana shrugs. ‘I don’t care what you do.’ She turns her back to us and shuffles her trolley along the path, her long matted hair swinging behind her.

  I turn to Niall. ‘Tell me what?’

  Niall takes a deep shuddery breath and I feel sick to my stomach. What’s so bad that it makes him react like this? He looks me in the eye, his own eyes filled with sadness. I brace myself.

  ‘You need to know that your mother loved Faith very, very much,’ Niall says.

  ‘For God’s sake, just tell me!’

  ‘Charity was driving the car the night Faith died, not me. I covered for her.’

  There’s a sound of a bump behind us. I turn just in time to see my aunt collapsing to the ground.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Willow

  Busby-on-Sea, UK

  October 2016

  The heart monitor beeps are driving me crazy. I pace Aunt Hope’s hospital room, looking back at her every now and again. She seems so tiny and fragile hooked up to those monitors. I can’t bear to look. Sure, she’s always been small. But she’s always struck me as being as strong as an ox too.

  Ajay’s face appears between the curtains. I called him when I arrived at the hospital. I guess I needed a friend.

  ‘Come in,’ I say.

  He steps into the small cubicle and gives me a big hug before looking at my aunt. ‘How is she?’

  ‘Not great.’ I try to hold the tears at bay. ‘They say she had a heart attack. She’s only fifty-seven!’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘There’s a history of heart disease in my family. It could be a combination of that, the shock of hearing what Lana said…and exhaustion.’ I shake my head. ‘She does run that café on her own. Sure, she gets help but still.’ I chew at my lip. ‘I haven’t paid enough attention. If only I’d just—’

  ‘Oh stop whinging,’ a small voice says from the bed. Ajay and I turn to see Aunt Hope struggling to sit up, her greying red hair spilling over the white covers.

  ‘I’ll leave you two alone,’ Ajay says, stepping outside.

  I rush to my aunt’s side, helping her sit up. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘How do you think? Like I’ve been run over by a tank.’

  My eyes fill with tears. ‘You had a heart attack, Aunt Hope.’

  Fear flickers in her eyes, then she composes herself and shrugs. ‘Well, at least I’m still here.’

  ‘You’re exhausted, Aunt Hope,’ I say. ‘And there’s the shock at hearing what Lana said,’ I add carefully.

  ‘Shock can’t cause heart attacks. They’ve got it wrong, I’ve just not been sleeping much lately.’

  ‘It is possible, actually, Aunt Hope. I read somewhere that stress hormones can narrow the main arteries supplying blood to the heart.’

  ‘Oh for God’s sake, do you—’ She stops talking then laughs. ‘Only we could argue about the cause of a heart attack.’

  I can’t help but smile too. ‘Yeah, only us.’

  She grows serious. ‘I did get quite a shock though,’ she says quietly. ‘I heard Niall right, didn’t I?’

  ‘Let’s not talk about that,’ I say, scared the shock will trigger another heart attack.

  She looks me in the eye. ‘I think we’ve had enough of not talking about things, haven’t we, Willow?’

  I sigh. ‘We have. We really have.’

  Her face softens. ‘I’ve only kept things from you to protect you.’

  ‘I know that.’

  ‘But this – this I had no clue about.’ She shakes her head. ‘Charity was driving the car? My God. How could she have not told me?’

  ‘Same reason you haven’t told me things. To protect you.’

  ‘Maybe. But to let Niall take the blame all these years…to go to prison.’ She grabs my hand. ‘I don’t want to speak badly of your mother, Willow. But it’s so out of character, to do something so cold. Charity was always so compassionate, so caring.’

  I look at my aunt Hope, really look at her. I’ve made myself think she’s distant, uncaring. But the truth is, she’s the opposite. Everything she’s ever done was for her family, including me, never for her. She’s probably the most selfless person I know. How could I have not seen it all these years? How could I not have cared more for her?

  ‘You can never really know people,’ I say. ‘All we see is the persona they present to people, not what’s really inside. Maybe the truth is Mum was selfish and Dad was vindictive.’

  ‘Vindictive?’

  I explain what Niall told me. ‘I think he
was trying to get revenge on Niall all those years for Faith’s death. Maybe Mum and Dad deserved each other.’

  I try to absorb that fact, two selfish damaged people finding each other and conceiving me. I was born of lies and self-interest, guilt and revenge. We inherit our parents’ traits, don’t we? I suppose I’ve been selfish all these years, not truly recognising what Aunt Hope has done for me, putting my parents on a pedestal they didn’t deserve to be on.

  Maybe, now I know they weren’t as perfect, I can stop imagining the life I never had with them? Maybe, in the end, all these secrets and lies would have seeped out and hurt me more than they have done now. At least I have the buffer of Aunt Hope to protect me from them.

  I feel a strange unburdening. No more living in limbo in the shadow of a ‘what if?’ life. Time to start living my life, my real life where I accept my aunt as my real family, not a made-up one.

  I look at her. How must she feel to know all this now? ‘Do you hate my mum now?’ I ask her.

  She shakes her head. ‘Of course not. She must have felt horribly guilty. That’s why she probably became a counsellor, to atone somehow.’

  ‘It must be hard, learning all this though?’

  She shrugs. ‘Such is life. And anyway, something good came from all this, didn’t it?’

  I frown. ‘What?’

  She surprises me by taking my hand. ‘You, Willow! If Dan hadn’t been so intent on getting revenge, he’d have never met your mum, and they would never have had you. I’m not sure what I would have done without you over the years.’

  I feel tears well up in my eyes. ‘But I’ve never really been here for you.’

  ‘You’ve kept in touch, sent me letters and photos, haven’t you? And when you lived with me, you were my little companion. My favourite memories are of staying up late into the night playing patience with you. Or watching you swim, you’ve always been such a strong swimmer. Or how about that time at Christmas when the bird got into the living room and we ran around trying to get it? I’ve never laughed so much.’

  I think of those moments too. She’s right, they are good memories. I just grew so bitter and twisted from our arguments, those memories were tainted. At least I had a chance of a family with my aunt, a chance I’ve squandered.

  Not any longer.

  The curtains open then and the doctor walks in with Ajay. Ajay hovers behind him as the doctor explains very gently to Aunt Hope that her ECG test confirmed she’d had a heart attack but that there was only minor damage to the muscles of her heart. ‘You will need to slow down a bit and improve your diet,’ he says. ‘Your BMI is extremely low and it’s clear to me you’re not eating enough.’

  Aunt Hope rolls her eyes.

  ‘Listen to him,’ I say to her. ‘You are too thin.’

  ‘Just because I don’t have three sugars in my tea,’ she says with a raised eyebrow.

  ‘Maybe that’s exactly what you need,’ I say sternly.

  ‘I wouldn’t recommend sugar,’ the doctor says with a small smile. His buzzer starts going off. He frowns as he looks at it. ‘I need to attend to someone but I’ll be back to explain the next steps.’ He leans forward, squeezing her shoulder. ‘You’re very lucky you had your daughter with you when it happened. The CPR she performed more than likely saved your life.’

  For once, I don’t correct someone for saying I’m Aunt Hope’s daughter because in a way, I’m exactly that, aren’t I? It’s like Luki said, someone doesn’t have to give birth to you to be your mother.

  As he leaves the cubicle, Aunt Hope narrows her eyes at me. ‘You didn’t tell me you knew CPR.’

  ‘All divers get first aid training on their courses.’

  ‘So you don’t just swim around looking for pretty fish?’ Aunt Hope asks, winking at Ajay.

  ‘Ignore her,’ I tell him. ‘She knows we do more than that.’

  My aunt looks towards Niall’s outline through the curtain. ‘Niall Lane, I can see you out there, you might as well come in!’

  He walks in, looking uncomfortable.

  ‘So, I presume you came to tell Willow you’re not her father?’ she says.

  He nods. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Thought so. Doesn’t mean you can’t keep in touch though, does it?’

  I look at Niall and he smiles.

  ‘I’ve seen your photos too,’ my aunt continues. ‘Very impressive. Any chance I could have a couple for the café?’

  Niall and I exchange a look. This is the closest he’ll get to an apology from my aunt for blaming him for Faith’s death all these years.

  ‘Of course,’ he says ‘Charity would have liked that.’

  ‘She would,’ Aunt Hope says. ‘She loved your photos…and she loved you. You were always the one, weren’t you? I tried to tell myself she was more in love with the past than with you. But it was more than that.’

  His face flushes, his eyes watering. He turns away, trying to compose himself and my heart goes out to him.

  ‘And you,’ she says, looking at Ajay. ‘Where are you going to drag my niece to next?’

  ‘Maybe not so far this time,’ Ajay says, looking out of the window. ‘Niall was telling me about the abandoned building next to your café?’

  ‘What about it?’ I say.

  He looks at me, smiling. ‘I think I might have found that dive centre I’ve always dreamt of opening.’

  I laugh. ‘Are you kidding? Here, in Busby-on-Sea?’

  ‘I don’t know why you’re so down about this town, Willow,’ he says. ‘There were a bunch of divers on the beach earlier, looks pretty up and coming to me.’

  ‘He’s right,’ Niall says. ‘The council’s ploughed loads of money into the place over the past year after the submerged forest started getting more attention.’

  ‘Have you even looked at the place properly since you got here?’ Aunt Hope asks me.

  I realise I haven’t.

  ‘There’s even a Starbucks here now,’ she continues. ‘And that building Ajay’s referring to is like the TARDIS inside.’

  ‘Maybe you can help me run the place?’ Ajay asks me. ‘Doesn’t mean you have to stop travelling. You can base yourself here then go off when you want, maybe even finish that tour of all the submerged forests your Aunt Faith wanted to visit?’

  Aunt Hope smiles sadly then squeezes my hand. ‘I used to talk about that building a lot with your mum and Faith, you know. They wanted to buy it and turn it into a gift shop. I think they’d like the idea of you being involved with something like that. You could live in the cottage, it’s only ten minutes’ drive away.’ She looks into my eyes. ‘It’d be nice for you to come home, Willow.’

  Home.

  I follow her gaze out to sea, imagining the submerged trees beneath the waves, their soft mossy branches reaching up to the surface. I close my eyes, see Mum and my aunt Faith swimming through the forest, limbs graceful, fingers interlaced.

  I smile down at my aunt. ‘Yes, it would, wouldn’t it?’

  THE END

  Acknowledgements

  I started writing My Sister’s Secret not long after giving birth to my daughter. It was an intense time helped, as ever, by the support and love of my wonderful husband, Rob, and our parents: the Fountains, the Buchanans and the Archbolds.

  You’ll find one name that will always appear in my acknowledgments: Elizabeth Richards, my constant literary soul sister, a shoulder to cry on and a soundboard to sling ideas at.

  Thank you to Jenny Ashcroft too, who was kind enough to offer invaluable insights – including advice on how to juggle writing with motherhood!

  To my uncle Glenn Archbold, thank you for helping me with the dive scenes, you’re an absolute star.

  I must give a shout-out to the lovely Charlie, whose Urban Writers’ Retreat allowed me to reach my deadline: three days of quiet writing time in beautiful Devonshire countryside…oh, and cake too!

  A huge thanks as ever to my agent Caroline Hardman whose honest, no-nonsense critiques and unwaverin
g support help me to be the best writer I can be.

  And finally, my editor, Eli Dryden, whose insightful and brilliant editorial notes and constant enthusiasm and support have been a godsend.

  About the author

  Tracy Buchanan is a web journalist and social media specialist who lives in Milton Keynes with her husband and daughter and their one-eyed Jack Russell. Tracy travelled extensively while working as a travel magazine editor, sating the wanderlust she developed while listening to her Sri Lankan grandparents’ childhood stories – the same wanderlust that now inspires her writing.

  To find out more about Tracy follow her on Twitter @TracyBuchanan or visit her website and blog www.tracybuchanan.co.uk.

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