Sister Pact

by Ali Ahearn

  Frankie shook her head once, quickly.

  ‘No, I didn’t. But … thanks, Joni.’

  Joni snorted eloquently and dragged Frankie behind the nearest large bush. ‘Don’t thank me, just help me get rid of the bloody thing.’

  True to her word, Frankie had Joni in a stomach lock before she could say ‘Heimlich’, and, combined with some fancy finger work, the thing was out, along with everything Joni had eaten recently. The manoeuvre was so quick, so expert, that Joni couldn’t contain her admiration for her sister.

  Frankie stared at the mess as Joni slumped against her. ‘Has Lex been feeding you on the sly again?’

  Joni sniffed huffily. ‘It’s hard to get all your kilojoules when you’re vegetarian. Especially in a place like this.’

  Frankie kicked disgustedly at the fluorescent trail. ‘Yeah, sure, but where’s he getting pink doughnuts?’

  Joni sighed. ‘He’s a very resourceful guy.’

  Frankie narrowed her eyes and looked closely at Joni. ‘No matter. We gotta get back to the beach. Last challenge. Without the last clue, we have no hope of finding my things.’

  Emphasis on my.

  Joni watched Frances start for the beach, the blood slowly rushing back to her head after the heaving of the moment before. She took in the determined set of Frankie’s shoulders, the erect angle of her head, the stiff line of that proud neck.

  This all mattered so much to her. But why?

  So much rode on what they were about to do. If that locket burned …

  ‘Frankie, stop.’

  Frances turned fractionally. ‘What?’

  ‘I’ve got to know. Why are you here? And why the credit card? Why does the money matter that much to you?’

  Joni could see Frankie wasn’t going to tell. Just like always. Frankie had always known everything about her little sister but played her own cards close to her chest.

  ‘You know all about my … issues. You know why I need the money. I’m in deep. But you? Edward’s loaded. No matter what happens, you’ll be all right. Hell, you’re Frankie. You’re always all right.’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Frankie’s voice was cold enough to freeze vodka. ‘Frankie’s always all right, isn’t she? Frankie can look after herself, and Joni and even Mum. Well, for your information, Miss So-Not-Fucking-All-Right, the only reason I’m all right is because I take care of myself. And right now, I’m all I’ve got.’

  Joni considered Frankie carefully. Her eyes shone and twin bright spots of pink burned in her cheeks. ‘I … I didn’t mean …’

  Frankie spoke slowly and deliberately. ‘Okay, Joni, I’ll tell you.’ She drew in a deep breath and catalogued it as though reading the weather. ‘I threw Edward out, after finding out about the latest girl. And what I will get half of is precisely nothing. Edward is a gambler and we are in hock up to our eyeballs.’

  ‘Oh.’ Joni’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Frankie, I thought …’

  ‘You thought I was worried about how I’d keep myself in the style to which I’ve become accustomed?’

  ‘No!’ Joni’s voice was hot and wild. ‘No, not like that. I mean … You don’t have to worry, Frankie. You’ve still got your job, with the charity you set up. That must pay okay? And it’s such important work.’

  Frankie snorted, scraping the ground with her foot, like she wanted to dig a shallow grave and bury whomever she could murder in it. ‘Yes, it is,’ she finally whispered. ‘The best, most important thing I’ve done.’

  ‘See?’ Joni reached for Frankie’s shoulder but her sister yanked herself away.

  ‘He embezzled from it.’ Frankie still spoke in a whisper. ‘It will all come out. In the press. And we will be in disgrace. The foundation will never attract any funding again. All those people rely on us; we’re their last hope. It will all be gone. Unless I can replace the money before anyone finds out.’

  ‘How much did he take from the charity?’

  ‘A million pounds.’

  ‘A million pounds.’

  Frances, the responsible one. Even now, going through all this. For other people. To cover up what Edward had done. To save her foundation.

  Whereas she, Joni, was just trying to save her own arse. Trying to avoid bodily injury at the hands of the shady characters Greasy Phil had been in hock to.

  Apart from her own arse, what was she saving?

  A record shop. A home for preloved classic vinyl.

  The only thing you ever had that was all yours, a traitorous voice was saying inside her head.

  And her shelter. A bunch of mangy animals that even their own mothers wouldn’t love.

  But you love them. That voice again.

  Huh. Maybe they weren’t so different. At the end of the world, torturing themselves for a bunch of people and animals as loveless and fucked up as they were.

  In that instant, Joni made a decision. There was no way she was going to leave her sister and contest the will. Not now she knew what was going on. It didn’t matter how much Frankie hated her. Right now, Joni would rather have gargled a blended rat than leave the island.

  And Frankie.

  ‘Hustle, Joni.’ Frankie sounded businesslike again. ‘We can’t miss the last challenge. We need the final part of the clue if we’re going to find our stuff before they barbecue it.’

  One hour later

  Joni and Frankie watched in horror as Kandy and Misty completed the last few yards of the landmine challenge. Filming was now taking place in a clearing in the jungle, to add to the dark intensity.

  ‘Come on, girlfriend,’ Misty cooed to Kandy, who was balancing gracefully on one leg, like a gazelle.

  Joni watched in admiration.

  Must be all that cheerleading. Bet she does a mean cartwheel.

  ‘Now, honey, slightly to the left, no, no … down a little. Across maybe a quarter-inch. Now down, honey. Yes, perfect.’

  Misty gave a little squeal of triumph as Kandy’s long leg touched lightly down in the dead centre of one of the tiny mats marked ‘safe’.

  Fuck. Takahiro and Kazuki had completed the challenge. And so had Kandy and Misty. Now it was their turn.

  Kandy tore the blindfold from her pretty face and kissed Misty on her pouty pink lips. Cicadas chirped with a lust for life and the whole jungle buzzed like its loins were on fire. Misty returned the kiss with gusto, ramming her full lips against her friend’s. Ten electronic eyes swivelled to close-up and Joni felt rather than saw The Stapler’s unbridled joy as she imagined the numbers coming in from the ‘heterosexual male’ focus group.

  ‘Now, to the lovely but oh-so-prickly Feuding Heiresses!’

  Darryl sounded as if the challenge were pushing his delicate hold on his libido to snapping point. Joni wondered if, at any second, he might take his penis out and wave it around.

  Please, God, no.

  ‘Now, just to recap. This game requires an extreme level of trust and teamwork. The blindfolded team member must make it from one side of the course to the other, stepping only on the “safe” mats scattered throughout. The only source of help is the other team mate, who must direct her where to go. Should she set a foot wrong …’

  Darryl’s leer moved up a notch in intensity.

  ‘Ka-boom! Don’t worry, folks, it’s not a real landmine, although the contestants involved may experience some temporary hearing loss and will, of course, forfeit the right to their final clue, and with it, any possibility of retrieving their treasure.’

  Joni wondered if Frankie’s thoughts were the same as hers.

  Their father had never been the same after Rwanda. His natural tendency to order had ramped up, like he was trying to keep something at bay, something that might win if he let his guard down even a little. The thing Joni remembered most was that there were no more puppet shows after Rwanda.

  And their father started to take more overseas assignments.

  At one time he’d been away in Bosnia for six months, working with a bomb disposal unit, as part of the security d
etachment. The only time Joni had ever seen her father drunk had been after his return from Bosnia at a pre-Christmas celebration with some neighbours. He’d become maudlin on Pimm’s and ginger ale, and she’d found him in the back garden, sitting on an old swing, crying and singing nursery rhymes. He had lifted Joni onto his lap and told her about another little girl. A girl who had died in his arms after she’d stood on a landmine on her way to school.

  He’d said she looked just like Joni.

  And landmines had featured in her nightmares ever since.

  Now here they were. Playing war games for the world’s entertainment and picking at an old wound in the process.

  Joni looked at Frankie and knew she was thinking the same thing. ‘Fuckwit,’ she muttered to Joni, glancing at Darryl, and, for the first time all day, the two of them smiled at each other. ‘How do you want to do this?’

  Joni shook her head. ‘No idea.’

  Frankie clucked impatiently. ‘Well, what’s harder, do you think? Giving the directions, or following them blindfolded?’

  ‘Following them blindfolded, I guess,’ Joni muttered, thinking she was about to be damned either way.

  ‘Well, I guess that’s what I’m doing then,’ Frankie sighed.

  Typical Frankie, assuming only she could manage the tough stuff.

  Even if it were true.

  But Frankie had duelled with a madman to get the tools; made the shelter; like Moses, led them out of the jungle; and swum the entire bloody ocean. Joni could not ask her to do this as well. She yanked the blindfold from Frankie and tied it over her face.

  ‘Lead on, Frances.’ She deliberately imitated their father’s deep voice and used her sister’s full name to underline the point. This is serious.

  As if Frankie didn’t know that already.

  Frankie leaned over and whispered in Joni’s ear, ‘Just do your best.’

  When they got to the starting line, Frankie stopped Joni by putting a hand delicately on her hip. Darryl was prattling some melodramatic drivel, but neither could hear the details.

  Joni felt fear bead on her top lip.

  There was something familiar about this; about being blindfolded and sent into the unknown. Their whole relationship, it seemed, had been a minefield. As children, they had tried to straddle the no-man’s-land between their parents, each knowing, at least subconsciously, that they could please only one of them.

  Frankie had claustrophobia, sure, but Joni had more reason than most to fear the dark.

  There was a light pressure on her arm from Frankie and Joni stepped forward.

  ‘Easy, the first one. Straight ahead and slightly left. Step lightly.’

  Joni brought her foot down and waited for the explosion.

  All around her was quiet, like the jungle itself had been placed on mute.

  Even Darryl had shut up.

  She breathed out softly, as though her breath might set off the incendiary device. She realised that The Stapler wanted them to fail; to burn their treasures, because she knew their treasures were so deeply rooted in their feud that burning them would make great telly.

  The knowledge just made Joni think that she couldn’t do it.

  ‘You can do it,’ Frankie said and this time she was not whispering but loudly telegraphing to the whole group her faith in her sister. ‘You are not alone. I’m here.’

  Joni breathed out again as Frankie continued, ‘Now, take your right foot and swing it out directly to the side, about a foot. Do not move it forward. Not at all. Don’t put it down until I say.’

  Joni stretched and waited.

  ‘Not yet, a little further. Now.’

  She brought her foot down on the ‘safe’ pad as gently as if she were stepping on her own heart.

  ‘Yes!’ Frankie squealed. The shot in the arm lasted only seconds.

  ‘Now, Joni, the next one is really tricky. You’re going to need to listen very carefully. You need to lift your right foot high and wide. A great big stride, you understand? And you can’t put it down until I say so, so you’re going to need to balance a little, yeah?’

  Even though Joni knew the devices were fake, it was like waiting for the real bullet while playing Russian roulette.

  If only it weren’t so dark.

  It had been dark when Greasy Phil had found her, behind his record shop. She liked to think of that place as Rock Bottom. That was what they always said on Oprah, that you had to reach Rock Bottom.

  Well, going into the alley with that man was about as Rock Bottom as it got. He could have done anything to her and, the way Phil told it, he was about to. The crack had bitten so deep that night, she wouldn’t have been able to do anything about it. The bloke’s fist had been drawn up, about to descend again. And Joni’s skirt had been drawn up too. And it had been dark. So dark …

  No matter what Phil did from that day on, no matter how badly he ran his business affairs, no matter how many dodgy men he dated, she would love him forever.

  Not just because he left her his shop, three years later.

  But because he’d saved her that night. A little too late but at least she was alive.

  And, over the next three months he’d saved her entirely.

  Phil had been where she was. She was his tiny squirrel, his Indira, and he fed her and clothed her, and bullied and denied her, while she got clean. Once, he even locked her in her room.

  For her own good.

  And it had been. Three months later, she’d been shaky but clean.

  And almost as freaked out by the dark as her sister was by storms.

  But she’d be buggered if she were going to let that show right now.

  With superhuman effort, she extended her right leg high and wide, following Frankie’s ‘more, more, more’ instructions until she felt like her supporting leg was going to buckle under the screaming injury being done to its quadriceps.

  ‘Now. Down slowly, though. I’ll guide you. An inch forward. No, an inch to the left. Yes, yes, you’ve got it.’

  As her foot connected with the mat, Joni couldn’t stifle a sob, her whole being stretched to a nervous spike.

  Frankie was so close she could feel her breath. ‘Only two more, Joni. You’re doing it.’

  The blindfold was suffocating on her face. She felt sticky fingers brushing her cheeks, and knowing it was just the jungle detritus didn’t make it any less terrifying.

  What’s the worst that can happen? So I hear a loud noise.

  But her psyche wasn’t playing along. And then I’m toast. And so is the locket.

  Her beating heart picked out the seconds of Frankie’s procrastination.

  Boom, boom, boom. It seemed to get darker. Like it wanted her to remember. The time behind Greasy Phil’s hadn’t been the only occasion she’d been scared in the dark.

  Don’t think about it.

  Seven years ago.

  Don’t think about it.

  It had been moonless that night too.

  Just wait, Frankie will speak any second. And everything will be all right.

  But Frankie had been there that night. And everything had been far from all right.

  Then it all happened at once. The memories that she had been mentally warding off with imaginary garlic and holy water, and her sister’s voice, finally giving her instructions, crashed into her brain at the same instant.

  Joni teetered on the edge of her mat, disoriented. She tried to correct the swaying, but one toe peeped over the edge of the mat as she did.

  After the initial cacophony, she heard nothing.

  The light was now well and truly gone and, while Joni’s hearing had returned after a few moments, she wished it were gone forever.

  That way she could avoid the screech and bark of The Stapler as she gave the crew instructions.

  And the deep, silent space between her and her sister.

  She knew, the way sisters know things, that Frankie was not angry. But she also knew Frankie was sad. Cry-your-heart-out sad. But there were ca
meras, so they just looked at each other mutely. Joni’s gaze darted around, searching for Lex. He had been absent all afternoon, and she was almost certain it was because he felt ashamed of what was being done on the show that day.

  But he was the director.

  He had no right not to show up.

  She suddenly realised Frankie was right about Lex. He was a loser, a waster. A weakling. Like Joni. That’s why she’d liked him. And that’s why he would never be any good for her. She couldn’t afford to be with her own kind any more. Not if she were going to survive.

  Darryl seemed to have recovered from the excitement of the landmine challenge, and was now being Regretful and Intense. It made Joni want to vomit.

  She could see the two items sitting on the silver tray in front of him.

  A slim silver locket. Delicate and perfect.

  And an equally perfect gold MasterCard, shining in the firelight.

  Chapter 15

  Frances

  Frances couldn’t remember a time when she had felt so empty. Even considering everything she’d been through to date. The estrangement from Joni; Edward’s infidelity and embezzlement; G’s death; the humiliations on this wretched island (of which eating a wasabi-covered scorpion had been nowhere near the worst).

  Obviously, she’d been haemorrhaging slowly over the years, but this?

  She was a void.

  Her locket. The one she still reached for from time to time, despite having lost it seven years ago. The one from which two little faces laughed out at her: Joni’s – all big grey eyes and Pears-baby hair – and hers – eyes serious even then, despite the grin splitting her face. Skinny arms slung around each other like all they’d ever need was each other.

  Back before they knew it was bollocks.

  And then Joni sobbed.

  Frances turned to look at her sister as the activity around her came into sharp focus. The Stapler, Darryl and even Lex, who’d appeared from nowhere, huddled in a circle near the altar, having what seemed to be a very intense conversation. The crew setting up for the ceremonial burning.

  The sob touched something primal and, in a rush, the emptiness inside Frances filled up. Her arm went around her sister’s shoulders.