My Sister's Lies

by S. D. Robertson

  S: I see. So Diane doesn’t know about your book deal either?

  H: Not to my knowledge.

  S: And you’re hesitant to tell Mia because you know that will lead to Diane finding out about it?

  H: I suppose so. Part of me wants her to know – to prove her wrong for mocking my early writing attempts. But I’m also afraid she’ll find a way to ruin it for me, or at least take the shine off my achievement. The big irony is that Mia’s a bookworm. She’s mad keen on reading, just like I was at her age. Loving books is something we share, which we can talk about together. It’s not like we have much else. Mia has no memory whatsoever of all the times we spent together when she was little. We do have Diane in common, of course, but that’s a can of worms I’d rather not open, bearing in mind the dilapidated state of my relationship with my sister. Anyway, I’m going to tell Mia. Mark’s away tonight, so I’m planning to take her out for dinner. That should provide us with a good opportunity to have a decent chat.

  S: How’s having Mia as a guest working out in practical terms?

  H: Well, I’m far from an expert on modern teenagers. However, I can now tell you that this particular fourteen-year-old sleeps a lot, spends an awfully long time in the bathroom, keeps a messy bedroom, and has a selective memory when it comes to domestic dos and don’ts, like remembering to hang up her wet towel after showering. I have Mark pretty well trained, so my niece’s less disciplined ways can be a challenge to my sense of order. But I could probably do with learning to be more flexible anyway. Plus living with us is a big change for Mia too. Overall, it’s great to have the chance to get to know her again. My main worry at the beginning was that she’d be bored with only adults for company, but she’s made a friend: Todd, the grandson of my neighbour Kathy. I feel that’s taken the pressure off a bit. I don’t need to worry so much about entertaining her, and I get more time to work, like this morning. Still, it’s hard not to worry when she goes out and about without me or Mark to watch over her, knowing she’s our responsibility at the moment. I guess this is how it feels to be a parent.

  S: What about Mark? As someone who’s never wanted children, how’s he finding it?

  H: Good question. You know what men are like. They don’t tend to give much away about their feelings – and Mark’s no exception. Obviously he’s out at work a lot of the time, but when he is around, he’s pretty good with her. They’re into some of the same films and TV shows – mainly sci-fi and superhero stuff that doesn’t really appeal to me – but it gives them something to talk about. I actually think Mia’s more comfortable around him than me. I worry that she doesn’t like me; that Diane’s poisoned her mind against me.

  S: Has Mia said anything to give you that impression?

  H: No, but … she plays her cards close to her chest. Our relationship now is so different from when I last knew her. As a toddler, her eyes used to light up when I paid a visit. She’d run over to me and wrap her arms tight around my legs, telling me how much she’d missed me. And then she’d cry when I had to go home, begging me to stay just for a few more minutes. I loved playing with her and her dolls and toys. She was always so creative, allocating character roles even when we played hide and seek. So one of us would be the princess and the other the wicked witch. Or a fluffy bunny and a hungry crocodile. We had so much fun together. I felt like we had a wonderful bond and … it’s hard sometimes that she doesn’t recall any of that.

  S: I understand. But don’t forget that Diane chose to leave her in your care, which can’t have been an easy decision considering the state of your relationship. Don’t you think that might be because you once had that strong bond with Mia? It’s not something your sister will have forgotten, is it?

  H: Maybe. I’d not thought of it that way. I just don’t know what to make of the whole visit, because – typical Diane – it’s all so vague and up in the air. I still don’t know the real reason why she’s left Mia here or for how long it’s going to be. And if I’m totally honest, part of me is scared to get too close to Mia for fear that my sister will eventually take her away again and stop me seeing her. You know what that did to me on the last occasion. I don’t think I could cope with it a second time.

  S: There you go, underestimating yourself again. Remember: strong, successful, confident. What are you?

  H: Strong, successful and confident.

  S: Good. Look what you’ve achieved with your writing, Hannah. There was a time when you didn’t believe yourself capable of that, remember. But you proved you can achieve anything you put your mind to, didn’t you?

  H: I guess so.

  S: I know so. Have you tried contacting Diane to get some specifics about Mia’s stay?

  H: Yes, but she’s not making it easy. Even Mia is struggling to get hold of her. I don’t know what’s going on. That’s one of the reasons Mark is away tonight. He’s flown to Southampton for work and this evening he’s going to take the train to Bournemouth to try to speak to her.

  S: I see. That sounds like a positive step. Hopefully you’ll get some answers.

  H: I’m not holding my breath.

  S: Maybe you should consider giving your sister a chance. I was looking back through some transcripts of our earlier sessions. When I asked you why you weren’t prepared to reach out to Diane to try to resolve your conflict, you said: ‘It’s always me who gives in. It’s never her, because she thinks she’s always in the right. Well, I’m not doing that any more. Diane can be the one to reach out this time. Otherwise, we’re done.’ Do you remember saying that?

  H: Vaguely. It’s true what I said about Diane anyway. She’s never been one for apologising or holding out an olive branch. Even after she humiliated me on that school trip to London, I don’t recall her ever saying sorry. She didn’t see what she’d done wrong. It was just having a laugh, as far as she was concerned; I needed to lighten up. On that occasion, it was me who decided to start speaking to her again eventually, mainly because it was easier than staying angry.

  S: Didn’t your parents have anything to say about it?

  H: I don’t think I told them what had happened. It would have just given Diane another excuse to call me a goody-goody and moan about how Mum and Dad always took my side.

  S: Would you say there’s ever been a time when the pair of you got on well?

  H: Good question. We’ve always had our differences – our rivalries and jealousies – and I wouldn’t claim we’ve ever been best friends. That definitely wasn’t the case at secondary school, when we seemed to go from one spat to another. Not long after the London trip incident, for example, she stole a boy from me. It was a guy she’d never shown any interest in previously, who she suddenly pursued and then went out with for a few weeks after I’d happened to mention that I liked him. It was clearly just to get one up on me, like in sixth form when she heard I was auditioning for a school production of Romeo and Juliet, so she became interested too. And guess what? She ended up bagging the lead role, while I had to settle for playing her mother. Diane had never displayed any affection for Shakespeare or acting before that show – and she never did again, which says enough. Things did improve as we got older, though, and were no longer living and spending so much time together. After Mia was born, I’d go so far as to say we got on pretty well for a while. That was probably us at our best before Mum got really ill and things started to go the opposite way.

  S: Interesting, particularly in light of what you said in our last session about Diane taking advantage of your fondness for your niece and relying too heavily on your parents’ generosity around that period.

  H: Yes, those feelings came later. Initially, after I got over my jealousy that she had a child and I didn’t, there was a kind of honeymoon period. If I couldn’t be a mother, I decided to make the absolute most of being an aunt, so the three of us spent a lot of time together, especially while Diane was on maternity leave.

  S: Could that perhaps be something to work towards again?

  H: Not likely. It wa
s a fleeting period of harmony. I can’t see us ever getting back to that now. We’ve been out of each other’s lives for well over a decade. But … I must admit that you do have a point about Diane making the first move towards reconciliation. Even if it was to ask a big favour of me, I ought to recognise the fact that she reached out. It must have been hard for her. For so long now I’ve hardened my heart to the idea of us ever making up. I’ve basically written her out of my life. But maybe I ought to at least rethink that. Perhaps I should give my sister a chance, for Mia’s sake if nothing else. The idea terrifies me, though, because it leaves me vulnerable. Diane hurt me so badly last time. How do I know she won’t do it again?

  S: You don’t. Not for sure. But if you close yourself off to new possibilities due to fear, then fear wins. Why not try instead to believe in yourself and your ability to deal with whatever life throws at you, including the bad stuff? That way you get to remain open to opportunities that might really improve your quality of life. It’s okay to be afraid. It’s normal and healthy. But allowing your fear to control you will never make you happy.

  H: The thing is, Sally, I was happy with my life before Diane came back into it.

  S: Great. But that doesn’t mean you couldn’t be even happier, does it? And even if things don’t work out with her, she can’t take that happiness you’ve already achieved away from you – not if you don’t let her. You’re the one who controls that, right?

  H: I suppose I am.

  CHAPTER 10

  Mark jumped into a taxi outside Bournemouth railway station and told the cheery cabbie Diane’s address. It was in a suburb a couple of miles away from the main town centre. Mia had given him the details.

  He had wavered about whether or not to tell her why he needed to know. His chief concern had been that she might speak to her mother in the meantime and tip her off. But Hannah had felt it best to be upfront and honest with her, so that’s what they’d done. The pair of them had sat Mia down over the weekend to discuss the matter.

  ‘What’s going on?’ she’d asked them, her face pale and lined with concern. ‘Is everything okay? Is it about Mum?’

  ‘Yes, it is,’ Mark had said. ‘But there’s no news, as such: nothing to be concerned about. It’s just that we’ve not heard anything from her since that single text message she sent to Hannah.’

  ‘No, neither have I,’ Mia had replied, letting out a long sigh. ‘Not since the one time she phoned me.’

  ‘Have you tried messaging her?’

  ‘No, she said not to; that she’d probably be too busy to reply.’ Reaching for her phone, she’d added: ‘I can do, though, if you want me to.’

  ‘No, no, that’s fine,’ Hannah had said, perhaps a little too quickly. ‘You’d best do as your mother asked.’

  Clearing his throat, Mark had gone on to explain about his business trip to Southampton and how he was planning to call in and see Diane while he was down there. But he’d carefully framed this as a friendly visit to see if there was anything he could do to help, rather than checking up on her.

  ‘Southampton?’ Mia had replied. ‘That’s not around the corner.’

  ‘Well, it’s a lot closer than Manchester; it’ll only take me half an hour by train.’

  ‘Oh, okay. Mum and I hardly ever take the train. She prefers to drive.’

  Back in the present, Mark glanced at his watch. It was 6.03 p.m. on Tuesday. Thankfully, he’d managed to escape the office – and Joe Wilder’s moaning – in good time. Although Adam had been disappointed to be left alone with a dinner invite from Wilder, meaning an evening of yet more ear-bending, he’d graciously accepted the situation after Mark had brought him up to speed with what was going on. Mark had at least helped Adam out earlier by knocking Wilder down a peg or two, thanks to his downbeat analysis of the taken-over firm’s current financials.

  ‘Lovely warm evening, isn’t it?’ the taxi driver said, turning around to wink at his fare as he added: ‘Anyone would think it was summer.’

  Mark laughed. ‘Definitely.’

  ‘In town on business, mate?’

  ‘No, I’m visiting, um … a relative,’ Mark replied, smiling at the man’s reflection in the rear-view mirror and loosening the tie he’d put on that morning at Adam’s request ‘to power dress the shite out of Wilder’. He hadn’t had time to change before taking the train and now he felt overdressed. Oh well. At least it would support his story that he was in the area on business, assuming he actually managed to find Diane to tell it to her.

  ‘Not from round here?’ the cabbie asked.

  ‘No,’ Mark replied.

  ‘I didn’t think so.’

  ‘That obvious?’

  ‘Well, the accent’s a bit of a giveaway. Where are you from? Somewhere up north?’

  ‘Manchester.’

  ‘Oh yeah? Red or blue?’

  ‘Blue.’

  Mark expected some football banter to follow, but instead the vehicle jerked to a sudden halt, making Mark glad he’d put on his seatbelt. Next thing, Mr Cheery turned into Mr Sweary and stuck his head out of the window, effing and jeffing at the van driver in front, accusing him of driving like an imbecile, only to get a mouthful back in return.

  He thought for a moment that his driver might actually get out of the taxi and start scrapping in the street, but luckily a police car drove past in the other direction at just the right moment, pouring cold water on the dispute.

  ‘What a bloody idiot,’ the cabbie said, shaking his head. ‘They give a driving licence to anyone these days.’

  ‘Mmm,’ Mark replied through pursed lips, feeling awkward as hell and wishing the journey over as soon as possible.

  There was little conversation after that. Just a lot of tutting and more headshaking from behind the wheel as they made their way along a road that gradually turned from leafy suburban affluence to a tired commercial zone of discount shops, fast food takeaways, To Let signs and vape stores.

  ‘Nearly there now,’ Mark was told as they took a speedy sharp left turn, which had him clawing his fingers into the spongy material of his seat in a bid to stay vertical.

  Sure enough, about thirty seconds later, the taxi drew to a halt on a narrow side road in front of a row of tatty terraced houses. Each property appeared to be a slightly different shade of off-white, and none of them had been painted any time recently. Their paved front yards were filled with wheelie bins that stared up at an assortment of damaged drainpipes, misted double glazing and rickety roofs.

  ‘Are you sure this is it?’ Mark asked.

  ‘It’s the address you gave me.’

  ‘Right. Great. Thanks for that.’

  Mark settled up, leaving a small tip out of habit rather than desire, and a moment later the cab was gone.

  He stood still on the pavement for a moment, wondering how best to announce himself to Diane if and when she answered the door. It really was a balmy evening, he thought: significantly warmer than it had been when he’d left the apartment that morning. He loosened his tie some more and removed his suit jacket, throwing it over his right forearm and then finally biting the bullet and walking up to Diane’s front door.

  He rang on the bell once for a couple of seconds and then waited. There was no answer; after a minute or two, he rang again, immediately following it up with a firm rap on the privacy glass in the black wooden door. He waited for another moment, but again there was no reply.

  Great. Mark let out a frustrated sigh and took a few steps away from the house so he had a view of all the windows at the front, upstairs and down. Unfortunately, they were each fitted with vertical blinds, which were closed; since it was still broad daylight, there was little chance of being able to ascertain whether there were any lights on inside.

  He walked back up to the house and held his face close enough to the white uPVC bay window to smell the layer of salt coating its grimy outer surface. He guessed there was probably a lounge or dining area on the other side. Not that he could tell. Even that c
lose up, he couldn’t make out anything through the blinds.

  Mark’s next move was to kneel down and flip up the letterbox, which he was glad to find didn’t have a draught excluder on the inside. He saw an empty hallway with exposed, polished floorboards, a busy coat stand and a cream carpeted staircase leading upstairs. The house looked much smarter inside than out, with fresh, teal-coloured walls and a large framed print of an L.S. Lowry painting just along from the door, depicting dozens of the artist’s distinctive matchstick people against a backdrop of sooty industrial buildings.

  There was no obvious sign of anyone being home, but he decided to call out regardless. What else was he supposed to do: turn around and find another taxi back to the railway station?

  ‘Hello?’ he bellowed, his voice echoing through the empty space. ‘Diane? It’s Mark. I was working nearby, so I thought I’d call in and check everything was all right. Hello? Can you hear me? Anyone home?’

  He waited there after speaking, scouring the visible space for any sign of movement, only to be disappointed. It genuinely looked like no one was home, so what now?

  Mark stood back up, brushing off the knees of his suit trousers. He reached into his pocket for his phone, having decided that calling Diane’s mobile was probably the most sensible next move. Recent experience told him it was unlikely she’d answer, but it was definitely worth a try. Perhaps he’d even hear it ringing if she was hiding inside somewhere.

  As he was locating the number, Mark heard a deep male voice address him from behind, from the direction of the road. ‘Can I help you?’

  The unexpected sound startled him, almost causing his phone to jump out of his hand. Luckily, he managed to keep hold of it, pocketing it again as he turned around to see who was talking to him.