My Sister's Lies

by S. D. Robertson

  ‘Why do you say that? Of course I won’t.’

  ‘Well, you know how I like to read a lot?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘I know it’s hard to get into and that … but, er, I’d really like to try to become an author one day: to write my own novels.’

  Mia had been looking down at her plate as she’d said this, partly out of embarrassment and partly wondering how she was going to get through the giant burger and huge portion of chips without bursting. When she looked up, her aunt was staring at her in a completely unexpected way. She almost looked like she was about to laugh – but surely not. How cruel would that be, to crush her dreams in such a way?

  Hannah explained: ‘Um, sorry. I’m not smiling at what you just said, Mia. Well, not in the way you might imagine. I actually think that’s a fantastic ambition to have. The thing is, um, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you about me. I’m not really sure why I haven’t said anything already. It’s … oh, I don’t know. I’ll just come out with it, shall I? I’m an author. Not published yet, but I will be soon. My debut novel’s due to be released next January.’

  Mia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. How had neither Hannah nor Mark mentioned this to her before? And what about her mum? Surely she’d have told her if she’d known about it.

  ‘Hold on a minute,’ she said after lifting her jaw back up off the ground. ‘You’re an actual author … of novels … with a publishing deal and everything?’

  Hannah smiled, her cheeks radiating a pink glow. ‘Um, yes. I suppose I am, although it doesn’t feel quite that way yet since my book isn’t actually out for a while.’

  ‘What’s it called?’

  ‘The Boy at the Window.’

  ‘Okay. Is it a children’s book?’

  ‘No, no. It’s aimed at adults. It’s kind of a psychological thriller. I like to think of it as a bit Hitchcockian.’ She paused before adding: ‘You know Alfred Hitchcock, right? I don’t mean that in a patronising way – not at all – but as someone without children, it’s hard for me to gauge what’s on the radar of a modern teenager.’

  Mia nodded at her aunt, still too shocked by her revelation to be offended. ‘I’ve heard of him, but I haven’t seen any of his films. Aren’t they a bit creepy? I remember one of our English teachers at school telling us about one where all these birds start attacking people. Is that right?’

  ‘Yes, exactly. They’re probably not scary in the sense of modern horror films, but he was known as a master of suspense and a lot of his films have dated pretty well, considering. You should try one. I’d suggest Rear Window rather than The Birds, though.’ She giggled. ‘That’s the one I’m thinking of really when I say my book is Hitchcockian.’

  ‘So what’s it about exactly: your book, I mean?’

  Hannah gave her a brief synopsis of the plot before adding: ‘But that’s really all I can tell you without giving too much away. Hopefully you might like to read it one day.’

  ‘Totally,’ Mia replied. ‘I’ve just found out my aunt is an author – my dream job. Of course I want to read your book. Do you have any copies yet?’

  ‘No, although I’m hoping it won’t be long now. They’ve been making a few adjustments to the cover recently.’

  ‘What about an ebook I could read on my Kindle?’

  ‘I’ve not had that yet either, to be honest. I’ve got several versions on my computer, but they’re all word processor documents from various different stages in the editorial process. The most up-to-date version I have is a typeset printout they sent me to proofread, but that’s covered in my scribble.’

  ‘Oh, okay,’ Mia replied, trying to hide her disappointment, but not doing a very good job, judging by her aunt’s reply.

  ‘Sorry, Mia,’ she said, wincing. ‘It probably sounds like I’m being evasive, but honestly I’m not. I’d love for you to read it – and I’ll be delighted to let you have a copy just as soon as I get some. Apparently the first thing they’ll produce will be a proof version for reviewers and so on, which might be slightly different from the final one. But it’ll be an actual book. I can’t wait to get my hands on it.’

  ‘I bet you can’t,’ Mia replied. ‘It must be so exciting.’

  ‘Definitely.’ Hannah hesitated before adding: ‘It is a book aimed at people my age, so there is a chance it might not be your cup of tea, but—’

  ‘I’m sure I’ll love it.’ Mia gave her aunt a big smile and then turned her attention back to her food.

  They both ate in silence for a while: Mia still trying to get her head around the fact that her aunt was the very thing she aspired to become one day. Seriously, how had she not known this until now? Her mum, who spent more of her free time buying and selling things on eBay than reading, had never seemed to understand this ambition of hers, despite the various encouraging comments from her English teachers about her creative writing. She preferred the fact that Mia was good at maths and science too, which she said were much better subjects for finding a decent job. She never seemed too interested in reading her daughter’s compositions; whenever Mia mentioned becoming an author, she tended to smile and nod. Hence it had always felt like her mum humoured her, yet secretly considered it an impossible dream she’d soon leave behind.

  Now Mia knew it was something a close family member had done, it made the dream feel so much more achievable.

  ‘How’s the burger?’ Hannah asked her.

  ‘Delicious,’ she said in between mouthfuls, ‘although I wish I hadn’t eaten quite so many nachos now. How’s your fish and chips?’

  Hannah nodded, holding her hand in front of her mouth as she finished chewing, and then replying. ‘Also really nice – but what you said about the nachos … I’m never going to get through all of this.’ She giggled. ‘Maybe we should ask for a doggie bag to take home what we can’t manage.’

  Later, as they were walking back to the apartment, both totally stuffed, Hannah brought the conversation back to literary matters. ‘So what kind of book do you think you’d like to write, Mia?’

  ‘I’m not actually sure yet,’ she said, opting for honesty over trying to say something clever. ‘A good one, hopefully. This might sound weird – especially to you – but I don’t actually feel ready to write a novel yet. I’m not sure I have enough experience of life to know what I want to say. I have written quite a few short stories, though: some for school and others, well, just for myself.’

  ‘Fantastic. That’s as good a place as any to start.’ She paused before adding: ‘I don’t pretend to be any kind of expert, Mia. If anything, I think I just got lucky. But I’d, um, be more than happy to cast an eye over anything you’ve written – you know, if you ever want me to.’

  ‘Really? Thanks.’ Mia meant it. She’d even hoped her aunt might make such a suggestion. And yet now she had, Mia felt a little daunted. What if Hannah thought her writing was awful? ‘I don’t actually have anything with me at the moment,’ she added hastily. ‘It’s all at home. But yeah, definitely. That could be, er, a big help. Thanks.’

  Hannah, walking alongside her as they passed in front of the now familiar, imposing structure of Central Library, scratched her nose. ‘So what was it you thought I did for a living before today?’

  ‘I wasn’t really sure.’ Mia left it at that, although if she’d been pushed to continue, she’d have had to admit to not giving the matter much thought. The vast majority of adults’ jobs were mundane and uninteresting: a depressing reminder of what real life held for all but a lucky few young dreamers like herself.

  The truth was that Mia didn’t even know the exact nature of Mark’s job, even though he’d disappeared to do it every weekday while she’d been staying with her aunt and uncle. It was something office-based involving finances and technology, as far as she understood. Yawntastic, in other words, although it obviously paid the bills and some, based on the swanky apartment and so on.

  ‘What’s Todd up to this evening?’ Hannah asked her next.
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  ‘He’s probably busy gaming.’

  ‘I think it’s fantastic that you two have been, um, hanging out together. Kathy and I hoped you’d get along when we introduced you, but you never know with these things, do you? Are you planning to see each other again tomorrow?’

  ‘Probably. If that’s okay?’

  ‘Of course.’ Hannah smiled. ‘It will give me a chance to get some work done on my next novel.’

  ‘You’re writing that already?’

  ‘No rest for the wicked. My publishing deal is for two books.’

  ‘Really? How far have you got?’

  Hannah chuckled. ‘Never ask a writer that question – well, not this one anyway – because the answer will always be “not far enough”.’

  Mia hoped this wasn’t a disguised dig at her for turning up out of the blue and occupying so much of her aunt’s time. It didn’t seem so from the light-hearted way Hannah had said it. She was probably being paranoid. But the fact was that Mia didn’t know her anywhere near well enough to be able to say for sure.

  She’d worried enough already about getting in the way at her aunt and uncle’s place: about the old saying that two’s company, three’s a crowd. If they’d wanted a child or children in their lives, they’d have had them. But they didn’t. They obviously liked it being just the two of them – and this was something that had been in her head ever since her mum had left her there.

  She wasn’t stupid. She’d paid attention in science class. She understood that some people couldn’t have children, even if they wanted them. However, from what her mum had told her on the journey up here, that wasn’t the reason in this case.

  ‘How come they don’t have any kids?’ she’d asked.

  ‘I don’t think there’s any, er, medical obstacle, if that’s what you mean,’ her mum had replied, keeping her eyes on the road as they sped northbound up the M6. ‘Although obviously I haven’t spoken to them in a very long time. The subject did come up after you were born and Hannah told me they’d decided against it – that being parents wasn’t for them. People are often very private about such matters, but I’m pretty sure that if there was any kind of infertility issue, I’d have known about it. Believe it or not, Hannah and I were pretty close before we fell out.’

  It wasn’t like Hannah or Mark had actually said or done anything to support her fears that they didn’t want her there. They’d both been amazingly hospitable. And despite the fact that Mia had no memory of spending time with them as a tot, it was clear they did. Hannah in particular had dropped in several references to what she’d been like as a wide-eyed young child – and things they’d done together, like feeding the ducks or watching pantomimes.

  Mia was never sure how to react when she heard such things, because they could well have been made up, for all she knew; smiling and nodding had become her default response.

  As she and Hannah walked into the lobby of the apartment block, Mia felt her phone buzz with another message. She pulled it out to have a look and saw that it was Todd again.

  So? What did you have? Bet it was delicious, right?

  She slipped the phone back into her pocket. She’d reply later.

  It was great to have a friend nearby – someone around her own age. And she did already consider Todd a friend, even though they’d only known each other for a couple of days. He was good fun, although at times she really noticed he was a year younger than her. He’d say or do the odd immature thing that made her cringe. Like when she’d taken him to Central Library – since he couldn’t believe what she’d told him about being able to play games there – and he’d found it hilarious to let out a big noisy burp in the quiet reading section. She’d thumped him hard in the arm for that and, although he’d kept on giggling, she was pretty sure he’d got the message.

  She had to be careful with him, though. She’d been around boys long enough to know that he almost certainly fancied her. She’d seen the way he stared at her, all dreamy-eyed, when he thought she wasn’t looking. And she knew from past experience, with other friends who were boys, that it was important not to give the wrong signals, or he’d probably end up trying to plant a kiss on her, which would ruin things.

  She definitely wasn’t interested in him in that way. He was nice-looking, with floppy ash-blond hair, deep blue eyes and a wonky grin she found cute. But despite being taller than Mia, he still looked too young for her and a bit gangly. Maybe in a few years, when he’d grown into himself a bit more, but not now. She already found the boys in her own year at school too immature. She preferred older lads, like her last boyfriend, Ant, who’d recently turned sixteen. Mind you, look how that had worked out. It had been great for a while until she’d realised he’d wanted to take things further way quicker than she was ready for. And then he’d showed his true colours, dumping her by text and telling his mates she was a ‘prick-tease’. Bastard.

  You live and learn, she thought. And if there was one thing she’d learned from growing up as an only child with a single mum and no father on the scene, it was this: she did not want to get pregnant unless she was in a long-term, steady relationship with someone she loved; a man who loved her back and would be a father to their child.

  So, unlike some of her friends at school, Mia was in no rush whatsoever to have sex. Because abstinence was the only contraceptive that worked one hundred per cent of the time, right?

  ‘Thanks again for the meal,’ she told her aunt once they were back inside the apartment. ‘Still no message or anything from Mark?’

  Hannah shook her head. ‘Not yet. Would you like a tea or coffee?’

  ‘No, thanks. I think I’ll read in my room for a bit.’

  Hannah’s face fell a little on hearing this, Mia thought, although her aunt’s actual reply made her wonder if she’d imagined it. ‘No problem,’ she said. ‘If you need anything, give me a shout.’

  CHAPTER 12

  Diane led Mark into the house, shutting the door to the front room as she passed it and continuing to the rear of the property. She entered a decent-sized kitchen – light wood-effect worktops with white gloss painted cupboards – that looked on to a small backyard.

  Mark stood in the doorway for a minute, feeling like a spare part, not knowing whether to take a seat at the circular pine table or just to keep standing. He opted for the latter, figuring it would be rude to sit down without being invited to do so. He stared at the back of Diane’s head as, without speaking, she rooted around in one of the cupboards. He still couldn’t get used to seeing her with such short hair; never mind the burgundy colour. It made her skin look so pale; gave her a totally different look to Hannah, which could only be a good thing as far as he was concerned.

  Before getting there, Mark had expected to find the place in a total mess. He wasn’t sure why exactly. It just fitted in with the idea of Diane being in trouble. In fact, the opposite was true. The kitchen looked like it had barely been used in the past few days, with no dirty or recently washed-up cutlery or crockery in sight. Everything he’d seen so far of the inside of the house looked clean and tidy.

  After continuing to hunt through the cupboard for a little while longer, Diane let out a loud sigh, shut the door and turned around to face Mark.

  ‘Well, I’ve no tea or coffee,’ she said. ‘If you want a drink it’ll have to be either tap water or cordial.’

  Mark wanted to say that he didn’t need anything, but in truth he was parched, so he told her a glass of water would be perfect.

  ‘Aren’t you going to come in and sit down?’ she asked, filling his glass. ‘You’re making me nervous standing there in the doorway.’

  ‘Sure,’ Mark said. ‘I, um, wasn’t sure whether you’d want me to or not. You didn’t seem too pleased to see me outside a minute ago.’

  ‘Sorry.’ She placed the glass on the kitchen table, gestured for Mark to grab the wooden chair in front of it and then sat down opposite. ‘I was just a bit, er, taken aback to see you. You could have called ahead to let me
know you were coming.’

  Mark cleared his throat. ‘Really? Like you did when you turned up in Manchester, you mean? Plus you’ve not exactly been answering your phone recently.’

  Diane sighed again. ‘Fair point. So what’s going on? How come you’re here? I’m guessing you didn’t travel all this way just to see me, especially not dressed like that.’

  ‘I’ve been visiting the office of a company we recently took over in Southampton.’

  Diane raised an eyebrow. ‘Right. Not that close then. You must have been keen to check up on me.’

  ‘It didn’t take long by train, actually. But yes, of course I’m keen to catch up with you, Diane. What do you expect?’

  ‘Does Hannah know you’re here?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Diane nodded, scratching the side of her neck with one finger. ‘And Mia?’

  ‘Yes, Mia too. She’s the one who gave me your address. I, um, think she’d appreciate it if you stayed in more frequent contact with her while you’re apart. She obviously misses you.’

  Diane scowled at Mark in a way that instantly reminded him of Hannah. The look she used was the exact same one his wife did when she was annoyed with him. It literally could have been her at that moment. The shocking similarity of it felt eerie and disconcerting; it brought up unpleasant memories, which he instantly wanted to eject from his mind.

  It appeared that Diane was about to say something – no doubt to rebuke him for daring to question her actions as a mother – but, for whatever reason, the words never came. Instead she closed her eyes and took a couple of long, deep breaths. Puzzled by this apparent attempt by his sister-in-law to calm herself down, which was very untypical of the hot-headed Diane he remembered, Mark resisted the temptation to speak further. He watched and waited.

  Eventually, speaking in a steady, almost robotic voice, she asked: ‘How is Mia? Has she settled in with you and Hannah okay?’

  ‘Yes, she’s doing fine,’ Mark replied. ‘Hannah’s even found her a friend of her own age. Well, in the year below her at school, I think, but near enough. It’s this lad called Todd, who’s the grandson of one of our neighbours. They seem to get on pretty well.’