My Sister's Lies

by S. D. Robertson

  ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked.

  ‘There’s something in there,’ he said, eyes wide, pointing at the bush. ‘I think it’s a rat.’

  ‘What?’ Mia yelped, finally listening to her friend and springing to her feet.

  She moved over to where he was standing, leaving her handbag behind, next to Todd’s backpack. The pair of them stared at the bush, scouring it for movement.

  ‘Are you sure you didn’t imagine it?’ Mia asked after a few minutes had passed and there was no sign of any rat.

  ‘I saw its eyes glaring at me,’ he whispered. ‘It was terrifying.’

  ‘I noticed.’ Mia started to giggle. ‘That was quite a scream.’

  ‘Don’t,’ Todd replied, cracking a smile. It was soon wiped away, though, by a rustle in the bush as some of the leaves and branches moved.

  ‘Oh my God!’ Mia cried, grabbing hold of Todd’s hand. ‘Did you see that? Are you sure it’s a rat? I hate rats. Yuck. They’re disgusting.’

  ‘I know – me too. I was on a school camping trip once and someone brought along a copy of this ancient horror book called The Rats. He read a bit of it one night and I was terrified. I pretended not to be, because – you know – I didn’t want to look like a wuss, but I hardly slept that night. I’ve had a thing about rats ever since.’

  ‘I’d never have guessed,’ Mia said, realising she was holding Todd’s hand and gently letting go.

  ‘You’d have screamed too, if you’d been the one to see it,’ he said.

  ‘Too right I would, but I’m a girl. Aren’t you guys supposed to be the ones who come to our rescue in these situations?’

  ‘Um, heard of feminism ever?’

  Mia rolled her eyes. ‘That doesn’t apply when rodents are involved. Obviously. You could redeem yourself by going to get our bags. You needn’t bother with the kirsch. It’s empty.’

  ‘Sorry about the bottle,’ Todd said, ‘but I’m afraid there’s absolutely zero chance of me going anywhere near that bush. Ladies first. I insist.’

  They both started giggling at the ridiculousness of the situation, at which point Mia spotted a scruffy-looking chap veer off the nearby path on to the grass, heading in their direction.

  The man, who looked to be in his late thirties or early forties, had long, curly ginger hair and a matching beard. As he approached – dressed in combat boots, tatty jeans and a woollen jumper that belied the summer weather – his smell announced itself before he did. It was the unmistakeable reek of someone who’d been living and sleeping rough in the same clothes, without washing, for too long. It wasn’t uncommon to see such folk back home, especially during the summer months, so Mia wasn’t fazed. Her mum had taught her to be charitable towards them rather than afraid, pointing out that they were ‘just normal people down on their luck’.

  ‘What are you two looking so stressed about?’ he asked them in a softer than expected voice that, to Mia’s ears, sounded northern but not Mancunian.

  ‘Um, I er …’ Todd had a tremor in his voice as he looked at Mia rather than their new companion. The pupils in his eyes looked stretched to capacity and he appeared almost out of breath. She wanted to tell her friend to calm down, but instead she replied to the man, trying not to wrinkle up her nose at the smell. ‘My friend here saw a rat in the bush.’

  ‘A rat?’ he said, his breath stinking of alcohol, even though he seemed articulate enough. Turning to look at Todd, he asked: ‘Are you sure?’

  He got a vigorous nod in reply.

  ‘I haven’t seen it myself, but there’s definitely something in there,’ Mia said. ‘The bush was moving around before you got here and there was a rustling noise.’

  ‘Hmm,’ the man said. ‘I can’t say I’ve seen any rats around here. Are you sure it wasn’t just a—’

  Before he had a chance to finish the sentence, there was more rustling and moving branches, followed by the sudden appearance of a grey squirrel.

  Mia stifled a scream, having initially mistaken it for the rat – and then, as the truth dawned on her, she started to laugh.

  The fluffy-tailed animal beamed its dark eyes at them for a long moment before darting up a nearby tree.

  ‘Exactly,’ the man said. ‘A squirrel. That’s what I was about to say. There are loads of them in this park and they’re not afraid of us at all. They’ll come right up to you if you have some food.’ He turned to Todd again and threw him a good-natured grin. ‘Do you reckon that might be what you saw, lad?’

  The teenager looked down at the ground before muttering: ‘Um, maybe, yeah. I only really saw its face.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ the man said. ‘It’s an easy mistake to make.’ He looked back at Mia and gave her a private wink, adding: ‘They don’t look that different, do they? It’s only the cute bushy tail that stands them apart really. But they are much easier to love than rats; that’s a fact. I reckon you can return to your bags in safety now, kids.’

  Mia expected the man to tap them up for some change before leaving. But he didn’t – and, as a result, she felt bad for thinking so.

  She and Todd returned to where they’d been sitting. Once the man was safely out of earshot, Todd whispered: ‘He was a bit of a weirdo, wasn’t he? He totally stank. Do you reckon he was a tramp?’

  ‘I think he was probably homeless, yes. Tramp isn’t a very nice word. He was only trying to be helpful.’

  Todd frowned. ‘If you say so. Are you sure he didn’t nick anything while he was talking to us? He could be a skilled pickpocket, for all you know, like Fagin’s gang in Oliver!’

  ‘What are you on about?’

  ‘It’s the musical version of Oliver Twist. We, um, put it on at school a few months ago. I was one of them.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘One of the thieves. You know, the Artful Dodger and all that. I didn’t play him, though. I was just in the chorus.’

  Mia vaguely knew what he was talking about now. She seemed to remember seeing the film on TV once. ‘It’s not very nice to assume he’s a thief, Todd,’ she replied, cutting to the chase. ‘You shouldn’t be so quick to judge. He didn’t go anywhere near my handbag.’

  ‘If you say so. I kept my hands in my pockets the whole time he was here. My dad reckons no one needs to be homeless. He says they’re usually people who don’t want to contribute to society, because they’d rather be off their heads on drugs or drink.’

  Mia decided at this point that she definitely had no further interest in getting drunk with Todd.

  ‘I’m not really feeling like this any more,’ she said after he suggested opening the wine.

  ‘What? How come? Is it because I dropped your bottle? I am sorry about that. I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. It smelled pretty awful anyway.’

  Mia got to her feet, smoothing down her skirt with her hands. ‘I know. Don’t worry, that’s not the reason. Come on, let’s go.’

  Todd also stood up. ‘Is it something I did? Is it about the rat – or what I just said about that, um … bloke?’

  ‘You could have been nicer about him, sure. No offence to your dad, but I think what he told you about the homeless isn’t very fair. No one wants to be living on the streets.’

  Todd winced. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean—’

  ‘Never mind. The drinking seemed like a good idea earlier, but now it feels, um, juvenile.’

  ‘Right.’ Todd picked up his bag and zipped it shut. He looked so dejected that Mia wondered if she’d gone too far in what she’d said. She had been disappointed by his reaction, though, because it was so far removed from her own. Mind you, it wasn’t his fault what his parents had taught him. And he was only thirteen.

  ‘I’d better find a bin for this,’ she said, bending down to pick up the discarded kirsch bottle and emptying out the drop of clear liquid remaining before screwing the lid back on.

  When she looked up again, to her surprise, Todd was running in the direction of the homeless guy, who was now sitting on a park bench in
the distance.

  What the hell?

  She thought about going after her friend, but before she had a chance to make her mind up, he’d already reached the man. She watched the pair interact, although they were too far away for her to hear what they were saying.

  Todd had his back to her and was blocking her view of the seated man, so she couldn’t even see their facial expressions. There was some gesturing and then Todd unzipped his backpack, pulled out the two bottles of wine and handed them over. Next thing, Todd was waving goodbye and running back in her direction; she could now see that the man was grinning. He raised one of the bottles into the air and mouthed what looked like ‘cheers’.

  ‘Cheers!’ she shouted back with a wave.

  ‘You gave him the wine,’ Mia said when Todd returned to her side.

  ‘Yep. I asked him first if he liked wine, which he does, and then I offered him the bottles. He seemed pleased.’

  Mia couldn’t help thinking they would have been better giving him some food or even cash. But what the hell? If it made him happy in the short term, why not? He’d no doubt be buying alcohol at some point anyway, judging by how much he smelled of the stuff. It was a nice, well-meaning gesture on Todd’s part; enough to make up for what he’d said before.

  ‘I thought I might as well pass the bottles on to someone who wanted them. I’m sure Gran won’t miss them and, if I tried to put them back, I’d run the risk of getting caught in the process.’ He winked before adding: ‘It’ll be nice not having to lug them around any more.’

  ‘Fair enough.’

  ‘So are we heading back into town?’

  ‘Um, we could have a look around the art gallery first, if you like, or there’s a museum a bit further up Oxford Road where there’s a dinosaur skeleton.’

  Todd pulled a face. ‘I’m not really into museums and art galleries. Sorry. And I think I’ve seen the dinosaur before. It must be the place Gran took me last summer. I’m actually a bit hungry. Do you fancy popping to that McDonald’s we passed on the bus earlier? It’s only a short walk, I think.’

  ‘Go on, then,’ Mia said, laughing inside at the fact they were surrounded by culture but chose instead to go for a Maccy D’s. ‘I reckon I could handle a chocolate milkshake.’

  ‘It’s the cheeseburgers I love. Yum.’ Todd rubbed his stomach with one hand to emphasise his point as they headed back to the park entrance, Mia dropping the empty kirsch bottle into the first bin they passed.

  As they walked, they joked about how angry their respective parents would be if they found out about them stealing the alcohol from their relatives.

  ‘How come it’s just you and your mum, actually?’ Todd asked next. ‘Unless you don’t want to talk about it.’

  ‘No, it’s okay,’ Mia replied. ‘It’s always been this way. My dad’s never been on the scene. Mum doesn’t like to talk about him. Any time I’ve brought him up, she’s just said he’s a waste of space who’s not interested in being a father – and we’re better off without him in our lives.’

  ‘So you don’t even know who he is?’ Todd asked, his mouth agape. ‘That’s mental. Don’t you even want to find out?’

  ‘I don’t know really. It’s hard to miss someone you’ve never known. But then occasionally – when I spend time at friends’ houses, for instance, and see what a regular family looks like – I do think about it. I wonder where he is and what he’s doing; if I look like him and whether he ever thinks about me.’

  ‘Don’t you reckon she’d tell you if you went on about it enough and wore her down?’

  ‘She’d probably just get mad, to be honest. Mum really doesn’t like to talk about it. She’s doing what she believes is best for me. And if he isn’t a very nice person, who’s not interested in the fact he has a daughter, then I am probably better off without him. It’s not like he’s ever made any effort to contact us.’

  ‘It must be weird, though. I can’t imagine. What about your aunt and uncle? Do they know who he is?’

  Mia shook her head. ‘Mum’s always said she’s never told anyone. I did ask my grandad once, a couple of years ago, and he said he didn’t know. I don’t think he was lying. Whoever my dad is, it’s likely he’s from around here, because Mum lived in Manchester when she had me.’

  ‘It could be that dude I gave the wine to,’ Todd said with a smirk.

  ‘Very funny.’

  As they arrived outside McDonald’s, Mia decided to change the subject to something lighter. ‘Anyway, Todd, since you’re being a comedian, tell me more about your time on stage in that musical.’ Mia fought to keep a straight face. ‘I guess there must have been lots of singing and dancing involved. You’ll have to give me a rendition.’

  Todd groaned as he held open the door for her. ‘Why did I tell you about that? I was awful, honestly. My English teacher roped me into it because they were short on numbers. My singing voice is so bad they actually told me to mime.’

  This made Mia giggle. ‘Maybe don’t sing after all, then.’

  Back in the present, Mia was lying on her bed, staring at the plain white ceiling above and trying to stay calm when there was a knock at her door.

  ‘Come in,’ she said.

  The door swung open and Hannah’s head appeared. ‘Have you got a minute, love? Your uncle wants a word with us both about what happened yesterday with your mum. We’re in the lounge.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll be there in a sec.’

  Mia took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a moment and wished for good news.

  CHAPTER 14

  Mark had been dreading his arrival back home. He’d spent most of the train journey from Bournemouth to Southampton that morning thinking about what to say. Then he’d barely been able to concentrate on work during the day.

  It hadn’t gone unnoticed. Adam had quizzed him about it over lunch, when the pair of them had slipped out to a nearby boozer, taking advantage of the fact that Wilder was tied up with a previous appointment.

  He’d been sipping on a gin-and-tonic in a quiet corner, waiting for his chicken salad to arrive; hoping it wasn’t as bland as everything else in the cavernous chain pub, from the sleepwalking staff to the dreary background music. Having finished replying to an email, Adam – sitting directly across from him – had jammed his mobile back into his jacket pocket and muttered something about never getting a moment’s peace. Then he’d thrown Mark a quizzical glance, asking: ‘So how come you didn’t make it back last night? Is everything all right?’

  ‘It took a bit longer than expected, that’s all. I missed the last train, so I had to take the spare room and catch an early one back this morning.’

  ‘At least you managed to get changed before hitting the office,’ Adam had said, smirking, after taking a sip from his pint. ‘Otherwise people might have thought you’d been a dirty stop-out.’

  ‘Hardly.’

  ‘Seriously, though. Did you manage to sort things out with your sister-in-law? What’s her name again: Deborah, is it?’

  ‘Diane. Yeah, it’s … complicated.’

  ‘I thought as much. You’ve been away with the fairies all morning.’

  ‘Is it that obvious? Sorry, mate.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. I only caught on because I work with you all the time. It’s fine, honestly. Wilder’s too wrapped up in his own crap to notice. Besides, I think he’s terrified of you after all the financial stuff you reeled off yesterday.’

  Mark, who’d been occupying his hands by tearing up beer mats under the table, had laughed at this. ‘Well, that’s what you asked me along for, right?’

  ‘Exactly. Are you okay, though? If there’s anything I can do to help …’

  Mark had lied, claiming to be fine, despite this being far from the truth. He’d then done his best to put his – and Diane’s – troubles out of his mind for the rest of the afternoon, although he hadn’t been particularly successful.

  It had been the same story at the airport, during the short flight back to Man
chester, and then the cab ride home. One thought had barely left his mind the whole time, bouncing around inside his skull like a rubber ball: what the hell was he going to tell Hannah and Mia when he got back?

  Finding Mia waiting by the front door of the apartment had thrown him, but luckily he’d had the excuse of needing a shower first, which had bought him some extra time. Not that it had helped much.

  Now he was facing the pair of them in the lounge, hair still damp from being washed, and no clue what to say.

  His mind flashed back to twenty-four hours earlier when it had been Diane’s face staring expectantly at him, rather than those of her sister and daughter. But unlike them, it hadn’t been explanations she’d wanted. It had been Mark’s reaction to the bombshell she’d just dropped at her kitchen table.

  ‘Aren’t you going to say anything?’ she asked him, her face eerily calm.

  Like what? How was he supposed to respond? She’d just told him she was dying! And this was Diane, of course, which made things even more complicated. Was it true – or merely the latest move in some elaborate game she was playing?

  ‘Um,’ he replied eventually, shaking his head as the words shuffled out. ‘I don’t know what to say, Diane. What … how?’

  She sat back in her chair at this point, rather than continuing to lean over the table, but it did little to ease the tension.

  ‘It’s cancer,’ she said, her voice little more than a whisper. ‘Pancreatic. Terminal.’

  As she uttered these words, the look in her eyes – or rather the absence of anything there, like a vacuum, bereft of hope – shattered Mark’s remaining defences. He reached forward and placed his right hand over hers as it gripped the kitchen table: one human to another, the past temporarily forgotten.

  ‘Diane, I’m so sorry. Does Mia—’

  He felt her hand stiffen at the mention of her daughter’s name. ‘No – and she mustn’t! She can’t go through what Hannah and I did with Mum. You remember that, right? It was horrendous watching her slowly waste away. I don’t want that for my daughter, especially at her age. That’s why I brought her to you.’