Blood Sisters(103)

Meanwhile, I can comfort myself that, awful as the accident had been, it had proved that Kitty had put me – her half-sister – before her best friend and her own father who had expected her to spill the beans. Deep down, she really loved me. Just as I loved her. If only we had been allowed to grow up together into adulthood, we might now be the kind of sisters I’d always envied. We’d go shopping together. Visit Mum. Maybe push babies along, side by side. ‘The sister relationship is one of the most complex of all,’ Sarah said to me in one of our final sessions. ‘You might think you dislike each other but you are bound by such strong ties that it’s almost impossible to break away.’

Right now, everyone has come to the door of the wing to see me off. On the way out I spot Angela.

‘I’ll miss you, Alison,’ she says.

‘I’ll miss you too,’ I say. It’s the truth. Quite why, I don’t know. You’d think I’d resent her for having got me into trouble over the stationery cupboard. But she’s more than proved her friendship here. People aren’t all good or bad. Besides, she didn’t do it out of spite. Most of us in this place have done wrong out of desperation.

An officer takes me to the gate along with a plastic bag containing the few possessions I had when I came in. There’s only one that I want.

Carefully I take it out and fasten it round my neck.

Kitty’s locket. After Mum had given it to me – and I’d destroyed the Crispin photograph – I’d felt surprisingly comforted. It had helped me imagine that if the locket wasn’t damaged, then my sister was all right too. But now I know different, thanks to Sarah. ‘Pretence,’ she says, ‘is a bit like alcohol. A small amount is all right. But too much can distort your vision.’

Mum’s car is there, waiting. Little Vanessa is strapped safely in the back. My heart gives a lurch. She has grown so much since I last saw her. Part of me wants to pick her up. The other part is too scared in case I drop her.

I still find it amazing that my sister chose to give her that name. Maybe she felt guilty too. Or perhaps she still loves the old Vanessa despite everything.

‘Darling.’

Mum holds me in her arms. For a minute, it feels like it’s just the two of us again, exactly as it was all those years ago.

‘How is Kitty getting on?’ I ask as we drive out of the gates.

My mother rubs her eyes. They are red. But her arms aren’t bruised like they used to be.

‘She seems quite happy in her own way. The other day, she told me – through the machine – that she had “better food than the crap in the last place”.’

We both give a half-smile.

‘She also said that she got “proper lessons” now. I see what she means. The old home had some lovely staff who helped her with her picture board. At the time, I didn’t realize there was so much more that could be done. This home specializes in brain injuries rather than general disabilities. She has one-to-one help now with her hand–eye coordination. The other day, she actually used the weak arm to help tie up her own shoelaces.’

‘That’s incredible.’

So too is the world that’s whizzing past. The world which I purposely stepped out of after the accident in order to protect my sister and mother. One where people are walking past with shopping. Unaware of prison life and all the lies that go on inside.

Mum stops at a crossroads. ‘But I can’t help feeling guilty for not being able to cope any more.’

‘It’s not your fault,’ I say firmly.

Shortly after Kitty’s confession, Mum found she simply couldn’t handle the responsibility of a baby and my sister. There had been some drama apparently when Kitty had tugged at her baby’s leg and caused bruising. Mum admitted she’d then smacked Kitty. It was enough for the authorities to sit up and take notice.

Now Kitty has been sent to a unit that offers special care. Not because of her role in Vanessa’s death – as Lily said, owing to her mental condition and her age at the time of the accident there was no case to make against her – but because she can’t stop herself from lashing out in frustration.

‘When can I go and visit her?’ I ask, putting on my seat belt awkwardly. It’s been a while since I was in a car.

‘They say it’s best to wait a bit. Until she settles down.’

But there’s something else that’s wrong. I can sense it.

For a moment I think that she’s guessed the one thing I’ve kept back.

‘What is it, Mum?’

Her eyes glance in the mirror. ‘There’s someone here to see you.’

I follow her eyes to the other side of the car park. I freeze. I would know that tall figure anywhere.

It is Lead Man.

I could have told him to leave. Just as I did when he visited me in prison.

But I didn’t. Instead, I am sitting with him, a few days later, on a bench overlooking the Thames, near to where we walked on our first night together.

‘I read about the appeal and had to get in touch again,’ he says simply.

I wait for him to continue. Silence, I have learned from Sarah, can make people say more than they mean to.

‘I feel so bad about what happened. I cared for you, Alison. I really did. In fact, I still do.’

I search my heart. Examine it for signs that I feel the same. But there’s nothing there. For a minute I think of my sister. She never talks about Johnny now.