Blood Sisters(104)

‘Please forgive me,’ he says.

The very words that my father used shortly before he died. How can I expect to be forgiven if I don’t forgive others?

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I do.’

He takes my hand. I wait for that thrill. That insanity I’d felt before. It doesn’t come. ‘Is there any chance for us?’ he asks.

As he speaks, a couple walks past. The man has one of those baby carriers close to his chest. There’s a mass of very blonde hair poking out. He bends down and kisses the top of the child’s head. I might have had a baby like that by now if I’d made different choices. Perhaps it’s not too late.

‘No,’ I say softly. ‘I’m sorry.’





July 2018


Robin is handling our case. Mum and I need to meet him to discuss our ‘strategy’. I am both scared of seeing him and excited.

Anyway, here I am. Sitting in a restaurant not far from the bay where we used to swim when we came here on holiday.

St Ives had been Mum’s idea. ‘What you need,’ she had said softly, ‘is a new start. I’ve been thinking of moving for a while.’

So here we are. In a seaside town that we have both always loved. The light is perfect for painting. I’ve got a job at a local art college. I’ve even bought myself a new wetsuit and swim most mornings. There’s nothing like that bracing shock of cold followed by a hot shower. Even though I know the sea can turn on you. Just like life.

It was Robin’s idea to come down rather than me going up to London to see him. Mum bailed at the last minute, saying she needed to stay with Vanessa rather than have a babysitter.

‘You’re looking good.’ His eyes take in my hair which I’ve allowed – at Mum’s suggestion – to ‘grow a bit’. I’ve put on some weight and no longer look quite so scrawny.

‘I feel better being here,’ I say. ‘The sea calms me down.’

‘I know just what you mean. I miss it.’ He shuffles in his seat. ‘And I miss …’

He stops.

What? I almost say. But the moment has passed. Instead, he hands me a file.

‘I’ve gathered statements from the social worker; the baby group in the library that your mother takes Vanessa to; the GP; and everyone else I can think of who vouches that Vanessa is thriving in your mother’s care. Can you take a look?’

He pushes it towards me. Our hands fleetingly brush. I feel an unexpected flash of something. It’s not what I had with Lead Man. Yet it’s comforting. No; more than that.

For goodness’ sake, I tell myself crossly. Haven’t you got enough to deal with?

I glance through the notes. ‘There’s something else,’ I add. ‘It won’t just be Mum who’ll be looking after Vanessa. So will I.’

‘Really?’

I nod. ‘I’m going to set up my own studio too.’

‘I’m glad. It suits you here.’

He pushes away his plate. The sea bream is delicious but neither of us has an appetite. All I can think of is my sister in a place that we’re not even allowed to visit yet until she ‘settles down’.

‘Vanessa belongs with us. We have to do this for my sister’s sake,’ I say softly. ‘It’s the one thing I can do for her.’





80


July 2018


Kitty


B … E … L … L … A.

That was the name of the new girl who’d moved into the bedroom next to hers. Kitty knew that because it was written in pretty letters on the door. Her mother had done it with pastels. Kitty’s name was just typed, like all the others here.

Bella had some gorgeous stuff in her room.

‘I love your duvet cover,’ said Kitty, admiring the pink and blue frills.

‘Thank you,’ said Bella slowly. ‘Mum made it.’

Kitty had got a new machine which was small enough to be strapped round her waist and lie on her knees in the wheelchair. Call Me Jeannie bought it for her. It translated the words in her head and had learned to interpret Kitty’s thoughts with pretty good accuracy. Sometimes this was good. Sometimes it wasn’t. They didn’t take kindly to swearing here and she didn’t always remember to switch it off before she thought something bad. The woman who ran the meditation class said you had to breathe the good things in and breathe the anger out.

It was funny. Since she’d been here, thought Kitty, the memories of the past had faded. Sometimes they turned up. And then sometimes they went away again. Just like that.

Bella seemed quite calm. Maybe that was because the lorry that had crushed her head took away the cross bits. She wore a helmet like Kitty’s. And she had dark hair poking out from underneath, just like her.

‘You look like twins!’ said Nice Carer No. 1.

‘I’ve always wanted a sister,’ said Bella through her machine.

‘Me too,’ said Kitty, after flicking on her own.

‘I thought you had one.’

Kitty pondered this. ‘I do. But there’s only half of her.’

Bella held out her hand. It was all floppy and limp because of the lorry. ‘I could be your sister, if you like.’

Kitty felt a buzz going through her. ‘Cool,’ said the machine. ‘Cool’ was Bella’s favourite word. ‘I’d like that.’