Blood Sisters(27)

Not, of course, that I’m going.

Christmas has never been the same without my sister.

And it seems that however hard I try, it’s impossible to move on.





Sirens.

Screaming.

Or is that the sea?

A wave hurtling towards me.

Under.

Under.

And then up again.

Screaming.

Coffee spilt on paper.

The summer house.

There has to be a link. Somewhere.





16


December 2016


Kitty


Kitty hadn’t been able to move when Bossy Supervisor had seen them. She couldn’t move much anyway, of course, but this was different.

Paralysis by fear.

Not just because of Bossy Supervisor’s shocked, angry face. But because of the memory that had been triggered.

Don’t die.

Her skin was still all goosebumpy. Who had said that? And when?

‘Thank goodness you’re here!’ gasped Johnny, before Bossy Supervisor could open her mouth.

‘Margaret was having breathing problems,’ he continued. ‘That’s why we pulled the alarm. She got frightened and lashed out at poor Kitty. Just look at her pyjama top. It’s all torn.’

Kitty had to hand it to Johnny. Torn pyjama top? He’d been so eager just now that he’d ripped it open himself! Talk about quick-thinking.

Very Thin Carer was rushing in now with an oxygen machine. That was good. Kitty didn’t want Margaret to die. A new roommate might not allow Johnny’s night-time visits. Besides, she liked Margaret, even though she could be a bit weird at times.

‘Would you like to explain what you are doing in the girls’ wing?’ snapped Bossy Supervisor.

Johnny put on his bashful look. Kitty had seen him doing this before. It was a mixture of I’m really sorry and You’re not going to tell me off, are you? Very effective!

‘After the concert, Margaret said I had to look after her glasses very, very carefully.’ He put his hand in his pocket and brought out the same pair that Kitty had seen quite clearly only a few minutes ago, next to her friend’s bed. ‘I thought she might need them now. She likes a bit of a read in bed. That’s what she’s always telling us.’

How wonderfully clever.

‘Then you should have told one of the carers instead of bringing them here yourself.’

‘You’re right.’ Johnny’s voice was particularly slow and sorry now. ‘But I was still feeling really, really excited after the concert. I wanted to tell the girls how great they were.’

There was a hint of hesitation on Bossy Supervisor’s face. Kitty held her breath. Johnny might look different with those slightly slit eyes and intense way of staring. But he knew how to make people like him. Including her.

‘And would you like to explain why your trousers are undone?’

Johnny looked down as if this was news to him. ‘Whoops! Must have forgotten to do them up after the loo.’ He shook his head. ‘I do that sometimes. Sorry.’

Don’t bloody giggle, Kitty told herself sharply. It might give the game away.

‘I think Margaret had breathing problems because it’s so hot,’ he added.

How clever. He was deflecting the blame away from them.

‘It is hot,’ said the carer, putting away the oxygen equipment. ‘I can’t breathe myself. Must be the thermostat again. Perhaps you’d better get the plumber back.’

‘I’ve already left a message but it’s hard to get anyone at this time of the year.’ Bossy Supervisor’s mouth tightened. ‘It looks like there’s been some kind of misunderstanding. But I don’t want it to leak out that Johnny was found in the girls’ wing. Got it, everyone?’

Kitty shook her head but it came out as up and down.

‘She … means … no,’ said Margaret, whose breathing was getting back to normal now.

‘I’ll be off, then,’ said Johnny quickly. ‘Don’t leave your glasses behind again, will you, Margaret?’

This time, Kitty couldn’t help it. A small giggle escaped from her mouth. Luckily it came out as a gurgle. Johnny would be back when the fuss had died down. She just knew it. At last, she had a proper boyfriend. She loved him. And he loved her.

It was, Kitty thought with a lovely warm feeling in her tummy, all she’d ever wanted. That and getting her memory back, of course.

Maybe if she closed her eyes and thought very, very hard, she might work out what Don’t die meant.

But, try as she might, it wouldn’t come back. And before she knew it, it was time for breakfast again.





17


23 December 2016


Alison


The college dinner is being held in an Italian restaurant not far from Waterloo Station. ‘You should go,’ said Mum when I’d stupidly mentioned it during an early evening phone call. ‘Honestly. You can come down to me later instead. I’m always saying you need more fun in your life. Your sister wouldn’t want you to be a hermit.’

Maybe she has a point. If our positions had been reversed, I know very well that she’d be out right now partying. Besides, I’ve been going crazy with all those thoughts whirling around. So, against my better judgement, I decide to accept.