Blood Sisters(42)

‘Are you going to take my sister to the party?’ said Kitty loudly as we stood in line, me hanging on to her hand, waiting for the traffic to clear.

‘Of course he’s not,’ I said, flushing madly.

Robin was silent. Once we’d got to the other side and the girls had gone running off towards Vanessa’s house, he cleared his throat. ‘Actually, I was wondering if you wanted me to pick you up on the way.’

‘Really? Why? I mean, I know how to get there.’

I didn’t mean to be so abrupt but, to be honest, I’d been taken aback by his unexpected offer.

Robin was going red now. ‘I just thought it might be nice to arrive with someone. It’s not as though we’re part of the crowd, is it?’

‘I know. In fact, I don’t know why he asked me.’

‘Or me.’

Suddenly the thought of turning up at a house full of Crispin and his friends laughing and drinking and smoking made me feel nervous. If I hadn’t announced to Kitty that I was going, I’d have changed my mind and stayed at home. But she would only tease me. ‘Boring Ali.’ I could hear the taunts now. ‘Gets invited to the party of the year and then pulls out.’

I wasn’t going to give her that pleasure. Besides, Robin was right. It would be nice to have someone to arrive with.

For the first time in as long as I could remember, I actually felt good about myself.





6 June 2001


Horrible day. Ali was all bossy on the bus just because I wouldn’t share my Creme Egg that Mum had put in my packed lunch.

Ali pretended she didn’t care. She told me – get this – that chocolate gave you spots.

It makes me hate her more than ever.

On the bus I heard Crispin whisper something to one of his friends. I heard him say her name.

It was like he fancied her. Ali? Honestly? She’s so boring and geeky.

And now she’s invited to his summer party. With any luck, she’ll make a fool of herself. Dance badly. Or just sit in a corner and not say anything. Then Crispin will realize he likes me, not her.





30


March 2017


Alison


I’m so spooked out by the phone call from the prison that I put Lead Man out of my head for a while. Instead, I try to keep my wits about me when I’m inside. Someone here is after me.

The only thing that helps is to concentrate on my students – especially Martin and Stefan, who really do have definite potential. ‘Your classes are the best thing here, miss,’ he tells me. I can’t help but glow with the compliment.

Then, one Saturday, when I’m browsing at a stall on the Embankment, someone taps me on the shoulder.

It’s him. Clive. Lead Man. In shorts and a T-shirt, soaked with sweat. I suddenly remember how he’d told me he enjoyed running alongside the river too.

‘What a coincidence,’ he says. ‘I’ve been thinking of you. What are you doing tonight?’ Then he gives me a disarming smile. ‘And before you think of an excuse, I won’t take no for an answer.’

We go to an Italian in Crouch End. I’ve never been there before. The waitress clearly knows him. I tell myself that this is a man who must have wined and dined several women over the years. With looks like that, it’s not surprising. I also tell myself that he can’t possibly be interested in me. Too-tall, clumsy Alison. He’s probably filling in time until his next trip.

‘I wanted to explain why I couldn’t come to your class.’ He’s speaking fast, as if nervous. ‘I got called out to Portugal for a series of unexpected meetings. Otherwise I’d have loved to come.’

‘I’ve been to Portugal too.’ It pops out before I can stop myself.

‘Oh really? It’s a beautiful place. They love their colours, don’t they?’

I think back to our last holiday before the accident. We’d gone – Mum, David, Kitty and I – to a villa near Vale do Lobo. Mum and Kitty had taken their sketch pads. Mum had also bought loads of pottery in bright colours. Yellows. Blues. Pinks. Maybe that’s why I love my different coloured scarves so much. They make me think of her. Time for another visit soon, I tell myself.

‘Whoops!’ I’ve knocked over my glass. The waiter races over to mop up the table. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘If you don’t mind me saying,’ says Lead Man, leaning towards me. ‘You seem rather distracted. Is everything OK?’

‘My sister got married.’ The words burst out of my mouth before I can take them back. I’ve barely talked to anyone for the last few days. I’m out of practice. Now I have to brace myself for the questions. Normal, polite ones. How can I possibly answer them truthfully?

‘How lovely. Was it a big wedding?’

I think back to the community lounge with its forty or so residents and the excited sixth-former who played the piano.

‘Medium sized.’ My eyes can’t help filling with tears.

Immediately, I feel a hand taking mine. ‘Weddings can make us all feel emotional.’ The grip tightens.

I can’t hold back now. This time a handkerchief is being pressed into my hands. A large, cotton one. Not dissimilar to the ones I use to wrap my glass offcuts.

‘Alison, what is it?’