Blood Sisters(50)

I sit bolt upright in bed. My mouth dry. ‘Who’s there?’ I croak.

A shape is climbing in through the curtains.

The scream stays in my throat. Too frozen to move.





37


July 2001


Ali


‘Kitty? Are you ready?’ I yelled up the stairs. ‘You’re going to make us miss the bus.’

It was the last day of school. The end-of-term concert. And I was getting a prize. Much good it would do, because I knew I’d failed my history. I don’t need the results – due in August – to tell me that.

And it was all my sister’s fault. That guilty look on her face had been proof enough. It was just the kind of thing she’d do. But now it was payback time.

I smoothed down my school skirt, which was clinging to my tights. At least I wouldn’t have to wear this any more. Nor the boring sensible shoes which were waiting by the front door along with Kitty’s: hers polished by David. He never bothered with mine.

‘Calm down, love,’ said Mum, who was rushing around, trying to get her own things ready for work. ‘You’ve got a couple of spare minutes. Don’t forget your packed lunch in the fridge.’

Then she gave me a cuddle and I breathed in that lovely lavender fragrance. ‘I know you’re feeling tense after your exams. I understand that. But try to relax. Enjoy the concert. I’m really proud of you for getting a prize.’

Her words made me shrink away. If only I could just crawl off and hide in a hole. Still, at least after today I wouldn’t have to face Crispin again. For some reason, he hadn’t been on the school bus for a bit but we still had to share some classes, which was agony. Part of me wanted to yell at him for what he’d done in the summer house. And the other part felt horribly ashamed.

‘Kitty!’ I yelled up the stairs again. ‘Get a move on.’

‘Coming, coming.’ My half-sister was walking down the stairs moodily, dragging her violin case behind her. ‘I don’t feel well. I don’t want to go.’

‘That’s because you should have practised a bit more, princess,’ said David, emerging from the kitchen with my sister’s lunchbox in his hand. ‘Shouldn’t she, Ali?’

‘What’s it got to do with her?’ Kitty shot me a furious look. Then she snapped at her father. ‘Where are my shoes?’

‘Right there, love. I put a special protective spray on them. They say it’s going to rain later.’

She pulled them on without so much as a thank you.

‘Kitty,’ said Mum sharply. ‘Is that nail varnish you’re wearing?’

‘So what?’ pouted my sister.

‘It’s not suitable.’

‘Vanessa’s got some and her parents don’t mind.’

‘Have you made up with that friend of yours?’ asked David. ‘Sounded like you two were having a bit of an argument the other day.’

‘We’re good,’ said Kitty, pushing past us. ‘Anyway, it’s none of your business.’

My sister didn’t usually speak to her father like that. What was going on?

‘Don’t forget your sandwiches, Kitty.’

Too late. She was storming ahead as if I was the one who had delayed her.

‘Make sure you catch up with her,’ pleaded Mum, giving them to me. ‘And hold her hand when you cross the …’

As if I didn’t have enough to do apart from babysitting a sister who thought she was more grown up than I was. If only she knew how much I yearned for a different sister who would understand and tell me that it would be all right. That’s what sisters did, didn’t they? But not mine. She hated me. Even though she had no cause.

Robin used to suggest – before he started getting all distant – that I ask her why she disliked me so much. ‘It’s obvious it’s jealousy,’ he would tell me. ‘Younger siblings are like that. Writers are always going on about it. But forcing her to talk about it might clear the air.’

Ha! He didn’t know Kitty.

‘Why did you fall out with Vanessa?’ I asked curiously when I caught up with her. I admit it wasn’t exactly out of kindness. Part of me wanted to needle her. I could tell she was bothered from the way she’d spoken to David just now.

‘You know,’ I started to say, ‘some people aren’t very good for you but it’s hard to know that at the time.’

‘Keep your nose out of my life.’

‘I’m only trying to help.’

My sister scuffed the ground with her foot. For once she looked on the verge of tears. ‘If you really want to know, someone sent Vanessa a stupid letter that said –’

She stopped suddenly, as if a light had gone on in her head. ‘It wasn’t you, was it?’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘It doesn’t matter. You wouldn’t have the nerve to do that sort of thing anyway.’

‘What sort of thing?’

‘I told you before. Forget it.’

We’d turned out of our road now and were heading down a side road that joined up with the main street, leading to school. Blast! There went the bus. Right past us.

‘Run,’ I shouted to my sister. ‘It might just wait.’