Blood Sisters(74)

But Johnny had to go to hospital to have his arm put in plaster. Afterwards, Kitty refused to let the carer dress or wash her.

‘Jeannie can’t cope any more,’ said Friday Mum when she came to visit. ‘Don’t worry. I’ve persuaded the home to take you back. Johnny’s parents still want to pay for the specialist, though.’ She wiped away a tear. ‘So you’ll be returning next week. I think that’s for the best. Don’t you?’

Yes. No.

‘There’s something else too, Kitty. Some rather bad news, I’m afraid. I’m not sure how much you can understand but … well … it’s about your sister. She’s in trouble.’

Why should she care if something had happened to Half a Sister? But something at the back of Kitty’s mind made her feel that, once upon a time, she had cared. More than she had let on. Because that’s what sisters did. She knew that from the telly. They said they hated each other. But then they helped each other to bury bodies because a sister was the only person you could really trust. The Monster gave a massive kick in agreement.

‘Your sister has been accused of something.’ Friday Mum was shaking when she spoke. She didn’t look very well, come to think of it. Her face was very grey and one set of fingers was twisting the other. How Kitty wished she could do that.

‘She’s still being interviewed by the police. A man was hurt in the prison where she worked. And another man said that …’

Don’t stop, Kitty wanted to say. You were just getting interesting then.

‘I don’t know why I’m bothering to tell you, Kitty.’ Friday Mum had tears streaming down her face. ‘It’s not as though you can do anything. Except that you were the only other person who survived the accident, love. You could tell us if it’s true or not.’

The accident?

Kitty had a flash of plaits. New shoes. A violin. A funny smell.

And then it all went. Just like the other times before.





56


July 2017


Alison


Summer is finally here. It’s hot. Sultry. Couples are sitting in the local park, arms draped around each other. As I jog past, I notice a woman of about Mum’s age who has hitched up her office skirt to make the most of the sun. I think of Lead Man – I still call him that in my head, despite our new level of intimacy – who is away again on another buying trip. What does he get up to when he’s away?

Or, more importantly, what do I?

Our defence case is building, Robin told me when I last saw him. Emails marked ‘Urgent’ are pouring into my inbox from his office address. They are always clipped. Businesslike. Asking me questions that might strengthen our argument. Sometimes he rings to clarify a point. Or calls me into his office for a meeting. The last one had been particularly difficult.

‘Do you remember what you said when Crispin took you to the summer house?’

His voice is distant in the way that someone’s is when they don’t want to talk about something.

‘Not the exact words,’ I say, embarrassed. ‘But he led me to believe that you were there.’

‘So he lured you on false pretences?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘Did you have any idea he was going to … to make advances?’

‘No.’ My knees begin to shake.

‘Did you want him to?’

His voice is flat. I wish we were on the phone and that he couldn’t see my face.

‘No.’

‘Did you make any attempt to fight him off?’

‘I tried to push his chest away but then I gave in.’ This comes out as a whisper.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t catch that.’

‘Not really,’ I groan.

I can hear his breath. ‘Why not?’

‘Because I was too shocked.’

‘Did you tell anyone you were raped?’

‘No.’ My denial comes out as another groan.

‘Why not?’

Do I detect a note of alarm to his voice?

‘Because I felt dirty. As if it was my fault.’

I wait to hear him tell me that this is exactly what it was.

‘Actually, Ali, many rape victims feel exactly the same.’

So he believes me!

‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to steel yourself for intrusive questions like this in court,’ he adds more kindly.

‘Do you discuss cases with your wife?’ I ask suddenly. Instantly, I wish I’d kept my mouth shut. Yet I can’t deny I’ve been curious. What kind of woman has he married? When? Is she a lawyer too? It seems odd to think of the Robin I once knew actually being a husband.

There’s a brief silence. I’ve gone too far, I tell myself. Then he speaks. ‘My cases are confidential.’

I feel as though I am eighteen again. Stupid. At fault. Naive.

‘Besides, we are divorced.’

What? I glance at his ring.

‘Never got round to taking it off,’ he says quickly as though it’s unimportant.

So, he’s not over her yet.

‘A ring can be useful when dealing with overfriendly female clients,’ he adds.

‘Does that happen?’ I ask. It comes out sounding rude, as if I doubt Robin’s attractiveness.