The Half Sister(16)



‘You don’t have to,’ says Matt. ‘I knew your father . . .’

‘Exactly,’ says Kate, grateful that she doesn’t have to justify herself any further.

‘I’ll make dinner,’ says Matt, changing the subject. ‘Something light.’

‘That’ll be great,’ she says. ‘Love you.’

‘Love you too.’

If she leant her head on the tiled wall for just a few minutes, she’s sure she could fall asleep.

‘Kate! Are you in here?’ calls out Daisy, the new intern on the entertainment desk.

She must have dropped off, as she jumps up with a jolt, the blood rush to her head making her feel dizzy.

‘Er, yep, I’ll be out in a sec.’

‘No rush – there’s just somebody downstairs for you.’

‘On my way.’

A few minutes later, Kate takes a deep breath as the lift doors open onto the lobby.

The only problem with having her byline on showbiz stories in the paper is that would-be hacks turn up to hawk their tales about the first wife of a lead singer of a seventies rock group who’s now residing in their village. It also wasn’t unusual for a man to arrive in reception claiming to be the ghost of Elvis Presley. Kate tended to pass those ones on to the science team, under the guise of being a supernatural feature.

Chloe on the front desk nods her head towards a woman who is standing with her back to them, watching the bank of TV screens that showcase the channels the media conglomerate also owns. Kate’s relieved to see that she’s dressed sensibly – the first sign that she can’t be too eccentric – and hopes that whatever she has to say won’t take up too much time.

‘Hi,’ she says as cheerily as she can manage. ‘I’m Kate Walker, how can I help you?’

As the woman turns around, Kate feels winded and sways in an effort to keep herself upright.

‘Hi,’ says Jess, holding out her hand.

Panicked, Kate looks to Chloe, and is relieved to see that she’s too busy answering a call to notice the heat that is sure to be radiating from her glowing cheeks.

‘You?’ she hisses. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

Jess, who Kate can now see is a little older than she first thought, cocks her head to one side and smiles sweetly. There’s an air of professionalism to her that she didn’t have yesterday. In her ripped jeans and T-shirt, she’d looked like a student from a reputable university. Today, dressed in a smart black trouser suit, with a crisp white blouse underneath, she looks a good few years older, and as if she means business.

‘I wonder if I might have a word.’

‘I thought we made ourselves quite clear yesterday. Whatever information you think you have is wrong. You have nothing to do with us – you are not our family.’

‘I’m not here to cause any trouble,’ says Jess.

‘So, what do you want?’ asks Kate, before holding her breath for the answer.

‘I just wanted to say sorry. I should never have turned up like that yesterday, not without knowing what I now know.’

‘Which is?’ asks Kate hesitantly.

Jess looks down at the floor. ‘That . . . that my father is dead.’

‘H-how do you know that?’ Kate stutters, all too aware that she’d not divulged that information the day before.

‘Your sister told me.’

‘Lauren?’ says Kate, far louder than she’d intended. She looks around the vast lobby as a few heads turn in her direction. She suddenly wishes she was dealing with the ghost of Elvis.

‘If I’d known that he wasn’t . . . here, I’d have never burst in on your family like that.’ Jess looks close to tears. ‘I was hoping to find him.’

Kate feels a band pull tight around her abdomen and she’s reminded to try and stay calm, if not for herself, then for the baby she’s trying to grow. Taking Jess forcibly by the arm, she steers her towards the doors and out onto the street. ‘What do you mean Lauren told you he’d died? When? How?’

Jess looks at her, as if surprised she needs to ask. ‘Last night,’ she says. ‘I saw her last night.’

‘Wh-what?’ Kate can’t even begin to comprehend what she’s being told. ‘When?’

‘At her house.’

‘You . . . you went to her house?’ Kate feels all the air inside her rush out. ‘After you came to my parents’?’

Jess nods and looks away, as if it’s finally beginning to dawn on her that she might be speaking out of turn.

Kate puts her hand out to steady herself against the mirror-like glass of the building’s exterior. As she looks around, everything feels out of place, like she’s just landed from another universe. It’s as if she’s in a bottle and Jess’s distorted features are peering in, laughing and goading her.

‘I’m sorry, did she not tell you?’ asks Jess. ‘I assumed you would have spoken this morning.’

‘I need to go,’ says Kate, breathlessly, turning on her heels and heading back into the building. She’s grateful for the blast of cool air that hits her like a slap across the face, but she feels like Bambi on ice as she walks across the polished marble floor; her legs seemingly struggling to hold the rest of her body up.

Sandie Jones's Books