The Half Sister(40)

‘I’m really not interested,’ she says.

‘It’s breaking my heart, all of this,’ says Rose, her voice cracking. ‘I can’t bear it when you two aren’t talking.’

‘We’re just busy,’ says Kate, by way of an excuse, but even she’s not falling for it.

‘Goodness knows the girl’s caused enough grief as it is, let’s not let her ruin everything.’

Kate stops herself from saying, She already has.

‘Lauren is a grown woman,’ she says instead. ‘She can do what she wants.’

‘Not if it’s at the expense of the family.’

‘You keep talking about this wonderful family of ours, as if it’s the Holy Grail,’ says Kate, seeing red. ‘That we’re somehow untouchable by anything immoral or unethical. But guess what, Mum – right now, we’re in the middle of a shitstorm, all lined up like sitting ducks, waiting for the bullet that is going to blow us all to smithereens.’

‘If you’re referring to your dad—’ starts Rose.

‘I’m referring to you,’ snaps Kate. ‘When are you going to stand up and take responsibility for what you’re putting your precious family through?’

There’s a deathly silence at the other end of the line and Kate instantly wishes she could suck her words back in. She’d not intended to say them. She hadn’t expected to be brave enough.

‘We obviously need to talk,’ says Rose eventually.

Kate breathes out. Finally we’re getting somewhere.

‘Can you come over at some point this week?’ asks Rose.

‘Yes, of course,’ says Kate, suddenly eager to sound conciliatory. ‘I can probably pop in the day after tomorrow.’

‘Fine, I’ll see if Lauren can get cover for the kids for an hour,’ says Rose. ‘But Kate . . .?’

‘Yes, Mum.’

‘Be ready for some home truths.’

The poor signal in the lift ends the call and Kate spends the twenty seconds of peace it affords her to try and control the apprehension that is tightening her chest. It’s not long, but it gives her the time she needs to arrive at the news floor with a smile on her face.

‘Those pictures have come in,’ says Daisy eagerly, as soon as Kate reaches her desk.

‘Great, what are they like?’

‘I’ll ping them over to you now.’

Kate throws her bag onto the desk and stands over her computer terminal. If these mobile-phone shots of a pop star they’ve been promised are good enough, it’ll be a front-page lead and all she’ll have to do is write a quick caption before she heads home.

Her phone rings again as she taps impatiently on her keyboard, waiting.

‘Yes,’ she says, without knowing who’s calling.

‘Hey, it’s only me,’ says Matt. ‘You okay?’

She wants to tell him that no, she’s not okay. Her family are driving her insane, the heat is killing her, she could fall asleep standing up and she’s sure that her ankles have swollen, but she’s already bored of herself.

‘I’ve been rushing around all day, so I’m a little bit tired,’ she says instead. ‘I’m just going to wrap things up here, head home and have an early night.’

‘Ah, okay,’ says Matt. ‘A few of us are going for a quick drink after work. I was going to ask if you fancied coming with us.’

‘Mmm, I think I’ll give it a miss if you don’t mind.’

Matt’s colleagues on the news desk are far more testosterone-fuelled than she’s in the mood for right now. Standing in a packed pub with all her ailments is bad enough. Having to do it whilst being lectured on the merits of a 4-4-2 over a 5-3-2 would be a bridge too far.

‘Okay, do you mind if I go for a quick one?’

‘Go for as many as you like,’ she says, laughing.

‘Are you sure you don’t want to come?’

‘Tempting as it is, I have a rather pressing engagement with a book and a scented candle.’

Matt laughs. ‘Okay, as long as you’re sure. I’ll give you a call as I’m heading home.’

‘Have fun.’

Her head drops onto her chest and she lets out a sigh of disappointment as a flurry of grainy images fill her screen. She doesn’t know whether it’s because you can barely make out it’s a woman, let alone an international pop star, or that a member of the public has deemed it acceptable to invade someone’s privacy from fifty metres away. Either way, she knows she can’t print them.

‘We need something else,’ she says, pulling out her chair and falling heavily onto it.

‘There’s that premiere tonight,’ offers Daisy quickly, as if she’d already anticipated Kate’s response.

Kate nods thoughtfully. ‘Have we got a photographer there?’

‘Yes, Ben’s on it.’

‘Okay, great,’ says Kate. ‘Let’s see if we can get a handle on what and who the leads are wearing and as soon as the pics are in, can you write a caption?’

‘Me?’ says Daisy in surprise.

Kate normally wouldn’t trust anyone but herself or her deputy Karen to write copy, but for some reason, she doesn’t feel quite as conscientious as she once did. She suspects it’s because she’s pregnant, and knows that in a few months from now, her life will be so far removed from the one she’s currently living that she won’t give two hoots about what film stars are wearing or who pop stars are dating. She’s also coming to the conclusion that she’s simply lost the taste for exposing the private lives of people who try so hard to keep them private.