The Half Sister(84)
Kate
‘So, where were you tonight?’ asks Kate. They may not be as close as they used to be, but Kate knows her sister well enough to know when she’s lying.
Lauren goes into the kitchen and comes back with a glass of water for Kate and a half-drunk bottle of red wine. She pours herself a generous glass and slumps down on the sofa.
Kate looks at her. ‘Lauren, I know you. There’s no way you would have left the children with a virtual stranger unless it was an emergency. So what were you doing?’ She raises her eyebrows, waiting for an answer.
Lauren takes a large glug of wine. ‘I need you to tell me exactly what Mum said,’ she says. ‘About me, about the pregnancy . . . because I just don’t understand why that would come up now.’
Kate looks at her, unable to believe that Lauren could have carried such a heavy secret around with her for so long. ‘And I don’t understand how you could have kept that to yourself for all this time.’
‘It’s been hard,’ says Lauren, ‘my biggest regret. But having my three has helped me come to terms with it.’
‘So Mum and Dad were against you keeping it?’
‘Dad certainly was, and Mum too, apparently.’
‘How do you mean?’
Lauren drains her glass before answering. ‘It doesn’t matter – that’s a conversation for another time.’
‘Did you talk to Dad about how you felt?’ asks Kate. ‘Did you tell him you wanted to keep it.’
‘I tried, and he tried to listen.’ Lauren laughs scornfully. ‘And for a while, I really thought he was getting it. He was shocked, of course – we all were, but he told me that although it wasn’t what he had wanted or planned for me, once I’d thought about the consequences, he’d support my decision.’
‘So what changed?’ asks Kate.
Lauren shrugs. ‘I honestly don’t know – I’ll never know. But all of a sudden, it went from being what felt like my decision, to me doing what he wanted with no questions asked.’
‘That doesn’t sound like Dad,’ offers Kate gently, noticing the tears that are forming in Lauren’s eyes. ‘He was reasonable, compassionate . . .’
Lauren snorts derisorily. ‘You and I had very different relationships with him.’
‘But you must know that that was who he truly was,’ says Kate.
‘Maybe the man I saw was the real him,’ says Lauren bluntly, looking straight at Kate. ‘And the version you saw was the fake, because for a good few years after that, I only remember a controlling man who always got his own way.’
Kate can’t believe what she’s hearing; it’s so far removed from the man she knew.
‘He’d stop me from going out,’ Lauren goes on. ‘Dictate who I was allowed to be friends with, forced me to go to sixth form when I really didn’t want to . . .’
‘But . . .’ starts Kate, thinking it all sounds like a dad who cared, rather than one who didn’t.
Lauren’s lips thin as she empties the bottle into her glass. ‘He even put me in an institution for two weeks.’
Kate’s addled brain stops dead in its tracks. ‘He did what?’
‘Yep, he took it upon himself to admit me to residential care.’
‘What for?’
Lauren shifts in her chair. ‘He thought I had an eating disorder.’
Kate recalls a period when she was fourteen or fifteen and Lauren going away for a while. She thought she’d gone on holiday with friends – in fact, she’s sure that’s what their mother had told her. ‘And did you?’ she asks.
‘I had an unhealthy relationship with food for a bit, but I didn’t need to go into hospital – it could have been dealt with at home.’
Kate is beginning to see a pattern emerging of a scared, confused and unwell young woman, and a father who was doing his best to protect her. Though she can understand how their father’s duty of care could have been portrayed by Lauren as Machiavellian.
‘Did you ever wonder . . .?’ she starts, knowing she has to tread lightly if she’s to get her point across before Lauren shuts her down, ‘. . . if Mum might have been the driving force?’
Lauren pulls herself up, Kate notices, and looks at her, suddenly alert.
‘How do you mean?’
‘Well, for as many reasons as you didn’t always get along with Dad, I’ve never felt as close to Mum.’
‘Perhaps it was just naturally geared up that way,’ offers Lauren.
‘Perhaps,’ moots Kate. ‘But I’m wondering if she had more control than we thought – now I know what I know.’
Lauren leans in. ‘Go on,’ she presses.
Kate remembers back to the argument she witnessed when she was younger; the context of which is only becoming clear to her now. ‘We were in the New Forest . . .’
Lauren furrows her brow.
‘It must have been when it was all kicking off about the baby.’
Lauren nods and looks at the tattered tissue in her hands.
Kate leans her elbows on the table and holds her fingers at her temples, desperately trying to delve into the deepest corners of her mind to recall what happened next. The outline is there, she just needs to fill in the detail. ‘We were in the house and you stormed out.’