The Sister(142)

She smiled at how guilty he’d felt afterwards and how he’d tried to make up for it by making her a coffee.

Although she was excited at the prospect of a new job, she was also sad. She knew she’d miss Ryan.

Flicking the lights on, she crossed the reception area, and noted the time was 10.55 a.m. She hung her jacket in the corner on the coat tree, and entered the cloakroom to freshen her makeup. A couple of minutes later she stood outside Ryan’s office and knocked on the door. There was no answer, so she opened the door. He wasn’t there, but he’d left a note on his desk. She picked it up and immediately had the feeling something wasn’t quite right.

Dear Stella,

I’m not sure if I’ll be awake in the morning when you come. If I’m not, you’ll be reading this note :)

Anyway, since you are reading it, I want you to call Miller and ask him to come round to see me straight away.

B. Ryan

She grinned at how he’d caught on to the use of the smiley. He had upgraded his mobile telephone, and she’d introduced him to the fine art of texting. She sent him a short note and ended it with :)



‘What on earth is that supposed to be?’ He’d said, pointing to the symbol.

‘It means you’re happy, smiling in a text,’ Stella explained.

‘Mm-m,’ Ryan said as he always did.

Her smile evaporated. She stopped in her tracks. Dear Stella? Ryan had never left her a note like that before. His apartment door was ajar; she listened first for any signs of life. Not a sound. She called out to him from the base of the stairs, and when he didn’t respond, she ventured up. Gracie’s portrait eyes followed her as she walked down the hallway to his bedroom. An uneasy feeling settled on her as she opened the door. ‘Doctor Ryan?’ she said, gingerly poking her head through the gap. ‘Are you awake?’

The doctor was lying in his bed, holding a picture face down on his chest. He had one eye fixed open. It looked milkier than ever before. A lop-sided smile had frozen on his face; he looked happy. She wondered if he’d been thinking of Grace. He’d spoken of it often lately, how much he looked forward to seeing her again.





‘What if it’s just a lie?’ she’d asked him.

‘Then we’re all doomed,’ he replied. ‘We must not let ourselves believe that, well you can if you want to, but me – I know I’m going to see Gracie again.’ She remembered the glint in his eye, the firm set of his jaw when he said it.

She wished she could have shared his absolute faith. For a moment, she saw everything with a new clarity.

‘I’ll see you again one day,’ she whispered and, for the first time, found she believed it. The barrier she’d thrown up against the enormity of it all broke down, and she sank to her knees. She cried, racked by sobs so deep she was hardly able to breathe. She cried for Doctor Ryan, and she cried for herself and for all the things she couldn’t change.





After a while, she regained her composure and prepared herself to dial 999. The buzzer sounded. Someone’s at the door.

Numb, she descended the stairs. The electronic drone persisted. She pushed the intercom and answered automatically.

‘Who is it?’

‘The name’s Miller. I have an appointment for one 'o clock.’

‘Oh, Miller, Ryan is dead!’

Miller thought he recognised her voice. ‘Stella, is that you?’

When the door released, he charged up the stairs two at a time.





Stella was slumped on an armchair in reception when he rushed in. She’d dyed her hair from blonde to black since the last time he’d seen her, but he recognised her instantly. The newly darkened hair matched the black of her smudged mascara.

‘Stella, I don’t believe this. Where is he?’

She nodded in the direction of the stairs.

He glanced at her as he went through the door and up the stairs. ‘Are you all right?’

Her lower lip tugged down at the corners and sadness dulled her eyes. She shrugged and followed him into Ryan’s apartment.

Miller stood in the doorway. The psychiatrist’s unseeing eye fixed on him, and he felt uncomfortable in its unseeing gaze.

Tears brimmed in her lower eyelids, and she stared at him, knowing with one blink they would fall, afraid if they started, she might never be able to stop them. ‘He’s dead, isn’t he?’ she whispered.

Seeing her anguish, he pulled her face into his chest and held her tight. A slight movement caught his eye. ‘No, I don’t believe he is,’ he said. Releasing her, he approached the bed.

Ryan stirred and then tried in vain to sit up. ‘Miller, is that you?’ he croaked dryly, peering at him with his half-open good eye. His other one seemed to be stuck open. He rubbed it a few times before he could get the lid to close over it.

‘Stella, get him some water, please.’

Miller lifted the photograph from the old man’s chest and propped him up with an extra pillow. As he tucked it behind, Ryan leaned close and whispered into his ear. ‘She read your file, but don’t tell her I told you.’ The old man gave him a knowing look and tapped the tip of his nose with an unsteady finger.

‘Don’t worry, I won’t.’ Miller grinned. ‘You gave Stella quite a scare.’