The Sister(168)

When Stella opened the door, he had a bunch of flowers behind his back. ‘I thought these might help to cheer you up,’ he said as he whipped them out, presenting them to her.

She took them and managed a weak smile. ‘Thank you, very thoughtful of you.’

He noted how pink and puffy her eyes were. ‘Are you sure you’re okay, do you want me to come back?’

‘That is exactly what I don’t want. Come in.’ She motioned him in with a slight jerk of her head and turned down her hallway. He entered and closed the door behind him.

Upstairs, there was a commotion going on, raised voices, rumbling noises, things moving and scraping across the floor. Miller looked up at the ceiling. She caught his eye.

‘That,’ she said, pointing her finger at the flat above, ‘is them upstairs getting ready to go on holiday.’ She sighed. ‘I’ll be glad of the peace and quiet. Lovely, I can’t wait.’ She smiled at the thought.

‘Are they always that noisy?’

‘Like you wouldn’t believe.’ She drew out a stool for him at the breakfast bar in the kitchen. ‘Drink?’

‘Have you got water?’

She turned the tap on. ‘Yes, we have water.’

‘Bottled water?’ He shrugged.

She opened the fridge and pulled a chilled bottle out. ‘Would you like a glass and ice?’

‘Is it bottled ice?’ He grinned and took the bottle. ‘This’ll do fine.’

She poured herself a fruit juice. He waited for her to sit, before doing so himself.

‘I can see you’ve done a lot of crying, Stella, are you okay?’ His voice was quiet and comforting.

She glanced at him and then quickly turned away, fanning her face with both hands. ‘I’m a bit all over the place with my emotions.’ She sipped at her drink. ‘I don’t like losing people. Ryan was like my grandfather.’ She covered her eyes with one hand and tried to compose herself. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, wiping tears from her face.

Miller laid his hand over hers. ‘I know he meant a lot to you. Take your time, tell me everything.’

She withdrew her hand and started at the point where her sister, Kathy, had been missing for a year. As she spoke, her hands fluttered up in front of her and helped articulate her words.

‘At first, it drew them much closer together. I don’t know all of it, but they were well on the road to splitting up when it happened. Their grief reunited them. That’s where I came in. When I was born, I was a distraction for them, you know. It gave them a reason not to fill up their entire lives with the searching. Having me gave them an anchor, helped them balance their lives. I grew up in the shadow of someone who disappeared before I was a gleam in my father’s eye and even though my sister was no longer there, I played second fiddle to her.’ She picked up a tissue and dabbed her eyes.

‘As I grew up, I began to understand it better. The candle – that candle mum kept burning in her old room day and night. We never took holidays because she had to be the one who kept it alive, transferring it from the last candle to the next, like she was the Keeper of the Eternal Flame.’ Stella’s hand found the tissue again. She twisted it between her fingers as Miller looked on. He let her speak without interruption.

‘When I reached the same age as she was, I became a nurse at the same hospital. I wanted to see what it was like to walk in her shoes, go out to the same pubs and clubs, and listen to the same music she did. Looking back now, I think I wanted to be the daughter they missed so much, but I couldn’t replace her.

‘When I got to twenty-one-years old, they... No, she decided to kick it all in.’ She dabbed at her eyes again. ‘At first, I kept that candle burning. I rummaged through boxes and boxes of old newspapers, cuttings, posters and notes. You know there were letters from people who claimed to have seen her. There were letters from people who had dreamed about her. Letters from clairvoyants that knew what had happened...where she was...that she was still alive. Some of them even tried to exchange further information for money, and it was clear mum and dad had paid more than a few of them in their desperation to get results.’ She stared at the backs of her hands and examined her bitten nails with disdain.

‘As well as becoming a nurse, I studied psychology, criminology and anything else that might help me to understand it all, to come to terms with it.’ She turned to face him and said, ‘Miller, I’ve lost someone I never even met, but I felt her loss every single day through them. And when I was old enough to understand, it became my duty to share it with them.

‘Now they’re gone, too. I lost them. What was it, three years ago? I lose track. I’ve been in denial. You know, after the funeral, I allowed that candle to go out. I told myself it didn’t matter. It was only symbolic, pointless. It made no difference in reality. It was a focus for mum’s prayers and hopes. I’m still looking for answers. It seems to have become a duty for me I can’t shake off, and it f*cks me up. None of my relationships work out because of it. I’ve given up trying.’ Her hands settled back into her lap. ‘I’m so sorry, putting all this on you. Ryan’s gone. There’s no one left who understands, not that I can talk to.’

‘Stella, you’re talking to me and I’m listening. You really mustn’t worry.’