The Half Sister, page 5
Rose retracts her hand as if she’s been burnt. ‘You can’t possibly be serious,’ she says, looking at her daughter as if she’s mad. ‘You don’t know the first thing about this woman. She turns up here, out of nowhere, professing to be my late husband’s child, and you’re honestly going to believe what she’s saying? You’re going to allow her to denounce the memory of your father? She could be absolutely anybody. But I tell you one person she’s not . . .’
Lauren waits with raised eyebrows.
‘Your sister.’
‘But Mum, I—’ starts Lauren, before Rose holds her hand up.
‘Enough.’
It’s what her mother has always done when she doesn’t want to hear something she doesn’t like. Maybe that’s why we’re in this predicament, thinks Lauren.
‘You can’t just shut me down like that,’ she says, sounding more confident than she feels. She may be thirty-eight years old, but she’ll always be her mother’s daughter – she only needs to get a certain look from Rose to make her feel five again.
Rose purses her lips tightly together and takes Emmy to the oven to see the rising sponge cake. ‘Yum,’ she says, as Emmy giggles and blows raspberries.
Lauren’s chest tightens and she stands up straighter, in the hope that it will give the impression that she’s feeling far more forthright than she actually is. ‘A woman came to our house one time . . .’
Rose shoots her that look and Lauren’s stomach rolls over, but she refuses to back down.
‘Do you remember?’ she pushes on, a gentler tone to her voice.
Rose shrugs her shoulders.
‘She was demanding to see Dad,’ says Lauren, trying to jog her mother’s memory, but feeling wretched for trawling up something she may have spent years burying. ‘She said that she’d been calling him, but he’d been avoiding her.’
‘He avoided a lot of women,’ says Rose. ‘Because they all felt that they held the monopoly on his time. That’s just the way he made his clients feel. That’s why he was so good at what he did, but it was also his downfall.’
‘She didn’t look like a client.’
Rose laughs. ‘None of them ever did! I remember this one time, when we were at a charity function at one of the big London hotels, and this woman sashayed up to him as we were eating our meal. She looked straight at me as she whispered something that made your father choke on his chicken. He was going all red and I didn’t know whether to give him the Heimlich manoeuvre or throw a bucket of cold water over him.’
Lauren can’t help but smile. ‘Did you ever find out what she’d said?’
‘Your father couldn’t bring himself to repeat it, but suffice to say, the woman was a recently divorced client who had perhaps misread the signals. You have to understand that a lot of the women he worked for were lonely and would do anything to feel loved and wanted again.’
‘Including going to bed with their married divorce lawyer?’
‘If your father had been that way inclined, yes,’ says Rose. ‘But he wasn’t, so . . .’
‘But—’
‘You need to stop with this now, Lauren,’ says Rose, putting Emmy down on the floor. ‘Before it gets out of hand.’
‘But there must be something to all this,’ says Lauren, knowing this is her one and only chance. She’ll not be brave enough to bring it up again.
‘You need to drop this nonsense.’
‘I know this must be painful for you,’ says Lauren. ‘And I’m sorry for that – truly I am – but I can’t deny a young girl the chance of knowing who she is, just because Dad made one mistake twenty-two years ago.’
‘She is not your father’s daughter,’ hisses Rose.
‘Mum, please . . .’ says Lauren.
‘She is not your father’s daughter,’ Rose repeats.
‘But Mum, I know that she is.’
Rose looks at her, momentarily stupefied. ‘How could you possibly know something like that?’
Lauren shifts, unable to look her mother in the eye. ‘Because it’s in her DNA.’
8
Kate
It’s taking all of Kate’s willpower not to fall asleep during the conference meeting. She can hear her editor’s monotone voice drifting in and out of her psyche, something about an American pop star dating an electrician from Croydon, but she doesn’t feel present in her surroundings. At one point, her head drops unconsciously onto her chest. A sharp elbow in her ribs rouses her enough to sit up straight and she looks at Amy beside her, confused, but thankful.
‘Rough night?’ asks her colleague as they file out of the boardroom.
‘Something like that,’ says Kate, smiling.
‘You look awfully pale,’ says Amy. ‘You sure you’re feeling all right?’
Now Kate comes to think of it, she doesn’t feel well, and she instinctively puts a hand to her stomach. Her mind has been so preoccupied by yesterday’s events that she had hardly given the baby a second thought.
Her brain goes into overdrive, recalling the significant dates of the last three IVF attempts. How could she not have remembered that day seven, today, was usually the day she found out she wasn’t pregnant.
She immediately feels a tug in her groin, as if a weight is pulling her down to the floor. If it was her first cycle, she’d optimistically think that it was a psychosomatic symptom that came with anxiously willing herself to be pregnant. But on her fourth, she knows it’s the prelude to a heart-wrenching visit to the toilet.
As Kate rushes to the bathroom, she’s riddled with guilt that she’s allowed Jess’s appearance to monopolize her thoughts. But in the split second that follows, she acknowledges that it’s almost a relief to have something else to worry about. For three years, every waking moment has been filled with the anticipation, excitement and the ultimate disappointment that descends on her when she finds out she’s not pregnant. It’s been a never-ending cycle of hope and despair, and these two weeks, after the embryo transfer and before the pregnancy test, is always the worst. She suspects that it’s because she has nothing to do except wait, which after months of injections, appointments and scans, feels interminable.
She lets out an audible ‘Oh,’ when she realizes that nothing appears to be wrong, and calls Matt from the cubicle, suddenly desperate to hear his voice.
‘Hey, you okay?’ he asks nervously when he picks up the phone. Maybe he knows what day it is too.
‘Yeah, just tired,’ says Kate.
Matt lets out a deep breath. ‘That’s a good thing, no?’
‘I guess,’ she says. ‘Unless you’re me. How’s your day going?’
‘Well, so far I’ve interviewed five applicants for a job I know they’re not going to get within a minute of shaking their hands.’
‘That bad, eh?’ sighs Kate.
‘Honestly, I can’t tell you,’ says Matt, laughing. ‘They may well have all the right qualifications on paper, but put them in front of a human being and they can barely make eye contact.’
‘That’s because they’re much more at ease engaging with a computer screen or mobile phone,’ she says. ‘They can’t communicate in normal social situations. This is the way it’s going to be from now on.’
‘And yet this is the world we’re preparing to bring a baby into.’
Kate can’t tell him that the same thought kept her awake sometimes, wondering whether they were doing the right thing.
‘How many more interviews have you got this afternoon?’ she asks.
‘Thankfully only three more. I’d like to at least feel today hasn’t been a complete waste by the time I leave the office, but I’m not holding out much hope.’
‘Well, good luck.’
‘Thanks – I’m going to need it. How are you feeling about what happened yesterday? You spoken to Lauren or your mum yet?’
‘I spoke to Lauren earlier – she’s gone to see Mum this morning. The more I think about it, the more ridiculous it is. I mean, my dad would have never . . . He just wouldn’t.’
‘And what’s Lauren’s take on it?’ asks Matt. ‘Does she share your confidence?’
‘You know Lauren,’ says Kate wearily. ‘Her and Dad never really saw eye to eye, so I’m sure she’s more than happy to pick this up and run with it for as long as she can. But it’s honestly the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I cannot even tell you.’
‘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.
She rushes from the lift onto the open-plan news and features floor. Her desk is, thankfully, a little removed from the main melee, nestled in a corner, overlooking Cabot Square twelve floors below. She grabs her phone and slings her leather bucket bag onto her shoulder.
‘I’ve got a lead I need to follow up,’ she calls out, to no one in particular. ‘I’m going to meet a source.’
There are murmurs of acknowledgement and a look of awe from Daisy.
Kate makes her way to the station, but as she’s about to go into the bowels of the London Underground, she stops to call Lauren, who picks it up on the first ring.
‘Hello?’ her sister says, tentatively.
Hearing her voice makes Kate want to climb down the telephone line and put her hands around her throat.
‘What the hell is going on?’ she almost shrieks. ‘Please tell me you know nothing more about this Jess girl than the rest of us do.’
There’s a deafening silence at the other end. ‘Lauren!’ barks Kate.
‘I’m with Mum,’ says Lauren quietly. ‘You’d better come over.’
9
Lauren
As soon as Lauren hears Kate’s key turning in the lock, she jumps up, wide-eyed, and starts chewing on the skin around her thumbnail.
Rose sits on the other side of the kitchen table, her face ashen, staring into space.
Lauren waits for the front door to shut, knowing that how it closes will offer a clue as to how mad Kate is. It bangs with such ferocity that it makes her shudder. This is going to be far worse than she could have ever imagined.
‘You’d better start talking,’ says Kate, coming in and throwing her handbag onto the table, ‘and it had better be good, because I swear to God . . .’
Lauren looks from her sister to her mother and back again. ‘I was just explaining to Mum . . .’ she starts, wishing her voice sounded far more authoritative than it does. She doesn’t know why she’s so nervous – she’s not done anything wrong.
‘So, I’ll start from the beginning again,’ she goes on, sitting down and spreading her hands out on the table. She hopes and prays that Jude will wake up and need to be fed, or Emmy grows bored of the brightly coloured toys that are littered all over the floor. Anything to create a distraction, to give her more space, as the intensity of the moment is making her feel claustrophobic. She loosens the neck of the top she’s wearing as heat burns her ears and makes her brain feel as if it’s boiling in its own fluid. You’ve done nothing wrong, she says to herself again, though even she’s not convinced.
‘Ever since Dad died, it’s felt like the three of us have grown apart.’ She looks to Kate, whose jaw is set, lips pulled tight as she glares back. Rose is staring blankly down at the table, but Lauren hopes she’s at least listening. ‘It’s as if there’s just been this huge hole, a vortex that felt like it was sucking us in.’
‘It’s called grief,’ says Kate tartly, seemingly unable to keep the vitriol from her voice. ‘That’s what happens when someone you love dies. Though I’m surprised you’d feel it to that degree.’
Lauren swallows the barbed comment, refusing to let it get to her, but in some respects Kate’s right. She can’t possibly claim to have felt their father’s death in the same way as Kate did. Lauren’s relationship with Harry was complicated, multi-layered, the result of a firstborn being taught hard lessons by a father who didn’t know any different. They say ignorance is bliss, but she’d paid a high price for his.
‘He was my father too.’
Kate curls her lip disdainfully.
‘So, I was wondering how to close this divide that seems to have opened up between us. If we’re all honest, our Sunday lunches have become strained and it doesn’t feel as if some of us even want to be here. But just because Dad is no longer with us, it doesn’t mean that we should give up something we once looked forward to.’
Kate shrugs her shoulders.
‘I thought that if we had something in common, a shared interest, that it might bring us closer together.’
‘So what has any of this got to do with the girl?’ asks Kate impatiently.
‘I thought it would be a good idea to look back over our heritage and find out more about who we really are,’ Lauren continues. ‘It’s ironic really, to feel compelled to do something like that after losing the very person who could answer all our questions for us.’
‘Isn’t it?’ snipes Kate.
