The Half Sister, page 8
Kate had had a lifetime of defending her father to Lauren, but she didn’t ever envisage having to do it to Matt, who had so often teamed up with Harry whenever a family debate had ramped up unexpectedly. They had a middle-class background in common, both erred slightly to the right on the political spectrum and shared a love of football that was only eclipsed by their love for her.
As was always the case in the Alexander household, as soon as talk turned to politics, the gloves were off and it became a free-for-all. To an outsider looking in, it might have seemed stacked against Simon, but for everyone there, it was deemed good banter. Everyone that is, except Lauren, who would often end up in the kitchen crying over the Yorkshire puddings.
‘Why does Dad always have to do this?’ she’d sobbed one Sunday. ‘He winds Simon up just to get to me.’
‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous,’ Kate had said, coming to their father’s defence. ‘Why do you always think it’s about you?’
‘Because it always has been,’ said Lauren. ‘I can do no right in his eyes and now he’s just using Simon to get to me.’
‘Listen to yourself,’ said Kate. ‘You’re almost forty years old. Whatever you have against Dad, don’t you think it’s time to let bygones be bygones?’
‘Just leave it, Kate,’ their mother had warned. ‘Now, can we all please be civil to each other? It’s surely not too much to ask.’
The sisters had sulkily picked up a bowl of vegetables each and gone into the dining room, where the talk had turned to who was going to win the X Factor final, with all three men agreeing with each other.
Kate hadn’t been able to resist looking at Lauren and raising her eyebrows, as if to say, See, it’s not always about you. Now, it seems, Matt’s suggesting it might be.
‘Are you saying that Lauren might know something about Dad that I don’t?’ A heat is beginning to creep up Kate’s neck and muffle the sound in her ears.
Matt holds his hands up. ‘I just think you should stay open-minded, that’s all.’
Kate looks at him, her thoughts too rushed to be able to make sense of anything.
‘It might be that Lauren isn’t as surprised by Jess’s appearance as she’s making out,’ he offers, non-committally. ‘Maybe she already knew she existed, because it seems odd that she’d just accept a stranger as her sister as easily as she seems to have.’
‘She’s not my father’s daughter,’ says Kate bluntly.
‘Well, then you’re going to need to find out exactly what grounds that theory is based on,’ says Matt. ‘Because DNA doesn’t lie.’
‘Oh, don’t you worry,’ says Kate. ‘I’ll get to the bottom of it.’
‘Okay,’ says Matt. ‘But if you’re going to dig around, be careful.’
‘Of what?’
‘You might discover something you don’t want to find.’
13
Lauren
‘You smell of smoke,’ says Simon, leaning in to kiss Lauren’s cheek as she walks through the door.
She’d not had a cigarette for years, not since she was nineteen, but then she’d not seen Justin in all that time either and, ashamed as she is to admit it, a smoke was what was needed to calm her down.
Both children were mercifully asleep by the time she’d got back to the car and she’d driven around the block before heading back to the same petrol station to buy a pack of ten Marlboro. When the man behind the counter informed her that tens had been banned since 2017, she’d coughed awkwardly, asked for a pack of twenty and some chewing gum, and almost run out of the door, half expecting him to run after her. She’d felt like a teenager again as she inhaled her first drag, pulling it in deep to calm her nerves. Her heart had pumped blood around her body far quicker than was normal and every breath felt lodged in her chest, as if in anticipation of what might happen if she let it out. She didn’t want to admit it, but as uncomfortable as the sensation was, it had made her feel alive. Seeing Simon’s car parked up outside the house had sapped that feeling away again.
‘Do I?’ she says, recoiling from him.
‘Where have you been?’ he asks, as if the answer means nothing to him, yet she can tell by his demeanour that what she says next will dictate the atmosphere for the rest of the day.
‘Only over to Mum’s,’ she says as ambivalently as she can. She lifts her shirt to her nose and sniffs for effect. ‘Oh, but I did just stop off for petrol and there was a guy there smoking.’ As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she realizes how stupid they are.
If she was brave enough to look at him, she’d notice that his eyes have narrowed. ‘In a petrol station?’
‘No,’ she says, far too quickly. ‘I meant in the hand car wash next door.’
‘So, you got the car cleaned?’
It feels like she’s on the witness stand, facing a judge and jury. ‘Er, no, we waited in the queue for a while but gave up – it was taking too long.’
‘You shouldn’t take the kids in there.’
The lie is getting worse by the second and Lauren’s brain is banging against the side of her head as she attempts to stop it unravelling altogether. ‘We normally stay in the car,’ she says. ‘But I was hoping to get the inside cleaned as well, so we went to the waiting room.’
‘Well, I don’t want the kids there – it’s dirty and reeks of all kinds of shit. Now you smell like an old ashtray.’
If she’s going to fail at the first interrogation, when she’s done nothing wrong, how is she going to fare when she has? The thought of seeing Justin again makes her insides somersault. She looks away in case Simon can see it in her eyes.
‘Anyway, why are you home so early?’ she says, whilst thinking, today of all days.
‘Why do you think?’ he says, and Lauren’s heart sinks. Her eyes follow him into their tiny galley kitchen, where he opens the fridge and takes out a beer.
‘Have you been laid off?’ She just stops herself from saying, again.
‘Yep.’
‘What are you going to do?’ she asks.
‘I’ve asked around. Bill says he might have something for me towards the end of the week. I’m going to go down the pub in a bit – see if there’s anything knocking around down there.’
‘And if there isn’t?’ she asks, treading carefully.
‘Then I’m going to be around more than I usually am,’ he says tightly.
Not so long ago, back when she was working, the thought of them spending a day together excited her. They’d drive to Brighton and eat fish and chips on the promenade, the smell of vinegar and sea air taking her back to day trips with her parents. She’d contemplate their life together and lean into the husband she loved as they watched the waves crashing onto the pebble beach. But that was when they got on, when they were both working and bringing in money. Now, Lauren wonders if she lost his respect when she lost her salary.
‘Great!’ she says through gritted teeth. ‘Why don’t you go and starts the kids’ baths? You know Noah loves it when you do it.’
‘Yeah, I could do,’ he says, his expression beginning to soften, giving Lauren a rare glimpse of why she fell for him in the first place.
A ringing phone pierces the silence and Lauren looks to Simon, hoping that if she pretends not to hear it, he somehow won’t either.
‘Aren’t you going to get that?’ he asks.
Her blood feels like it’s stopped flowing and frozen inside her veins. Simon stands there watching her as she slowly reaches towards her bag. She hopes it’s her mother. She even hopes it might be Kate, because the alternative doesn’t bear thinking about. The unknown number flashes urgently on the screen and a whirling pool of nausea rises up from her stomach. She tries to keep her face expressionless, but she fears the pulsation in her bottom lip is making it quiver.
Simon’s looking at her expectantly, leaving her with no choice but to slide to answer. She almost cowers, waiting for the person on the other end to speak first, knowing that if it’s a male voice, she’s going to have to think fast.
‘Hel-lo,’ she offers, when she can bear the protracted silence no longer.
‘Lauren?’ says a voice. A female voice.
Lauren has to bite down on her lip to stop an involuntary sob of relief from escaping.
‘Lauren, it’s Jess. Are you okay to talk?’
‘Yes, of course,’ she says, before mouthing It’s Jess to Simon.
‘I was just wondering if you’d managed to speak to Kate at all,’ Jess is saying on the other end of the line. ‘I tried to see her today, to talk to her, but she really doesn’t want to hear anything I’ve got to say, and I’m not sure she ever will. She just seems so angry with me, with you . . .’
Lauren walks into the door-less kitchen, where she’s afforded marginally more privacy. ‘I know,’ she says. ‘She’s going to need a bit of time to get her head around all this. You have to remember that you and I have had that luxury – she hasn’t, so we just need to be patient.’
‘She hates me,’ says Jess, her voice cracking.
‘Hey, hey, she doesn’t hate you,’ says Lauren, her mothering instinct coming to the fore. ‘She has no reason to. We just need to give her some space.’ Lauren looks at her watch. ‘Listen, I’m about to bath the kids and get them ready for bed. Do you want to come over?’
‘Yes,’ squeaks Jess. ‘Yes please.’
Lauren does a quick calculation in her head, knowing that Simon will be out of the door as soon as Noah’s head hits the pillow.
‘Give me an hour,’ she says, cradling the phone under her chin to pick up a pile of clean laundry that’s been sitting on the end of the sofa for the past two days. If not for Jess’s imminent arrival, it would have stayed there a lot longer.
‘Thank you,’ says Jess. ‘I really appreciate it.’
‘No worries,’ says Lauren, making her way upstairs. ‘See you shortly.’
Lauren busies herself with putting the children’s clothes into their chest of drawers, wishing they had more space. At the moment, Noah and Emmy have a bedroom each, but once Jude is out of her and Simon’s room, someone is going to have to share. She dared to dream that one day they would be able to afford their own four-bedroom house, instead of a three-bedroom rental.
‘Remember what I said,’ says Simon as she walks into the bathroom, where he’s flicking soap suds at Noah and Emmy, who are giggling incessantly. The coldness in his words are in contrast to the cosy scene. ‘Don’t go getting us into anything with your family, and if she’s got to come over, I want her gone before I get home.’
‘Yep, sure,’ says Lauren, just to keep the peace.
She checks her phone a hundred times between Simon going out and Jess arriving, though what she’s looking for she doesn’t know. She’s already logged Justin’s number into her contacts as ‘Sheila’, and mentally given ‘her’ the profile of a fellow midwife from the hospital that she’s still on maternity leave from. It feels like she was there in another life.
Her thumb hovers over the disingenuous contact, imagining what her first words will be if and when she’s brave enough, or stupid enough, to call him. The ringing doorbell infiltrates her thoughts.
‘Hi,’ says Jess, holding a small bouquet of flowers and a bottle of white wine.
Lauren looks at her, a younger, slimmer version of herself, and feels a very real tug in her chest. Without even knowing she was going to do it, she pulls Jess into her, hugging her tightly and breathing her in.
‘It’s good to see you,’ she says, before holding her at arm’s length to look at her.
Jess smiles. ‘You too. I bought you these.’ She holds up her offerings. ‘I don’t know if you drink wine, or like flowers . . .’
‘Thank you,’ says Lauren, taking them from her. ‘Come in, come in.’
They talk their way through their first glass of wine, chatting about anything and everything that has nothing to do with why Jess is here.
‘So, I guess your mother hasn’t taken it too well either,’ Jess eventually says.
Lauren shakes her head. ‘No, I’m afraid not.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ says Jess. ‘It must be very hard.’ She looks at Lauren, as if gauging whether she should say what she’s about to. ‘Especially now that your dad has passed.’
Lauren nods. ‘It’s a shock for everyone.’
‘But not so much for you, it seems.’
Lauren looks at her, meeting her gaze. ‘As I said, I’ve had time to get used to the idea.’
‘Am I who you came looking for?’ asks Jess.
Lauren swallows, taking time to formulate her answer. ‘I don’t know who I was looking for. I just wanted to find a way to bring my family together and I thought that widening our circle, finding other family members, might be a way to do it.’
‘Yet it’s had the opposite effect,’ says Jess.
Lauren clears her throat and tears immediately spring to her eyes. ‘I . . . erm . . .’
Jess gets up from the armchair she’s sitting in and goes to Lauren on the sofa, putting an arm around her shoulders.
‘This is silly,’ Lauren chokes. ‘I should be the one comforting you.’
‘What’s upsetting you?’ asks Jess.
‘It was just a horrible time,’ says Lauren.
‘What was?’
‘When . . . when you were born . . .’ Lauren clamps a hand to her mouth, knowing she’s already said too much.
‘What do you mean, how do you . . .?’ falters Jess. ‘Do you know when I was born?’
Lauren’s head scrambles to backtrack, trying to get herself out of the precarious position she finds herself in.
‘I was young, and it was . . . it was . . .’
‘What do you know?’ pushes Jess.
Lauren rubs at her head, frustrated with herself. This wasn’t the plan. ‘As I say, I was young and . . .’ She feels Jess’s arm fall away from her back. ‘It was a really difficult time and . . .’
‘And?’ urges Jess.
‘I was seventeen and on my way home from school when I saw Dad.’ She dares to look at Jess. ‘It was nothing. I shouldn’t have . . .’
‘Please,’ begs Jess. ‘I need to know.’
Lauren clears her throat. ‘He was with another woman, a beautiful woman, and he was pushing a pram.’
Jess’s mouth falls open. ‘You saw him?’ she croaks. ‘With me?’
Lauren nods and a tear falls onto her cheek. ‘I think so.’
‘You saw my mother?’ Jess cries in a high-pitched voice. ‘Who was she? What did she look like?’
‘She was beautiful,’ says Lauren.
Jess lets out a sob. ‘Where were they? Do you remember where you saw them?’
‘It wasn’t far from where we lived in Harrogate,’ says Lauren. ‘Just on the other side of town.’
‘I was born in Harrogate?’ says Jess, almost to herself, as if in a trance. ‘I’m from Yorkshire?’
Lauren can’t begin to comprehend the enormity of how it must feel to know where you were born, after a lifetime of wondering.
‘Would you know the road?’ asks Jess, suddenly more animated. ‘Might you recognize it? I could go there and ask around. Someone might remember her. Oh my God, she might even still be there.’
Lauren feels under siege as Jess’s questioning gathers pace. ‘I couldn’t tell you exactly where it was,’ she says. ‘I just know the area of town. Where did you think you were from? What did your adoptive parents tell you?’
Jess’s palpable excitement immediately dissipates. ‘Just that I’m from the north of England and was put into foster care as a baby. They didn’t know anything about my birth parents, or at least claimed not to.’
‘But they’ve cared for you and loved you.’
‘As if I were their own,’ says Jess, smiling. ‘I’ve had the best education, went to a really good university . . . I couldn’t have asked for more.’
‘And do you have any brothers or sisters?’
‘No, I’m a spoilt only child.’
‘And where did you grow up?’ asks Lauren, eager for as much information as she can garner.
‘On the south coast,’ says Jess dreamily, her eyes glazing over as if caught up in a fond memory. ‘Near Bournemouth. We had a beautiful house overlooking the sea and every day after school, I’d take the dog down onto the beach and walk for miles.’
Lauren smiles. ‘It sounds idyllic. Are your parents still down there?’
Jess’s jaw tightens and her brow furrows. ‘No, not anymore. They’ve both passed away, sadly.’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ says Lauren.
‘That’s why I decided to upload my DNA,’ says Jess. ‘After they’d gone, I realized I didn’t have anyone who I could call family. Sure, I had a couple of aunts and a few cousins, but I felt detached, as if I didn’t really fit in anywhere. I couldn’t have done it when they were here. I didn’t want to hurt them and make them think that everything they’d done for me had been a waste of their time. They were so proud of everything I’ve achieved.’
‘You should be proud of yourself,’ says Lauren. ‘Despite everything you’ve been through, you’ve turned into a wonderful young woman.’
‘Thank you,’ says Jess. ‘If only everyone thought so.’
‘Kate, you mean?’
Jess nods, pulling at the tissue that’s in her lap.
‘Just give her time, she’ll come around,’ says Lauren, all the while thinking, not in a million years.
14
Kate
The motion of the train is making Kate feel sick, its rhythmic movement matched by her swaying reflection in the window opposite. It’d probably be best to focus on something else, something still, but every time she looks down to read her book, the words swim on the page.
She closes her eyes and the nausea immediately subsides, until she remembers the jabbing of a needle into the inside of her arm, as the nurse had struggled to find a juicy enough vein to draw blood from. Kate’s hand instinctively goes to the site, her fingers able to feel the ball of cotton wool that is taped over the puncture through the fabric of her jacket.
‘It’s not normally this difficult,’ the nurse had commented as she’d tried, and tried again, to tap a vein into action. ‘It’s probably because you’re slim.’
