Sister Sister: A gripping psychological thriller. Sue Fortin

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       Chapter 7

      The next few weeks pass quickly and I’m surprised at how fast events move. I had anticipated that there would be a gradual exchange of emails and possibly some phone calls before Mum and Alice decided it was time to meet in person. In my mind, it would be at least two or three months but, no, in two more emails, they decide they want to meet sooner rather than later. In person, straight off. No phone calls, no Skype.

      ‘Are you sure you’re ready for this?’ I ask Mum, the evening before Alice’s arrival, as Mum goes into Alice’s bedroom to make sure the room is tidy and ready to welcome her. I had suggested to Mum that she redecorate the room, but she had insisted the baby-pink walls and the polka-dot curtains were to remain. She was convinced Alice would remember them. I want Alice to remember them, if only for Mum’s sake. I wonder whether I should prime her first, but decide against it. I haven’t been involved in the emails. I don’t feel quite so connected to Alice yet.

      ‘It looks really nice, Mum,’ I say. ‘I’m sure Alice will love it, but don’t get upset if it takes her a while to remember things. It was a long time ago and she was very young.’

      I place a hand on Mum’s shoulder and give a gentle squeeze.

      ‘It’s okay, love,’ says Mum. ‘I know it may be a bit difficult, and even upsetting, but I’m prepared for it. I’m not as naive as you may think.’

      We go into the guest room across the landing and take a cursory glance at the room. Everything is in place for our additional house guest. Fresh towels are on the end of the bed, a spare dressing gown and some toiletries. ‘It looks like a swanky hotel,’ I say.

      ‘Do you think it will be okay?’

      ‘Of course. I’d be delighted if I was staying in a room like this.’ I check my watch. ‘It’s late. We’d better get to bed. We have to be at Heathrow for seven-thirty.’

      Despite encouraging Mum to get a good night’s sleep, I don’t sleep well myself and am somewhat relieved when the alarm goes off at four-thirty. Mum is already waiting in the kitchen, obviously suffering the same pre-meeting nerves as I am. We creep quietly out of the house so as not to disturb Luke and the girls. I feel as if I’ve hardly seen Luke the last couple of weeks. Since his trip to America, he’s been pretty much locked away in his studio all day and all night. He came back enthusiastic to get the London commission finished so he could start on the Miami commission.

      ‘How’s Luke getting on with his work?’ asks Mum.

      I focus on the road ahead. ‘Really well, thanks,’ I say. ‘This could be a big break for him. We’re talking several thousand pounds. This American client is all over Luke. Loves his work.’ I realise I’m rambling slightly. I always feel very defensive about Luke with Mum when it comes to his artwork and money. At the back of my mind, I’m aware that she doesn’t totally approve of our set-up. She’s behind me having a career, a successful one that preserves my independence, but she’s not so keen on me supporting Luke. She once told me that supporting Luke financially was a ransom note. It would keep me tied to him and the girls; that I’d never be able to strike out on my own should I need to.

      I know she’s thinking of what happened between her and Dad. Mum had been wise when it came to money. She had her own income from her career as a teacher and from the money she had inherited. She had always kept it separate from Dad, she told me, who was wealthy and could support himself. Financially, neither needed the other. Turned out it was just as well. Mum might have been left stranded emotionally but financially she could survive – and survive comfortably.

      ‘That sounds promising,’ says Mum, breaking my thoughts. ‘It could take some of the pressure off you.’

      ‘I’m not under any pressure.’

      ‘No, but you know what I mean. It will be great if Luke can earn the equivalent to a decent wage.’

      ‘Mum, please. Not now.’