Shopaholic & Sister (14 page)

There’s a shocked silence.

“What?” Suze says at last.

“It’s true! I’ve got a half sister that I never knew about. I’m meeting her today for the first time. She’s called Jessica.”

“I . . . can’t believe it.” Suze sounds totally poleaxed. “You’ve got a
sister
? How come . . .”

“My dad. Before he met my mum. It’s quite a long story. But isn’t it great? I’ve always wanted a sister!”

“How . . . how old is she?”

“Only two years older than me. Hardly any difference! I expect we’ll become really good friends,” I add carelessly. “In fact . . . we’ll be much
closer
than friends. I mean, we’ve got the same blood and everything. We’ll have a lifelong bond.”

“Yes,” Suze says after a pause. “I . . . suppose you will.”

“Anyway, I must go! She’ll be here any moment! I can’t wait!”

“Well . . . good luck. Have fun.”

“We certainly will!” I say brightly. “Oh . . . and do give my love to Lulu. Have a lovely birthday with her, won’t you?”

“I . . . will,” says Suze, sounding defeated. “Bye, Bex. And . . . congratulations.”

As I switch off the phone I’m a bit hot about the face. Suze and I have never been like this with each other before.

But she’s the one who went out and got a new best friend. Not me.

I thrust my mobile phone back into my bag and look up to see Luke regarding me with a raised eyebrow.

“Suze all right?”

“She’s fine,” I say a little defiantly, shaking my hair back. “Come on.”

As I come down the stairs, Suze’s hurt voice lingers in my mind, but I try to ignore it. I can’t spend time dwelling on her. I’ve got important things to focus on. Jessica will be arriving here soon! This is one of the biggest days of my life . . . ever!

“All set?” says Mum, as we go into the kitchen. She’s wearing a smart blue dress and is wearing her “special occasion” makeup—she uses lots of shiny highlighter under her eyebrows to “open up the eyes.” I’ve seen it in the makeup book Janice gave her for Christmas.

“Did I hear you say you’re selling some furniture?” she adds as she turns on the kettle.

“We’re returning a table,” Luke says easily. “We seem to have ordered two by mistake. But it’s been taken care of.”

“Only I was going to say, you should sell it on eBay!” says Mum. “You’d get a good price!”

eBay.

“So . . . you can sell anything on eBay, can you?” I ask casually.

“Oh yes!” says Mum. “Anything at all.”

Like, say, hand-painted eggs depicting the legend of the Dragon King. Yes! This is the answer. It’ll solve everything!

I have to stop myself from punching the air with glee.

“It’s exciting, isn’t it, love?” says Mum, watching me fondly. “Let’s all have some nice coffee while we’re waiting.”

We all involuntarily glance at the clock. Jessica’s train should arrive at Oxshott in five minutes. Five minutes!

“Toodle-oo!” There’s a knocking at the back door and we all look round, to see Janice peering through the glass.

Oh my goodness. Where did she get that sparkly blue eyeshadow?

Please don’t let her give any to Mum, I find myself praying.

“Come on in, Janice!” says Mum, opening the door. “And Tom! What a nice surprise!”

Blimey, Tom’s looking rough. His hair is rumpled and unwashed, his hands are all blistered and cut, and there’s a deep furrow in his brow.

“We just came to wish you luck,” says Janice. “Not that you need it!” She pops her box of Canderel sugar substitute down on the counter, then turns to look at me. “So, Becky. A sister!”

“Congratulations,” says Tom. “Or whatever you say.”

“I know!” I say. “Isn’t it amazing?”

Janice shakes her head and looks at Mum a bit reproachfully.

“I can’t believe you’ve been keeping this a secret from us, Jane!”

“We wanted Becky to be the first to know,” says Mum, patting me on the shoulder. “Hazelnut whirl, Janice?”

“Lovely!” says Janice, taking a biscuit from the plate and sitting down. She nibbles it thoughtfully for a few moments, then looks up. “What I don’t understand is . . . why did this girl get in touch? After all this time?”

“There was a very good reason,” I say with an air of solemn drama. “It’s because we’ve got a hereditary disease.”

Janice gives a little scream.

“A disease! Jane! You never told me that!”

“It’s not a
disease
,” says Mum. “Becky, you know it’s not a disease! It’s a ‘factor.’ ”

“A . . . ‘factor’?” echoes Janice, looking even more horrified than before. “What kind of factor?” I can see her eyeing her hazelnut whirl as though she’s afraid it might contaminate her.

“It’s not life-threatening!” laughs Mum. “It’s just a blood disorder, which can be a risk in certain situations. In surgery, for example. The blood clots too thickly. . . .”

“Don’t!” Janice winces. “I can’t bear talking about blood!”

“The doctors told Jess she should warn other members of her family to get tested, and that was the spur. She’d always known she had a father somewhere but didn’t know his name.”

“So she asked her mother who her long-lost father was. . . .” Janice chimes in avidly, as though she’s following a Ruth Rendell miniseries on the telly.

“Her mother is dead,” explains Mum.

“Dead!” exclaims Janice, looking appalled. “From the blood factor?”

“No,” Mum responds patiently. “From a car crash. But her aunt had the name of Jessica’s father written down in an old diary. So she got it out and gave it to Jessica.”

“And what was the name?” breathes Janice.

There’s a pause.

“Mum, it was Graham!” says Tom, rolling his eyes. “Graham Bloomwood. Obviously.”

“Oh yes,” says Janice, looking almost let down. “Of course it was. Well, goodness me.” She exhales sharply. “What a dreadful shock. For all of you.”

“We were in quite a state when we got the news,” Mum admits. “You know, that’s why we didn’t come to the Hawaiian quiz evening at the church. Graham didn’t really have a migraine.”

“I knew it!” says Janice. “I said to Martin at the time, ‘Something’s not right with the Bloomwoods.’ But I had no idea it was a long-lost family member!”

“Well,” says Mum comfortingly, “how could you?”

Janice is silent for a moment, taking it all in. Then suddenly she stiffens and lays a hand on Mum’s arm.

“Jane. Just be careful. Has this girl laid any claim to Graham’s fortune? Has he altered his will in her favor?”

OK. Janice has definitely been watching too many TV murder mysteries.

“Janice!” says Mum with a laugh. “No! It’s nothing like that. As it happens, Jess’s family is”—she lowers her voice discreetly—“rather
well-off
.”

“Ah!” breathes Janice.

Mum lowers her voice still further. “They’re rather big in
frozen food
.”

“Oh, I
see
,” says Janice. “So she’s not all alone in the world, then.”

“Oh no,” says Mum, back to normal. “She’s got a stepfather and two brothers. Or is it three?”

“But no sisters,” I chime in. “We’ve both had that gap in our life. That . . . unfulfilled longing.”

Everyone turns to look at me.

“Have you had an unfulfilled longing, Becky?” asks Janice.

“Oh yes. Definitely.” I take a pensive sip of coffee. “Looking back, I think I always somehow
knew
I had a sister.”

“Really, love?” Mum says in surprise. “You never mentioned it.”

“I never said anything.” I give Janice a brave smile. “But deep down I knew.”

“Goodness!” says Janice. “How did you know?”

“I felt it in here,” I say, clasping my hands to my chest. “It was as if . . . a part of me was missing.”

I make a sweeping gesture with my hand—and make the mistake of catching Luke’s eye.

“Which particular part of you was missing?” he says with apparent interest. “Not a vital organ, I hope.”

God, he has no heart. None. Last night, he kept reading out bits from my
Long-Lost Sisters
book, then looking up and saying, “You cannot be serious.”

“The soul mate part, actually,” I shoot back.

“Thanks.” He raises his eyebrows.

“Not
that
kind of soul mate! A sisterly soul mate!”

“What about Suzie?” says Mum, looking over in surprise. “She’s been like a sister to you, surely. She’s such a dear girl.”

“Friends come and go,” I say, looking away. “She’s not like family. She doesn’t understand me like a true sister would.”

Janice looks at Mum sympathetically. “You’re being very brave, dear. But you must have suffered when you found out.”

“It was difficult,” says Mum, sitting down at the table. “I can’t pretend it wasn’t. Although, of course, the affair happened
long
before Graham met me.”

“Of course!” Janice says hastily. “Of course it did! I wasn’t for a moment
suggesting
that . . . that he . . . you . . .”

She breaks off, flustered, and takes a gulp of coffee.

“And in some ways . . .” Mum pauses, stirring her drink, with a rueful smile. “In some ways it was to be expected. Graham was quite the Don Juan when he was younger. It’s no wonder he found women throwing themselves at him.”

“That’s . . . right,” Janice says doubtfully.

Dad? Don Juan?

I try to picture him standing at some glamorous bar, with his seventies mustache and a wide, patterned tie, surrounded by gorgeous women drinking martinis. Then my gaze drifts out the window to see him coming over the lawn, toward the back door. His graying hair is all tousled, his face is red, and even though I’ve told him a million times not to, he’s wearing socks inside his sandals.

“Women could never resist him,” says Mum. “That’s the truth of it.” She brightens a little. “But we’re having therapy to help us through the crisis. At the new holistic health center in Wood Street.”

“Therapy?” I echo in astonishment. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely!” says Dad, coming in at the back door. “We’ve had three sessions already.”

“She’s a very nice girl, our therapist,” says Mum. “Although a bit
nervy
. Like all these young people.”

Wow. I had no idea Mum and Dad were having therapy. But it makes sense. I mean, bloody hell. How would I feel if Luke suddenly announced he had a long-lost daughter?

“Therapy!” Janice is saying. “I can hardly believe it!”

“We have to be realistic, Janice,” says Mum. “You can’t expect this kind of revelation to have no repercussions.”

“A discovery of this scale can tear a family apart,” agrees Dad, popping a hazelnut whirl into his mouth. “It can rock the very foundations of a marriage.”

“Goodness.” Janice claps a hand over her mouth, looking from Mum to Dad and back with wide eyes. “What . . . what sort of repercussions are you expecting?”

“There’ll be anger, I expect,” Mum says knowledgeably. “Recriminations. Coffee, Graham?”

“Yes, thanks, love.” He beams at her.

“Therapy is a pile of crap,” says Tom suddenly. “I tried it with Lucy.”

We all turn and look at him. He’s holding a cup of coffee in both hands and glowering at us over the top of it.

“The therapist was a woman,” he adds, as though that explains everything.

“I think they often are, love,” Mum says cautiously.

“She took Lucy’s side. She said she could understand her frustrations.” Tom’s hands clench more tightly round his cup. “What about my frustrations? Lucy was supposed to be my wife! But she wasn’t interested in
any
of my projects. Not the conservatory, not the en suite bathroom—”

“I love your summerhouse, Tom!” I cut in quickly. “It’s very . . . big!”

In fact, it’s monstrous. I nearly died when I saw it out the window this morning. It’s three stories high, with gables and a deck.

“We’re just a bit worried about the planning regulations, aren’t we?” says Janice, nervously glancing at Tom. “We’re worried it might be classed as a residence.”

“Well, it’s a real achievement!” I say encouragingly. “To build something like that!”

“I enjoy working with wood,” Tom says in a gruff voice. “Wood doesn’t let you down.” He drains his cup. “In fact, I’d better get back to it. Hope it all goes well.”

As the back door closes behind him there’s an awkward silence.

“He wants to make a boat next,” says Janice, looking strained. “A boat, on the lawn!”

“Janice, have another coffee,” Mum says soothingly. “Shall I put a splash of sherry in it?”

Janice looks torn.

“Better not,” she says at last. “Not before twelve.”

She rootles in her handbag and produces a little pill, which she pops into her mouth. Then she zips up her bag again and smiles brightly. “So! What does Jessica look like?”

“She’s . . . she’s nice-looking,” begins Mum. “Isn’t she, Graham?”

“Very nice-looking!” says Dad. “Tall . . . slim . . .”

“Dark hair,” adds Mum. “Quite a
reserved
girl, if you know what I mean.”

I’m listening avidly as they describe her. Although I glimpsed her in the street that day we got back, the sunlight was so bright and I was so distracted by Mum and Dad’s weird behavior, I only got a vague impression. So all week I’ve been trying to build on that image. Mum and Dad keep saying how tall and slim she is, so I’ve kind of pictured her like Courteney Cox. All willowy and elegant, in a white silk trouser suit, maybe.

I keep having visions of our first meeting. We’ll fling our arms round each other, and then she’ll smile at me, brushing away the tears, and I’ll smile back . . . and we’ll have an instant connection. Like we already know each other and understand each other better than anyone else in the world.

I mean, who knows? Maybe it’ll turn out that we’ll have sisterly psychic powers. Or maybe we’ll be like the twins I read about in
Long-Lost Sisters
, who were separated at birth but went on to have the same jobs and marry men with the same name.

I’m gripped by this idea. Maybe it’ll turn out that Jessica is a personal shopper, too, and is married to a man called Luke! She’ll turn up in exactly the same Marc Jacobs jacket as me, and we can go on breakfast TV and everyone will say—