Sister Sister: A truly gripping psychological thriller

‘What happened to make Dad leave?’

Mum has never told me the exact reason why Dad decided to take Alice on holiday on his own. Although, in hindsight, we both realise that to Dad it was never a holiday – it was always going to be for ever.

‘Your Dad didn’t want to stay with me any more,’ replies Mum. ‘You know that.’

‘But you’ve never told me why,’ I press. Somehow it seems important that I know now. Maybe it’s because Alice is coming home. Surely she will want to know.

‘It was a long time ago,’ says Mum. ‘I have no intention of picking old scars and wounds. I don’t want to dwell in the past. We have a future to look forward to with Alice.’

‘But she might ask you. What will you tell her?’

‘Exactly what I’ve just told you. Now, please, Clare, I don’t want to talk about it any more. It’s a corrosive subject and it will eat you away if you allow it.’ She pauses and then lets out a small sigh. ‘I don’t want it to poison you, like it has me. I’ve never wanted that for either of my girls. All I want is for us to be happy now.’

I let the subject go just like I always do when we get to this point.

The flight from Orlando arrives on time and Mum and I wait patiently at arrivals, scanning the throng of passengers who make their way through the glass doors.

A family of four, a couple in their thirties with their two small children. The mum is carrying the toddler and the dad is pushing the trolley laden with suitcases, a child of about five tags along, holding onto the trolley. A man in a business suit with a small carry-on case in one hand, a briefcase in the other, early-morning stubble grazing his chin. He marches through, not looking for anyone, eyes straight ahead. He’s obviously done this journey before, it’s not new to him, there’s no excitement in being in the UK. I wonder idly if he’s American or British.

I see a young woman with dark hair round the corner and for a moment I think it’s Alice, but as she comes into view, I see she’s with a guy. They have backpacks and are wearing shorts and hoodies. The girl’s face lights up and she nudges the boyfriend as she points ahead. I look over and see a middle-aged woman waving back. The passengers file through but still no sign of Alice and Martha.

‘They would have emailed if they had missed their flight, wouldn’t they?’ says Mum.

‘Relax, Mum, I’m sure they won’t be long now. You know what it’s like getting through passport control.’

‘Do you think Alice has an American or British passport?’

‘I don’t know. I suppose it depends whether she took American citizenship or not.’

Mum nods and I can see a look of sadness flick across her face. ‘It’s the little details that are a painful reminder I don’t know my own daughter. I should know things like that.’

‘Hey, Mum. Don’t be getting yourself all upset, now. We have the next few weeks to find out all these things.’ Mum smiles and I can see her making a conscious effort to dismiss the melancholy thought.

I turn my attention back to the arriving passengers. A young woman with long, wavy brunette hair appears and I’m just about to dismiss her and pass my gaze on to the other passengers when something makes me do a double-take. Mum grabs my arm at the same time.

‘There!’ she says and waves. ‘Alice!’

The young woman looks up and looks in our direction. She looks nervous. I smile broadly and wave too. I look beyond her, but she seems to be travelling alone, no sign of her friend. She begins to walk towards us, her stride quickens with every step. She breaks into a small run. Mum leaves my side and is running towards her. The sight of them makes me want to cry. Mum is crying already. They throw their arms around each other and stand there, lost in their own world, oblivious to everything and everyone around them. Mum pulls away, holds Alice’s face between her hands, cherishing every feature. She kisses her cheek, lots of times. They look at each other and laugh.

Then Mum is gesturing towards me and, with her arm around her daughter’s shoulder, she brings Alice over to me. I see those beautiful blue eyes; they are even bluer than I remember. I’m momentarily thrown back to the day she left, when those same eyes pleaded with me from the doorway of the living room. I can feel my chest tighten and my throat wants to close. I take a breath of air. I step forward and, within seconds, my darling little sister is holding me and I’m holding her.

‘Oh, Alice. You’ve come home,’ I hear myself whispering. All the doubts for the past few weeks seem to wash away with the tears that stream down my face.

Alice squeezes me back hard. ‘Hi, Clare. I can’t believe I’m actually here. All the years I’ve thought about you. It was like you and Mom weren’t real. And now, it’s like my dreams have come to life.’

She has a strong Southern twang and, for some reason, it surprises me. I suppose, in my mind, I expected her to speak just like me. ‘Come on, let’s get to the car,’ I say, wiping my face dry with a tissue Mum has pushed into my hand. She’s done the same with Alice. The three of us mop our tears. I pick up Alice’s suitcase and then suddenly remember her friend. ‘Where’s your friend – Martha?’ I look back towards the arrival doors. ‘I thought she was coming with you.’

Alice waves her hand. ‘Oh, yeah, sorry. Last-minute change of plan. She couldn’t make it in the end. So, I’m afraid, it’s just me.’ She grins and gives a shrug. ‘Hope that’s okay?’ The smile disappears and she looks concerned. ‘Sorry, I should have let you know, but in all the excitement, I clean forgot.’

Mum slips her arm in Alice’s. ‘It’s okay, darling. No need to apologise. It doesn’t make any difference at all. We’re just glad you still came.’

‘Oh, there was nothing on this earth that was gonna make me miss coming to see you, Mum.’ She emphasises the last word, which sounds odd with the American accent, and snuggles her head onto Mum’s shoulder. ‘It is all right to say “Mum” isn’t it?’

Mum kisses the top of Alice’s head. ‘Of course, my darling. There is nothing that would make me happier.’ They walk past me, once again back in their own world. I watch them for a minute, unsure of the odd, uncomfortable feeling that has wriggled inside me. Maybe I’m just not used to hearing anyone else call my own mother ‘Mum’. I follow on behind them.

The journey home goes quickly. Mum sits in the front and Alice behind me as I take the wheel. Mum is asking her polite questions, like how was her journey, has she had something to eat, has work been okay about letting her have time off? Safe subjects. Alice answers and asks questions in return. Does Mum drive, does she work, what are her hobbies? More safe subjects.

Mum digs out the computer printout of the photo Alice sent. It’s slightly creased and a bit crumpled around the edges. ‘Thank you for the photograph,’ she says flattening it out on her knee. ‘Did you bring any more with you? Any of you growing up over the years?’

I know Mum had asked Alice this in her most recent email. I glance in the rear-view mirror at Alice. She catches my eye and pulls a face that tells me she didn’t.

‘Oops, sorry,’ she says to Mum. ‘You know what? I have this awful feeling I left the photo album I made up for you on the table.’ She slaps her hand to her forehead. ‘Sorry, I’m so dumb at times.’

‘That’s okay, don’t worry,’ says Mum. I can tell Mum is disappointed and her upbeat answer is a ruse.

‘We can take loads of photos while you’re here,’ I say. ‘We can make our own photo album up.’

‘That’s a great idea,’ says Alice enthusiastically. ‘To be honest, I don’t have many photos of me as a child.’ Again, I look in the rear-view mirror. She looks away, out of the window. ‘Dad didn’t take many.’ Her voice has a sadness to it.

‘The girls are looking forward to seeing you,’ I say, to divert the downturn in the mood. I spend the last few miles jabbering on about the girls, what they are like, the things they’ve got up to in the past and how Chloe is the quiet, sensitive one, more cautious in nature and a gentler soul altogether, whereas Hannah is outgoing, fun, adventurous and, at times, rather outspoken.

‘I can’t wait to meet them. I can’t believe I’m an aunt and I have two gorgeous nieces to meet,’ says Alice. ‘And, of course, your husband, Luke. You’re very lucky, you know, to have your family.’

We drive along the winding lane that leads to the house. The flint wall marking the start of the grounds, running along the edge of the pathless road to the black gates.

‘Does it look familiar, at all?’ asks Mum. I think she’s desperate for Alice to have even the faintest memory from her childhood.

‘A little,’ says Alice. ‘I do remember the black gates. For some reason they stand out in my mind.’

I steer the car through the gates and up the gravel driveway. Luke and the girls must have heard the car as they come out to greet us. Luke has plastered on a smile and looks welcoming enough, although I can tell it’s his formal smile. Perhaps he’s not as laid back about it after all. Mind you, we are all on tenterhooks. Tiptoeing around certain subjects in the car, analysing every word, facial expression and body language. I’m sure we will all relax once we get to know each other better.

Alice is out of the car and immediately she goes over to the girls and, crouching down, hugs Hannah first. Hannah looks slightly taken aback and I make eye contact with her over Alice’s shoulder. I raise my eyebrows and smile broadly, it’s an unspoken message Hannah will understand: one I’ve used before which reads – be polite and say nice things. Hannah obliges and smiles at Alice, who then turns her attentions to Chloe. My younger daughter hides behind Luke.

‘Say hello to Alice,’ says Luke, but Chloe clings tighter.

‘It’s okay, she’s just shy. There’s plenty of time to make friends,’ says Alice. She stands up and faces Luke, who holds his hand out to her.

‘I’m Luke. Clare’s husband. Nice to meet you.’

She shakes Luke’s hand. ‘Alice Kendrick. The pleasure is all mine.’ She gives a small laugh. ‘Now we’ve got the formal English greeting over with, how about a good old American hello?’ She lunges forward and gives Luke a hug. ‘It’s so nice to be here,’ she says.

It’s Luke’s turn to look over at me from Alice’s shoulder. He has a help me look on his face. I smother a laugh and Mum admonishes me with a tap on the arm. Luke winks at me and removes himself from Alice’s embrace.

‘Right, let’s get inside,’ says Mum. ‘You must be worn out, darling. Luke, can you bring Alice’s bags in, please?’

Mum and Alice head off into the house. Luke gives a tug of his fringe, dipping his head at the two departing women. ‘Yes, m’lady.’ Mum appears not to hear, thankfully.

‘Stop it,’ I say, half-heartedly. I go over to Luke and give him a kiss. ‘Well, it seems the ice has been broken. How about I give you a good old American hello?’ I put my arms around his neck and kiss him again.