Sisters, p.1
Sisters, page 1
Praise for Sisters:
‘A moving and compelling tale exploring the heartbreak one impulsive lie can cause, breaking apart a family. Deft and confident, this book has it all: emotive and gripping in equal measure. Had to stop myself gulping it down in one go!’
Louise Mumford
‘I love everything about this book. If you like character-led novels, then they don’t come finer than this, with its beautifully developed personalities reacting to changing circumstances. Amongst the shocking revelations are touches of humour and lightness that balance the grief and darkness… “I couldn’t put the book down” may be a cliché, but I read this in one session that stretched into the early hours of the morning, from the shock of the opening to the ultimately satisfying conclusion.’
Alex Craigie
‘Judith Barrow is such a skilled storyteller I was completely immersed in the narrative, living alongside the characters as the plot played seamlessly out. It is hard to say too much about the story itself without including spoilers, but take it from me, Sisters is a first class read.’
Jane Cable
SISTERS
Judith Barrow
HONNO MODERN FICTION
For David
Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Prologue
Part One
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Part Two
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Part Three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Part Four
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Chapter Forty-four
Chapter Forty-five
Chapter Forty-six
Chapter Forty-seven
Chapter Forty-eight
Chapter Forty-nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-one
Chapter Fifty-two
Chapter Fifty-three
Chapter Fifty-four
Chapter Fifty-five
Chapter Fifty-six
Chapter Fifty-seven
Chapter Fifty-eight
Chapter Fifty-nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-one
Chapter Sixty-two
Chapter Sixty-three
Chapter Sixty-four
Chapter Sixty-five
Chapter Sixty-six
Chapter Sixty-seven
Chapter Sixty-eight
Chapter Sixty-nine
Chapter Seventy
Chapter Seventy-one
Chapter Seventy-two
Chapter Seventy-three
Chapter Seventy-four
Chapter Seventy-five
Chapter Seventy-six
Chapter Seventy-seven
Chapter Seventy-eight
Chapter Seventy-nine
Chapter Eighty
Chapter Eighty-one
Chapter Eighty-two
Chapter Eighty-three
Chapter Eighty-four
Chapter Eighty-five
Chapter Eighty-six
Chapter Eighty-seven
Chapter Eighty-eight
Chapter Eighty-nine
Chapter Ninety
Chapter Ninety-One
Chapter Ninety-two
Chapter Ninety-three
Chapter Ninety-four
Chapter Ninety-five
Chapter Ninety-six
Chapter Ninety-seven
Chapter Ninety-eight
Chapter Ninety-nine
Chapter One Hundred
Chapter One Hundred and One
Chapter One Hundred and Two
Chapter One Hundred and Three
Chapter One Hundred and Four
Chapter One Hundred and Five
Chapter One Hundred and Six
Chapter One Hundred and Seven
Chapter One Hundred and Eight
Chapter One Hundred and Nine
Chapter One Hundred and Ten
Chapter One Hundred and Eleven
Chapter One Hundred and Twelve
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Copyright
Prologue
1981
I never wanted to be in Micklethwaite ever again. Yet here I am. And meeting the one person I never wanted to see again. Sisters don’t do what she did to me. I’ll never forgive her. Ever.
Part One
Chapter One
Mandy, 1970
‘Thanks, love, he’s not settled all night.’
I know, I heard him. Robert’s in Mum and Dad’s bedroom, next to mine, and the walls are thin. But I don’t say anything, I love my little brother and I’m proper chuffed that Mum trusts me to take him out in his new pram. They bought all new things for him because they’d got rid of everything after me: the pram, a cot, one of those seats that bounce when Dad lays him in it. And loads of clothes – Mum was knitting all the time before he was born. Most of the wool was yellow because we didn’t know if the baby would be a boy or a girl. When Dad came back from the hospital, after Robert was born, he kept repeating, ‘a son’, and that he was, ‘over the moon’. I think my sister was a bit jealous. She said it showed she was special, being the first girl, and that I was a disappointment because I wasn’t a lad. I don’t care, I get to play with him more because Angie says she has better things to do. I’m guessing she means dolling herself up and putting all that muck on her face.
Mum tells people Robert was a total surprise. I can’t think he was that much of a surprise, seeing as how she must have known there was a baby in her tummy, seeing as how she got fatter and fatter. Anyhow, I know she loves him because she smiles all the time and laughs at everything he does. She says he’ll be sitting up before he’s six months old. I can’t wait – it’ll be good to show him all the birds and things in the garden.
‘I’ll just take Robert round the avenues, Mum. I’m going to call for Belinda. We won’t go off the estate. Promise.’ I grip the handle of the pram; it’s a bright and shiny blue with little letters that spell out ‘Silver Cross’ on the rim of the hood. I love pushing it around the avenues. ‘I’ll look after him. Cross my heart.’
‘I know you will, Mandy. I’m not worried.’
Robert whimpers. I jiggle the pram.
‘Go on, then, before he starts again. Off you go. It’ll give me a chance to get the washing done.’
We both look up at the sky. There are no clouds, and the brightness hurts my eyes.
‘It’s a good drying day,’ I say. Mum laughs and gives me a quick hug. It’s something she always says on washdays like this. I walk steadily along the path, through the gate and onto the pavement. I know she’ll be watching to see how I’m managing; she always does.
When I go round the corner to the next avenue, I go a bit faster. Robert’s muted grumbles mean if I stop, he’ll be in full throttle in no time. I take no notice when I hear someone clip-clopping behind, because I can tell it’s Angie in those daft wedge-heeled sandals she insists are ‘the fashion’.
‘Give us a go, our Mand,’ she says, catching up with me.
‘Why?’ She’s never wanted to before. ‘You always say you wouldn’t be seen dead pushing the pram outside.’
‘If I stop in, I’ll get lumbered with the washing or stuck doing some boring weeding on the vegetable patch for Dad.’ Angie tugs at the handle of the pram, jerking it. Robert lets out a loud cry.
‘Stop it!’
‘Go on, our kid, and I’ll buy you some sherbet from my spends.’
I’m still cross with her for leaving me to wash and dry the pots on my own after breakfast. But when I look at her, I feel a twinge of guilt. Angie’s eyelashes are clumped together with mascara; I’d seen her spitting on the black block earlier and peering into the mirror while she used the little brush. The same brush I’d swished around in the toilet after I’d peed. Just to get my own back.
I shouldn’t have done that, so to make me feel better, I give in. ‘Okay then, just for a bit. And a liquorice stick to go with the sherbet, mind?’
‘And a liquorice stick to go with the sherbet.’ She’s mimicking me, but I don’t care. It’s a bargain. And one thing about Angie is she always keeps her promises.
She turns the pram to go along the next avenue.
‘I’m not going that way. I’m call
‘Does it matter?’ She walks faster, though how in those stupid sandals I don’t know. ‘You can call for your little best friend after.’
‘She’ll be waiting for me. I told her on our way home yesterday I’d go round to their house. Stop! I’ll tell Mum.’ I bump into her when she suddenly halts.
‘You’d better not tell Mum.’ She glares at me.
‘Well, all right, I won’t. But I know what you’re doing.’ I glare back. ‘You’re going to meet that lad off Victoria Avenue, aren’t you?’
‘How do you know?’
I’d heard her giggling about him with her friend, Sally Sedgemoor, but I can’t tell her I had my ear pressed to the wall between our bedrooms. So I just say, ‘That’s why you want the pram – so if his mother sees you, you can pretend you’re only walking the baby.’
She glances at me. ‘You won’t tell Dad, will you?’
‘As if.’ He’d only go off on one of his, ‘It’s not you I don’t trust, it’s the kind of boy you’d attract,’ talks. I snap, ‘I don’t know how’ve you managed to get out of the house with all that stuff on your face.’ She’s also wearing blue eyeshadow and pale pink lipstick. She’s so pretty and has lovely, thick, dark brown hair that swings around her face like that singer’s, Sandie Shaw. Not that she can sing like her; her caterwauling in the bath is like cats fighting. I can sing, but I take after Mum’s side, with my ginger hair, horrible pale green eyes and the freckles.
She shrugs. ‘He didn’t see me. I nipped out when he was in the back garden.’
‘Well, you’ll have to put up with me being with you. Because as soon as you see that lad, you won’t want the pram…’
‘He’s not just a lad, he’s lovely. He’s called Stephen − Stephen Birch.’ She flushes and leans forward to tuck the knitted blanket closer around Robert.
‘Soppy.’ I make a gagging noise. ‘Anyway, what about Ben Watson?’ She’s been seeing my friend Belinda’s brother on the sly from Dad for months. ‘Does he know you fancy this Stephen lad?’
She goes redder. ‘No, and you won’t tell him. Will you?’ She narrows her eyes at me.
I shrug; I don’t really care. Except that Belinda’s my friend and I don’t want anything my daft sister does to spoil that. Ben’s always nice to me when I go to their house. Friendly. And Belinda’s family are like us − normal. They live on the cul-de-sac at the end of our road. Not like that stuck-up lot off Victoria Avenue.
‘Will you?’
‘I like Ben…’
‘Oh, shut up, and mind your own business. Anyway, I don’t have to go past Stephen’s house. He’s meeting me at the bottom of Beggars Ginnel…’
‘And, like I said, as soon as you meet him, you’ll want to get rid of Robert.’
She grins.
I keep on following her as fast as I can. I’m not happy. I promised Mum I’d look after Robert. We turn into the narrow passageway and I see Stephen Birch standing down at the other end, looking up at us.
Angie glances at me, just the once, before shouting, ‘Catch!’
I try to grab at the handle as she lets go of it. I’m not fast enough. The ginnel’s steep and cobbled. The pram bumps and lurches, going faster and faster. My legs won’t move. Don’t understand. Don’t believe it. I push past her. Run.
Robert’s screaming.
Stephen Birch is yelling, panic in his voice. He dodges from side to side of the ginnel, arms outstretched. The pram careers into him and tips over onto its side. He’s underneath it. The cobbles are bumpy. I slip. Pain. Pain in my ankle. I scream. Still running. Crying. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe.
‘Robert!’
He’s not screaming now. Not crying. I tug at the pram. ‘Help me,’ I shout at the boy. He’s curled up, moaning. ‘Angie. Help!’
She’s standing at the top of the ginnel. Staring.
I’d heard Robert when the pram was crashing around. Now he’s quiet. Totally quiet.
Angie’s helping at last. I’m dizzy. Hot. Cold. Feel sick. Hate her. Hit out at her. ‘Hate you. Hate you!’ She doesn’t hit back.
The pram’s on its wheels. The blankets are bunched up in the hood. Can’t untangle them.
‘If anything’s…’
My little brother’s not moving. His face is pale. His eyes shut. His little mouth is open a bit. He’s not breathing.
Chapter Two
Angie
The tears have dried, salt-tightened, on her cheeks. Angie hunches her shoulders and rocks, ignoring the sharp branches of the beech hedge pressing against her back. No one can see her here from the house, she knows that, and she needs time to think what to do. The pulse in her neck has gradually subsided to a steady beat.
She shouldn’t have run away, shouldn’t have left Mandy on her own to bring their baby brother home. The thought torments her. But she’d panicked when she hadn’t heard him cry. He should have been crying. She mustn’t think about it. Was he hurt? No, he couldn’t be. She had heard him cry. Hadn’t she? That makes her feel better for a second before she remembers how he’d looked. So still.
She can’t think straight. She rocks harder, wrapping her arms around her knees. Wishing none of the last hour had happened. If she could just go back…
Chapter Three
Mandy
Everything’s happening at once. I know they’re talking, but all I can hear is this loud, rushing noise in my head. My face is hot, wet with snot and tears. I wipe it with my cardigan sleeve because I don’t have a hanky. No one’s taking any notice of me except Dad, my dad, who’s usually really kind, keeps glaring at me, the skin around his mouth white because he’s pressing his lips so tight together.
The ambulance outside on the road still has blue lights flashing. I can see it out of the corner of my eye. Two men in green uniforms bend over Robert. Mum’s kneeling next to them. Since that horrid woman pushed me and the pram through the front gate, with all those other people behind us, she hasn’t made a sound. But she’s shaking, so I know she’s crying too. I’ll never forget the way she held onto the front door. The way she ran towards me, her arms out in front of her as though she was pushing at the air to get to the pram, her eyes stretched as wide as her mouth.
There’s a policeman talking to Dad. I’m guessing he’s telling him what happened. Not what really happened, because I haven’t told him the truth. I don’t know why, really. I don’t know where Angie is, but I can’t tell on her. I’ll let her tell what happened.
I can’t get my little brother’s face out of my mind.
The policeman and Dad are looking at me. I don’t know what else to say except, ‘I’m sorry.’
All at once, a lady is standing at the living-room doorway. Her smile makes me take in a deep breath that sort of turns into a gulping sob, and I hear her say, ‘Carol Hudson, from social services, Mr and Mrs Marsden. I’m here to help in any way I can.’ She looks at me. ‘You must be Amanda?’
Mum doesn’t move. The two ambulance men don’t look up. They’re still leaning over my brother, but they’re not moving anymore. I don’t know what that means. Dad’s eyes are flickering everywhere but at me. There’s a strange silence in the room. Nobody calls me Amanda unless they are cross with me. Unless I’m in trouble. And I know I’m in trouble now.
Mum starts to scream.
I cover my ears, shut my eyes.
I wish Angie was here with me. She’ll make it right.
Chapter Four
Angie
Angie stops rocking, rests her head on her knees. She has to think, think what to do, what to say. Mandy’s probably in the house, telling them what happened. Telling on her. They’ll be in there, waiting for her to show up. To blame her.
Or they might have taken Robert to the doctor’s, just to get him checked over. Make sure he’s okay. Yes, that’s probably it. But there’s a tremor rising from deep inside her; she saw the stillness of her brother’s face, the trickle of blood on the pillow. She knows.
The shaking grows. The branches of the hedge dig deeper. Angie welcomes the pain. But she can’t stay upright any longer and she sprawls sideways onto the ground, the smell of freshly cut grass all around her. Dad’s been mowing the lawn. Dad! What will he say? Do? Oh God, what will he do?
