I paced up and down the street, my hands balled up into fists. Sophie’s desk light was shining in the living room – she often worked from home on Fridays, sketching out plans and assembling mood boards for the interior designer she worked for. All of those soft swatches of fabric and delicate lines perfectly suited my sister’s gentle character. The green scarf she’d given me for Christmas was wound tightly around my neck. I’d risked telling Duncan that I had a doctor’s appointment, and I didn’t have long before Mum and Dad would be out of that interview and straight on the phone. I half walked to the pathway and then turned back, for what must have been the third or fourth time. I pulled out the gum that I’d been chewing and balled it up in the silver foil it had come in, paranoid she’d be able to smell last night’s gin on my breath. I was drinking away Tim’s intervention, I knew that, but I couldn’t yet face engaging with why I was willing to risk everything to blot out his words. A woman who’d already passed me once, her black dachshund trotting next to her on its lead, threw me an odd look: to be fair, my manic pacing didn’t exactly suit the quiet gentility of the Chiswick street. It was now or never, and I knew I couldn’t bear never. I marched up to the door, burying any emotion until my finger had pressed the bell. The ringing sound sent a reverberation of dread through my body. ‘Rachel!’ Sophie said, as the door swung wide. I could see from her expression that my carefully applied foundation and ironed work clothes weren’t fooling her for a second. ‘Come inside,’ she said, a quaver in her voice, standing back so that I could pass her. ‘I’ll make us some coffee.’ I sank gratefully onto one of the two padded benches that ran down the sides of her pine kitchen table. Their little flat was so cozy: evidence of their shared life was stuck to the fridge like a loving collage – a jumble of photos and optician’s letters and invitations to other people’s weddings. Just for a second, I let myself relax enough to feel the exhaustion. It made me long to curl up and sle ep right there, like I was their child or their beloved pet. Sophie came in after me, barely turning to look at me at first. Instead she methodically poured water from the filter into the kettle, reaching up into the cupboard for a packet of chocolate biscuits. ‘There we go,’ she said, with false brightness, d epositing it all in the centre of the table. ‘Earth to Sophie...’ I said, waving a hand in her direction. ‘Don’t do that!’ she said, eyes narrowed with anger. ‘We’re not joking about any of this, Rachel.’ ‘Is “we” you and Mum, or you and me?’ I said. ‘Just stop it, okay? I’m not playing that game with you anymore.’ I took a sip of my coffee, trying to ignore how fast my heart was beating. ‘It’s not a game anymore,’ I said quietly. Sophie stared at me, so much pain in her eyes that it made me want to cry. It was as if her pain was my pain, like I was feeling its tremors and ripples in my own body. I almost said it to her, but I knew she’d think it was no more than a tactic. ‘Go on,’ she said eventually. ‘I’ve taken out a harassment order so they can’t contact me anymore.’ Sophie jumped up, tipping the bench she was sitting on backwards. It clattered loudly to the floor. ‘Why the hell did you do that?’ she shouted. ‘I didn’t have a choice!’ ‘Yes, you did. You really did,’ she said, her face flaming with anger. ‘Stop playing the fucking victim. They went to the police because of Amber, not because of you. Because they’re frightened for you!’ She sank back down onto the bench.
‘I’m frightened for you.’ She wiped her hand through the air. ‘I mean, look at you.’ There was almost too much to react to. I sat there a second, words dry in my throat. ‘Sophie...’ ‘I asked Mum about Esther, and she said it wasn’t true. That you were paranoid, borderline anorexic. But you’re not that now. You’ve just got to pull yourself together and stop acting like this...’ ‘No, Sophie, you stop,’ I shouted. ‘What are you talking about? I went to the police, not them.’ Sophie’s shoulders slumped with sadness. Rage never suited her: even as a toddler, her tantrums would melt to a whimper within minutes. ‘They went last week. They r eported Amber for coercive control.’ She looked at me warily. ‘I probably shouldn’t even be telling you this.’ ‘Yes, you should! Coercive control? For fuck’s—’ ‘No, I mean it!’ she snapped. ‘You’ve made it that way. Picking sides, making accusations. I hate it – every time I speak to one of you I feel like I’m telling tales. I’m trying to plan my hen night, my wedding – this should be a happy time for me, but you’ve hijacked it...’ ‘When last week?’ I demanded. ‘What?’ ‘What day did they go?’ Sophie looked confused. ‘I don’t know... Wednesday? Why does it even matter? The whole thing is completely effing ridiculous.’ Her words were drifting in and out – they went on Wednesday, and I went on Friday. Thursday was when Amber had brought up the whole idea. She was the one who said it first, wasn’t she? My thoughts were hard to marshal, blunted by sle
Ep d eprivation and alcohol. ‘Definitely Wednesday?’ I demanded. Sophie’s nod felt like a trap door opening, a hatch into a dark underworld I couldn’t yet explore or even acknowledge existed. Besides, I didn’t have time to engage with the implications: this could be my final chance to save my relationship with my sister. ‘I’ve been thinking about what you said, about Esther.’ I was aware I was spitting out my words too fast to sound like I was wholly in control of myself. ‘What if Mum wants her where she can see her?’ ‘What?’ ‘What if Mum and Dad have an arrangement? She acc epts he’s never going to be faithful, but at least she knows who it is. Maybe she’s got someone, too.’ ‘Don’t be so ridiculous,’ snapped Sophie. ‘Is it? Do you think Dad’s faithful? Do you think they’re happy?’ Sophie reddened. ‘I don’t spend much time thinking about our parents’ sex life, to be honest.’ ‘All the times he’d flirt with waitresses, or with our teachers at parents’ evenings. All those work trips that stretched into the weekend. It was just normal for us, wasn’t it?’ Sophie took a slug of her coffee, turning to look out of the window. ‘Dad’s Dad. He likes turning on the charm. It’s what makes him so good at his job.’ ‘Ke ep telling yourself that, Sophie,’ I said. ‘Ke ep telling yourself it hasn’t affected us, how toxic an environment we grew up in. Just because it’s been our normal life doesn’t mean it’s normal.’ ‘Me and Josh are fine,’ she retorted. ‘Josh’s marriage is a 1950 s nightmare – I don’t know how she stands him. And...’ I stopped myself. ‘I hope you and Toby will be really happy.’ She was marrying her first proper boyfriend – chubby, unthreatening, slightly dull – the complete opposite of Dad. ‘Because you’re such a fucking expert!’ she said, standing up and slamming her mug into the sink. I stood too, my whole body shaking. ‘Don’t do that,’ I said. ‘Please don’t do that. It hurts me how hard it’s been. I know you all pity me, or make a joke out of it, but what I saw – what I soaked up over all those years – it made it really difficult for me to trust in any man, in any relationship! And I hated
myself, because I was the easiest person to hate. When you say pull yourself together, don’t you think I haven’t said that to myself a million times? And then I haven’t, and I’ve k ept on racking up lines or having another fucking glass, because I’m so ashamed of how weak I am. But I couldn’t stop until I understood what really happened to us all. And if my family don’t want to admit the truth, then... then right now I can’t know my family.’ Sophie stared at me, her face frozen with sadness. ‘But you haven’t stopped, have you? I can tell.’ ‘What? No! I haven’t drunk anything since October.’ ‘I know you,’ she said simply. I could feel my face crumpling. I looked at the old-fashioned wall clock, the hands closing in on 11 a. m. I adjusted my expression as best I could, the lie cutting de ep into me. ‘I’m really sad you think that. I’ve got to go now, anyway. I’ve got a major meeting about my building project at midday.’ It was Sophie who crumpled now. ‘Don’t leave, Rachel. Let me help you. We’re all so worried about you.’ Little spikes of adrenaline were sending me skittering off in different directions, grabbing for verifiable facts. I paused, eyeing her. I was unravelling it now. ‘That’s what she said to you, isn’t it?’ ‘What?’ ‘Mum. She went on and on about how worried she was. And then you told her everything I said! I’ve been sat here trying to work out how they could accuse Amber of coercion. It’s bullshit, but if they twisted what I told you...’ ‘We love you,’ Sophie wailed. ‘We’re all just trying to protect you. Why can’t you see that?’ I yanked on my coat, deliberately leaving her scarf lying discarded under the table. I would yearn for it later. ‘That’s why you came to see me on Monday, isn’t it? You’re not my sister; you’re just Mum’s spy.’ ‘Rachel, listen to yourself,’ she said, pulling at the sleeve of my coat. ‘You’re so paranoid! I really think you’re having a breakdown.’ I turned on her. ‘You’re the one who should listen to me. There’s more to all of this than either of us understand, and Mum’s playing you. You need to learn to protect yourself when I’m not here to protect you anymore.’ I was heading down the hallway, Sophie running after me. I opened the front door. ‘Rachel, wait,’ she said, tears streaming down her cheeks. ‘Please!’ My brain was simultaneously fuzzy and sharp, like an instrument I hadn’t yet mastered. I looked at Sophie, refusing to let her tears melt me the way they always had. I’d reached the doorst ep now. ‘In the end, you’ll know who was telling the truth.’ I froze a second. ‘Maybe it’s not Mum who’s got the power. Maybe it’s Esther – maybe she’s got something over her. You watch what happens next.’ With that, I retreated down the stone st eps, ignoring my sister’s sobs until they’d faded away into almost nothing.