My Sister’s Secret (25 page)

‘Speak English?’ Ajay calls out to them.

‘Yes,’ they reply.

Ajay takes the Polaroid photo of Niall that the kids let me have and strolls over to the couple. ‘Seen this man?’

They look at it then nod. ‘He was at a hut we passed,’ the woman said.

‘When?’ I ask, joining them, my heart thumping in anticipation.

‘Twenty minutes ago,’ she replies.

‘Where is the hut?’ Ajay asks.

She points towards a path weaving its way through the trees. ‘Walk down the path, then you will see it.’

‘Thank you,’ I say.

We quickly get our stuff together and start heading towards the hut, walking between the glimmering lake and the green fir trees that line it. Above us the setting sun winks between the branches, a soft breeze swirling around my bare neck.

Might I really be about to meet Niall Lane for the first time?

Soon, we come to a clearing, a small hut lying in the distance. But as we draw closer, I see it’s empty, quiet.

‘There’s no one here,’ I say, disappointed.

‘Wait,’ Ajay says. ‘Look.’

I follow his gaze to see a man walking out from behind the hut. He’s tall, tanned, grey beard, black tattoos.

I freeze, unable to breathe for a few moments.

‘It’s him, isn’t it?’ Ajay asks. I nod. ‘Go to him, I’ll just be here.’

I swallow. ‘I’m not sure I want to now.’

‘“There are only two mistakes one can make along the road to truth,”’ Ajay quotes again. ‘“Not going all the way, and not starting.” You’ve started. Now you must go all the way.’

I look at Ajay and he nods, brown eyes encouraging. I somehow place one foot in front of another. As I draw closer, Niall looks up. His blue eyes are striking against his lined, tanned skin; his hair longer than in his photos, peppered with grey. He’s wearing a dark wetsuit, his camera in his hand. Behind him, I see a rolled out mattress in the hut, a book, some clothes.

I try to see something of me in him. But my heart’s hammering so loud in my ears, I can barely focus.

This is the man Mum may have loved once.

The man who accidentally killed her sister.

He frowns, tilts his head like he might recognise me.

‘Niall Lane?’ I ask, surprised my voice isn’t shaking.

‘Yes.’

‘I’m Willow North, Charity’s daughter.’

Emotion floods his face. ‘Jesus, you look just like her.’

I examine his face. Is he acting like a man who’s seeing a ghost or who’s talking to his estranged daughter for the first time? I can’t tell.

‘Did you send me an invite to your exhibition in Brighton?’

He nods.

‘Why?’ I ask.

He shrugs. ‘It was an impulsive decision. I guess I wanted to meet you.’

‘But you never replied to my email and messages.’

‘I’ve been off the grid the past few weeks.’ He smiles. ‘Hasn’t stopped you finding me though.’

‘I have some questions.’

He gestures to a nearby log. ‘Want to sit down?’

‘Alright.’

I sit and he sits beside me.

‘How can I help?’ he asks.

‘Were you having an affair with my mum?’ The question just pops out.

He takes in a deep breath. ‘I wouldn’t call it an affair.’

‘Did you come here together?’ I say, gesturing around us. ‘As lovers, I mean?’

‘We didn’t come here as lovers, no.’

‘Okay, let me put this another way. You were here twenty-eight years ago with my mum, right? I’m twenty-seven.’ I let that statement hang in the air as I watch his expression. It’s unreadable.

‘I know how old you are,’ he says. ‘I think the question you’re trying to ask is, am I your father?’

I don’t say anything, just wait.

He sighs. ‘I’d like to know that myself. The truth is I have no idea.’

I feel my shoulders slump. I was hoping for some answers. ‘Do you think my mum knew?’

He thinks about it for a moment. ‘No, I don’t think she did.’

‘And my dad? Do you think he suspected?’

His face tenses. ‘Who knows?’

‘You didn’t like him, did you?’

‘He was no saint.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

He looks away. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

I feel like I ought to defend my dad. ‘You can hardly talk. You killed my aunt!’

He closes his eyes briefly, pinching the top of his tanned nose. ‘It was an accident, Willow.’

‘Really?’ I dig her map out from my bag. ‘I found something on her map.’

He peers at it, intrigued. ‘What do you mean?’

I explain about the imprint and he sighs. ‘I think I know what that’s all about.’

‘What?’

‘Faith was pregnant when she died.’

‘Oh. But why would she say she was scared?’

Niall shrugs. ‘Maybe she was planning on having an abortion? There are risks if she’d kept it, it would have been a huge decision.’

‘I’m not convinced.’

He looks like he’s trying to figure out whether to tell me something.

‘Is there something else?’ I ask him. ‘This is
my
family we’re talking about.’

His face closes up. ‘There are things best left unsaid.’

I shake my head, suddenly exhausted. ‘I can’t believe this, you sound just like my aunt. I’ve been visiting the places on this bloody map for answers but all I get are more questions.’

‘Maybe you don’t need answers. I’ve learnt over the years the truth doesn’t always make you happy.’ His face fills with emotion. ‘I want you to be happy. It’s very important to me. That’s why I paid to have the ship salvaged. I knew you would want to see it.’

‘You did that?’ He nodded. ‘Why? Because I might be your daughter?’

‘Because your Charity’s daughter.’ His voice breaks and for a moment I want to give him a hug. But I stop myself and instead we both sit quietly for a moment, a breeze circling around us, the leaves of the pines above us fluttering.

Eventually, Niall turns back to me. ‘If you want answers, maybe you need to look closer to home?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean speak to your aunt.’

I laugh. ‘You don’t think I haven’t tried to already? She won’t tell me anything.’

‘Maybe it’s because she’s trying to protect you. She was very close to your mother, she’ll have more answers than I do. Prove to her you’re not a kid that needs protecting. Show her you can cope with the truth.’ He pauses, scrutinising my face. ‘If that’s what you’re sure you want?’

Charity

Kazakhstan

July 1988

Charity stood in a busy street in Almaty, Kazakhstan’s capital city, looking up at the hotel where Hope was staying. The sound of drilling echoed around her. The city seemed to be in the middle of a transition, new subways and hotels rising up, dust clogging the streets. And among it all Charity stood very still and very quiet as people jostled past her, clutching at the handle of her suitcase like it was an anchor.

‘Charity!’ She looked up to see her sister standing at the hotel’s entrance, a huge smile on her face. Hope jogged down the steps of the hotel and pulled Charity into a hug. ‘I’m so pleased you came. I couldn’t believe it when I got the message yesterday.’

‘I can’t quite believe I’m here.’

‘It’s wonderful! Your boss is very good to let you have the time off.’

‘I’ve worked enough unpaid overtime in the short time I’ve been there to make her feel guilty enough to say yes.’

Hope laughed. ‘Well, I’m sorry the hotel isn’t the most attractive of hotels. But it’s the best one here for the price and there aren’t any decent hotels next to the lake. Most people head out from Almaty. You must be starving. I know it’s only five but shall we get some dinner after you check in?’

‘Sounds good.’

Thirty minutes later they were sitting in the hotel’s restaurant with its old-fashioned décor of beiges and creams that reflected the hotel’s exterior.

‘So what are you running away from this time?’ Hope asked after they ordered their food.

‘You know me too well.’

‘I do.’ Hope leant forward, face serious. ‘What’s wrong, Charity?’

Charity told her everything that had happened over the past few weeks.

‘So Dan’s been lying?’ Hope asked when Charity had finished.

Charity nodded. ‘I’ve seen a different side to him.’

‘That’s the way relationships work though, isn’t it? You get to know people, see them for what they really are. The question is, do you trust him? And do you love him?’

‘I do love him.’

‘But you don’t trust him?’

Charity sighed. ‘I don’t know.’

Hope’s cheeks flushed pink as she watched a man in a tweed jacket walk towards them.

‘Who’s that dapper man?’ Charity asked.

‘My editor.’

‘He’s here too?’

‘He offered to come at the last minute.’

Charity quirked an eyebrow. ‘Is there a little romance developing here?’

‘Shush!’ Hope said as the editor came up to the table.

‘Ah, so now I know why I was stood up for dinner,’ the editor said. He was in his late thirties, tall and broad-shouldered with kind blue eyes and scruffy dark hair. He was just the sort of man Charity could imagine Hope ending up with. She smiled to herself. How wonderful would that be?

‘This is Peter, my editor,’ Hope said. ‘Peter, this is my sister, Charity.’

‘Ah, the psychiatrist.’

‘Oh, nothing as glamorous as that, just a plain old counsellor. Why don’t you join us?’

‘Oh no,’ Peter said, shaking his head. ‘I couldn’t intrude.’

‘I insist,’ Charity said, gesturing to the spare chair.

Hope frowned. ‘Are you sure? Don’t you want to talk?’

‘I’m sure,’ Charity said. ‘I want to forget about what’s happening in the UK and chatting to some literary types is ideal.’

Over the next two hours the three of them had dinner and talked. It was clear to Charity there was chemistry between Hope and Peter, who seemed enraptured whenever Hope talked. Hope wasn’t so obvious about her feelings, but the little glances towards him as he talked, and the way she blushed when he complimented her poetry made it clear to Charity that she was developing feelings for him. It filled her with happiness. She loved the idea of Hope meeting someone, especially someone who seemed to share her interests.

But as she watched them together, she also started to regret making the decision to come out. It was clear she’d interrupted a budding romance.

‘I think I’ll head up now,’ Charity said after a while.

‘But it’s only seven,’ Hope said.

‘I’m exhausted, Hope.’

‘I’ll head up too, then,’ Hope said, going to stand up.

‘No. Stay. It looks like you have a lot to chat about and really, I’m quite exhausted after the journey. We can catch up when we go to the vigil tomorrow evening.’

‘You don’t mind if Peter comes with us, do you?’

Charity smiled. ‘Not at all.’

‘I swear I’m all yours for the rest of the break.’

‘Apart from the meeting I’ve set up with that Russian editor,’ Peter said. ‘We can always cancel it.’

‘No, not at all,’ Charity said. ‘I’m here for ten days, Hope and I have plenty of time to catch up.

When Charity got to her room a few moments later she stared out at the darkening city, feeling incredibly lonely. It was wonderful seeing her sister so happy and on the brink of romance, but it also highlighted what a mess her own love life was in. Was Dan thinking of her right now? Or was she kidding herself? Maybe the simple truth was that he’d dumped her. He was a millionaire businessman after all. He probably had loads of flings. He was passionate, threw himself into things. He’d got excited about Charity but now the honeymoon period had worn off, he’d grown bored and was pleased to have found an excuse to get rid of her. Why else would he fly out to Germany without a word?

The reality of the situation really hit her then and she burst into tears. She loved him, she really did. She let herself cry for a bit and then dragged herself up, wiping her tears away. She just wanted to sleep. So without even unpacking or changing, she sank into bed.

The next afternoon, Hope, Charity and Peter hired a four-by-four to take them over the bumpy terrain that led to the lake. When they arrived a while later, the sun was setting over the dark lake, thin spruce trees rising majestically from its surface as water trickled down the surrounding cliffs.

Charity wondered what it would be like to dive under there. Maybe she’d get the chance if she could convince Hope to dive with her? When she’d broached the subject, Hope had looked pained. Maybe it was too hard for her, the memories of diving with Faith too difficult.

There were dozens of people gathered at the lake, the reflection of the flames from the candles they were holding dancing over the surface. A wizened old man stood in the middle of them, face sombre.

‘Let’s try to talk to him now,’ Peter said to Hope.

‘I’ll wait for you here,’ Charity said.

As they walked away, Charity contemplated the lake, remembering how Faith had described it with such passion.

A flashing light caught her eye. A man was taking photographs of the lake nearby, away from the crowds. He had dark hair, broad shoulders.

Charity frowned.

It couldn’t be Niall, could it?

As she thought that, he turned and caught her eye.

It
was
Niall.

He slowly lowered his camera, surprise registering on his face. Then he strolled over. Charity peered over at Hope who was now talking to the earthquake survivor.

‘What are you doing here?’ Niall asked, voice incredulous.

‘I came with Hope. She’s been commissioned to write some poems about submerged forests, she’s interviewing the earthquake survivor right now.’

Niall followed her gaze towards Hope.

‘Why are
you
here?’ she asked him, still not quite believing it.

‘I read about the vigil, seemed like a good time to visit to take some more photos of submerged forests.’

Charity shook her head. ‘This is just so weird.’

Niall smiled. ‘It is, isn’t it? But then how many other people in the world are as interested in submerged forests as the three of us?’ he asked, gesturing towards Hope.

‘I guess.’

He smoothed his hand over his stubble. ‘So have you dived it yet?’

‘Not yet. I’m not sure I’ll get the chance, Hope seems reluctant.’

‘I’m diving it tomorrow. I’ve hired a car.’ He hesitated a moment, his eyes searching hers. ‘You’re welcome to join me?’

Charity laughed nervously. ‘I don’t have any equipment.’

‘I know a place you can hire some from. It would be a shame for you to miss out.’

Charity looked at her sister. She would be out most of the next day meeting with the Russian editor Peter mentioned. What else would Charity do if she didn’t go with Niall? Hide in her room until dinner time?

‘Okay,’ she said impulsively.

The next morning, Charity stared out of the window of the four-by-four Niall had hired, watching as city gave way to dirt tracks surrounded by hills and shrubs. They veered off into vast, sparse lands, farmers dressed head to toe in colourful outfits herded goats.

‘So why hasn’t Dan joined you?’ Niall asked, jaw tensing.

‘He’s in Germany.’ She didn’t look at Niall, just continued staring out of the window, tears flooding her eyes. Then she felt his hand on her shoulder.

‘Everything okay?’ he asked softly.

‘He just flew out there without saying a word. I think it’s over between us.’

Niall glanced quickly at her, then away. ‘Well, I can’t say I’m upset to hear that.’

The car made a creaking noise as it bounced over the path. Charity thought of the night she lost her sister. The bump, the panic in her heart when she thought the car had knocked over a deer. How much worse it had been.

‘Maybe you should slow down,’ Charity said, grabbing on to the door handle.

‘I’m trying to.’

As he said that, smoke started pluming from the car’s bonnet. ‘Shit,’ Niall said as the car rolled to a stop. He jumped out and Charity quietly watched him as he opened the bonnet, leaning over it, one tanned and muscled arm holding it up. Her eyes travelled over the gleaming nape of his neck, his short dark hair, the hint of a tattoo peeking up from under his dark t-shirt. He looked up, caught her watching him and held her gaze, his look making heat coil inside her. She looked away and drank more water, trying to cool herself down as Niall walked around to her side of the car. He leant into her open window, so close she could smell the orange he’d just eaten on his breath. ‘It’s screwed.’

‘Thought as much.’

He reached in and pulled out a map. Then he peered up, shielding his eyes from the sun as he pointed ahead. ‘The canyon down to the lake’s just there according to this. I reckon it’s too hot to walk. Maybe we should camp out overnight, set off in the morning when it’s cooler. I have a two-man tent in the back?’

She looked at him, horrified. How on earth could they sleep in such close proximity?

He laughed. ‘The look on your face! Only kidding.’

‘So what do we do?’

‘I don’t know, wait for someone to come by? There was that farmer earlier, maybe he’ll come our way again.’

‘And what, give us a lift on his goats?’

‘Why not?’

They both burst out laughing.

‘Here,’ Niall said, reaching across to the side compartment and throwing her a chocolate. ‘Keep yourself busy while I figure something out.’

‘Oh, thank the Lord we have a man here to help figure things out,’ Charity said. ‘God forbid it’s just me or, worse still, you were a woman. Can you imagine two women trying to figure things out?’

‘Please share your tips on how we deal with this situation then,’ Niall said, lips curling into a smile.

‘The goat idea wasn’t so far off.’ She pointed at two men leading their horses along a patch of dry land nearby. ‘Do you have any money?’

Ten minutes later Charity was behind Niall on the back of one of those horses, her arms slung around his waist, their diving gear hanging precariously out of the bags attached to either side of the horse’s back.

She pressed herself against Niall, her fingers interlaced around his waist, the feel of his taut stomach sending rivulets through her.

He kicked his heel into the horse and it whinnied before galloping towards the mountains. Charity turned, saw the two men waving at her, the fifty dollars Niall had paid each of them tucked securely into their belts. Charity pressed her cheek against Niall’s back, breathing in his familiar musky smell as the horse’s hooves thundered on the ground. She focused on the sensations of wind in her hair, of the sun on her back, of her arms around Niall’s waist. He shifted slightly, his body pressing against her inner thighs.

Soon, a glimmer appeared in the distance, the tops of fir trees trembling in the breeze. The horse slowed down as Niall pulled at the reins, eventually coming to a stop at the top of a huge canyon. And below, the lake.

‘It’s like paradise, isn’t it?’ Charity whispered.

‘Let’s get in there.’

Thirty minutes later they were heading beneath the surface in surprisingly cold water, the drowned pine trees rich and vibrant beneath the lake, branches heavy with leaves that hung like blue icicles in the glimmering water.

All sound disappeared, the misty ripples leaving her in a dreamlike state. Ahead of her the trees shimmered in the haze, seeming to beckon her towards them. She glided over, fingers passing across the soft branches, the peacefulness she always felt when underwater spreading throughout her. The past few days she’d felt like she’d been standing in the middle of a sparse land, exposed and vulnerable. Here
she felt safe;
here
she felt as though she could escape everything.

In the distance, Niall took photos, the flash from his camera lighting up the sunken trees, shrouding them in white, as though snow had fallen beneath the lake.

She found Niall floating in front of a particularly large tree, contemplating its bark, his camera at his side. She knew what he was thinking: this would be the ideal place to do an etching. She looked into his eyes, saw the question there. She nodded, so he lifted his knife and carved their initials into the tree.

When they returned to the surface, Niall thanked Charity.

‘What for?’ she asked.

‘For letting me do the etching. I know my exhibition puts your name out there. I guess it’s a tribute to what we once had.’

She avoided his gaze by reaching behind her to undo her tank.

‘What we had was special though, wasn’t it?’ he persisted.

She looked up at him. ‘It was.’

He smiled. ‘And now we’re here as friends. That makes it all even more special.’