My Sister’s Secret (8 page)

‘I don’t care about the bloody forest,’ Hope said. ‘You and him on the road where Faith died. Niall happening to be at the Norths’ for dinner the other night. And now
this
?’

‘I don’t know how to convince you,’ Charity said. ‘I swear I—’

‘What is it about him?’ Hope said, interrupting her. ‘Is he so amazing you’re willing to overlook what he did?’ she asked, watching him jump on his bike and rev his engine up.

Charity grabbed her sister’s arm, making her sister look her in the eye. ‘You have to believe me, Hope,
nothing
is happening between us.’

Hope reached into her bag, pulling out a newspaper and thrusting it at Charity. ‘Try to tell the rest of Busby-on-Sea that.’

As Charity read it, her heart sank. On the front was a grainy photo of her and Niall from the morning Lana drove her car off the road:
Lana North saved by hit-and-run killer.
Then beneath that, a smaller headline:
Sister of hit-and-run victim Faith Winchester once dated the man who killed her sister.

She looked up at Hope. ‘How did they know about me and Niall?’

‘If I could figure it out, why not the local newspaper?’ She shook her head again, eyes glassy with tears. ‘Now everyone will know how you’ve betrayed Faith’s memory.’

Then she turned on her heel and strode away, long skirt swishing around her thin ankles.

Charity closed her eyes, her head buzzing with it all.

Hope was right, the whole town would now know.

Charity

Kerala, India

April 1987

Charity dragged her suitcase down the wooden pier towards the hotel, stopping to wipe her brow as the sun beat down on her. Boats bobbed up and down on the aqua waters of the lake, lush green trees lined its banks. It was certainly a contrast to Busby-on-Sea’s rotting jetty. But it was also completely different from what she had imagined India to be. She’d seen the hustle and bustle on the way from the airport out of her taxi window. But now she was here by this beautiful lake, it was calm and quiet.

She pulled Faith’s map of submerged forests from her bag. When she’d disembarked from Dan’s boat the month before, she’d gone looking for Hope at the café. As Charity entered the café, the place seemed to go quiet, people contemplating her with cynical eyes, no doubt thinking of the newspaper report…and, as far as the photos suggested, assuming she was dating her sister’s killer again. But all Charity cared about was Hope. She eventually found her at the back of the café scrubbing tables, clearly seething with anger.

‘I don’t want to hear it,’ she’d said before Charity had a chance to speak.

‘Fine,’ Charity snapped back, unable to contain her frustration. She’d grabbed her apron and got to work, sneaking looks at her sister and hoping she’d calm down.

But she didn’t, the silent treatment continued that evening when they got home. The next day at the café, Niall turned up, only making things worse. Charity even heard Mrs McAteer gasp in outrage. Charity had grabbed his arm, marching him out of the café. ‘Are you crazy?’ she’d said to him.

‘I’m sorry, I just wanted to check you were okay.’

‘By coming
here
?’

‘I didn’t know how else to find you.’

‘We can’t be seen together, Niall. It’s too much. I can’t lose the only sister I have left over this.’

He nodded. ‘Of course. I just needed to know you’re okay.’

‘I am. It’ll be fine. I just need to get on with my life, like I was trying to do before you came along again.’

He flinched when she said that and she felt terrible. But it had to be said. She turned away, unable to look at his pained expression any more. ‘Goodbye, Niall,’ she said before hurrying inside.

Over the next few days, as Hope’s silent treatment continued and two more rejection letters for jobs Charity had applied for landed on their mat, Charity got out Faith’s old map of all the submerged forests she’d wanted to visit. It was faded now, one of the corners torn. She lay it flat over her bed, breathing in the faint trace of Faith’s floral perfume that still remained on it.

She’d been saving money from her earnings at the café the past three months. That’s when it occurred to her: she could get away from Hope, give her some space for a while –
and
visit another of Faith’s forests. It would give her time to gather herself and try to work out her next steps to get out of this awful situation.

So she booked a trip to India. When she’d told Hope, her sister had looked shocked. In a way, it was a welcome relief from the dispassionate way in which she’d been regarding Charity lately.

‘But why?’ Hope asked.

Charity showed her Faith’s map. ‘Seeing the forest off the coast here has given me the bug. I want to do it for Faith. Come with me!’

Hope’s eyes had hardened. ‘No. I have the café to think of.’

So now here Charity was, alone. The small boat that had transported her here from the main jetty on the other side of the lake motored away. Charity took a deep breath and then walked down the wooden pier, the new backpack she’d bought chafing at her shoulders. The hotel was made up of white villas of all different sizes with red tiled roofs. She felt a little out of place among all the exotic surroundings: the dark latticed wood at the front of reception, the huge exotic flowers spilling from wooden vases all over, the saris worn by the staff, the framed pictures of Hindu gods on the walls, the scent of spices drifting in from the restaurant.

Once she got to her beautiful room, Charity sunk down on to the bed, holding her sister’s map close to her chest. ‘I wish you were here with me, Faith,’ she whispered.

The next morning, Charity was sitting on a large rickety boat with six other tourists, heading out on to the lake. She felt a sense of trepidation. Faith had told her about this forest. It had become flooded after a dam was created by the British back in the nineteenth century, the minerals in the water preserving the trees eerily in that moment.

‘Oh look!’ one of the tourists said now, standing as he pointed into the distance.

Charity followed his gaze to see dozens of trunks rising from the lake, their brittle remains a contrast to the soft waves of the water below. Some were several feet high, others mere stubs poking out from the water. Bird nests lay in some of their branches, baby birds squawking for food. In the distance, misty mountain ridges sprawled, green shrubs and long grass shrouding the ground in between.

It looked just as it did in Faith’s library book.

She’d have loved this,
Charity thought.

She
should
be visiting it with Faith just as they’d all agreed all those many years ago. Would she ever stop missing her big sister?

Half an hour later, she was beneath the surface, chirping birds and crickets replaced by the deep sound of her breath and the flap of her fins. The water was misty, the trunks of the trees like black columns in an underwater palace. She watched her white hands float before her, wisps of her black hair shimmering around her mask. It felt like everything was in slow motion here, the water’s warmth – such a delicious contrast to diving in Busby-on-Sea – lulling her into a trance-like state as she stared at the trees.

Her dive buddy – a large German man – shot her a thumbs up. She gave him a thumbs up in response then headed towards the tree closest to her. It looked like a sandalwood with its graceful limbs. She pressed her hand against the bark. It amazed her that despite being underwater, it didn’t crumble, it stayed true and solid. It was frozen in time, just like she felt she had been, seeming to go back to that fateful night over and over, unable to move on. She thought of Hope, alone in her cottage, writing poems that never seemed to be recognised, as though time had stood still for her too ever since Faith had died. Like these trees, Hope had fossilised into a shadow of what she once was.

Was Charity fossilising too? Together, could they ever move forward?

Charity’s snorkel bubbled, reacting to her deep breaths.

Faith wouldn’t want them being held back by grief, would she? And look, she was here, wasn’t she? Taking the kind of risk Faith would love. She smiled to herself. Yes, Faith would be very proud of her little sister being here. She just wished things were better with Hope.

As Charity looked at the petrified trees spreading out around her, she made a decision: she would return to Busby-on-Sea after this holiday and make a suggestion to Hope. Sell the house. Sell the café. Stop living in the past. They could use the money to go somewhere, anywhere but Busby-on-Sea. Hope could do a proper writing course; Charity could maybe do her masters in psychology. Or they could both do something completely different.

Whatever it was they decided to do, it was time to stop living in the past.

It was time to stop reliving that night, over and over.

That evening, Charity sat in the hotel’s restaurant looking out at the lake, sipping a glass of wine. People laughed and chattered around her, waiters and waitresses dressed in traditional Indian outfits weaving between the tables, local dishes filled with spices and colour held aloft.

Charity leant back in her chair and smiled.

Then a whirring engine sounded out from the dark lake. People peered up from their dinners to see a gleam of white rapidly approaching on the lake’s surface. As it drew closer, Charity realised it was a speedboat, three people onboard.

‘So this is how the rich arrive at the hotel,’ a woman on the table next to her murmured to her husband.

As the speedboat drew closer, Charity could hardly believe her eyes.

Charity

Kerala, India

April 1987

Dan North was driving the boat, his white shirt billowing out behind him. Niall was standing at the back, camera around his neck, eyes on the lake. And sitting down was Lana, her long hair tied up in a bun.

Charity watched in astonishment. How could this be happening?

The boat pulled up alongside the jetty and Dan moored up before jumping off, putting his hand out to Lana. She took it, giving him a peck on the cheek.

Charity stood up then hurried through the restaurant, head down, shoulders hunched. She’d just have to order room service and hope they were just here for dinner, not staying.

‘Charity!’

She froze. Charity heard the click of Lana’s shoes on the path and turned to see her jogging towards her, arms out. Beyond her, Dan and Niall looked on, the shock visible on their faces.

‘How wonderful to see you here,’ Lana said, wrapping her arms around Charity. ‘I was hoping we’d find you.’

‘Find me? You knew I was here?’

Dan strolled up to them as Niall held back, looking shocked.

‘Hello, Charity,’ Dan said, kissing her on the cheek. ‘You knew she’d be here, darling?’ he said to his wife.

‘Yes, Sandra in the travel agent’s told me,’ Lana said with a smile. ‘I thought it would be a wonderful surprise for everyone.’

‘You followed me?’ Charity asked Lana, unable to quite believe it.

‘I wouldn’t put it quite like that,’ Lana said. ‘I’ve been rather taken with these underwater forests ever since we saw the one in Busby-on-Sea. So I asked Niall if I could commission some canvasses for the house. They’re going to be huge,’ she said, spreading her hands wide. ‘They’ll take over whole walls, won’t they, darling?’

Dan nodded, his brow furrowed slightly as he looked at Charity. Niall finally composed himself and walked over.

‘When I discovered you were here and I saw the photos of the lake,’ Lana continued. ‘Well, it just seemed ideal! And I so love surprising people.’

Charity kept her mouth shut. It was clear to her now that Lana had issues so she just kept quiet while she gathered her thoughts.

‘It seemed
ideal
?’ Niall asked, the anger evident in his voice.

Lana shrugged. ‘Yes, I don’t see why it’s such a problem, we got on so famously over dinner and during the dive, after all.’

‘That was a quite a surprise too, Lana,’ Charity said, being careful not to be too accusatory in her tone. ‘And now this?’

‘My thoughts exactly,’ Niall said. ‘What are you playing at?’

Lana’s navy eyes shimmered with tears. Dan put a protective hand on his wife’s back. ‘Lana gets a bit over-enthusiastic when it comes to match-making, I’m afraid. Look, I’m so sorry. We can stay somewhere else, there’s a villa I wanted to rent on the other side of the lake.’

‘You’re
staying
here too?’ Charity asked, not quite believing this was happening.

‘Well, I didn’t mean to make you all hate me,’ Lana said in a sulky voice. She turned away, nibbling at her long nails.

‘We don’t hate you,’ Charity said softly, putting her hand on Lana’s arm. ‘You’re all here now, aren’t you? I’m tired anyway and was about to head to bed so please don’t leave on my account. Have dinner, you must be hungry.’

‘Sorry to disturb your peace, Charity,’ Dan said.

‘It’s fine. Goodnight.’ She looked at Niall and smiled sadly. He opened his mouth to say something, then sighed.

She walked away and tears filled her eyes. Everything felt out of sync. She felt manipulated and embarrassed. Most of all her heart ached at how pained Niall had looked. Lana had played a cruel game and while her vulnerability worried Charity, she wanted to shake her and tell her to stop sticking her oar in.

As she headed to her villa, she heard footsteps behind her. She turned to see Niall jogging towards her.

‘I couldn’t just leave it like that,’ he said when he got to her. ‘I’m so sorry, Charity, I swear I knew nothing.’

‘I believe you.’

‘Lana is a mess, honestly. She’s not right in the head.’

‘Then why did you accept the commission?’

He sighed. ‘I need the money. Work’s really dried up lately.’

‘Sorry to hear that.’

Niall looked out to the lake. The reflection of the moon shimmered on its surface, ripples turned white under its gaze. ‘Strange being here together though, isn’t it? The lake Faith was so desperate to visit,’ he said.

Charity nodded, trying to control her emotions. ‘Yes, it is.’

‘Have you seen the forest?’

‘This morning. It’s beautiful, Faith would have loved it.
You’ll
love it.’

He peered back at the restaurant. ‘I won’t see it. I’m going to get out of here as fast as I can.’

Charity thought for a moment. She
could
say nothing, just let him go. But he’d come all this way and something inside yearned for him to stay. So she gave into that something. ‘Don’t let Lana put you off,’ she said. ‘You’re here now, you must dive it, take photos.’

‘Not with that crazy bitch.’

‘Niall!’

He sighed. ‘Sorry, I just can’t believe what she’s done.’

‘Can’t you just dive the forest alone?’

‘I can’t afford to stay here without Dan funding me.’

‘Why should he stop funding you? You can still take the photos they need without them bothering you. I’m sure Dan will understand under the circumstances. He seems nice.
Normal.
’

Niall sighed. ‘Maybe you’re right. I’ll make sure we don’t bump into each other, if that’s what you want?’

Charity wasn’t sure what she wanted. Each time she saw Niall, it reminded her how much she missed him. But she’d only promised herself a few hours ago she’d stop burying herself in the past. Niall was in her past. He
was
her past. ‘I think it’s best,’ she said.

Niall quickly covered the flash of disappointment on his face. ‘It’s been good seeing you again, Charity. Enjoy the rest of your holiday.’

He walked away.

Niall stuck to his word the next day. Charity didn’t see him once as she sunbathed in the small garden outside her villa.

The following morning, as she was getting ready to go out for breakfast, Charity thought of Hope back at home, maybe awake too and scribbling in that book of hers. They’d repair their relationship, wouldn’t they? They had to! They were the only family each other had. She thought about phoning her sister. But then decided against it. Hope needed more time. Back when they were kids, Hope was capable of giving Charity and Faith the silent treatment for days on end if they had one of their arguments – Charity borrowing one of Hope’s boho scarves without asking; Faith accidentally spilling milk on her notepad. Charity would always want to drag Hope kicking and screaming out of her moods. But Faith used to tell her, ‘Be patient, Charity. She needs time to let it blow over. Let her make the first move.’ Faith was always right. A few days later, Hope would suddenly start talking to her sisters, even if it was as simple as asking Charity to pass the salt. Faith would smile at Charity, a small
I told you so.

Yes, she’d give Hope time. But she could send her a postcard. It wouldn’t arrive for a while anyway. As she continued getting ready, there was a knock on her door.

She checked her black hair in the mirror, smoothing it back. It got so frizzy in this heat. She took a deep breath and opened the door and was surprised to see Dan standing there. He was wearing pink shorts, revealing long tanned legs and an immaculate white t-shirt. Beneath the tan though, he looked exhausted.

‘I’m so sorry to disturb you yet again,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t have come if I wasn’t desperate.’

‘What’s wrong?’

‘It’s Lana. She’s a mess. Ever since last night, she’s refusing to eat. She even—’ He paused, taking in a deep breath, his green eyes swimming with tears. ‘She even threatened to commit suicide.’

Charity put her hand on Dan’s arm. ‘Has she been like this before?’

‘Once or twice.’

‘Did she see the counsellor I recommended?’

He nodded. ‘Twice. But she didn’t like him, refused to go again.’

‘I think you need to go back to the UK, Dan. Really get her some proper help.’

‘But you’re here, right here, a qualified therapist.’ He looked desperate. ‘It doesn’t have to be in a professional capacity. Just one chat. She even said herself the only person she’d be willing to talk to is you. I can’t tell you how grateful I’d be if you could just spend an hour talking to her. I’ll take us on the speedboat to the villa. I’m so worried, Charity.’

Charity would never forgive herself if Lana hurt herself. She had a professional duty to help.

‘Okay, I’ll come,’ she said softly.

Dan surprised her by pulling her into a hug. ‘Thank you so much.’

‘I can’t believe this place,’ Charity said as an hour later they walked up to the straw-roofed villa Dan was renting. It lay on the lake’s banks and stood on stilts that dipped into the water. In the distance were green mountains and lush trees.

‘It’s lovely, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘When Lana mentioned the lake, I did some research, found out about this villa. But she insisted we stay at the hotel.’ He sighed. ‘Obviously, now I know why. She knew you were staying there.’ He paused before getting to the door. ‘You know,’ he said, lowering his voice. ‘The more I think about it, the more I think it was less about match-making, more about Lana just needing a friend. I should pay her more attention, work less. You must be very honest with me after you talk to her, I can take it. If
I’m
the one who needs to change, I will. I love Lana very much.’ His voice cracked and he tried to cough to hide it. Charity’s heart went out to him.

They walked inside and Charity took a moment to breathe in the cool air. Then she looked around. They were standing in an open-plan living room with sprawling white leather sofas, a state-of-the-art kitchen leading out on to the veranda nearby. Rooms led off either end of the living room and kitchen, and there was a small alcove where it looked like Dan had set up an Atari computer and fax machine.

Was he doing work here? Maybe Lana was just very lonely.

‘Drink?’ Dan asked. ‘We have iced tea.’

‘Perfect.’ She watched him stroll to the large glass-fronted fridge. He seemed relaxed on the surface now but she could sense the stress bubbling beneath.

‘Hello, Charity.’

Charity turned to see Lana standing in the doorway to one of the rooms at the back. Dan paused, his face pained as he looked at his wife. She was wearing what looked like one of his light pink shirts, the cuffs hanging over her small hands. Her hair hung in messy strands and there were dark circles under her navy blue eyes. She still managed to look beautiful though.

Charity thought of Faith as she looked at Lana, especially those last couple of weeks she’d been alive, seeming lost in her thoughts, vulnerable. She wished she’d asked Faith what was wrong. She realised in that moment that she was right to come. Lana needed her help.

‘Hello, Lana,’ she said gently. ‘How are you doing?’

Lana’s eyes filled with tears and she bit her lip, looking down at her bare feet. ‘Not great.’

‘I’ll leave you both to it,’ Dan said, handing Charity her iced tea before placing another one on a glass table for Lana. He gave his wife a quick kiss, looking into her eyes. Then he left the room, his hands in his pockets, head bent.

Lana walked to the sofa, curling her long legs beneath her as she sat down. Though she was tall, she looked tiny against the large sofa. Charity sat on the chair to her side. She preferred to do that with her patients: not too close to invade their personal space, but not directly across from them either otherwise it felt like an interview.

‘Dan asked me to come chat to you, Lana,’ Charity said, leaning forward and looking her in the eye. ‘Is that what you want too?’

‘Yes,’ Lana said, nodding. ‘Definitely.’

‘Good. Anything you tell me will be kept between us, okay?’

Lana nodded again.

‘You said you’re not doing great,’ Charity said. ‘Do you want to tell me more about that?’

‘I just feel like my life is pointless,’ Lana said, peering out at the window as she twirled her hair around her finger. ‘Dan’s Mr Perfect with his perfect business. He’s
achieved
something. I just mess things up, like trying to get you and Niall together.’

Charity found it interesting how Lana saw her match-making as a project. It made the boredom theory even more plausible.

‘You haven’t messed anything up, Lana,’ Charity said. ‘We all understand the sentiment was there, you wanted to do good. Now, tell me more about this idea you have that your life is pointless. What about that beautiful home you’ve created? That takes a certain level of talent.’

She pulled a face. ‘So what? Home decorating. Wow.’

‘Many people make wonderful careers out of interior design.’

‘I suppose.’

‘Can I ask about your life before you and Dan met, Lana?’

‘Not much to say, really. I grew up on a council estate, was rubbish at school. My dad liked to slap my mum around every now and again.’

‘And you witnessed that?’

Lana nodded.

‘That must have been very hard for you?’ Charity asked.

‘I wished my mum would grow some backbone and leave the idiot, if that’s what you mean.’ She laughed. ‘And now here
I
am, typical trophy wife, another form of abuse, really.’

Charity waited for her to expand but Lana just sat staring out of the window at Dan.

‘What do you mean by abuse?’ Charity said.

‘It affects my confidence, doesn’t it? Knowing I was chosen for my looks.’ Lana flickered her hand up to her face then over her body. ‘I look good on his arm at parties. I don’t overshadow him.’

‘And you feel that makes you similar to your mother?’

‘In a way. She was really pretty, didn’t say much. My dad overpowered her.’

‘You use an interesting word there.
Overpowered.
Do you feel powerless?’

Lana nodded vigorously. ‘I don’t get a say in
anything
.’

‘How did you and Dan meet?’

‘Modelling assignment fifteen years ago. I was so young then, just eighteen, he was twenty-five. He personally oversaw the casting for an advert for his first shipping business. We got married a year later. A whirlwind romance.’ She looked out at Dan. ‘Fourteen years we’ve been married.’