The Lost Sister by Kathleen McGurl (i can read book club .TXT) 📕

to his gravestone on her next visit. ‘It’s a wrench, but the place is too big for me. It needs a young family in it once more.’ Oddly, having made the decision to take the first step, she felt better about it all and excited about the prospect of living somewhere new.

And then, of course, she had the job of finding a suitable property to move to. In spare moments she began working her way through listings of local properties. She wanted two bedrooms, possibly three. A small garden. Something easy to maintain and in good condition, though she’d be happy to paint a few rooms if necessary. Somewhere not too far from Sally, so that she could easily pop round at a moment’s notice to help out as necessary, for who knew what the future held, or how much support Sally might need in the months and years to come?

Thankfully there were plenty of suitable properties in her price range, and it was just a case of viewing the best options and making a decision. The estate agent had advised her it may take some time to sell her large house, but there was no shortage of the type of place she wanted to move to, so it was probably wise to wait for an offer on her house first.

Sally was pleased when Harriet phoned her to say the deed was done, and the ‘for sale’ board had been erected in the front garden. ‘Well done, Mum. It’s a big step, but in the right direction. And it’s one less thing for me to worry about.’

Harriet was pleased to hear that, although for herself, despite knowing it was the right thing to do, deciding to sell the house had been hard. In some ways, living in the place where Davina had grown up had been a way of keeping her younger daughter close. How many times had she walked into Davina’s old bedroom, even though it looked nothing like it had when the teenage Davina had lived there, just to look around and bring to mind Davina sitting at her homework desk, lying on her bed reading a book, sprawled across the floor playing with her toy farm? Moving would cut that last little tie with Davina. At least she wouldn’t need to change her phone number. These days Davina called Harriet’s mobile, withholding her own number.

A few days after the house went on the market, and after a handful of unsuccessful viewings (people who seemed simply curious about the house rather than serious potential buyers), Sally called with the terrible news that neither she nor Charlie were bone marrow matches for Jerome.

‘Oh love,’ Harriet said. ‘I know it was always a long shot, but I did hope it’d work. I have my test later today. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll be a match.’

‘God, I hope so,’ Sally replied. ‘Otherwise it’s the national database. They’ve started searching it anyway, but I’m just so worried about whether even the most altruistic stranger will be prepared to go through with the procedure.’

‘Someone will. I’m sure of it.’ Assuming they could find a match on the national register of course, but Harriet didn’t want to say this and worry Sally any more.

Later that day, Harriet drove to the hospital to give a blood sample, to be tested to see if she was, by some wonderful fluke of nature, a match for Jerome. She crossed her fingers and muttered prayers under her breath as the blood was taken. The hospital would test it, and let Sally and Charlie know within a couple of days if it was any good. Harriet had read up on what was involved when donating bone marrow. It didn’t sound pleasant – it involved a general anaesthetic and then long needles inserted into the donor’s pelvic bone to extract a litre or so of bone marrow. Afterwards the donor would feel sore and bruised, and have a dull ache in their lower back. They might also suffer from anaemia for a while, and recovery could take a couple of weeks. Of course, if it was your own family member you wouldn’t care at all – what was a bit of soreness and a few weeks feeling tired compared with the life of a 6-year-old child?

With the blood sample taken, Harriet left the hospital armed with a few leaflets. All she could do now was hope and pray.

Chapter 16

Emma, 1912

The lifeboat hit the surface of the water with a thud, jolting them all and eliciting some squeals from the women on board. It was full to bursting – Emma wasn’t sure how many it was supposed to take but there was certainly no room for more. They already had people sitting on the floor between the seats. One of the two crewmen on board shouted, ‘Oars out!’ as soon as the boat stabilised, and they began rowing away from the Titanic, the crewmen muttering about not wanting to risk being sucked down with the ship.

Emma looked back at the mighty liner. It was much lower at the bow now, and was also listing to port. She counted the decks, each still brightly lit. Six above the waterline. Only six! She checked again, and now could only count five. ‘E’ deck, her cabin, would now be underwater completely. She leaned her head back and offered up a silent prayer that Ruby had got away safely on an earlier lifeboat.

‘She’ll be all right,’ Violet, sitting opposite, said. ‘Your sister can take care of herself. Try not to worry.’

Emma looked at Violet, grateful for the other woman’s reassuring tone. She noticed once again that Violet was carrying a bundle, and only now realised that it was a baby. ‘Whose is that?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Violet said, tucking the shawl the child was wrapped in more tightly around it. ‘A man thrust it into my arms as I climbed into the lifeboat.’

‘What will you do with it?’

‘I don’t know,’ Violet said again.