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

get started with some house-hunting online. She found an online estate agent, plugged in some details as to her requirements, desired location and budget, and soon had a long list of potentials. She ruled out upstairs flats with no lift – not sensible as she was getting older and her knees sometimes twinged on stairs. Ground-floor flats then? Did she really want a leasehold or would she prefer a freehold property where she’d be fully in control? Victorian terraces, originally two-up, two-down but now with attic conversions and garden extensions? Modern boxy houses on small plots? Three-bed semis built between the wars – which in some cases weren’t much smaller than the house she was selling.

‘There’s too much choice,’ she said to the kitchen walls. ‘I honestly have no idea.’ If only John had still been around. It would have been fun discussing with him, going to view properties, choosing one together for their old age. She tried to imagine what sort of place he’d have gone for. Maybe that was what she should do – buy the sort of place they might have bought together. After all, if they had decided to sell up a couple of years ago, she’d have been widowed in a house he’d have helped choose.

‘You’d have gone for a bungalow, wouldn’t you, John?’ she muttered. ‘Yes. That’s it. You would have.’ A house on one level, that was easy to care for. Not too big, but with space for visitors and space in the attic to store the things she could not bear to part with. She narrowed her search criteria and began looking in more detail at the list of two-bedroom bungalows available near to Sally. There were about half a dozen on this website – a more manageable number to consider.

She was just reading the details of one when the laptop pinged to show an email had arrived. It was from the Ancestry website, alerting her to a private message sent to her from another member. Intrigued, she clicked on it to open it, and as she read the message her jaw dropped open in astonishment. How could that be? It turned everything she thought she knew about her family on its head.

Chapter 22

Emma, 1914-16

Since the summer, Britain had been at war with Germany. Some scuffle in the Balkans had escalated alarmingly and now it seemed that all of Europe was involved in the conflict. Huge numbers of troops were being sent to the Western Front, and there were calls for men of fighting age to sign up and do their bit. Kitchener’s poster was everywhere, and almost daily there were troops marching through Southampton streets; excited young men hoping they’d see some action.

In Emma’s street, several young men had been lost on the Titanic. They’d have signed up, she thought, had they survived. News came that Harry Paine had joined up, leaving his wife and five children alone. Emma hoped for his family’s sake that he’d stay safe and return home to them. He’d calmed down, by all accounts, since Ruby’s death. He’d become a family man, spending much more time with his children. ‘Best thing that ever happened to him, your Ruby drowning,’ Mrs Williams had said, patting Emma’s arm as though she’d intentionally sacrificed her sister to make a point to Harry Paine. The woman at least had the good grace to blush and apologise once she realised the implication of her words. But the damage was done. Emma had to turn and walk away quickly, before she lashed out. She did not need the likes of Mrs Williams reminding her of Ruby’s loss. She still felt it, all too intensely, every minute of every day. She’d failed in her promise to Ma. She hadn’t been able to keep Ruby safe. If only she hadn’t let her go drinking. If only she’d searched harder for her when she first felt the ship hit the iceberg. If only … The guilt was eating away at her, and no matter what she did, she couldn’t throw off the feeling that it was her fault Ruby had died. And every time she looked at Ma – grey, ageing, always tired – it served as a reminder of her failure.

As autumn progressed into winter and the opposing troops dug themselves into trenches it became clear this war was not going to end quickly. Lily was now 15 and had left school.

‘I’m going to train to be a nurse,’ she announced to Ma and Emma one evening, as they sat at the kitchen table, finishing a dessert of tinned peaches and custard. ‘If the war goes on no one will want to stay in hotels, and I want to do something useful, for the country. They say there will be lots of injured soldiers being sent back from the front line. If I can help save them, they can return to their families.’

Emma smiled at her sister. ‘What a lovely thought, and such a kind thing to do.’ How typical of Lily, to be thinking of others as she decided upon a career. She was the sweetest child ever. Unlike Ruby who had generally thought of herself first.

‘I’ve heard they’re sending nurses to the front line,’ Ma said, with a sigh. ‘Don’t you go, Lily. It’d be dangerous out there. Lord knows I’ve lost one daughter, and losing another would finish me off.’

‘I won’t go to the front,’ Lily said. ‘That’s only military nurses. I’ll be a civilian nurse.’

‘They’re sending those Voluntary Aid nurses too,’ Ma said accusingly.

‘That’s not me, though. I’ll be paid, once I’m trained up. It’ll be all right, Ma.’

‘You’ll get hurt. You’ll leave me all alone in my old age, I know it.’ Ma heaved herself up from her chair and went to sit in the front room.

This was how Ma always was these days, Emma thought. Always fearing the worst, terrified that Lily or Emma would come to some harm, talking as though they were taking risks