The Sister Surprise by Abigail Mann (book series for 10 year olds .txt) 📕

‘I don’t care. Horsey people throw money at their animals, especially in Surrey. Sounds good to me.’

‘Yeah, but I still can’t afford it. Even with a bursary the rent down south is bananas, and—’

‘Let’s talk about it later. We’ll figure something out,’ says Jacqui. ‘You’re holding yourself back and I won’t be the reason for it, all right?’

Moira bites at a hangnail and nods.

‘So,’ says Jacqui with purpose. ‘Are we going to eat these now, or shall I wait for them to go stale for the magpies?’

Chapter 38

The four of us step out onto the flagstones, seagulls gliding in gusts of wind like shrill kites. Moira and I walk a few steps ahead as Jacqui speaks to Mum in the porch. I can’t make out what they’re saying, but when Jacqui puts her arm on Mum’s shoulder and it’s not to steady herself in preparation for a headbutt, I relax.

‘Our mums are laughing,’ I say, my arm hooked through Moira’s. She follows my gaze.

‘No … Oh, they are!’ says Moira.

Jacqui folds her arms and nods. They look down the hill towards us, a look of quiet affection etched on their faces.

‘They’re definitely talking about us.’

‘So obvious.’

Mum says goodbye and trots down the hill, pausing as she joins us.

‘Has it changed much?’ Moira asks Mum. ‘Compared to last time you were here?’

‘Not at all. Feels a bit like déjà vu. We weren’t that popular with the locals. I can understand why, but it did mean we couldn’t nip in the shop for a can of Coke and a packet of Monster Munch.’

On the corner, the sign above The Wailing Banshee creaks in the wind, the roughly carved wood of a screaming woman with hollow eyes staring uphill. The kind of laughter that accompanies back slaps and bad jokes leaks out into the street as the door swings open. Out steps Andrew, raising a hand to someone inside as he turns on the pavement towards us. Mum stiffens, but she’s composed, as though she’s about to dive off a high board.

Moira shouts to get his attention from across the street, breaking into a jog to meet him halfway.

‘Does he know I’m here?’ says Mum, her eyes fixed on Andrew like he’s a fox in the front garden about to ransack the bins.

‘No …’ I say.

‘He hasn’t aged well,’ says Mum, out of Moira’s earshot. ‘He looks old.’

‘Well, it has been a fairly long time …’

‘Like a pickled anchovy.’

I make hushing noises as Andrew slopes towards us, his hands deep in the pockets of a lumberjack sweater.

‘I was just coming up to the tearoom,’ he says, somehow managing to look everywhere apart from directly at us.

‘We were supposed to meet at four,’ says Moira.

‘Ah, right. I must have … Yeah. Well I just popped in for a quick pint. Jim’s stopped by on his way to Aberdeen and I owed him one.’

Andrew looks at Mum and stands up taller, his once curly hair cropped short. ‘Didn’t think I’d see you up here again, Lorrie. Last thing I remember, your peace and earth loving lot were being pulled off the rig by the coastguard.’

‘Mmm, that’s right. I couldn’t stomach another dry oatcake by that point.’

Andrew chuckles and looks up at Mum beneath wiry eyebrows. ‘So, have you, err, sorted everything out?’ he says, gesturing between us.

Before Moira or I say anything, Mum pipes up. ‘Yes, I’d say so. There is the small matter of why you didn’t think to get in contact about your first daughter, but—’

‘Well, hold on. You never asked me to.’

‘I sent you a letter. I sent you two, actually, and I know you got them.’

‘I thought you were just telling me, you know? You didn’t give me any sign that you wanted me to do anything, as such, so … There’s not much I could have done from up here anyway. If I’d have known—’

Mum puts up her hands in defeat. ‘Andrew, it’s all right. Really, there’s no point going into it. I’m not in the habit of poring over the past with a nit comb. You don’t owe me anything. Truly.’

Andrew runs his tongue along his lower lip and rubs the back of his neck. Moira nudges me with her elbow and gives me a look as though she wants to leave.

‘You’ve done a good job, by all accounts,’ he says.

‘Thanks.’ Mum holds her chin high and looks to me. ‘But I knew that already. Shall we get going?’ says Mum.

Andrew waves a finger in my direction. ‘Oh, Ava. Can I have five minutes?’ he says.

Mum bites her cheek and takes her suitcase off me. ‘Chuck us the keys and I’ll put this in your car.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ says Moira, bunching her hands inside her pockets as they walk away.

When they’ve disappeared around the corner, Andrew walks half a pace ahead of me, each step slow and deliberate. I follow him and try not to make it obvious that I’m staring at his features and trying to figure out which parts made their way over to me.

‘Has your right eyebrow always grown upwards like that?’ I ask.

He answers hesitantly. ‘Yeah … I think so. Can’t say I’ve studied it up close.’

‘Interesting,’ I add lamely, silently blaming him for all I’ve endured after years spent trying to ensure mine lay flat. I can’t think of what else to say, so we walk in strained silence until the road pulls level with a concrete slipway that tips down towards the waves. Around us, boats lay on their sides like slumbering seals, a sun-bleached trunk of driftwood cast ashore between them, its branches twisted and worn smooth like fuzzy felt. Andrew sits down and leans his forearms on his knees.

‘I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I grew up without a dad, so I know what it’s like.’

Well, this makes it worse. He addresses a tangle of fishing nets hung from a barbed-wire fence.

‘I want to do something. I can’t make up for …