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

hoped Harriet was OK, that she’d cared enough to come. In the end she’d had to step back and give Davina space to pay her silent respects to her father with whom she’d always got on better than she had with Harriet, especially as a teen. She’d watched as her daughter stood, head bowed, at the graveside for a minute before walking away to a waiting taxi without so much as a farewell or a backward glance.

‘Yes, I know. It hurt me too. But she came. And she did ring me, after.’

‘Two months later, wasn’t it?’

Harriet nodded. ‘And then again a month after that.’ But the last phone call from Davina was four months ago now. Harriet had no number, no address, no email or anything else for her daughter. She’d tried to find her on social media with no luck.

Sally flung a pile of doll’s clothes and a couple of Barbies into the ‘charity’ box. ‘I hate her for what she’s done to you. I thought her running off like that at 17 with that ridiculous rock band was bad enough. It hurt so much when she didn’t come back for my graduation. Or my wedding! But to refuse to talk to us at Dad’s funeral – that was unforgivable.’

Harriet sighed. ‘I suppose she was grieving too, and didn’t want to deal with any kind of emotional reunion on top of it all. Maybe she was thinking of us, that we had enough to cope with, without adding her arrival …’

‘If she really thought that then she shouldn’t have turned up at all. She never bothered at any other family occasion.’

Harriet had to agree. It was Davina’s failure to come to her sister’s graduation that had been the final straw for Sally. And once Sally had made up her mind about something it was very hard to make her change it. She refused to cut Davina any slack at all now. Davina had asked for Sally’s phone number once, but Sally had told Harriet on no account was she to let her sister have it. ‘She made it clear she wanted nothing more to do with me years ago, so therefore she has no right to have my phone number.’

Harriet had pleaded with Sally. ‘Maybe she wants to make up. Maybe she wants to rebuild some bridges; won’t you give her a chance?’ But Sally had been immovable. Even so, on the rare occasions that Davina phoned Harriet, Harriet would pass on news, and Davina would listen politely, sometimes asking a question or two. It wasn’t much, but it was all Harriet could do to keep a fragile thread of relationship alive between her two daughters. She had no idea though, whether Davina had ever forgiven her or Sally for what they’d done on that awful day, just before Davina’s eighteenth birthday.

‘Well, we can chuck this out, for a start.’ Sally was holding up a battered old teddy bear. It had been Davina’s – her inseparable companion from birth till the age of 12. Oddly, when Davina had left home so abruptly it had been the fact she’d not even taken the bear that had cut Harriet the hardest.

‘Pass it here,’ she said, holding out her hand. The bear was missing an eye, and one leg was badly sewn on with pink knitting wool – Davina’s own attempt to repair him after he’d been in an altercation with a visiting puppy.

‘You’re not keeping it, are you?’ Sally’s tone was incredulous.

‘I remember John buying it for Davina, and bringing it into hospital just after she was born. It holds memories for me. I think I will hang onto him.’

‘For God’s sake, Mum,’ Sally muttered, shaking her head. But she continued with the task, finding a stuffed elephant that had been her own that she put aside for Jerome.

A little later Sally glanced at her watch. ‘I’m going to have to go soon, Mum, and fetch Jerome. Shall we get these charity and tip boxes downstairs or do you want to continue a while on your own?’

‘I’ll do a little more,’ Harriet replied. ‘I feel I’m on a roll. Maybe Charlie will help take the boxes down at the weekend. Do you want a cup of tea before you go?’

‘No, I’m all right, thanks.’ Sally descended the loft ladder and waited at the bottom as Harriet climbed down. ‘Not sure I like the idea of you going up by yourself though, Mum. What if you fell?’

‘I go up all the time by myself, Sally. Fetching suitcases and Christmas decorations, storing stuff away. I’m fine. Honestly. I’m not that old.’

‘Hmm. Well.’ With that, Sally went downstairs and picked up her jacket and handbag.

‘Thanks so much for helping, love,’ Harriet said to her back.

Sally turned with a smile. ‘No problem, Mum. Good job one of your daughters stayed close to help you in your old age, isn’t it?’

‘Seventy’s not that old. Not these days,’ Harriet replied. She didn’t feel old. At least, as long as she didn’t dwell too much on Davina. Or on Jerome’s sickness.

After Sally had left, Harriet returned to the attic to sort through a couple of boxes that she knew contained Davina’s things. She sighed. She’d long since reconciled herself – as far as it was possible to – to the idea that she might never again have a close relationship with her younger daughter. Davina was a very private person, and had always had an independent, unconventional streak. She’d chosen a different path to Sally, and although Harriet couldn’t say she approved of it, she respected Davina’s right to make her own choices. As a small child Davina had deferred to her bossy older sister, but as she’d grown she’d begun pushing back, rebelling first against Sally and later against her parents. At 15 Davina had met a boy who played rhythm guitar in a band called Hades Rising. He was 17 at the time, and clearly talented. At 16 Davina had informed Harriet she was going on