‘Some would say we have a lot in common.’ She throws out something that is midway between an irreverent grin and an eye-roll. ‘Would you mind if I put in another request to visit you?’
‘Why would you do that?’
‘I could bring you something.’
‘Like what?’
‘Whatever you needed. Well, not an file or a shovel, but maybe new clothes, or chocolate. Whatever is allowed in here.’ I laugh. It’s nice to hear someone make a joke. ‘When I was at boarding school, some of the other girls received care packages from their families: comics and make-up and stuff. You know, treats. I always thought that must be fun.’
‘Didn’t you get care packages?’ I would have imagined her grandparents sending her cloth-bound books, expensive chocolates.
‘No.’
‘Oh.’
‘Never.’
‘Did you like school?’ I ask.
‘Does anyone?’ She smiles. ‘What doesn’t kill you, et cetera, et cetera, right?’
We stare at one another, my sister and I. We are shoulder-deep in a swamp of complex history; hurt and hate, injury and injustice and sheer bad luck threaten to drown us. Is she offering something here? An olive branch across our strange, dysfunctional family tree. Can I grab it, and can she drag me out of the swamp? My mother killed hers. Our father cheated us all. I tried to ruin her life and steal everything from her. We face a little more than the usual sibling rivalry. This is not just a matter of pinching her clothes or toys. But maybe she is thinking about why I have done what I have, rather than what I’ve done. She says, ‘I will put in another request to come and visit you.’ And so she takes the matter out of my hands; she decides what is best for us.
51
Six months later
Emma
I get up at 7 a.m., my new regular alarm time at the weekend. Disciplined but not ‘bloody mental’ (Heidi’s words). Nine minutes to dress, get downstairs, swallow a vitamin, get water. I call to Odin, my German shepherd, who is not only a fabulous guard dog but is fast becoming the love of my life. We run for three quarters of an hour. Once back at the house, I feed Odin, make coffee, do a vinyasa flow class online. Heidi and Gina also join from their front rooms, and it’s fun to know we are doing it together. I drink my kale juice and scoop up the enormous bouquet of flowers that I’ve been storing in the utility room. Then I get in the car and beg Odin to settle down and not crush the flowers. It’s 9.30. I’m more measured nowadays, but I like to think I’m still very efficient. Weekends are too precious to waste. Not a lot scares me, but I am fearful of the opportunities I might miss, which is why I’m travelling to London today. I’m going to my sister’s housewarming.
Becky has given me a key to the Old Schoolhouse. As she did so, she said, ‘What’s yours is mine.’
‘Don’t you mean “what’s mine is yours”?’ I corrected her.
‘Not necessarily,’ she quipped. She’s funny, my little sister.
When I arrive, I let myself in and find her on her hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen in the main flat. The one Matthew lived in until a few days ago. The place is spotless, but I guess her urge to clean is nothing to do with hygiene but more to do with mental absolution. I admire her industry. Over the last six months, I’ve regularly visited her in prison, first monthly, then twice a month, then weekly. We’re getting to know one another. During the trial, the press chose to characterise us as opposites: the ageing heiress versus the broke beauty. I was presented as an overly privileged naive (borderline kooky) woman who must have stumbled into her position of power through positive gender discrimination. I was deemed too stupid to have earned my role. My years demonstrating fiscal sense, business acumen and hard graft had been obliterated by one stupid heart-led decision. Becky was presented as a manipulative, feral (aka vicious) woman who had never done an honest day’s work in her life but instead devoted herself to freeloading, debauchery and profligacy. She was painted as someone who had used her sexuality to exploit and extort. Her years of overcoming disadvantage to achieve outstanding career success in a highly competitive industry, followed by years of frugality, were discounted. Wiped out. At first it seemed we had nothing in common, and all the things we did share seemed sad: an alcoholic father, lonely childhoods, Matthew. But we wanted to discover more.
‘If you had to describe yourself in three words, what would they be?’ I asked Becky once when I was visiting her. She liked these getting-to-know-you games, bored of conversations about the food or TV.
‘Oh, that’s easy,’ she replied quickly. ‘Passionate, competitive and ambitious. You?’
I paused and thought about it. ‘Disciplined, logical, careful.’
‘I think we both demonstrate all those traits to an extent. You are competitive and ambitious, that’s why you’re so disciplined.’
‘Maybe,’ I reply, trying to reframe how I view myself, how I view her.
‘And look how logical I’m being. I’m content to serve time for a crime I didn’t commit as I know there was stuff that I deserve to be punished for, and anyway it will all even out when I get to move into the Old Schoolhouse.’
‘Yes, I suppose I do see the logic in your thinking,’ I admitted. ‘But passionate is the opposite of careful.’
‘I’m pretty sure marrying someone after knowing them a matter of months weighs in on the passionate side, rather than the careful,’ she pointed out.
‘And look where that got me.’ I rolled my eyes.
‘It got you me,’ she said with a laugh.
Maybe she’s on to something. Maybe we are not so dissimilar. It’s hard to tell, as our life experiences have been very different. I decide it doesn’t matter, because she’s right. I got her. A barmy criminal sister to go with my unreliable addict brother. I love Tom. It isn’t impossible to imagine I’ll love Becky one day too. Someone has to.
Heidi is sceptical. I would be disappointed if she was anything else, but she is being supportive despite her misgivings. She understands that I need to fold Becky into my life. Gina is excited about meeting her. As is Tom. He and Becky have said hello over FaceTime.
‘Those two will be a shit show,’ warned Heidi. ‘They might well trigger one another. Both of them are so extreme.’
‘Maybe,’ I admitted. ‘Or they might glimmer one another.’
‘Glimmer one another? What do you mean?’
‘It’s the opposite of trigger. It’s when something or someone sparks something wonderful in another, maybe gifting a feeling of peace or purpose. Maybe Tom and Becky will feel more complete because our family has expanded.’
Heidi and Gina have both agreed to come to Becky’s tiny housewarming brunch to meet her. By the time they arrive, Becky has put away her rubber gloves and is dancing around the kitchen. She’s put a playlist together; it includes songs such as ‘Sisters Are Doin’ It for Themselves’ and ‘Spice Up Your Life’.
‘She’s not big on nuance, is she?’ mutters Heidi.
‘No. Nor regrets. It’s one of the things I like about her,’ I reply.
It’s just the four of us. Neither of my friends is quite ready to introduce my jailbird sister to their families, but they will in time. I know they will, because they are good people and they will see that Becky needs support, that she needs good people. Heidi arrives with croissants and a fruit salad; Gina has brought orange juice and cava, so we make Buck’s fizz. The fact that Becky was right about Matthew slinking off and not contesting ownership of the Old Schoolhouse has gone a long way towards endearing her to Heidi, who still believes Matthew got away too lightly. She’s happy to see him punished rather than profiting. As she looks around the beautiful space, I hear her comment to Gina that she’s ‘glad the money Emma gave that prick is back in her family’.
