The Forgotten Sister Read online

A steam-filled bathroom, with condensation trickling down the window.

  The dark night outside.

  Jane, Cassidie’s foster mum, on her knees alongside the bath.

  And Cassidie, splashing around happily with her toys, chattering away to herself, despite the presence of a virtual stranger in the tiny, airless bathroom.

  The bedtime visit was a crucial step in the carefully choreographed ‘getting to know you’ ballet of the adoption matching process; a deadly serious dance that was destined to determine the shape of the rest of all their lives. But that night it looked just like a child getting ready for bed, with her current mum and her potential mum, neither of who was her real mum. It had all been so deceptively normal, so seductive, so hypnotically peaceful.

  The bubble of calm shattered when Jane tackled Cassidie’s hair.

  ‘I warn you, she doesn’t like having it washed,’ Jane said, and she wasn’t joking. Slippery as an eel, Cassidie twisted and slithered around the bath, as Jane endeavoured to lather her hair. It was an onslaught that swiftly escalated into a full-blown battle. Jane persevered, ignoring the tears and full-volume wailing, scrubbing away with a vigour that made Grace feel tearful herself. To rinse the suds away, Jane dumped three bowls of water straight onto Cassidie’s head, to the pitiful strains of ‘No, no, no, no!’ Then she whipped a towel around Cassidie and scooped her out of the bath. Tough love meted out with no coddling, and no conditioner.

  Thankfully, Cassidie seemed to survive the ordeal without too many ill-effects. She calmed down quickly, sniffing away her rage, as Jane tucked her swiftly and efficiently into some faded Winnie-the-Pooh pyjamas; a hand-me-down pair, Grace guessed, from one of the many foster children Jane must have scrubbed clean and put to bed across the years.

  ‘All done and dusted,’ Jane announced as she gently shoved Cassidie towards Grace. Jane immediately turned round and started chasing plastic ducks in the draining bath water. ‘Off you go! Mummy Grace is going to get you into bed and read you your story tonight.’

  Grace froze, disabled by inexperience and the overwhelming need to get this right, but Cassidie simply blinked, pushed a strand of dripping hair out of her eyes and put her hand out, accepting the handover without complaint.

  Holding Cassidie’s small hand nervously, Grace led the still-damp child to the bedroom at the front of the house, swiping a hand-towel on the way. There she lifted Cassidie up onto her bed and started gently drying her toes. Cassidie chuckled and retracted her foot. Grace traced the corner of the towel across the soft sole of her other foot. Cassidie jerked her leg away, laughing out loud. The simple pleasure of being close to Cassidie’s warm, soap-clean body was so powerful that Grace had to take a few deep breaths to steady herself. The years of aching for a child melted and pooled in her heart. This was what she had wanted all along; this was what she’d never stopped pining for, despite all the evidence that God really was that cruel. To be a mother. But then she foolishly went and spoilt the mood by asking, ‘Do you want Mummy to brush your hair for you?’

  Cassidie shook her head and tucked her chin down onto her chest, revealing just how much of a haystack her hair was. Who could blame her for her reluctance, after Jane’s military shampooing regime? Afro hair really did not respond well to full-on assault; it needed gentle taming. After a moment’s thought, Grace told Cassidie to wait for her. She went downstairs, grabbed her handbag and hurried back into Cassidie’s bedroom. She had to dig around for a few seconds inside her new, cavernous, ‘all eventualities catered for, now that I have a small child’ bag until she found what she was looking for – her comb. Cassidie eyed it suspiciously and edged a little further away, clearly unwilling to let anything with such big teeth anywhere near her. Grace decided that ‘show, not tell’ was called for. With Cassidie solemnly watching, she reached up and pulled the comb through her own hair, forehead to nape of the neck in slow sweeps. Cassidie bottom-shuffled across the duvet.

  Then Grace hunted in her bag once again and tracked down her little tub of hair conditioner. She unscrewed the lid and the smell of coconut filled the room. Cassidie inched closer. Grace smeared some of the oil on her fingertips and ran it through her own hair. By now Cassidie’s hot little body was pressed up against her. Grace let her hold the pot and sniff it. ‘It’s called Hair Pudding,’ Grace said. Cassidie grinned and stuck out her tongue, going for a lick. ‘No, honey. It’s not the kind of pudding you eat. It’s for your hair. Look.’ She took the towel and tentatively rubbed Cassidie’s hair, feeling her bumpy little skull beneath her fingers, then she took another dab of the conditioner and smeared it onto her palms. Cassidie shuffled around, tucking herself into the V of Grace’s legs, and submitted to her touch.

  The room settled into a drowsy quiet, as Grace worked through the thicket of Cassidie’s hair. As she combed and oiled each section, Cassidie’s head grew heavy with sleepiness under her fingertips.

  ‘Mum, I’m gonna be late.’ Cassie jerked her head away and Grace’s hands fell into her lap.

  Despite Grace’s hopes, Cassie was unforthcoming on the short journey to the hotel. Grace tried to get a conversation going by keeping the tone light and avoiding any direct questions. She certainly didn’t ask about Cassie’s relationship with Ryan – its state or stage – though she longed to know. As she drove she breathed steadily and prayed silently that love would somehow miraculously translate into communication. In the absence of any cues from Cassie, Grace chattered on about her own sisters’ many boyfriends when they were growing up, mixing in plenty of sensible advice with some funny anecdotes. Cassie barely seemed to listen. The stories certainly failed to raise a smile. Grace was rapidly running out of time – the hotel was only on the High Street – so she risked a direct approach. ‘We’re just a bit concerned. You’ve been awfully quiet these past few days, not yourself. Are you worrying about something?’

  Cassie brushed off Grace’s concerns like crisp crumbs, pointing out that they kept telling her to concentrate on college more than her friends, so she was. They should be happy.

  In the end Grace was reduced to offering up the never-ending gift of all concerned parents: unconditional love, with a side order of non-judgement. ‘I just want you to know that if there’s something troubling you, you can always talk to me. You know that, don’t you? And I mean anything – even the things that might feel a bit uncomfortable or awkward. I might be able to help.’

  Cassie finally looked at her mother properly, and during the pause Grace waited, willing her eldest child to confide in her. But, as the silence stretched out and became uncomfortable, she began to fear a more serious revelation – real heartache or actual recklessness. Cassie put an end to the silence with her usual robust bluntness. ‘Mum, leave it. I’m okay. Please, stop fussing.’

  Grace had to give up and back off.

  They sat in the traffic on the High Street on the last leg of the journey, without speaking, Grace grieving for the little girl who had trusted her so quickly and so completely, and Cassie feeling choked by the impossibility of dragging the ghost of her birth mother out of the shadows into the brightness of the present.

  Chapter 5

  CASSIE WORKED without concentrating. She got two orders wrong and forgot to request a gluten-free special. All of which irritated the head chef, Len, a fact that he made perfectly clear by giving her a very public bollocking in front of the rest of the staff. Ryan kept catching her eye as she ferried plate after plate of food from the hot kitchen into the nearly-as-hot restaurant, but his sympathy was of little help. She was told to smile – It might never happen – twice by guests, and topped off her poor performance with a show-stopping finale: dropping cheesecake, cream-side down, into a diner’s lap. The man in question was actually very understanding about it, declining the offer to cover his dry-cleaning costs that Cassie was instructed to make, along with a full apology. That he was nice only made it worse.

  She couldn’t wait for her shift to finish. She’d agreed to meet Ryan after work; sh
e didn’t particularly want to, but neither she did she want to go home, and Ryan had been nagging all week, moaning about how much he’d been missing her. As she collected her last order off the pass, he told her that he had a surprise for her. In the mood she was in, she couldn’t even fake interest.

  At last her shift ended. She yanked off the stupid apron that all the waiting staff were made to wear and dumped it in the laundry bin on her way out. Ryan would be at least another half-hour; Len was a pain about making sure each station was thoroughly scrubbed down after service. Ryan bitched about it, all the time.

  Cassie went into the loo in the shabby staffroom and set about putting herself straight. She kept make-up and deodorant in her locker at work. She hated smelling of food. As she reapplied her make-up, she stared at her face in the crackled glass. The visit to the clinic had robbed Cassie of her ability to look at herself and not see the differences. Her features now seemed to stand out more prominently, not as facets of a normal face, but as individual, disassociated elements – none of which were inherited from Tom or Grace. It had been happening all week, this growing awareness of how the fragments of her life didn’t fit together properly any more. Every time she looked in a mirror, it seemed to mock her. The lips she liked, the dark eyebrows that she spent hours taming, the nose she hated and tried to minimise. Skin, bone and gristle, none of it determined by the parents she knew, none of it a match to her parents – or to Erin.

  Avoiding her own reflection, Cassie made do with a quick slick of mascara, lip-liner and gloss. She stepped away from the mirror, sprayed a cloud of body-mist into the air and walked through it, towards Ryan and his thoughtless realm of sensation and desire.

  He was standing near the dustbins, grinning like an idiot. Despite herself, the sight of him made Cassie smile. She immediately she felt more sure of herself. Ryan took her by the hand and pulled her along after him. She noticed that he’d put on some aftershave and changed into a clean T-shirt – small gestures that softened her heart.

  ‘Right, close your eyes,’ he said. He looked as excited as a little kid. ‘Go on.’ She obliged and he led her forward, laughing at her hesitant steps. She let him guide her. ‘Stop! No, this way a little bit. Yeah, just there.’ He came and stood close behind her, placing his hands over her eyes, his breath warm on her neck. She could feel his heart beating through her back. ‘Ta-dah!’ He lowered his hands and she opened her eyes and found herself looking at a dark-red Golf.

  She was genuinely surprised. ‘You bought a car?’

  He nodded, jangling the keys like a trophy. ‘Come on.’ They climbed in and belted up. He over-revved the engine, showing off. ‘Where to?’

  ‘Anywhere that’s not here,’ she said, settling back into the cracked leather seats.

  ‘My pleasure.’ He accelerated out of the car park.

  The drive-in at Krispy Kreme wasn’t really what Cassie had in mind, but at least it wasn’t work and it wasn’t home. They sat with their drinks and a box of doughnuts balanced between them, spraying sugar crystals around the inside of the car. Ryan had treated them to the full dozen, letting Cassie pick her favourites. She could tell he was on a high about the car, showing her what all the switches and buttons did. It was sweet, the way he kept brushing the crumbs off the dashboard like a fussy housewife. As he swallowed his last mouthful of dough and smiled at her, she felt a pang of guilt. She’d been keeping him at arm’s length for the past week. He’d texted her, repeatedly, but she hadn’t been in the mood. Her responses had been short and to the point. No chit-chat, no flirting, no affection whatsoever. And she’d not sent him a single photo. That had been cruel.

  The car was warm. With the music playing and the sun glinting off the other vehicles in the car park, it didn’t feel such a bad place to be after all. It felt safe, and for that Cassie was grateful.

  Ryan wiped his fingers on a napkin, put his hand on her knee and stroked her leg. Despite the resultant smudge of chocolate on her jeans, Cassie didn’t move away. She took another bite of doughnut and let him touch her. As his fingers massaged her leg, she began to relax. She licked the frosting off her lips – slowly – fully aware of how closely he was watching her. But when he slid his hand higher up her thigh, she shifted position. He took his hand away, immediately. She rewarded him with a smile.

  Pull and push. It was all part of the game.

  But tonight she wanted more from Ryan than just mindless lust. She wanted him to comfort her and talk to her. She wanted him to recognise that she was sad and to make her feel better. She popped the last piece of doughnut into her mouth, willing him to get it right.

  ‘Do you want to drive somewhere else?’ he asked.

  She knew exactly what he meant. He meant somewhere out of the way and conducive to getting it on. She sighed. It was obviously going to be up to her to get a conversation going. ‘No. Here’s fine. So… what’s new, apart from the wheels?’

  ‘Not much. Getting used to this baby.’ He actually stroked the steering wheel – lovingly, like it was a pet, or a girl. He must have caught the look on her face because he stopped abruptly, embarrassed. He shifted his attention back to her. ‘Who dropped you off at work today?’

  Cassie balled up her napkin and shoved it into her empty cup. ‘My mum.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘What do you mean, “Oh”?’ Cassie asked, poised to take offence.

  ‘Nothing,’ Ryan replied. ‘I just didn’t know who it was.’

  The atmosphere in the car shifted.

  Cassie stared at him for a moment. ‘What? Wasn’t she what you were expecting?’

  That’s when Ryan got it completely wrong by answering, quite innocently, ‘Not really. I just never knew whether it was your mum or dad who was black.’

  After that he drove her home.

  Chapter 6

  THEIR HOUSE was quite big, but it seemed even bigger to Erin when Cassie was out. The three of them, put together, seemed to make less noise than her sister did, or used to. Because something was up with Cassie, Erin could sense it. The way she was staying close to home, not going out with her mates, doing as asked, without any snarky comebacks, was new. And it was weird how she kept seeking Erin out, then not saying anything, just hanging around in her room. When Erin asked her if she was all right, Cassie simply shrugged and said she was fine. But it wasn’t normal – and Erin hated it when things weren’t normal. The imbalance unsettled her.

  She rolled off her bed and went into the bathroom, the only room in the house with a lock on the door. Even in there she could still hear the hushed mood, a kind of uneasy lull. It felt like the type of atmosphere they built up in films – just before something really bad happened. Erin knew these were exactly the sort of thoughts that she needed to keep to herself. None of her friends could hear the ‘souls’ of their homes. She put the toilet lid down and sat on it, looking down at her bare feet. Thin-toed, bony, ugly, out of proportion, like so much of her. Erin felt that her body was growing at different rates, almost overnight! She’d get up some days, and clothes that had fitted her the day before no longer did, shoes that were comfortable suddenly began to pinch. She didn’t even fit into the house properly any more; shelves and cupboards and sharp corners crowded in, connecting with her skin, biting little chunks out of her. She felt like Alice in Wonderland, but without the magic potions.

  To calm herself, Erin picked up Cassie’s make-up bag and rested it on her knee. It was gaping open, too full of products to be zipped shut. She started looking through it, aware that she shouldn’t, but comforted by the touch of her sister’s things. She uncapped a tube of concealer and rubbed a little onto her hand, followed by a tiny blob of foundation. It was expensive. Cassie wouldn’t want her wasting it. She blended them together as Cassie had taught her, watching the uneven tones in her skin blend and fade into something smoother and featureless. Happy with that one tiny patch of flawlessness, Erin brought her hand up to her face and smelled her sister on her skin. It was a soothing thing to do.


  Suddenly she heard the front door bang, her dad shout, ‘Hi, how was it?’ and then footsteps clattering up the stairs. Cassie, back from work.

  ‘Crap,’ Cassie yelled as she passed the bathroom, her voice loud.

  Erin jumped. She crammed everything back into the bag and shoved it onto the side. Cassie’s footsteps continued up to her bedroom, and the breath-held quiet settled back on the house. Erin stepped out onto the landing. Three options: back to her room and her art project, downstairs to her dad and his eager need to chat – which wasn’t happening – or up to Cassie.

  She took the stairs, up.

  Cassie was standing in the middle of her room, attempting to push open one of the skylights with the handle of a tennis racket. There was a proper pole-thing to do it with, but Cassie never bothered using it. Cassie jabbed the racket at the window, but it glanced off the glass. She tried again, harder, but to no effect. ‘Fuck!’ Another unsuccessful stab. ‘Fuck!’ She stabbed at the catch, growing frustrated. ‘Fuckity f—’ Without warning she suddenly hurled the racket across the room, and herself on her bed. Erin stood by the door, uncertain whether she should offer to help or whether that would only irritate her sister even more. The consciousness that whatever came out of her mouth mattered rendered her speechless.

  ‘Well, either come in or sod off. Don’t just stand there.’ Cassie was obviously in a foul mood. Erin surprised herself by turning round to leave. ‘Sorry.’ Cassie’s voice lost its sharp-edged aggression. Erin faced back into the room. Cassie refused to look directly at her, but scooched over on the bed to make room for her sister. ‘I’m sorry. It’s been a crappy day. Work was rubbish. It was really busy. And Len, the chef, was nasty to me, in front of everyone.’ Erin held her ground. ‘Then I dropped cheesecake on this bloke. Right in his crotch. It went all over his trousers.’ Erin didn’t smile. ‘And Ryan is an idiot.’