Letters From My Sister by Alice Peterson Read Free Book Online

honest, I was slightly dreading it to begin with, but now I’m quite curious to know what another Fletcher sister will be like.’
    ‘Sam, she’s very different.’ This is the perfect time to tell him. ‘I haven’t told you everything about her,’ I say. ‘When she was born …’
    His mobile rings. ‘Hang on a sec,’ he says, answering the call. ‘Yep, leaving now, Maguire … No, I don’t agree … You’ve got to look outside the box.’ He hangs up.
    ‘Sam, can we talk?’ I ask as he puts the phone back in his pocket.
    He pulls a face. ‘Can it wait till tonight? I’m running late.’ He plants a kiss on my lips, opens the front door. ‘What’s the plan for
ce soir
, by the way? Because I thought you, me, a few of the boys,’ he winks at me, ‘could take Isabel out for a drink tonight, get her acquainted with London night life, maybe go out dancing?’
    I can’t take this any more, I should have told him straight away. I have a throbbing headache, a few more grey hairs, and if I don’t tell him now I’ll explode. ‘Sam, Isabel isn’t going to be what you think.’
    ‘What?’ He looks puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘She was born with a cleft lip and palate. It’s quite a common thing,’ I add when I see his alarmed expression. ‘But there was an added complication because she was brain-damaged at birth. She lives in a community in Wales and it’s her summer holidays, that’s why she’s coming to stay.’ I feel as if I can breathe again. I wait for a reaction, anything will do.
    Sam’s face shows little expression. ‘Bells? This was what you were talking to your dad about?’ He’s thinking out loud. ‘You let me believe she was your dog.’
    ‘I never actually said that. Bells … Isabel.’ I shrug my shoulders. ‘We call her Bells for short.’
    ‘Right.’ Slowly he scratches his head. ‘Right, I should have clicked. Well, that’s OK. No, hang on,’ his voice rises, ‘why didn’t you
tell
me any of this?’
    ‘I don’t know. I’m sorry. I thought you might hate the idea of her staying. And I have no choice; she has nowhere else to go. Mum and Dad are in France. My mother’s not well,’ I explain, hoping this will make him more sympathetic.
    ‘Well, it looks like I have no choice either.’ He frowns. ‘Next you’ll be telling me you have a brother in prison. Katie, I don’t know what to say. See you later.’
    ‘Don’t go.’ I grab his arm. ‘We need to talk.’
    ‘We had all week to talk, Kate, we had last night.’ He pulls his arm away before his mobile rings again. ‘Lakemore speaking,’ he says. ‘No, Maguire, that’s
not
what I said. Are we even on the same fucking page?’
    I close the door after him. I feel terrible. Sick to my stomach. I feel so guilty. I have been lying to myself, to Sam, to Bells. Why am I such a dreadful person? Why am I such a coward?
    *
    ‘I hope her train is early, touching wood,’ Eve says in her smoky French accent, tapping my desk.
    For a moment I think about correcting her English but then I think I prefer it the way she says it. ‘Thanks, Eve, if you can lock up …’
    ‘Yes, yes, do not worry. I look forward to meeting your sister
demain
, I mean, tomorrow, of course.’ She unpins her honey-coloured hair. I have never seen such long hair, Botticelli would have loved to paint Eve. ‘My mother says it is like Rapunzel’s hair, tumbling down the tower,’ she laughs. ‘Where are you picking up Isabel?’ she asks, tying it back up into a bun and sticking in a long hairpin with a coloured glass kiwi fruit on the end of it.
    ‘Paddington.’
    A customer comes in looking for a wedding outfit. ‘Can I leave you to it?’ I ask Eve.
    ‘Yes, yes, I see you tomorrow. Please, come this way,’ she says to the customer, leading her up the wooden steps to the second floor. ‘I think we have just the thing for you.’
    *
    As I drive to Paddington in Sam’s BMW, I make a mental list of the things I still need to