Letters From My Sister by Alice Peterson Read Free Book Online Page A

do. I went to Sainsbury’s in my lunch hour to buy some fish and chips for tonight. When I agreed to have Bells I called home to get an idea of what I needed to plan.
    ‘In Wales they have a Mexican night on Monday,’ said Mum, ‘and they’re always given fish and chips on a Friday with mushy peas. I get her the tinned peas, disgusting, I know, but Bells likes them.’
    ‘OK, I’ll do that.’ If she ate, say, a baked potato on Monday, would that matter terribly? I thought to myself.
    ‘If you don’t have time to cook at lunch she enjoys the vegetable samosas that you can buy at the deli counter. On Wednesdays I think they have their Indian nights. Or is it their organic night?’ Her voice trailed off. ‘Anyway, darling, she loves cooking, so maybe you can do that together.’
    As I listened, panic set in. I rarely cook at Sam’s. Most nights we eat out, and if we want to drink Sam pays for a cab home with his company card. ‘I don’t like cooking, I hate the mess,’ Sam says. ‘I remember Mum making stock for soup with leftover chicken bones. The smell of it in the morning,’ he said with a disgusted frown.
    ‘Bells likes her routine,’ Mum continued. ‘It’s very important to her. They eat lunch on the dot of twelve-thirty.’
    ‘I’ll do my best, Mum, but she has to fit in with what I’m doing too.’
    Mum sniffed. ‘She likes her Coke too, but buy her the Diet Coca-Cola or her teeth will rot. And do take her to Sainsbury’s, it’s like an outing for her.’
    ‘Fine. Is that all?’ My patience was running out.
    ‘Yes, make sure she always carries her inhaler. Her asthma is much better but we can’t afford to take any risks.’ I thought she would ask me then if I still smoked, but she didn’t.
    ‘Of course, Mum.’
    ‘Thank you, Katie.’ Mum seemed tired, I could hear it in her voice.
    ‘Mum, nothing’s wrong, is it?’
    ‘Wrong? No! Just because we’re taking ourselves off on holiday does something have to be wrong? Don’t we deserve …’
    ‘Sorry, Mum, I didn’t mean it like that.’ I was twisting the phone cable, knotting it around my finger tightly.
    ‘I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to snap.’
    I let go of the cable. It had left a deep red indentation in my finger. ‘Promise?’
    ‘I promise.’
    ‘It’s about time you and Dad had a holiday. Have a lovely time.’
    ‘Katie?’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘How are you?’
    ‘Fine. Good.’ Why is it that I always want Mum to ask me how I am, to be more interested in my life, but when she does ask, all I can do is reply in monosyllables? ‘Right, I’d better go and do all that shopping!’
    ‘I know she’ll have fun with you. It sets my mind at rest.’
    ‘We’ll have a great time. Make sure you come home rested. Love to Dad.’
    ‘Katie?’
    ‘Yes?’
    She cleared her throat. ‘Do put sun cream on her face, her skin is so delicate.’
    ‘Don’t worry, I’ll look after her.’
    ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘For helping out. It means a lot to your father and me.’
    I sensed she wanted to say something else, so I waited for a moment, but she said nothing more. ‘’Bye, Mum.’
    ‘’Bye, my darling.’
    *
    The train pulls in to the platform. The doors open and passengers step out in a heaving mass. The men wear grey flannel suits and carry briefcases. Some of them have taken their jackets off in this heat and loosened their ties. A pregnant woman walks past in a blue cotton dress worn with Birkenstock sandals. Another girl totters past me in high heels, pulling a neat little designer suitcase on wheels.
    ‘I’m off the train, sweetpea,’ says a man on his mobile, ‘will be home in time for dinner.’
    The crowds are filtering away, leaving a dull grey lifeless platform. Where is she? She can’t have missed the train. I can’t bear it. I walk down the platform looking into each carriage, but no sign of anyone. Then I hear a door open and see a small figure stepping out of the train. She’s wearing a denim