The Sister Surprise Abigail Mann (most difficult books to read TXT) 📖

‘No need to go into the biology of it …’ I say, twitching with a smile. ‘Wait a second, there’s something else I need to brief you on.’

‘Can we do it inside? My toes feel like ice cubes. Come on,’ says Mum. She steers me by the shoulders before I get a chance to object, a bell tinkling above our heads as we step inside the tearoom.

Chapter 37

I push a chain-link curtain to one side and head through to a small back room. The shelves are lined with industrial-sized bags of flour and sugar, unusual cake tins, and flattened takeaway boxes. In the corner, there’s a wooden table that Moira has laid with crockery and napkins, a tiered stand of fresh scones, and two huge ramekins of cream and jam. A quiet hubbub of overlapping chatter, clinking teaspoons, and babbling toddlers filters through from the main room. It’s comforting to know that there are witnesses a few feet away if I have to grab a handful of flour and launch it as a smokescreen to sneak Mum and myself out in one piece.

Moira turns to greet us, a half-folded tea towel in her hands. I can tell she was in a rush when she washed and dried her hair because it’s fluffy like a baby blackbird. Mine has stuck to my scalp, the unfortunate result of wearing a fleece-lined hat for nearly ten hours today.

‘Mum, this is Moira. Moira, Lorrie.’

Moira barrels forward and squeezes Mum to her chest.

‘Lorrie, it’s so nice to meet you! Ah, this is amazing. And odd. I barely know what do with myself. I made scones. Ava said you like them, so I gave them a go and I think they turned out all right, but if you pile up the cream you won’t be able to tell either way.’

Moira laughs and pulls back. Beaming, she slips her apron off and hooks it by the back door. Mum stays in the doorway, reluctant to come further inside.

‘I am sorry for intruding on you. I don’t think any of us expected the day to turn out like this,’ says Mum, clearly nervous.

‘It’s not an intrusion,’ says Moira, batting flour off her jumper. ‘It’s nice to have you here. Ava’s told me so much about you.’

I stand beside Moira, my heart thudding beneath my fleece.

Mum’s eyes jump from my face to Moira’s. ‘Look at you two. Sisters. I mean … I can’t quite believe it. All this time and you were at opposite ends of a train line. I never considered it, which is bizarre, really, knowing your father.’ Mum catches herself. ‘Sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have said that.’

Moira’s about to reply, but instead she looks past Mum’s shoulder to the kitchen archway. Jacqui stands behind us, her raincoat unzipped and a shrink-wrapped crate of milk tucked under her arm.

‘I went to get some milk from the McCulloch farm,’ she says, sliding the crate onto the counter. Jacqui’s expression irons out as she looks Mum up and down, a hand resting squarely on her hip. Mum pulls off her hat, stuffs it into the pocket of her coat, and fluffs her hair up with her fingertips.

‘I’ve got half an hour,’ says Jacqui. ‘Dot said she’d hold the fort until half past, but she can barely work the toastie machine without setting the fire alarms off, so I can’t be away any longer than that.’

Mum walks forward and extends a hand. After an excruciating couple of seconds that sees Jacqui analysing it, she shakes it slowly like she’s pumping water from a well.

‘It’s a shame you’ve got to head back so soon,’ says Mum. ‘I gather there’s a fair amount the girls want to talk about.’

‘Yes, well. I can’t afford to take the whole afternoon off to sit about chatting over tea.’

Jacqui pulls the nearest chair out and sits down, her body language hunched and stiff like she’s been called into a tribunal. We follow suit, our elbows almost touching around the circular table.

‘These scones look lovely,’ says Mum, ‘did you use baking powder? I’m always in two minds …’

‘Mum,’ says Moira, her voice soft and insistent.

‘I’m sorry,’ says Jacqui, throwing her hands up. Her tone suggests this is a preface to something she’s not sorry about at all. ‘But I thought we’d all left this in the past. I’ve done my best. I know we’re not perfect, your dad and me. I made a choice when we got married and I’ve had to make a lot of them over the years but I have the family I have and that’s the family I’d do anything for. I know he’s had some slip-ups, but we’ve taken it on the chin.’

‘You don’t need to defend him, that’s not what this is about.’

‘Isn’t it? That’s why you came here, Ava? To find him?’ says Jacqui, looking at me.

‘No, not at all,’ I say, my stomach flipping over itself with adrenaline. ‘I didn’t even know that Andrew was alive.’

‘He’s what?!’ splutters Mum, her cup dancing in the saucer as she places it back down.

‘I’ll get onto that,’ I garble, putting a hand on Mum’s forearm. ‘I came here for Moira.’

Moira splays her hands on the table. ‘This is why I asked Dad to be here, so he could speak for himself. There’s been too much left unsaid.’

‘You could be right, but there we are. He’s not here,’ says Jacqui.

‘Hang on,’ says Mum, swallowing her mouthful. ‘Can we go back a few steps? Andrew is – in fact – alive and well?’

‘Yeah … I’m just realising that I should have told you this before we came inside,’ I say.

‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ says Mum, lifting an eyebrow.

‘That explosion you thought he was in? He wasn’t on the rig,’ I say.

Mum looks to the window and shakes her head, her fingers tapping out a beat on her cardigan.

‘Ah. I mean, that wouldn’t explain why the child support payments never came through, but I’m sure he’ll be able to explain