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

I’ll let Mum know. She’s stopping over for a couple of nights whilst she visits her friend.’

‘What about you?’

‘I thought I’d stick around,’ I say, my gaze drifting up to the spider webs hooked around the ceiling beams.

‘Aye? How long for?’

‘I haven’t decided.’

After weeks spent inhabiting different versions of myself depending on who was in front of me, I’ve settled into quiet contentment. Now that Mum and I no longer need to tiptoe around The Dad Issue, I sense a new kind of trust between us – one that sees our messy, blended family and embraces it anyway. With the truth of our sisterhood out in the open, it’s like Moira and I have met for the first time all over again. I don’t want to leave when we’re only just getting started.

‘Hold on. Is this Ava without a plan?’ he says, jokingly patting me down as though I’ve got a concealed weapon. ‘You haven’t got a highlighter tucked in here, have you?’

He grins and puts his hands on either side of my face. It’s a shame because I was quite enjoying the frisking.

‘If you want to see me, I’ll be here. If you don’t, I’ll understand. There’s no pressure.’

Ross scratches his newly adopted beard and frowns. ‘I’ll have to think about it.’

‘We don’t need to decide anything. Let’s worry about it later, okay?’ I say, worried that I’ve pushed him too far.

Ross slides his hands in his pockets and moans under his breath in a way that makes my thighs feel three-glasses-of-wine-fuzzy. ‘I’m done worrying about it,’ he says, bending down towards me. I thread my fingers through his belt loops and arch my back, reaching up to meet him.

If it’s possible for a kiss to be polite, this feels like the opposite. Each kiss overlaps into the next until I’m clutching onto the lapels of his coat like it’s the only thing keeping me upright. I break away, our foreheads touching, and flick his collar. The remnants of a bar code are printed on one side.

‘Have you still not upgraded the milk carton?’

‘Shh,’ he murmurs, kissing me again. This time I push him back with my lips, sliding off the table, one step towards the door.

‘I should catch up with Mum,’ I say.

‘Let me drive you,’ he replies.

‘All right then. But take me on the scenic route.’

Chapter 40

‘How are you doing that?’ says Kian, taking a break from his continuous pacing of the driveway to stare at Mum with a look of mild horror and awe.

‘She just needs a gentle touch, don’t you sweetheart?’

Mum sits on the front doorstep with a doleful Babs on her lap, who tucks her wings in and wiggles her corpulent backside into a more comfortable position. Mum runs a hand over her speckled back and smiles.

‘It’s like she’s had a lobotomy,’ I say, just as disturbed as Kian. ‘I haven’t managed to get within two metres without her launching a talon at my throat.’

‘Do you think I could squeeze a coop in the back garden?’ says Mum, smiling down at Babs.

‘Probably, but there wouldn’t be space for much else.’

‘It’s the foxes I’d worry about.’

‘Really? I doubt they’d know what to do with a live chicken. They’re too busy working through the bins behind KFC to bother with something they’d have to actually kill.’

I lean sideways to allow Moira past, as she carefully steps out of the front door balancing a tray of tea. She places it on an upturned terracotta trough, each mug billowing with steam in the chilly afternoon air.

‘Are you going to stop pacing for five minutes to drink this? Kian? Kian!’ says Moira, motioning to the mug in her hand. He drags his eyes up and joins us by the front door, his nervous energy spilling tea over the lip of his mug.

The noise of wheels splashing through puddles reaches us from across the yard. ‘If we don’t get the grant, it’s fine. I’m not bothered. I’ll start on your business plan anyway, Ava. If we look at next month’s invoices, maybe we can get by without—’

‘Would you stop with your contingency plan?’ I say, as Jacqui’s car trundles across the concrete drive. Before she’s got her door fully open, Jess the border collie leaps over her lap and greets us by crouching down to release an over-excited wee. Nice.

‘All right, are we?’ says Jacqui, her raincoat crinkling as she gets out of the driving seat. ‘Thought I’d come by for the big news. Going by the state of your knees knocking together, you haven’t heard yet, Kian?’

‘No, not yet,’ he says, rocking back and forth on his heels.

Jacqui pulls two weighty loaf tins out of a plastic bag and presents them to him. ‘If it’s not the news you’re wanting, I made a lemon drizzle to console you. If it’s a celebration, you’ve got pineapple and whisky.’

‘Ah, Jacqui, you’re a peach,’ he says, planting a kiss on her cheek. She waves him away, her dimples on show.

‘Ah, go on wi’ you,’ she says, bending down to pat Jess, who sits with her ears pricked up, eyes darting between the sheep in the distance. When Kian’s phone pings with an alert, we all jump.

‘Oh God, I can’t cope. My insides feel like a cement mixer,’ says Moira. Kian tries his best to look cavalier, but his expression is oddly vacant, like he’s just this moment wondering who put the alphabet in alphabetical order.

‘Open it, lad!’ says Jacqui, kicking the toe of his boot. Roused from a stupor, he takes his phone out and walks away with it at arm’s length as though it’s a grenade with the pin removed.

‘What do you think?’ I whisper to Moira. ‘Oh …’ My gaze follows hers to where Kian stands, his foot propped on a broken lawnmower. He buries his face in his hands, shoulders up by his ears. My heart drops to my stomach where it dissolves into deep, slick disappointment. I knew the grant application was a long shot, especially