Shopaholic And Sister Part 17

"Therapy is a pile of c.r.a.p," says Tom suddenly. "I tried it with Lucy."

We all turn and look at him. He's holding a cup of coffee in both hands and glowering at us over the top of it.

"The therapist was a woman," he adds, as though that explains everything.

"I think they often are, love," Mum says cautiously.

"She took Lucy's side. She said she could understand her frustrations." Tom's hands clench more tightly round his cup. "What about my frustrations? Lucy was supposed to be my wife! But she wasn't interested in any of my projects. Not the conservatory, not the en suite bathroom-"

"I love your summerhouse, Tom!" I cut in quickly. "It's very . . . big!"

In fact, it's monstrous. I nearly died when I saw it out the window this morning. It's three stories high, with gables and a deck.

"We're just a bit worried about the planning regulations, aren't we?" says Janice, nervously glancing at Tom. "We're worried it might be cla.s.sed as a residence."

"Well, it's a real achievement!" I say encouragingly. "To build something like that!"

"I enjoy working with wood," Tom says in a gruff voice. "Wood doesn't let you down." He drains his cup. "In fact, I'd better get back to it. Hope it all goes well."

As the back door closes behind him there's an awkward silence.

"He wants to make a boat next," says Janice, looking strained. "A boat, on the lawn!"

"Janice, have another coffee," Mum says soothingly. "Shall I put a splash of sherry in it?"

Janice looks torn.

"Better not," she says at last. "Not before twelve."

She rootles in her handbag and produces a little pill, which she pops into her mouth. Then she zips up her bag again and smiles brightly. "So! What does Jessica look like?"

"She's . . . she's nice-looking," begins Mum. "Isn't she, Graham?"

"Very nice-looking!" says Dad. "Tall . . . slim . . ."

"Dark hair," adds Mum. "Quite a reserved girl, if you know what I mean."

I'm listening avidly as they describe her. Although I glimpsed her in the street that day we got back, the sunlight was so bright and I was so distracted by Mum and Dad's weird behavior, I only got a vague impression. So all week I've been trying to build on that image. Mum and Dad keep saying how tall and slim she is, so I've kind of pictured her like Courteney c.o.x. All willowy and elegant, in a white silk trouser suit, maybe.

I keep having visions of our first meeting. We'll fling our arms round each other, and then she'll smile at me, brus.h.i.+ng away the tears, and I'll smile back . . . and we'll have an instant connection. Like we already know each other and understand each other better than anyone else in the world.

I mean, who knows? Maybe it'll turn out that we'll have sisterly psychic powers. Or maybe we'll be like the twins I read about in Long-Lost Sisters, who were separated at birth but went on to have the same jobs and marry men with the same name.

I'm gripped by this idea. Maybe it'll turn out that Jessica is a personal shopper, too, and is married to a man called Luke! She'll turn up in exactly the same Marc Jacobs jacket as me, and we can go on breakfast TV and everyone will say- Oh, except she's not a personal shopper, I suddenly remember. She's training to be a doctor. Doctor of geography.

No. Geology.

But then . . . didn't I once think about training to be a doctor? I mean, that can't be just coincidence.

"And where does she live?" Janice is asking.

"In the North," says Mum. "A village called Scully. In c.u.mbria."

"The North!" says Janice, with as much trepidation as though Mum's said the North Pole. "That's a long way to travel! What time does she arrive?"

"Well." Mum looks at the clock and frowns. "That's a point. She should have arrived by now. Graham, love, what time does Jess's train get in?"

"I thought it was about now. . . ." Dad's brow wrinkles. "Maybe I should phone the station. See if there's been a problem."

"I'll do it if you like," says Luke, looking up from the newspaper.

"She did say she'd phone . . ." Mum begins, as Dad goes out to the hall telephone.

Suddenly the doorbell rings.

We all stare at each other, frozen. A few moments later, Dad's voice comes from the hall. "I think it's her!"

Oh my G.o.d.

She's here. My new sister. My new soul mate!

"I'll slip away," says Janice. "Let you have your precious family moment." She squeezes my hand, then disappears out the back door.

"Let me just tidy my hair," says Mum, hurrying out to the hall mirror.

"Quick!" I say. "Where's the present?"

"Here it is," says Luke, handing me the cellophane-wrapped gift basket. "And Becky . . ." He puts a hand on my arm.

"What?" I say impatiently. "What is it?"

"I know you're excited to meet Jessica," he says. "And so am I. But remember. You are strangers. I'd just . . . take it easy."

"We're not strangers!" I say in astonishment. "She's my sister! We've got the same blood in us!"

Honestly. Doesn't Luke know anything?

I hurry out to the hall, clutching the basket. Through the frosted gla.s.s pane of the front door I can see an indistinct, blurry figure.

"By the way," says Mum as we advance toward the door, "she likes to be called Jess."

"Ready?" says Dad with a twinkle.

This is the moment! I quickly adjust my jacket, smooth down my hair, and put on my widest, most welcoming and loving smile.

Dad reaches for the handle and pulls back the front door with a flourish.

And there, standing on the doorstep, is my sister.

Ten.

MY FIRST THOUGHT is that she's not exactly like Courteney c.o.x. Nor is she wearing a white silk trouser suit.

Her dark hair is cropped short, and she's wearing a plain, workmanlike brown s.h.i.+rt over jeans. I guess it's a kind of . . . utility chic.

And she's pretty! Prettyish. Even though I'd say her makeup is maybe a bit too natural.

"Hi," she says in a flat, matter-of-fact voice.

"Hi!" I say tremulously. "I'm Becky! Your long-lost sister!"

I'm about to rush forward and fling my arms around her neck when I realize that I'm holding the basket. So instead, I thrust it at her. "This is from me!"

"It's a present, love!" Mum adds helpfully.

"Thanks," says Jess, looking down at it. "That's great."

There's a short silence. I'm waiting for Jess to tear off the wrappings impatiently, or say "Can I open it right now?" or even just exclaim "Ooh, Origins! My favorite!" But she just puts it down on the hall table.

She's probably being polite, it occurs to me. I mean, she's never met me before. Maybe she thinks I'm all formal and correct, and she has to be too. What I must do is put her at her ease.

"I just can't believe you're here," I say momentously. "The sister I never knew I had." I put a hand on her arm and look right into her eyes, which are hazel with little specks.

Oh my G.o.d. We're bonding. This is just like one of the scenes in my Long-Lost Sisters book!

"You knew, didn't you?" I say, smiling to conceal my rising emotion. "Didn't you somehow know you had a sister all along?"

"No," says Jess, looking blank. "I had no idea."

"Oh, right," I say, feeling a bit discomfited.

She wasn't supposed to say that. She was supposed to say "I always felt you in my heart!" and burst into tears.

I'm not quite sure what to say next.

"Anyway!" Mum says cheerfully. "Come on in, Jess! You must need some coffee after your journey!"

As Mum ushers Jess in, I look in surprise at the brown rucksack she's carrying. It's not very big at all. And she's staying a whole week at the conference!

"Is that all your luggage?" I say.

"That's all I need." She shrugs. "I'm a light packer."

"Did you FedEx the rest?" I say in an undertone, and give her a friendly "I understand" look.

"No." She glances at Mum. "This is all I've brought."

"It's OK." I smile conspiratorially. "I won't say anything."

I knew we'd be kindred spirits. I knew it.

"Welcome, my dear girl!" says Dad.

As he gives Jess a hug, I suddenly feel a bit weird. It's as though it's. .h.i.tting me for the first time. Dad has another daughter. Not just me.

But then . . . that's what families are about, isn't it? Getting bigger. Adding new members.

"This is Luke, my husband," I say quickly.

"How do you do?" he says pleasantly, coming forward. As he shakes her hand I feel a little glow of pride in each of them. I look at Mum, and she gives me an encouraging smile.

"Let's go through!" She leads the way into the living room, where there are flowers on the table, and plates of biscuits laid out invitingly. We all sit down, Jess looking a little uncomfortable on the soft, squashy sofa.

This is unreal.

I'm sitting opposite my half sister. As Mum pours out the coffee I peer at Jess, mapping her face onto mine, trying to see the similarities between us. And there are loads! Or at least . . . some.

She's got pretty much the same eyes as mine, except a different color and a slightly different shape. Plus her nose would be just like mine if it didn't have that pointy end. And her hair would be exactly the same-if she just grew it a bit and dyed it and maybe put on a deep-conditioning treatment.

She's probably scrutinizing me in exactly the same way, I suddenly realize.

"I've hardly been able to sleep!" I say, and give her a slightly bashful smile. "It's so exciting to meet you at last!"

Jess nods but doesn't say anything. Gosh, she is very reserved. I'll have to draw her out a bit.

"Am I anything like you imagined?" I give a self-conscious little laugh and smooth my hair back.

Jess surveys me for a moment, moving her eyes around my face.

"I didn't really imagine what you'd be like," she says at last.

"Oh, right."

"I don't imagine things much," she adds. "I just take them as they come."

"Have a biscuit, Jess," Mum says pleasantly. "These are pecan and maple."

"Thanks," says Jess, taking one. "I love pecans."

"Me too!" I look up in astonishment. "I love them too!"