Page 64 of The Half Sister

‘I will,’ says Jess excitedly and Lauren can’t help but feel envious of the unencumbered life that allows Jess the freedom to do as she pleases.

I want to be you, she says after her.

But sometimes you need to be careful what you wish for.

26

Kate

Elm House is an imposing red-brick Victorian building, standing alone in the midst of a sprawling council estate. The cab driver joked to Kate on the two-mile journey inland that she should get out of there before it got dark, because no cabbie would be brave enough to come in and get her. As children circle her on bikes as she makes her way up the path to the house, she wonders that it might not have been a joke after all.

The stench of the overflowing bins makes her retch and she holds her breath until she’s in the porch, where an ugly board of mismatched bells offers her nothing but the numbers of the flats. It’s difficult to even know where to start. After all, what is she looking for? Who is she hoping to find if it isn’t Jess? Or rather, Harriet.

In what feels like her previous life as a door-stepper, when she’d knocked on as many doors as it took to get the information she needed, she rings the top three bells, hoping that at least one of the residents will be willing to let her in and talk to her. The door buzzes and she pushes it open, stepping into the hallway.

‘Who is it?’ calls out a male voice from above her.

Kate positions herself at the base of the grand staircase that turns its way up three or four floors.

‘Hello?’

‘Who is it?’ asks the same voice.

Kate can’t see anyone, but presses on, refusing to be unnerved. ‘My name’s Kate and I wondered if I could have a quick word?’

‘What about? You the authorities?’

‘Er no, I’ve just got a few questions about someone who used to live here.’

‘Fuck off,’ says the voice, before a door is slammed.

Undeterred, Kate steps back outside and presses the next three bells on the board. She’d noticed that there were a few windows open on the lower floors of the house, sosomeonemust be in. She can’t help but think their judgement is highly questionable if they’re not.

The door buzzes again and Kate moves to the bottom of the stairs, waiting for someone to reveal themselves. A girl, barely out of her teens, peers over the banisters.

‘Can I help you?’ she asks hesitantly.

‘Ah yes, hello,’ says Kate in her friendliest voice. ‘I’m looking for someone who used to live here and I just wondered if I might be able to ask you a couple of questions.’

The girl pulls on the cuffs of her cardigan, making Kate feel even hotter than she already does. It must be thirty degrees in here.

‘I don’t know that many people,’ she says.

‘Might you know a Harriet?’ asks Kate hopefully.

Kate notices that the girl’s expression changes fleetingly before she pulls it back.

‘Who are you?’ she asks.

‘A friend,’ says Kate.

The girl nods. ‘Come up then.’

It takes all of Kate’s resolve not to baulk as the fetid smell of overcooked vegetables mixed with the pungent odour of weed permeates her nostrils.

‘My name’s Kate,’ she says, holding out her hand when she reaches the top of the stairs.

‘Finn,’ says the girl. ‘Come in – you’ll have to excuse the mess.’

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