So… is this it?’
I looked up from the café table and gave my sister a cold look. I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard - heartless bitch.
‘Yes,’ I answered abruptly, ‘why, what were you expecting? A wad of money, keys to mum’s house?’
Katrina looked up at me, moving the locket between her dirty fingers. Lank hair dropped around her face, not enough to hide the bruise that covered one cheek.
‘I’m sorry…it came out wrong … I didn’t mean it like that,’ she said, giving me a forced smile. I said nothing. She opened up the locket, but was struggling to recognise the figures in the faded pictures.
‘It’s you and me, when we were kids, she never took it off.’ I informed her.
‘Oh.’ She looked surprised, ‘ I didn’t think she’d have wanted…’
‘She never stopped loving, or talking about you…even after …’
Our eyes briefly met again. Five years had passed since we’d last seen each other and although unrecognisable from the mousey haired girl that I used to share a room with her eyes were still vibrant blue, even through the bloodshot whites.
‘Did mum? Was it?’ She sighed. I knew she was trying to find the right words.
‘No, she wasn’t in pain and died peacefully, I was with her at the end.’
‘Good, I‘m glad she had you.’ She held the locket in her hand, then put it down and picked up the book, looking at me for acknowledgement.
‘It was mum’s diary when we were kids…she wanted you to have it so it would remind you that there were better times.’
She leafed through some of the pages, and tears began to fall down her cheeks.
‘We did have some good times, didn’t we Kerry?’
‘Yep, we sure did.’
I sighed and for the first time since we’d met in this godawful high street café I felt sorry for her. I missed my little sister.
‘Did he do that to you?’
She lifted her hand up and ran her fingers across her cheek then nodded. My suspicion was right - Steven was still violent. My question had an effect on her, she looked behind nervously as if she’d committed a cardinal sin by admitting it.
‘He didn’t want me to come today,’ she said tearfully, ‘but I told him I had to… I wanted to see you and tell you how sorry I was.’
For a brief moment I wanted to cross the table, and slap the other cheek. She was sorry. For what exactly? Sorry for breaking mums’ heart, for stealing and selling her jewellery to feed her habit or that she didn’t even come and see her before she died. It shouldn’t have been me she was apologising to but it was too late now. Then the big sister, the mother, reached across the table and held her hand.
‘Come back with me .’ I said. Where had that come from?
‘I can’t… I’m sorry I can’t.’ She bowed her head.
‘The boys would love to see you again’ I lied. Her name was never mentioned.
‘Would they?’ She looked up again and smiled, showing a broken tooth.
‘How are they?’
‘They’re both doing fine – they’re at school now.’
‘…and Tim is he okay?’
‘Katrina,’ I squeezed her hand, ‘come and see for yourself.’
‘I can’t…Ste would…’
‘Listen to me,' I leaned across the table, ‘it doesn’t have to be like this, we can get you help and an injunction against that bastard so he can't touch you again.’
‘’I know, I know ...but you don’t understand Kerry…I love him.’
I sat back, taking my hand away. I’d tried to understand her five years ago, but failed to make sense then that she could sacrifice her family for a white powder and a violent man. A man who beat her so senseless that the doctors had told her she was unlikely to ever bear his children - thank heaven for small mercies.
‘Mr Rafferty,’ she said changing the subject, pulling out a moth eared teddy from the bag.
‘There’s a letter in there from mum too.’
‘Oh okay. I’ll look at it when I get home.’ she said, looking past me to the clock on the wall.
’Kerry, I‘m sorry but I‘ll have to go… I told Ste I’d only be half hour.’
With the mention of his name, the nervousness returned to her voice.
‘It’s okay. I understand.’ I didn’t.
How could I understand how she could love such a vicious man? I’d only met him the once, when he’d spat venomous words at us all, while she’d dragged black bags full of her clothes down the path to his car.
I reached into my bag, took out my purse.
‘I’ll pay... here, get yourself something.’
I passed her a twenty pound note. The moment she took it without any hesitation, I knew whose hands it’d end up in. She stood up, stuffed everything in the yellow bag, then leant across the table and kissed me on the cheek.
‘Thank you.’ she whispered.
‘Keep in touch, you have my number.’
‘I will.’
She wouldn’t.
‘Don’t forget …you know where I am if you need me.’
I watched her walk out of the café. She never looked back once.
(c) Ragna Brent 2008