Sister Sister(16)

It’s not until I reach the office and the postman walks up to the door, pushing his trolley, and takes out the mail, passing it to me, that I suddenly remember.

‘Shit,’ I say out loud. The postman looks taken aback. ‘Sorry, not you. I’ve just remembered I’ve forgotten to pick up a letter from home. Bugger.’

I send Luke a quick text message asking him to post Mum’s letter to Alice.

‘You’re looking a bit flustered this morning,’ says Tom, as I hand the mail over to the receptionist.

‘You know how to make a girl feel better,’ I say. ‘Why don’t you make yourself useful and put the kettle on?’

Tom gives a mock salute, clicks his heels together and marches off towards the kitchen. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

The coffee tastes good. I like a cup of tea at home, but at work I tend to thrive on the coffee buzz. ‘It always tastes nicer when someone else makes it,’ I say gratefully to Luke as we stand in the kitchen. ‘Thanks for that.’

‘Can’t have Mrs Calm-And-Collected Tennison all flustered and dishevelled, can we?’

‘Hmm. Feeling the effects of going through the proverbial emotional wringer,’ I say. My phone bleeps and I check my messages. It’s Luke telling me not to worry, he has it all under control. I put the phone down on the worktop.

‘You know you can talk to me, if you need to,’ says Tom. His voice is soft and I appreciate his kindness.

‘I feel like I’ve been wishing for this all my life, for Alice to get in touch,’ I say, looking down at the dark-brown liquid in my cup and breathing in the aroma of the coffee beans. ‘You know when you’re a kid and you blow out the candles on your birthday cake and you make a wish? Or at New Year when the clock strikes midnight or when you throw a coin into a magic wishing well? All those times, I’ve always wished for the same thing, that we would find Alice or she would find us, that someday we’d be together again as a family.’ I pause as I take a sip of my coffee to buy some time to blink back the tears.

Tom puts his cup down and rubs the top of my arm with his hand. ‘Is it a case of being careful what you wish for?’

‘No. Yes. Sort of.’ I can feel the strength to keep it together seeping out from me, as if Tom’s hand is absorbing all my powers of self-control. ‘Now it’s happened, I’m … I’m scared.’

Tom takes the cup from me and rests it next to his. He steps closer and puts both arms around me. ‘It’s okay to be scared. It’s a big life-changing event. You have to try to harness that fear and turn it into a positive emotion.’ He rubs his hand up and down my back. ‘And, just for the record, this is a hug between friends. Thought I’d clarify that before you jump away from me like you’ve been electrocuted.’

I laugh into his shirt, grateful the mounting tension has been broken. ‘As if I’d do anything like that.’

Tom gives me a squeeze before stepping back, his hands moving to mine. ‘Honestly, Clare, I know what all this means to you. I haven’t forgotten. How could I?’

I smile and nod. ‘I know and I do appreciate you being here.’

‘I’ve always been here for you. I haven’t forgotten all those hours we spent huddled round your laptop, trying to trace Alice. And those phone calls! Do you remember the private investigator we hired to organise a search for her?’

I nod and smile at the memory. ‘That first one was bloody useless. What a waste of money that was.’

‘If only we’d known then that your dad had changed his and Alice’s surname.’

‘I can’t believe that having that one single piece of knowledge would have, potentially, made a difference so much sooner. Looking for Alice Kennedy was a complete waste of time and money,’ I sigh. ‘Now, if we’d been looking for Alice Kendrick …’

‘Hey, let’s not go there. It’s not constructive. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned it.’

‘No, it’s okay, really. And please don’t apologise. You’re absolutely right, bemoaning it all won’t actually help now. I said as much to Mum. I should start taking my own advice. We mustn’t get hung up on the past.’

We stand there for a moment, holding hands, looking at each other. I’m aware of Tom’s thumb stroking across my knuckles, a gesture from yesteryear. My last comment was referring to attempts to find Alice, but now I wonder if Tom is reading more into it. I go to speak, but change my mind, aware that I could make a complete arse of myself again. More likely it’s me who is reading too much into everything.