me; I can’t bear it when I’m not with the kids. They are the ones who brought me back when I didn’t think I would ever shake off the grief.
‘Where did you go, Ness? After the funeral.’
‘Dad’s.’
‘Scotland?’
She nods. ‘I just needed to be away. From here, from you and Ed and the kids and Kerry’s ghost, I guess.’
‘Well, that’s rude.’ Kerry crosses her arms and wears a mock annoyed expression.
‘Are you sleeping?’ I find myself asking.
Nessa shakes her head, confirming the negative, her eyes meeting mine, a thousand nightmares and night sweats shared between us with one look.
‘Are you still thinking about getting a job?’ Nessa changes the subject. Before Kerry died, I had been looking into going back to work since Oscar had started school.
I shake my head, remembering how I had tried to fill in applications. ‘I tried to, but when Kerry . . . when she died and I, well, I . . . it’s a long story.’ I dismiss my months of crippling grief with a waft of my hand. ‘Are you managing to—’ Work, breathe? Live? My mouth opens and closes, chewing on empty words: ‘Work?’
‘Not yet. I’ve written a few reviews but not submitted them yet, I think they may well be a bit crap.’
‘The films or the reviews?’ I ask, trying to make light of the idea that not being immersed in her job as a film critic for the local paper is normal behaviour for her, when we both know that her job is as much part of her as Kerry was.
Nessa drains her coffee and wipes the cookie crumbs from her jeans; they are expensive, ripped in all the right places, faded with expensive dye. Kerry had loved the way Nessa dressed. ‘Dress messily, see the dress, dress beautifully, see the woman.’ I ignore Kerry as she manages to misquote both Coco Chanel and Working Girl in one go.
The vibration of Nessa’s phone and the face of Erica flashing up from the screen attract our attention. Across Erica’s smiling face are the words ‘Erica’s School’. Nessa’s body folds, her shoulders slump as she reaches for the handset.
‘Hello?’
I try to look like I’m not listening, which is hard when your dead sister is leaning her head towards your companion’s phone.
‘It doesn’t sound good,’ she whispers.
Why are you whispering? She can’t hear you.
‘OK. I’ll come and fetch her.’ She hangs up the phone. ‘I have to go, Erica is acting up. She didn’t settle in the school in Glasgow and now she’s bitten another kid. Thanks for the—’
We both look down to where my phone has begun to ring: the words ‘Kids’ School’ are flashing.
‘Mrs Jones? Hello, it’s Highbrook School here. I’m afraid Oscar has had a bit of a tricky afternoon and one of the other children has bitten him. Would you be able to pop in?’
Chapter Thirteen
Jennifer
I slam the door to my car, our vehicles inches apart. Mine is filled with family detritus: Hailey’s sun hat discarded on the floor; Oscar’s car seat; Ed’s sunglasses; a crumpled-up parking ticket from a daytrip out. As Nessa steps out of her own, I consider this. Is the interior of her car filled with parts of her life with Kerry? A thirst creeps through me, an urgent need to yank open the door, to run my fingers over the passenger seat where Kerry sat, to open the glove compartment and find a lipstick, a dog-eared novel, a sweet wrapper. I try to quench the thirst with a well-meaning smile in Nessa’s direction; I pull my eyes away from where, just inches away from me, is new evidence of my sister, new discoveries to explore, treasures to uncover.
As I walk by Nessa’s side, the wind winds its way around her; it grabs hold of her scent and slides it towards me: soap, fabric softener, and Nessa. The smell caresses me, strokes my skin with memories of lazy summer nights in the garden, the four of us playing cards, drinking wine. I’ve never noticed Nessa’s smell before; Kerry always wore the same perfume that she’d had since she was fourteen. For weeks she had saved her pocket money, frequented perfume shops, spraying them on her wrists, testing them out. Did they fit? Were they her? It lasted months, Kerry’s quest for the perfect scent, and when she found it, she was never unfaithful, never cheated on it or flirted with another brand. It was a heavy scent, she only needed a small spray, but it followed