Sisters - Michelle Frances Page 0,54

the bell rang, Ellie was a bit later than the other kids as she’d lost a textbook that she needed to take home for her homework. As she walked down the quietening corridors, past the staffroom, she overheard Mr James talking with the deputy, heard her name mentioned.

‘I felt really bad,’ said Mr James. ‘I had no idea. Must be awful for her, her sister being so brilliant and she not even average.’

Ellie stopped in her tracks, feeling as if someone had just punched her in the gut. The snake unleashed another dose of venom and her throat thickened up with hurt. Tears threatened. She put her head down, set her jaw firm and left the school as quickly and as invisibly as she could.

Three words reverberated around her head all the way home.

Not even average.

THIRTY-EIGHT

The shadows were so long now they were beginning to stretch far into the landscape. In an hour or so they’d melt away altogether, swallowed up by the night. The growing lateness of the day had slowly changed the atmosphere inside the little Fiat, not least because as the hours had slipped away, Abby’s phone still hadn’t rung. Neither of the girls had yet mentioned the lack of a response from Jamie, the criminal lawyer, but as time ticked on, each of them became a little more agitated, a little more desperate.

Ellie, one finger constantly on the map, knew they were just outside the hilltop town of Carcassonne. Up in the distance she could see the fortified wall that snaked around the medieval city, its honey-coloured stone lit up for the night. She wondered what Abby would do as they got closer – would she suggest they stop or would she ask Ellie for directions that took them beyond the town? They passed another sign, this one saying they were only five kilometres away and, exhausted, Ellie felt an overwhelming urge to head for civilization, pull in somewhere and rest.

‘Time to change it up a bit?’ she asked Abby, who sighed with relief.

‘I thought you’d never ask,’ said her sister. ‘I’ll keep going until we get to the town and then let’s swap.’

Ellie frowned. ‘Swap?’

‘Yes. I have been driving for pretty much the entire day.’

‘You mean you want me to get behind the wheel?’

‘It’s not too much to ask, is it?’

‘It is, actually.’

‘Flipping heck, Ellie, I’m knackered. You could at least give me a bit of a break.’

‘I can’t drive,’ said Ellie.

‘What?’

‘Never had the need to learn.’ She shrugged. ‘Lived in London or its suburbs my entire life. Trains and tubes got me everywhere I needed to get to.’

‘Are you kidding me?’

‘Nope.’

‘So what now?’

‘I guess we stop. Find somewhere to stay the night,’ said Ellie. Abby glanced across, frustrated, but could put up no argument.

From the back seat of the car came a sound. Two high-pitched beeps, muffled by a handbag.

The girls locked eyes – Jamie! – and Ellie reached over to grab Abby’s bag and retrieve her phone.

‘Don’t!’ snapped Abby.

Stung by her sister’s sharp tone, Ellie stopped midway between the back and front seats, with the bag hanging from her fingers. ‘But—’

‘Leave it.’

‘It might be Jamie,’ said Ellie, puzzled. ‘In fact, it probably is. Who else is going to have your number? I’ll just check—’

‘I’ll look in a minute.’ Abby tried to neutralize her outburst. ‘We’re almost there anyway.’

Ellie dropped the bag back on the seat and flung her hands up in surrender. ‘OK, whatever you want.’ She shifted back in her seat and stared out of the windscreen, aware of Abby glancing over to her, trying to gauge her mood.

‘Sorry. Didn’t mean to snap,’ said Abby. ‘I just don’t like people going through my bag.’

‘You mean me.’

‘No, not you,’ said Abby in an overly bright voice.

God, she sounds so fake, thought Ellie.

‘Except you might have been trying to steal some of my millions,’ said Abby with a forced grin.

It was a punch to the gut. Ellie stared at her, mouth agape. ‘I beg your pardon?’

Abby immediately realized she’d overstepped the mark. ‘I was joking. I didn’t mean— Sorry. I was trying to make light of it.’

‘How dare you?’ Ellie took a sharp intake of breath. ‘My God, you have a really low opinion of me, don’t you?’

‘No—’

‘Well, I’m sorry you’re having to fund this . . . escapade, but I don’t have two million in the bank.’

‘That’s not it at all . . . OK, it was in bad taste. Crap joke. Not even a joke—’

‘Let’s just get one thing straight. I may