My Sister’s Lies. S.D. Robertson

– telling Diane to stop messing around and get to the point – when her sister turned back to face them with tears running down her face.

      Despite everything, seeing this instantly made Hannah want to jump up and give her a hug. It was instinctive, particularly because crying wasn’t something she’d witnessed Diane do many times as an adult. But Mark must have sensed what she was feeling; he pressed a firm hand on to her knee and whispered in the tiniest of voices: ‘Don’t.’

      So she didn’t. She stayed put and told herself, even though her heart said otherwise, that they were probably crocodile tears. She waited for Diane to carry on, which, after taking a deep breath and wiping her eyes with one hand, she did.

      ‘So the reason I’ve come here isn’t to ask you to do something for me. Not directly anyway … It’s for Mia.’

      These words sent Hannah’s mind racing, because they weren’t at all what she’d expected to hear. Maybe the visit wouldn’t turn out to be about money after all, she thought. Unless Diane wanted to enrol Mia in a private school or something and she needed help paying the fees. Was she being bullied perhaps? Gosh, it would be hard to say no if that was the case.

      ‘Would you like a tissue?’ Mark asked, as Diane’s emotions got the better of her again. He reached into a drawer under the coffee table, pulling out a box and handing it over.

      ‘Thank you,’ Diane replied, accepting it, then wiping her eyes and blowing her nose. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.’

      Was this all for show? Hannah wondered. She knew what her sister was capable of, but this was very convincing. If it wasn’t for Mark’s hand, clamped back on her knee after getting the tissues, she’d have definitely got up to comfort her by now. ‘It’s okay, take your time,’ she said instead, not wanting to appear totally cold-hearted.

      ‘Right,’ Diane said, sitting back down after a long moment, placing a hand on each arm of the chair and slowly exhaling. ‘I can do this.’

      Hannah wasn’t sure whether this was meant for herself or for them, but either way it appeared to work. Speaking slowly and steadily, her eyes darting between her two-strong audience and occasionally into the distance, Diane finally got to the point.

      ‘I’m in a big mess,’ she said. ‘As you can probably see. I’m afraid I’m not in a position to tell you why right now, for reasons that will become apparent later, but I’ve got some things I need to sort out: really important things. I can’t emphasise that enough.

      ‘Both of you must know deep down that I wouldn’t be here if that wasn’t the case. I mean, I could totally understand you thinking this to be some kind of bullshit, but it’s not. Honestly, from the bottom of my heart, it’s not. I’m backed into a corner and I’ve literally nowhere else to turn.

      ‘So what I’m here to ask you, to get to the point, is whether you could possibly look after Mia while I get this mess fixed. Above all else, I want her to be safe and, well, I can’t think of a safer place for her to be than here. I realise you hardly know her, or her you. I take full responsibility for that. But … you’re family.’

      Diane continued talking, but Hannah didn’t listen to the rest. She was too busy trying to absorb what she’d just heard. It was almost an anticlimax after what she’d been expecting, and yet it was also huge.

      Her long-lost sister was essentially begging them to take in her pride and joy: the child Hannah had always secretly envied her having; the niece she’d mourned the loss of; the teenager with whom she’d so far struggled to bond. Wow. She really hadn’t seen this coming.

      It was actually flattering that Diane found this the safest place to leave her. But why here and not with their father or one of the friends she must have made during her time in self-imposed exile? And what was this trouble she’d got herself into that she couldn’t discuss?

      ‘You’re both very quiet,’ Diane said, pulling Hannah back into the moment. ‘What do you think?’

      ‘Um.’ She looked over at her husband. ‘I think it’s something we’ll need to discuss privately, right, Mark?’

      He nodded. ‘Definitely. And I’m sure you have a few questions, Hannah, because I know I do. This has obviously come as quite a surprise.’

      ‘Sure,’ Hannah replied, her mind already a whirr of thoughts, examining the ins and outs of having her niece coming to holiday with them.

      Although some of the practicalities were of concern, such as how she’d find a way to bond with Mia and whether it would affect her writing schedule, on balance she actually felt pretty excited about the idea.

      Mark was staring at her, an expectant look upon his face, so she indicated that he should fire away with his own questions first.

      ‘Well,’ he said, appearing a bit thrown by this, ‘for a start I was wondering when you were thinking of. We were considering taking a couple of last-minute trips away this summer, so there’s that to bear in mind. Also, how long are we talking about: a few days; a week? Obviously, it would be nice to have some kind of idea about that.’

      Mark cleared his throat. ‘And as for this mess you say you’ve got yourself into, it’s all very vague. It’s not going to result in any, er, problems landing at our door, is it?’ He blushed, hesitating before adding: ‘Um, don’t get me wrong, I’m not referring to Mia as a problem. What I mean is … I’m simply concerned one or both of you might be in some kind of danger.’

      Mark nudged Hannah at this point – a gesture obviously meant as a request for her support. But all she could manage was to nod her head and say: ‘Yes, quite.’

      Hannah wasn’t surprised by his questions. They were very practical and a far better reflection of his views on children than his successful chat with Mia earlier might have indicated. Clearly the idea of their niece staying alone with them for any amount of time concerned him. This was no surprise to Hannah. Mark wasn’t into kids. He’d been that way for as long as she’d known him. He wasn’t particularly interested in them and he’d never wanted one of his own.

      To be fair, this was something he’d made clear to Hannah from an early stage in their relationship. At that point she had hoped to have a family one day and, naively perhaps, thought she’d eventually be able to persuade him otherwise. But as they’d got to know each other better and moved from dating to living together, with marriage becoming a possibility, Mark had re-emphasised that having children wasn’t something he ever wanted.

      She still remembered what he’d said to her during one particularly intense conversation, which had proved to be a crossroads event in her life. She’d been twenty-four at the time. It was a frosty January night in Didsbury, south Manchester, where they’d been living then. They’d been out for dinner at an unremarkable Italian restaurant that no longer existed and, having shared a couple of bottles of red, their talk on the way home had turned serious.

      ‘You know how much I love you, don’t you?’ Mark had said, squeezing her hand through her leather glove.

      ‘Of course,’ she’d replied, leaning over to plant a kiss on his cheek. ‘Me too.’

      ‘Well, because of that I need to say something, before it’s too late.’

      These words had made Hannah’s heart stand still. She’d felt a sudden sense of panic rise up in her chest. ‘That sounds scary,’ she’d replied in a small voice, fearing that Mark was about to break up with her.

      ‘Sorry. It’s about kids. It’s been on my mind for a while. I’ve told you already I don’t want to have them, but before we take things to the next level, I need you to understand that I absolutely mean it. It’s just … I don’t really get children and I don’t want to be responsible for bringing another life into this world. I’m one hundred per cent serious – and I’m afraid that’s never going to change.

      ‘The thing is, Han, that I know you would like a family. And because I love you so much,