I wait for more details… but there don’t seem to be any. I don’t quite dare ask about her mum. Not until I know her better.

Jess sips her water and I fiddle with my chocolate wrapper, wondering what to talk about next. I’m slightly at a loss, which is ridiculous. This is my sister! Come on!

“So, are you going on holiday this year?” I ask at last. God, I must be desperate. I sound like a hairdresser.

“I don’t know yet,” says Jess. “It all depends.”

Suddenly I have the most marvelous idea.

“We could go on holiday together!” I say in excitement. “Wouldn’t that be great? We could get a villa in Italy or something… really get to know each other—”

“Rebecca, listen,” Jess interrupts flatly. “I’m not looking for another family.”

My face is suddenly hot.

“I–I know,” I stammer. “I didn’t mean…”

“I don’t need another family,” she presses on. “I said this to Jane and Graham in the summer. That’s not why I tracked you down. It was my duty to contact you about the medical situation. That’s all.”

“What do you mean by ‘that’s all’?” I falter.

“I mean it’s nice to meet you. And your mum and dad are great. But you’ve got your life”—she pauses—“and I’ve got mine.”

Is she saying she doesn’t want to get to know me?

Her own sister?

“But we’ve only just found each other!” I say in a rush. “After all these years! Don’t you find it amazing?” I lean forward and put my hand next to hers. “Look! We have the same blood!”

“So what?” Jess looks unmoved. “It’s just a biological fact.”

“But… haven’t you always wanted a sister? Haven’t you always wondered what it would be like?”

“Not particularly.” She must see the hurt on my face. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s been interesting to meet you.”

Interesting? It’s been interesting?

I push the froth around the cappuccino with my spoon. She doesn’t want to get to know me. My own sister doesn’t want to get to know me. What’s wrong with me?

Nothing’s going the way I planned. I thought today would be one of the best days of my life. I thought shopping with my sister would be fun. I thought we’d be bonded by now. I thought we’d be having coffee, surrounded by all our fab new things, laughing and teasing each other…

“So, shall we go back to your mum’s?” says Jess, draining her cup.

“What… already?” I say, startled. “But… we’ve got hours left. You haven’t even bought anything yet!”

Jess sighs impatiently.

“Look, Becky. I wanted to be polite, so I came along today. But the truth is, I really can’t stand shopping.”

My heart sinks. I knew she wasn’t having a good time. I knew she hated my taste. I have to salvage this.

“I know we haven’t found the right shops yet.” I lean forward eagerly. “But there are more. We can go into different ones—”

“No,” Jess interrupts. “You don’t get it. I don’t like shopping. Full stop.”

“Catalogs!” I say, suddenly inspired. “We could go home, get a load of catalogs… it’d be fun!”

“Can’t you get this through your head?” Jess exclaims in exasperation. “Read my lips very carefully. I. Hate. Shopping.”



When we arrive home, Luke is in the front garden, talking to Dad. As he sees us pulling into the drive he looks stunned.

“What are you doing back so soon?” he says, hurrying over to the car. “Is anything wrong?”

“Everything’s fine!” I say. My brain still feels like it’s short-circuited. “We were just… quicker than I thought we’d be.”

“Thanks,” says Jess, getting out.

“It was a pleasure.”

As Jess heads toward Dad, Luke gets into the car beside me and closes the door.

“Becky, are you OK?”

“I’m… fine. I think.”

I can’t quite get my head round the day. My mind keeps replaying the way I fantasized it would be. The two of us sauntering along, swinging our bags, laughing happily… trying on each other’s things… buying each other friendship bracelets… calling each other by little nicknames…

“So? How was it?”

“It was…” I force a bright smile. “It was really good fun. We both had a great time.”

“What did you buy?”

“A couple of tops… a really nice skirt… some shoes…”

“Mmm-hmm.” Luke nods. “And what did Jess buy?”

For a moment I can’t speak.

“Nothing,” I whisper at last.

“Oh, Becky.” Luke sighs and puts his arm round me. “I know you wanted to find a soul mate. I know you wanted Jess to be your new best friend. But maybe you’ll have to accept that you’re just… too different.”

“We’re not too different,” I say stubbornly. “We’re sisters.”

“Sweetheart, it’s OK,” says Luke. “You can admit it if you don’t get along. No one will think you’ve failed.”

Failed?

“We do get along!” I say, stung. “We do! We just need to find a bit more… common ground. So she doesn’t like shopping. But that doesn’t matter! I like things other than shopping!”

Luke is shaking his head.

“Accept it. You’re different people and there’s no reason why you should get on.”

“But we’ve got the same blood! We can’t be that different! We can’t be!”

“Becky—”

“I’m not going to give up, just like that! This is my long-lost sister we’re talking about!”

“Sweetheart—”

I cut him off. “I know we can be friends. I know we can.”

With sudden determination I wrench open the car door and get out.

“Hey, Jess!” I call, hurrying across the lawn. “After your conference, do you want to come and stay for the weekend? I promise we’ll have a good time.”

“That’s a nice idea, love!” says Dad, his face lighting up.

“I’m not sure,” says Jess. “I really have to get back home… ”

“Please. Just one weekend. We don’t need to go shopping!” The words come tumbling out of me. “It won’t be like today. We can do whatever you like. Just have a really low-key, easy time. What do you think?”

My fingers are twisting into knots. Jess glances at Dad’s hopeful face.

“OK,” she says at last. “That would be nice. Thanks.”




PGNI FIRST BANK VISA

7 CAMEL SQUARE

LIVERPOOL L1 5NP


Mrs Rebecca Brandon

37 Maida Vale Mansions

Maida Vale

London NW6 0YF


12 May 2003


Dear Mrs Brandon:

Thank you for your prompt response to my letter of 20 April.

We are glad to inform you that you have been successful in your application for the High Status Golden Credit Card.

In answer to your questions, the card will be delivered to your home address and will resemble a credit card. It cannot be “disguised as a cake” as you suggest. Nor can we provide a distraction outside as it arrives.

If you have any further questions please do not hesitate to contact me, and we hope you enjoy the benefits of your new card.

Yours sincerely,


Peter Johnson

Customer Accounts Executive




PGNI FIRST BANK VISA

7 CAMEL SQUARE

LIVERPOOL L1 5NP


Ms Jessica Bertram

12 Hill Rise

Scully

Cumbria CA19 1BD

12 May 2003


Dear Ms Bertram:

Thank you for your prompt response to my letter of 20 April.

I apologize for approaching you with the offer of a High Status Golden Credit Card. I did not mean to cause any offence.

By saying you had been personally handpicked for a £20,000 credit limit, I was not intending to imply that you are “debt-ridden and irresponsible” nor to defame your character.

As a gesture of goodwill I enclose a gift voucher of £25, and look forward to being of service should you change your mind on the issue of credit cards.

Yours sincerely,


Peter Johnson

Customer Accounts Executive


Twelve


I’M NOT GIVING up.

So maybe my first meeting with Jess didn’t go quite as I planned. But this weekend will be better, I just know it will. I mean, in hindsight, the first meeting was bound to be a bit awkward. But this time we’ll have gotten through that first hurdle and will be far more relaxed and easy with each other. Plus, I’m far more prepared than I was last time. After Jess left on Saturday, Mum and Dad could see I was a bit down, so they made a pot of tea and we had a good old chat. And we all agreed it’s impossible to get on with someone straightaway if you don’t know anything about her. So Mum and Dad racked their brains for all the details they knew about Jess and wrote them all down. And I’ve been learning them all week.

Like, for instance: she did nine GCSE exams and got As in all of them. She never eats avocados. As well as caving and walking, she does something called potholing. She likes poetry. And her favorite dog is a…

Fuck.

I grab the crib sheet and scan down.

Oh yes. A border collie.

It’s Saturday morning, and I’m in our spare room, making my final preparations for Jess’s arrival. I bought a book this week called The Gracious Hostess, and it said the guest room should be “well thought-out, with little individual touches to make your guest feel welcome.”

So on the dressing table are flowers and a book of poetry, and by the bed I’ve put a careful selection of magazines: Rambling News, Caving Enthusiast, and Potholing Monthly, which is a magazine you can order only on the Internet. (I had to take out a two-year subscription, actually, just to get a copy. But that’s all right. I can just forward the other twenty-three copies to Jess.)