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NOW

It had been Sam who’d finally forced her to see that what she’d been doing wasn’t living, but existing. To start to accept that she deserved more again. Sophie pushed the newspaper aside and went to the sink with her coffee cup, leaning on the counter to take in the view of their small garden, remembering.

Two months into her tenancy, one Sunday morning she heard the buzz of the intercom. Her first instinct was to ignore it – it would only be someone trying to sell something, or a delivery she’d forgotten she’d arranged. They could leave whatever it was downstairs.

But then someone – perhaps a disgruntled neighbour – buzzed the person in and whoever it was knocked directly on her front door.

Sophie looked at the clock. It was only 9a.m. on a Saturday. Probably a delivery, she thought, pulling on her dressing gown and staggering to the door. Opening it into the fresh spring morning she found, rather than a delivery person clutching something from an online retailer, her sister standing there, under-eyes smudged with mascara, wearing a dress that looked like something you’d wear to a nightclub. Which she almost certainly had.

‘Sam!’ she said, surprised, wrapping her robe more tightly around her.

‘Sorry – did I wake you up?’

‘Not really. I was just being lazy. Come in.’

She led her sister to the sofa and Sam collapsed onto it gratefully. ‘I’m bloody knackered,’ she declared.

‘Coffee?’

‘You know it.’

Sophie switched on the kettle in the kitchen then made it back to the living room as it boiled. ‘So?’ she said.

‘What?’

‘What are you doing here? Not that you’re unwelcome. It’s great to see you. But I get the sneaking suspicion this isn’t a planned visit,’ she said, looking pointedly at her sister’s attire.

‘Whatever gives you that impression?’

Sophie shook her head. ‘Just a hunch.’

The two sisters grinned at each other then. ‘Ah, yeah. You got me,’ Sam said. ‘I was at a thing last night.’

‘In Cambridge?’

‘In London. And I met someone – before I knew it, I was on the train to Cambridge – it only takes an hour, you know? He lives here. Ian. The bloke, I mean.’

‘So let me get this straight,’ Sophie said, standing up as she heard the kettle switch itself off. ‘You’ve run out of men in London so now you’re moving on to the next city?’

‘Sophie!’ Sam lunged at her, ostensibly to give her a slap.

She laughed, running to the kitchen before Sam could reach her.

Coming back with coffee, she sat down opposite the baby sister who was no longer a baby but a fully-fledged woman in her twenties with a proper job and her own bedsit in London. ‘So,’ she said. ‘Tell me about him.’

Later, once Sam had showered and borrowed some clothes more appropriate for daywear, they walked out in the early spring sunshine, making their way to The Anchor for a pub lunch. ‘I can’t believe you still go there,’ Sam said. ‘Doesn’t it feel weird, after you worked there for all that time during uni?’

Sophie shook her head. ‘No one recognises me; think most of the staff have changed. Besides, they do the best meals.’

An hour later, they were stuffed. Sitting opposite each other at a mahogany table, sipping after-lunch coffee and laughing about something their mum had said about their dad. ‘Honestly, every time she rings now, she’s relaying this stuff about his health,’ Sam said. ‘Last week we had a twenty-minute conversation about piles and I’m not kidding, I could not sleep for about two nights!’

‘Gross!’ Sophie laughed. ‘She tends to talk to me about other stuff, luckily.’

‘I think she shies away from health topics where you’re concerned.’

This brought them both back down to earth. ‘Sorry,’ Sam said.

‘Don’t be silly. It is what it is,’ Sophie said, acknowledging the awkward sadness that had muffled them both. ‘It gets easier, apparently.’

‘Didn’t mean to put my foot in it.’

‘Or Dad’s arse?’

‘Ha. Yeah, the ultimate conversation stopper.’

Sam wiped her eyes, still giggling a little. ‘But seriously, Soph. How are you getting on?’

‘Yeah, not bad. Work’s going OK and the flat is… well, it’s fine for now.’

‘Yes, but,’ Sam leant forward on the table, her face suddenly serious, ‘how’s it really going? Are you doing anything, outside work? Are you getting out?’

‘Now you do sound like Mum,’ Sophie deflected.

‘Come on, if you can’t talk to me, who can you talk to? I know it’s hard on the phone, but I thought…’

‘Hang on, is this an intervention?’

Sam laughed. ‘No. I’m just worried…’

‘Are you telling me you slept with a guy who lived in Cambridge just so you could come over and interrogate me?’

‘Ha. He should be so lucky. No, but I thought while I was here I could just… ask.’

‘I’m OK,’ Sophie said firmly. ‘Now do you want another coffee?’

‘But you’re not really… going out or doing anything besides work?’

‘It’s a difficult job,’ she said. ‘It takes up so much of my time.’

‘Sophieeee,’ Sam wheedled.

‘What? It does. And I’m OK. I’m OK doing it and living in my flat. Everything’s fine.’

‘Sophieeee.’

‘What?’ she said again, feeling herself get hot.

‘I guess I just want you to be more than fine, you know? Like, you’re still young. You’re right at the start of things. I just hope… you know. Don’t forget to live, is all.’

‘I am living.’

Sam looked at her, a sidelong glance that penetrated through all the bullshit.

‘OK. OK. I get it. I have no social life. I’ve locked myself away in a shitty flat like… like…’

‘Miss Havisham?’

‘Sam! No. She’s a complete recluse. I can’t see her delivering the GCSE curriculum to a bunch of Year 11s.’

‘Fair point. OK, so Boo Radley.’

‘Boo Radley?’

‘The Grinch?’ Sam suggested. ‘Look, I’m not like you. I don’t know many literary characters. But I do know that I’m worried about you, sis, that’s all.’

Sophie looked at her sister, the genuine concern etched on her face, and softened. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘OK, you got me. I’m a recluse, sort of. I don’t do anything.’

Sam grimaced sympathetically.

‘I just… I’m just sad, Sam,’ she said, her mouth wobbling. ‘I know people think it’s easy to move on. That I’m young, that what happened is just a tiny part of my story. But I don’t know how to move on and I’m not sure I want to.’

‘Oh, Soph.’

‘It’s OK. I’m happy. Well, not happy. But I’m fine. I’m getting up, I’m doing the things. I’m functioning. And I suppose it just has to be enough.’

‘Enough for now?’ Sam suggested.

‘Maybe enough forever,’ she admitted. ‘I can’t see…’ Tears pooled in her eyes and she wiped them away angrily. ‘I can’t see a way forward beyond this. I… it doesn’t feel like there’s anything else for me. But it’s OK. You don’t need to worry. I’m not… desperate. I’m OK doing what I’m doing and just getting on with it.’

‘But you deserve so much more…’

‘Do I though? Maybe I had my luck already. Maybe that was the good bit, and the rest of my life is going to be, well, just OK.’

‘No.’ Sam said firmly. ‘I’m not going to let it.’

‘You don’t understand! You…’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘How can you, I…’

‘Look.’ Sam grabbed her hand, more firmly than before, and Sophie looked down at it, silenced suddenly. ‘When you were going through all that with Tom. All the treatment, all the worry. Something happened to me. I never told you because – well, you had enough going on. But it changed me, you know.’

‘What?’

‘I can’t…’ Sam suddenly looked different, vulnerable. ‘Look, I was going out a lot. Partying. Making the most of my freedom after moving out. You know? And one night, well, someone I thought was a friend… he… well, he walked me home and he…’ She looked at her sister, imploring her to not force her to say it.

‘He raped you?’

Sam’s tears spilled hotly down her cheeks. She nodded. Once. ‘And I’ve dealt with it. I reported it. Had counselling. I don’t want to talk about it any more. Not now, anyway.’

‘But, Sam…’

‘Please, Soph. I’m just telling you that afterwards, I was changed… I didn’t want to go anywhere, do anything. But my therapist, and Katy – you know, the girl I lived with in third year – they kind of helped me to take my life back. Because I couldn’t let him steal that. My future. My chances. And it’s not always easy, but look at me! I’m here. I’m doing it. Dating. Going out. And it’s better. It’s better than when I shut myself away and wanted to protect myself from it all.’

‘Oh, darling.’ Sophie put another hand over her sister’s, almost as if they were playing a game. ‘I’m so sorry.’

Sam shook her head. ‘Thanks. But look. Let’s stop. It’s better to keep it in the past.’ She took a big, shuddering breath. ‘I’m just trying to tell you that you can do it. If I can do it, you can. And that you think you don’t need people, but you do. We all do.’

Sophie nodded, not sure what to say.

‘Soph,’ Sam looked at her earnestly, ‘you just can’t hide from it – life. It happens anyway. Whether you’re locked in a flat or out there trying your best to find something that makes you happy. It goes by and it happens. And you can’t protect yourself from it. Not really.’

‘OK,’ she said softly.

‘So I want you to promise me that you’ll try. Just… the next time a chance comes your way to do something – go out, meet friends, anything… just try? For me.’

Sophie nodded. ‘OK.’

‘Now,’ Sam said, taking her hands back and wiping her eyes. ‘Didn’t you just offer me another coffee?’

On instinct, Sophie picked up her phone and sent her sister a message.

Sophie

Thanks. For everything. You’ve always been there for me, sis.

The reply came almost instantly.

Sam

Don’t be silly. What are sisters for?