Heathen/Nemesis

Twelve

For long moments she hesitated, standing rigid in the hallway.

The chain was off.

Donna swallowed hard and took a step towards the door as the two-tone chime sounded again. She gently eased the chain into position and finally peered through the spy-hole.

She saw her younger sister immediately.

Donna hurried to open the door, throwing it wide and holding out her arms.

When Julie Craig embraced her the two women clutched each other tightly, unwilling to be parted. Finally Donna pulled back slightly, with tears in her eyes.

‘Thanks for coming,’ she whispered.

‘Nothing would have stopped me,’ Julie told her. They embraced again. ‘Donna, I’m so sorry.’

Both of them were crying now, weeping softly against each other’s shoulders. At last Donna guided her sister inside the house and pushed the front door closed:

‘I’ll get my stuff out of the car in a minute,’ Julie told her, wiping a tear away. She touched her cheek and shook her head gently. ‘You look so tired.’

‘I haven’t been sleeping too well,’ Donna said, smiling humourlessly. ‘You can guess why.’ She wiped her eyes. ‘I’m glad you’re here, Julie.’

When she’d finished telling her story Donna didn’t even raise her head. She merely shifted slightly in her seat, running the tip of her index finger around the rim of her teacup.

Julie watched her sister seated at the other end of the sofa, legs drawn up beneath her. She reached out a hand and touched Donna’s arm, gripping it.

‘Why didn’t you call me as soon as it happened?’ she wanted to know.

‘There was no point. Besides, I could hardly remember my own name, let alone call anyone,’ Donna explained, running a hand through her blonde hair. She looked at Julie and smiled. ‘Little sister helping big sister out this time.’

‘You’ve helped me enough times in the past,’ Julie said.

There was only two years’ age difference between the women. Julie, at twenty-six, was also a little taller, her hair darker, chestnut brown compared to her sister’s lighter, natural colour. They were dressed similarly too, both in black leggings and baggy tops, Julie wearing white socks, Donna barefoot. They had always dressed similarly. They had similar views on life, men and the world in general, too. Best friends as well as sisters, they had shared a closeness throughout their lives most siblings only discover with advancing years. There had been no teenage rivalry between them, only a bond of love that had grown deeper as they’d developed. It had intensified when Julie left home first to attend photographic college and Donna had moved into her own flat after securing a job with a record company. The very fact that the women saw less of each other made their closeness more palpable when they met.

Julie had married when she was twenty-two. It was a doomed relationship with a man ten years older, whose affections seemed divided between her and the contents of whisky bottles. Their short marriage had ended acrimoniously less than a year after they’d promised each other, ‘Til Death us do Part’. Alcohol, it seemed, was as effective a destroyer of marriages as death.

Julie had set up her own photographic business with her share of the settlement money, a business she now owned and operated with the aid of a partner, employing three people. It was thriving.

Donna had married two years later. Both had known love; both had known grief. The latter tended to predominate where men were concerned.

‘How far have you got with the arrangements?’ Julie asked. ‘Sorting out the undertaker, things like that?’

‘I haven’t even picked up Chris’s things from the hospital yet,’ Donna said guiltily. She looked at her sister, opened her mouth to say something, then paused a moment longer before finally breaking the silence.

‘Julie, I think Chris was having an affair.’

Julie shot her an anxious glance.

‘What makes you think that?’ she demanded.

‘There was another woman in the car with him when he died,’ Donna began, then went on to explain what had come to light.

‘She could have been a friend,’ Julie offered.

Donna raised an eyebrow quizzically.

‘A friend? Yes, I suppose she could have been.’ She shook her head.

‘I’m not saying you’re wrong, I’m just saying you’ve got more important things to think about right now.’

‘More important things?’ Donna snapped. ‘My husband was having an affair, Julie. He died with the woman he was fucking behind my back. I think that’s important.’

‘You loved him, didn’t you?’

‘Of course I loved him. I loved him more than I thought it was possible to love anyone. That’s why it hurts so much.’ Tears were beginning to form in her eyes. ‘I miss him so much but I’ll never know the truth.’ The tears were flowing freely now. ‘And I have to know.’ Julie embraced her, stroking her hair. ‘I have to know.’