Page 26 of Close to You
In among that, I keep an eye on the local news feeds, looking for any update on the hit-and-run victim. The police seem to be coy on releasing the person’s identity and status, which I suspect is a bad sign. If it was something minor, the road wouldn’t still be closed. They will be collecting evidence in case the victim dies and the investigation becomes far more serious.
It feels like minutes since I arrived and yet, when I look to the clock, it’s already quarter to six. I lock my office door and change into my cycling gear, with the studio-branded orange top. I head down the stairs to the spin studio, though it’s hard to think of much other than the day’s events.
Cool air is blowing through the studio as I take a seat and start working the spin bike. Assuming there is no group before mine, I always start pedalling a good ten minutes before the class begins.
I keep the resistance low as my class files in, armed with towels and water. Almost everyone says ‘hi’ as they take their respective spots and get themselves ready. After everything that’s happened in the past day or so, it’s good to feel my legs turning once more. It’s a form of serendipity. Some people find exercise stressful, but it’s always been the opposite for me. I can switch off and let the world pass me by.
At a minute to six, the room is almost full, so I turn up the volume of the music and tell everyone the level at which to set their resistance dial. It’s going to be a fast one today: fewer hills but a quicker pace. It’s more for me than anyone else in the class. I feel like this needs to be one that hurts.
I am so focused on pedalling as quickly as I can that I almost don’t see the latecomer. I’ve not seen her in more than a year – and she’s never been to my studio – but she takes the spare bike on the front row off to the right. I look up and do a double take – but she’s ready for me anyway, staring defiantly across as she clips herself onto the pedals.
Yasmine.
Twelve
THE WHY
Three years, eight months ago
David continues to sit on the sofa while he scrolls through something on his phone.
‘Why didn’t you tell me you had a sister?’ I say from the kitchen.
He doesn’t glance sideways as he keeps thumbing at the screen. ‘I thought I had,’ he says.
‘You don’t forget a sister,’ I say.
‘I suppose you never asked…’
The pan of rice is bubbling away and I lean on the counter as I stare across to him, waiting for him to turn. I wonder if we’re going to argue for the first time. We’ve had something of a honeymoon period since he moved in and this is the closest we’ve come to falling out. He told me he’d explain all about Yasmine on his return and, now he’s here, he has barely got off his phone.
‘How could I ask about a sister I didn’t know existed?’ I say.
David sighs and turns to look across at me. ‘Yasmine’s my older sister,’ he says with a shrug. ‘She moved to Kingbridge with me when I came across to go to uni.’
‘I don’t understand how, if she’s your sister – and you lived with her – she never came up in conversation. She knew about me.’
‘Back then, she couldn’t afford a place of her own and was still living with our parents. When I went back to university as a mature student, she moved in for a while as she got herself together.’
In the couple of months we’ve known one another, David and I have talked about our pasts. I know he comes from a village on the Kent coast, although the name fell from my mind almost as soon as he told me. I try to remember the specific conversations. I definitely mentioned I was an only child and I suppose that, because he didn’t say much in response, I assumed he was, too. I guess it’s true what they say about what assuming does.
‘We don’t really get on,’ David continues. ‘When we were living together, it was too close. It pushed us apart. She didn’t want to go back to our parents, but couldn’t afford to get her own place. I didn’t want to kick her out, so we ended up living in this sort of mutual… well, “hatred” is a strong word, but “dislike”, I suppose. Even though it was years ago, we never really made up. I don’t talk about her because I don’t see her.’
‘But she knew who I was…’
David reaches for the remote control and flicks on the TV. He starts to switch between channels. He seems completely uninterested in the conversation.
‘I don’t know why it’s a big deal,’ he says.
‘It’s not a big deal – but a total stranger came up to me and knew who I was. It turns out she’s your sister, even though I’ve never heard of her.’
‘I ran into her a week or so ago,’ he replies. ‘Just before I went away. We don’t get on, but it’s not like we’re enemies. We said hello, that sort of thing. She’s living with a boyfriend now. I said I’d moved in with someone wonderful – a trainer who hosted exercise classes. I figured that was it. I didn’t know that she’d visit you. I have no idea why she did.’
‘Wonderful’ sounds like deliberate overkill but it’s hard to ignore the surge in my stomach. Nobody’s ever described me like that before.
The boiling water has almost disappeared, so I turn off the heat and drain the pan. That done, I take the chicken from the oven and serve that and the rice onto a plate, before joining David on the sofa. He takes his food and starts to eat with a fork, while still channel-surfing with the other hand.
‘Do you have any other brothers or sisters I should know about?’ I ask. Any anger I might have had is fading fast.
