When Lissa picks Elsie up on the corner of the street, her sister looks a bit sheepish. And a bit cold, Lissa thinks – her nose red, hair windswept. Lissa dials the heating up.
‘Thanks,’ Elsie mutters, looking down at her knees as Lissa turns the car around.
‘No problem.’
‘Are you going to tell Dad?’ It’s blurted out immediately, like she can’t stop herself.
Lissa glances across at the passenger seat. ‘I don’t know. I probably should.’ Elsie’s lip juts out in response to that. ‘So they said no?’ she prompts. ‘To you coming to Bath by train?’
‘Yep.’ Elsie scowls. Lissa notices that she’s wearing mascara, and that it’s run a little. ‘They won’t let me do anything, it’s totally ridiculous. I mean, I’m allowed to babysit by my age – surely that’s responsible enough to get a half-hour train?’
‘I guess they’re just worried about you,’ Lissa says diplomatically. As she says it, it occurs to her that the reason they might be so worried is because they know how easily a child can be lost. Her dad must have talked to Nicole about what happened to Chloe. And all right, maybe it has nothing to do with that – maybe Nicole just doesn’t like trains. But it gives her a twinge of guilt that she’d not thought of the possibility before.
‘I guess they’ll know anyway, when you drop me off,’ Elsie says, sounding resigned.
‘I guess so. Though I suppose I could drop you at the end of the street.’
Elsie brightens at this. ‘Yeah. Could you?’
Lissa doesn’t answer. As the big sister, she should take Elsie all the way to her front door, shouldn’t she? And come to think of it, she absolutely cannot be responsible for something bad happening to another sister, even if the possibility is slim.
‘No,’ she says. ‘I’m sorry. I really should drop you at your house – it’s dark out. But I’ll let you tell Dad what happened. I won’t say anything.’ Because she decides in that moment that it’s better that Elsie knows she can rely on her if she needs to, rather than her being someone who will dob her in.
There’s quiet for a moment as Elsie fiddles with the radio, switching it to Radio 1. Then she sits back in her seat. ‘So do you go there often?’ she asks. ‘To her grave?’
Lissa brakes a little too hard at the next set of lights. She wasn’t expecting the direct question. ‘No,’ she says. ‘Not as often as I should.’
Elsie purses her lips at this, then gives a one-shouldered shrug. ‘I suppose you don’t have to go there to think about her. You can do that anywhere.’
Lissa stares at her, so that a car behind beeps when she doesn’t immediately pull away at the green light.
‘What?’ Elsie asks, frowning. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’
‘Nothing. I just … You’re right.’ Lissa hadn’t expected her to be so insightful about it. Though she doesn’t know why – as Elsie pointed out, she’s fourteen, almost a mini adult.
Elsie nods, like that’s obvious.
‘So how was Christmas?’ Lissa asks.
‘Oh, all right. My grandparents came round.’ Which would be Nicole’s parents, given that their dad’s parents died a long time ago. ‘Thanks for the hoodie,’ she adds, like an afterthought.
‘You’re welcome.’
‘I didn’t get you anything.’ It’s not exactly an apology, but somehow it reads like one.
‘That’s okay. You didn’t have to.’
‘So what did you do?’ Elsie asks, fidgeting slightly.
‘Spent it with my mum and my cousin.’ And actually, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been – her mum retired early, and she and Mia stayed up drinking far too much red wine.
‘Huh. Maybe you should have come to ours. We had way too much food.’ Lissa glances across at her, trying to work out if that is Elsie’s version of an invitation.
‘What was she like?’ Elsie asks abruptly. She looks out the window as she says it.
‘Who?’
‘Chloe. Dad never talks about her.’
