Salt Sisters

keep working, I’ll keep sane. I want to be there for them – of course I’m going to be there for them. I just need to do this as well. For me.’
I had to sympathise – I would have loved a distraction right then, too. Looking after three grieving kids was a lot of work. But I couldn’t shake my suspicions about the phone conversation I’d heard.
‘You are all right for money, aren’t you?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Because if you need cash—’
‘We are fine.’ There was an edge to his voice that told me to back down.
We were facing each other across the galley of the kitchen and I could feel my heart thundering in my chest. Mike’s face was red. He turned his back to me to search for something inside the cupboard, and I slipped away to join the children.
So much for settling into a new routine, I thought as I unpacked my overnight bag in Amy’s spare room. This would be the third bed I’d slept in this week.
Mike had gone to the airport early that morning, and the day stretched ahead – terrifyingly long and empty. How to fill it? Rachel was coming over after her shift and it was Mum’s turn to help with dinner, but that was hours away.
I suggested to Hannah that we go through some of her mum’s things with her brother and sister, starting with the box of photos she had found. After Dad died, we’d put off sorting his stuff, believing it would be too painful. But when we’d finally started, we’d found the opposite – it was like having him back with us. Amy and I had spent weeks on it, savouring the process for an hour or two each evening. I fingered his hip flask in my pocket now, running my thumb over the grooves of the inscription.
Hannah, Lucas and Betsy each picked out a photograph to have framed, and I took a couple for Puffin Cottage – one of me and Amy on the beach, and one of us from Edinburgh. In the Edinburgh photo, we were at a party in the kitchen of a house I couldn’t remember, and she had her arms around my shoulders in a protective hold. We were both smiling brightly at the camera with wide, toothy grins.
And suddenly I remembered a fragment of a conversation I’d had with someone that night – a guy in a bucket hat and anorak. He’d asked who was the older sister, because it was hard to tell who was looking after who.
My phone rang, snapping me back to the moment: Jake Ridley. I went out onto the landing to answer it, making sure the children wouldn’t be able to hear.
‘You asked me to let you know if I heard any news on Amy’s case?’
‘Yes.’ My voice was a thin croak. I sat on the stairs, biting my lip and digging my fingernails into the palm of my free hand.
‘Only, I was speaking to a contact in the coroner’s office. Apparently Amy’s blood tests showed high levels of benzodiazepines. It’s a type of medication prescribed to patients with anxiety disorders. When it’s taken with alcohol, it can have psychoactive effects.’
Amy had been on anxiety meds? This was the first I’d heard of it. And she’d had a glass of wine the night of the accident. I gripped the phone.
‘So what happens now?’
‘The police have spoken to Mike and it was news to him, unfortunately. So they’ll speak with her GP to find out if she had a prescription. Do you know if she was taking anything?’
‘I… I… Sorry. I have no idea.’
How could I not have known this? I ached for my sister – for what she must have been going through, and the gulf between us widened. What had she been unable to tell me?
Jake told me not to worry, and that the police would check it out. He was cushioning my feelings, but it didn’t lessen my guilt.
I thanked Jake and went back to the children. Sorting through Amy’s belongings was a great way to start conversations about her, and the children were happy to talk – once we started, it was hard to get them to stop. Their stories didn’t point to Amy being stressed, or upset – in fact, quite the opposite. She was busy, very engaged in village life, and physically active. They told me that Amy had started going for long runs along the coast road. She said it was her ‘mum time’ and her way of unwinding.
God knows, I could do with that. I put my hand under my sweater – my tummy felt soft, and I could pinch an inch I swore hadn’t been there back in Hong Kong. I was missing my weekly Pilates and Muay Thai sessions. Maybe running could help me keep in shape and preserve my sanity at the same time. I asked Hannah to show me where Amy kept her running gear.
By the time Rachel arrived, I was wrapped up and ready to go, eager to see what all the fuss was about. Anything that would help me feel what Amy felt.
It was bitterly cold – the kind that bites at your ears. I pulled Amy’s hat as far down as it would go and tugged at the collar of her fleece jacket until it covered my chin. It was years since I had run anywhere, and it hurt – the cold air burning my lungs while the wind whipped at my face. The kids had said that Amy used to run to Bamburgh Castle and back again. I didn’t think I’d make her full route, but I decided to try and see how far I could get.
I jogged along the back streets and past the harbour carpark, keeping my pace steady and wondering how soon I could stop for a break without it being embarrassing. I passed the last houses on the coast road – including our old house – and kept my