Free The Alphabet Sisters by Monica McInerney Page B

like terrible gossip from the charity shop or the party tonight or—”
    “In a moment.” Lola had heard the sound of a car coming up the driveway. “Carrie has just arrived back, and I want you to meet her. Now.”
    “No.” To her own astonishment, Bett leaped inside and shut the door of the room.
    A second later it opened, and Lola came in. “What happened to you in London? Have you been regressing rather than aging? Don’t tell me you were about to hide under the bed?” Bett had spent hours of her childhood under the bed. Looking for peace, she had insisted. Hiding from work, Lola had preferred to put it. “I’m sure you weren’t this cowardly before you went away.”
    “I wasn’t. And I wasn’t this cowardly while I was away.”
    “So you admit you’re being cowardly now, wanting to hide under the bed? Did I tell you in any of my letters that your mother found some rope under one of the beds last year? Several meters of it, imagine. We had quite a discussion about what that might have been used for. I have to say I think your mother was shocked.”
    Bett glared at her, trying not to laugh. “You’re the equivalent of that white noise that armies use to confound their enemies, aren’t you? When they play noise at such a volume and for so long that the enemy gives in eventually.”
    “Enemy? You’re not my enemy. You’re one of my dearest girls in the world. Now, come and meet another of my dearest girls. Her name’s Carrie, and she’s your sister.”
    At first there were fifty meters between them. Then forty. Thirty.
    “Good afternoon, Carrie,” Lola called as they reached ten meters.
    “Hello, Lola.”
    “Carrie, may I introduce your sister?”
    “Stop it, Lola,” Bett muttered. She forced herself to look directly at Carrie, taking in the blonde curls, the petite figure, dressed in jeans and T-shirt, an inch of flat brown belly showing, casual, stylish, neat. In her own mind she ballooned to Michelin Man proportions, her skirt and T-shirt turning supersize, her cheeks expanding like balloons, getting redder and redder.…
    Lola interrupted her train of thought. “But of course neither of you need any introductions. Say hello, girls.”
    “Hello, Carrie.”
    “Hello, Bett.”
    “How was your flight?”
    “Good thanks. Long.” She swallowed. “How is—” she couldn’t say Matthew’s name. She tried again. “How is work?”
    A look of relief crossed Carrie’s face, Bett was sure of it. Perhaps Carrie didn’t want to talk about Matthew yet either. “Fine. We’re busy enough for this time of year.”
    Lola was beaming between them, for all the world like a country matchmaker.
    Then there seemed to be nothing else to say. “I’d better finish getting ready for the party, then,” Carrie said briskly.
    “Do you need any help?” Bett forced out the words.
    “No,” Carrie answered too quickly.
    “Are you sure about that, Carrie?” Lola’s voice was firm.
    “It’s under control, thanks, Lola. See you, Bett.”
    “See you, Carrie.” They stood silently as Carrie walked through the back door of the kitchen.
    “Well, that went okay,” Bett said, once she was out of sight.
    “Gloriously. Imagine that, all those years of rancor swept away in one easy and honest conversation. I’m so proud of you.”
    “Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Lola. You taught us that yourself,” Bett said, stung. She thought it had gone okay. Better than she’d expected, anyway.
    “Well, it’s a start, at least,” Lola said. “Carrie probably does need help with the party, by the way, if you truly want to give her a hand.”
    “Um, no. I might unpack, I think. Relax a little before the party. I’ve been very busy getting organized to come back.” A wave of tiredness and emotion hit her as they walked back to her motel room. “Not that anyone in this family seems to care enough about my life to have actually asked what I’ve been doing in London the past few years.”
    Lola surprised