invariably put down to ‘a phase she was going through’.
Andee’s memories of Penny back then were always darkened by the way she, Andee, used to yell at her for crashing into her room without knocking, or for her constant complaining and whining.
‘What do you mean you’re not pretty?’ she used to snap at her. ‘Just because you’ve got a few spots doesn’t mean you’re ugly. Get over yourself, will you, and go and annoy someone else.’
Penny would return to her room, but then she’d come back again, saying something like, ‘I wish I was as clever as you. I’ll never be good enough to go to uni.’ Or, ‘Mum and Dad love you the best, I can tell.’ Or, ‘I don’t have any friends. Nobody likes me.’
And Andee would shoot back with, ‘Stop feeling so bloody sorry for yourself and grow up.’ Or, ‘I don’t have time for all your crap, so get out of my way.’
Andee’s insides still churned with shame when she recalled how cruel and impatient she’d been with her sister, and the pain of it had burned deeper with time. She’d never stopped tormenting herself with the private tears Penny must have shed over the way no one would listen to her. Her fragile young heart must have fractured into thousands of pieces under the strain of longing to be understood. There was nothing Andee wouldn’t give for the chance to make it up to her, to be able to tell her how pretty, intelligent, loved and popular she was, to make her the very centre of her world, but fate, God, whatever it was, had never allowed it.
The first time Penny stayed out all night, causing her parents to frantically ring around all her friends, even to go out searching the streets into the early hours, she’d shown up again the next morning saying she’d been at Mia’s, a recent arrival at the school whom she was getting to know. The second time, a few weeks later, there was less of a fuss and afterwards it hadn’t taken the family long to get caught up in their hectic lives again. Eventually they’d stopped worrying when Penny went off in ‘one of her funks’. They assumed she was at Mandy’s, or Kelly’s, or Mia’s, and because she always came back after a night or two no one ever checked.
Then one day she didn’t come back. She’d been gone for an entire weekend by the time Andee and her parents began ringing everyone they knew, searching the streets, the local shops, refuges and hospitals, but they’d found no sign of her. The police were alerted, neighbours’ gardens were trawled, everyone was questioned, but no one could throw any light on where she might be.
It was impossible for Andee to think of that time, even now, without feeling the same surging panic and fear; however, over the years, she’d learned to quickly bury it and move on. She knew that Sophie’s disappearance was going to make this emotional control more difficult if she didn’t show up soon.
Worse though, far, far worse than not knowing where Penny might be, was the letter that had turned up after she’d been gone for almost a fortnight, bearing a local postmark. Andee knew that in all her life she would never again find anything so painful to read.
Dear Mum and Dad, I probably ought to say sorry for leaving the way I have, but maybe you already don’t mind very much that I’m not around any more, so instead I’ll say sorry for always being such a disappointment to you. I know Dad wanted a son when I was born, so I guess I’ve been a let-down to him from the start, and I don’t blame him for always loving Andee the most because she’s much nicer-looking than I am and likes sports, the same as him, and is really clever so it stands to reason that he’d be really proud of her. I know I shouldn’t say this, but sometimes I hate her for being so much better than I am at everything. No one ever seems to notice me when she’s in the room. It’s like I become invisible and I know she wishes I would go away. So that’s what I’m going to
Andee’s memories of Penny back then were always darkened by the way she, Andee, used to yell at her for crashing into her room without knocking, or for her constant complaining and whining.
‘What do you mean you’re not pretty?’ she used to snap at her. ‘Just because you’ve got a few spots doesn’t mean you’re ugly. Get over yourself, will you, and go and annoy someone else.’
Penny would return to her room, but then she’d come back again, saying something like, ‘I wish I was as clever as you. I’ll never be good enough to go to uni.’ Or, ‘Mum and Dad love you the best, I can tell.’ Or, ‘I don’t have any friends. Nobody likes me.’
And Andee would shoot back with, ‘Stop feeling so bloody sorry for yourself and grow up.’ Or, ‘I don’t have time for all your crap, so get out of my way.’
Andee’s insides still churned with shame when she recalled how cruel and impatient she’d been with her sister, and the pain of it had burned deeper with time. She’d never stopped tormenting herself with the private tears Penny must have shed over the way no one would listen to her. Her fragile young heart must have fractured into thousands of pieces under the strain of longing to be understood. There was nothing Andee wouldn’t give for the chance to make it up to her, to be able to tell her how pretty, intelligent, loved and popular she was, to make her the very centre of her world, but fate, God, whatever it was, had never allowed it.
The first time Penny stayed out all night, causing her parents to frantically ring around all her friends, even to go out searching the streets into the early hours, she’d shown up again the next morning saying she’d been at Mia’s, a recent arrival at the school whom she was getting to know. The second time, a few weeks later, there was less of a fuss and afterwards it hadn’t taken the family long to get caught up in their hectic lives again. Eventually they’d stopped worrying when Penny went off in ‘one of her funks’. They assumed she was at Mandy’s, or Kelly’s, or Mia’s, and because she always came back after a night or two no one ever checked.
Then one day she didn’t come back. She’d been gone for an entire weekend by the time Andee and her parents began ringing everyone they knew, searching the streets, the local shops, refuges and hospitals, but they’d found no sign of her. The police were alerted, neighbours’ gardens were trawled, everyone was questioned, but no one could throw any light on where she might be.
It was impossible for Andee to think of that time, even now, without feeling the same surging panic and fear; however, over the years, she’d learned to quickly bury it and move on. She knew that Sophie’s disappearance was going to make this emotional control more difficult if she didn’t show up soon.
Worse though, far, far worse than not knowing where Penny might be, was the letter that had turned up after she’d been gone for almost a fortnight, bearing a local postmark. Andee knew that in all her life she would never again find anything so painful to read.
Dear Mum and Dad, I probably ought to say sorry for leaving the way I have, but maybe you already don’t mind very much that I’m not around any more, so instead I’ll say sorry for always being such a disappointment to you. I know Dad wanted a son when I was born, so I guess I’ve been a let-down to him from the start, and I don’t blame him for always loving Andee the most because she’s much nicer-looking than I am and likes sports, the same as him, and is really clever so it stands to reason that he’d be really proud of her. I know I shouldn’t say this, but sometimes I hate her for being so much better than I am at everything. No one ever seems to notice me when she’s in the room. It’s like I become invisible and I know she wishes I would go away. So that’s what I’m going to
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