from the kitchen, concluding with a very thorough-sounding smash.
Sophie, applying mascara in her bedroom mirror, paused. What was Victoria doing? She’d made an incredible racket coming home an hour ago, gone straight into her bedroom with an ear-shattering slam of the door, and now this. With another crash, Sophie rolled her eyes and went out to investigate. Along the way she collected Myra in her wake, obviously also curious about the noise.
Victoria stood in the kitchen, her shoulders rising and falling with laboured breathing. On the floor was evidence of not one but two broken wine glasses and a shattered plate.
“It’s therapeutic to smash things,” Victoria said. “I read an article.”
“But you’re breaking my wine glasses,” Sophie said, lurching forward to assess the damage. “Inside the house. Look at this mess.”
Victoria narrowed her eyes, seemed to be about to say something, then blew out an angry gust of air. “They’re not yours.”
“Yes they are. They were a Christmas present.” Sophie looked from the shards of glass to Victoria. “What’s going on?”
She scowled. “Everything is ruined.”
Myra stepped out from behind Sophie. “Are you okay?” she asked bravely.
“No. What do you care. What do you want?” Victoria hissed.
“I just—”
“God, you’re so annoying,” Victoria said, throwing her hands up.
Myra’s eyes widened. “P-Pardon?”
“Hey, Myra didn’t do anything,” Sophie said.
“Ugh! I can’t stand you. It’s relentless,” Victoria fumed, whirling around to turn on Sophie. “You’re even worse. All this is your fault anyway.”
“What are you—”
“Leave me alone.” Victoria stalked out of the kitchen.
Sophie turned to Myra whose lower lip was trembling.
“What did I do?”
“She’s just in a mood, I think,” Sophie tried to assure her. “You know her.” She attempted a weak smile, but Myra’s eyes were filling with tears.
“Hey, what are you doing tonight?” Sophie said brightly. She couldn’t leave poor Myra alone in the house with Victoria when she was being this awful. “Do you want to come to a barbecue at Paige’s house?”
Myra looked up and nodded quickly. “Yes, please.”
“Okay, we’ll go in about an hour, okay?”
Myra’s eyes dropped down the length of Sophie, taking in what she was wearing, then she scuttled down the hall to her room. Sophie watched her go, praying she wouldn’t choose an outfit exactly the same as her own—a printed summer maxi dress with pencil straps and denim jacket.
Sophie retrieved the dustpan and brush from the cupboard and cleaned up the glass. Moments after she’d finished, there was a knock at the door. When Sophie opened it, there stood Hannah.
“Oh. Hi.”
Hannah’s face and hair were expertly done—her hair an artfully messy topknot with her heavy eyelashes somehow complementing her glowing, fresh-looking skin and nude-coloured lipstick—and she was wearing Activewear. The whole thing totally worked as a lewk. And even though Hannah was the one wearing Lycra, Sophie felt weirdly underdressed.
Hannah held up a bottle of white wine. “Can I come in? I want to talk.”
“Um.”
Sophie had over an hour before Paige would even begin to consider her ‘late’. And if Sophie was honest with herself, she wanted to hear what Hannah had to say. She needed to figure out whether Hannah was someone she should, or could, welcome into her life.
“I’m heading out to a friend’s place, but I’ve got a bit of time, I guess,” she said, holding the door open wider for Hannah.
Hannah stepped inside, eyeing the interior with interest. Sophie gave her a brief tour, pointing out her bedroom but not actually inviting her to see inside properly—that felt like too much—and after a cursory glance at the kitchen and backyard, they settled in the living room with a glass of wine from the bottle of Sauvignon Blanc Hannah had brought with her.
“Josh was a mistake. I—” Hannah’s face twisted. Sophie frowned, trying to understand what that expression meant. She was hard to read, Sophie thought. Was that because of their similarities in appearance, or because they were related? Or was it simply that Hannah was good at concealing the truth?
“I didn’t know what he was like,” she continued. “He seemed nice. He came up to me at a bar, and of course now that I know about you, it makes sense,” she said with a rueful smile. “But now that we both know what he’s like, I say let’s forget him. Let’s move on. A fresh start. I was a bit, I don’t know, aggro when I first met you, but maybe we can start again?”
Sophie nodded.
“It was a lot to deal with, finding out about you.” Hannah gave her a small smile. “But I guess you must understand. It happened to you too, right?”
“Yeah.” Sophie gave her a tentative smile, pleased that Hannah was finally acknowledging they had gone through similar things, their father hopping between their two families. And that Hannah hadn’t been wronged by Sophie.
They fell silent, both sipping their wine. Out of the corner of her eye, Sophie saw Myra’s head peer around the door to the living room. Her mouth made a surprised O shape, and then retreated again.
“Great job with Trixie, by the way. She was so pleased with the way you cut and coloured her hair.”
“I know, right? I’ve done a beautician course, but I need to find a way into the scene. I think I’m good at it.”
“I think you are too.”
“I mean, it’s not as impressive as what you do. All that psychology stuff.”
“People are good at different things. One isn’t inherently better than the other, necessarily.”
Hannah made the screwed-up-nose face again. Sophie decided that Hannah did it when she was a little uncomfortable or didn’t quite know what to say.
“Here’s to getting rid of Josh,” Hannah said, leaning forward to clink her glass against Sophie’s. “What about you? How’s the love life?”
“Oh.” Sophie rolled her eyes.
“Ooh. Sounds like there’s some goss. Tell me.”
And so, without really meaning to, Sophie told Hannah all about Roman. And as they chatted and finished the bottle of wine, Sophie felt at ease, happy even, chatting about her love life with her sister. But once Hannah had gone, disappearing as suddenly as she had arrived and leaving Sophie standing in the hallway alone, she suddenly felt hollow, almost uneasy. As if she’d made a mistake along the way, but she didn’t know where or what it was.