Page 51 of Fifty-Fifty

‘What about letters or phone calls?’

‘Dad never wrote. Never called,’ she said, adopting that faraway stare again.

‘Before Mom died, Alexandra and I used to pass each other secret notes – so we

could play a match together without Mom noticing. Each note was a chess move.

It took months.’

‘Who won?’ I asked.

Sofia gave her attention back to me, looked into my eyes and said, ‘Neither of us. Mom died before we finished the game. Her neck caught in the stair rails …’

‘I know. A horrible accident.’

‘Was it an accident? Sometimes I wonder if Alexandra pushed her …’

‘Really?’

‘I remember her standing there, frightened. She was clutching her blue rabbit, crying. But maybe she wasn’t crying for Mom? Maybe she was crying because

of what she’d done?’

‘Did you ever talk about it with the police?’

‘No, I didn’t see the fall. I couldn’t. I’m sorry about this, I shouldn’t be burdening you with my family problems—’

‘What? Look, I’m your lawyer, Sofia. This is all part of my job. I’m glad you’re telling me this. And I’m sorry you couldn’t reach me earlier. My cell was turned off. Harper’s too, I guess. Did you call us before or after you …’

‘I cut myself? After. It wouldn’t stop bleeding. I thought I might need a doctor and Harper said not to call anyone. If something happened I should call her or you. She said there didn’t need to be any more entries on my medical records. I know those look bad. I just got to thinking about my dad, about the case, and then it all builds up, you see. Like pressure. Sometimes running helps. When I nick my skin it kind of lets it all out. I didn’t want to go to the emergency room, I don’t want to make things worse.’

I didn’t want to confirm that right now. It wasn’t the time. But she was right. Her mental health history was a weapon for Dreyer to beat her with.

‘It’s very early days in your case, Sofia. When we have all of the prosecution evidence we’ll know more. Right now, they have some forensics to tie you and

your sister to your father’s body and the murder weapon – a kitchen knife.’

‘But I used that knife to slice chicken and vegetables. We both cooked for him. Well, actually, Alexandra cooked for Dad. I cooked for myself – he was never too keen on eating what I prepared for him. He was a fussy eater. Towards the end he didn’t mind though. He was kind of … fuzzy in his last few months. I thought he was getting dementia, to tell you the truth.’

‘Why did you think that at the time?’

‘He was forgetful. Some days he was fine, some days he got my name wrong.

Some days he called out for Jane.’

‘Your mother?’ She looked at the floor, took another sip, muttered, yeah, under her breath. Sometimes Sofia was like a kid. If I brought up something painful, she almost reverted to a childlike state – dealing with all that grief through a child’s perspective. Even now, a glass of hard liquor in her hand, her fingers slid into the decorative grooves near the base of glass, and she caressed each cut and indentation, feeling the pattern. She brought the glass to her lips, took a long sniff, then a drink, and touched her lips – as if she had to confirm the alcohol would feel sticky and wet to the touch. She caught me looking at her, shook her head and put the drink down.

‘Harper told me she talked to you. Said you talked about your dad, how he tried everything to help you. And your mom was a tough lady. I wanted to ask

about your sister.’

‘What do you want to know?’

‘What was it like, growing up with your sister?’

‘Hell. Total hell. She made my life a misery. We didn’t talk, we didn’t play together. It was kind of a war. After Mom died, Dad sent us away to different boarding schools. I couldn’t have cut it in Alexandra’s school, and he couldn’t deal with two young girls and run the city. We were left alone. In our worlds, you know?’

I didn’t know. I couldn’t really imagine that.