The Girls by Lisa Jewell Page A

like that with a boy, particularly a boy who wasn’t her boyfriend.
    The three sisters sat in a row at the garden table, Adele at the far end with her arm draped across Catkin’s shoulders. They were tribal somehow, Pip thought, distinguishable only by their different haircuts.
    ‘Sit down, girls,’ said Adele, smiling at Grace and Pip as though she thought they were quaint or amusing in some way. ‘Have some juice.’
    Adele was wearing a long-sleeved dress with a black and red pattern on it and old black plimsolls. Her thick dark hair was plaited and hanging over her shoulder. She had three holes in her left ear and a tiny pinprick golden stud in her nostril. The afternoon sun caught her cheekbones and the stud in her nose as she chatted with the children and Pip thought she was one of the most beautiful mums she’d ever seen, particularly as she was quite old – at least forty, she reckoned.
    After they’d eaten the snacks, the children started to drift into Adele’s flat.
    ‘Where’s your granddad?’ Tyler asked, looking about suspiciously.
    ‘Don’t know,’ said Willow.
    ‘He’s having a nap,’ said Adele. ‘So try not to be too noisy.’ Then she disappeared, leaving the children alone in the living room. The sisters arranged themselves across the enormous modular sofa and Tyler and Dylan sat on the floor with their backs against the sofa edge and the dog nestled between them. Pip squashed herself against Grace in an armchair and wondered what would happen next. The atmosphere felt strangely charged. Nobody was really talking. She wondered for a moment if it was something to do with them. If maybe they weren’t supposed to be here. She was about to whisper into Grace’s ear: Shall we go? when Tyler suddenly fixed them both with her chilly gaze and said, ‘Is it true that your dad set fire to your house?’
    Pip felt Grace’s body stiffen. ‘Who told you that?’
    Tyler shrugged. ‘My mum. She said she saw you lot in Waitrose the other day and she recognised your mum from the papers when it happened. Is it true?’
    Pip caught her breath and waited for her sister to reply.
    ‘No,’ said Grace, a moment too late, ‘it’s not true. Our dad’s dead. Your mum’s wrong.’
    Tyler picked up her shoulders and said, ‘Whatever. I could always Google it.’
    ‘Feel free,’ said Grace.
    ‘What’s your dad called?’
    ‘I told you,’ said Grace, ‘he’s dead.’
    ‘Then what was he called?’
    Pip saw Dylan nudge Tyler hard with his elbow. Tyler threw him back a dirty look.
    ‘David,’ said Grace, again a beat too slow. ‘He was called David.’
    Tyler nodded, unconvinced. ‘So is that why you moved here, then?’ she continued. ‘Cos your dad died?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Grace.
    ‘What did he die of?’
    ‘Cancer.’
    ‘What kind?’
    ‘Lung.’
    Tyler nodded again. Then she got to her feet and said, ‘Can we go and play with the chinchilla, Wills?’ Her manner was affectedly bored and offhand. She yawned. But though she was feigning ennui, it was obvious to Pip that was she rattled.
    After she and Willow had left the room, Dylan turned to Grace and said, ‘Sorry about that. She can be a bit …’
    ‘Yeah,’ agreed Grace, ‘what is her problem?’
    Catkin stalked across the room to the fruit-bowl and picked up a plum. ‘She’s jealous,’ she said examining the plum in minute detail, turning it over and over in her hand before finally biting into it.
    Grace frowned. ‘What of?’
    ‘Jealous of everyone, really. But especially of you two.’
    ‘What? Why? ’
    ‘No particular reason. It’s just, you know’ – she waved the plum around the room in an arc – ‘this is her territory. You’re the new cats.’
    Pip and Grace exchanged a glance. ‘That’s really silly,’ said Pip.
    ‘Yeah, well,’ said Dylan, getting to his feet and helping himself to a plum from the bowl as if this was his own home, ‘Tyler’s got issues. I mean, her home life – it’s quite