The Sister I Never Was

42 Cherry Tree Lane

It makes Amelia shudder to think that she was contemplating not answering her phone that morning. She'd had a late night the night before, working on designs until the early hours, and Amelia really wasn't considering getting out of bed until at least twelve o'clock. She was so close to turning over the glaring screen and falling back into her peaceful sleep. 

How would she have found out if she'd just done that? Who would've been the person to tell her? 

The conversation was a blur. Amelia doesn't remember much of what was said or getting out of bed or even getting dressed, though she has no doubt that she stumbled around the whole time. She just remembers emptying her drawers into her suitcase, not caring about what she was packing and not even realizing that she'd packed about two pairs of trousers and fifty t-shirts.

Soon enough, Amelia had slipped into her Gucci red velvet loafers and was out the door, running towards the train station with just enough cash in her hand, trying to make sense of what she'd just heard. It simply just couldn't be true. 

Jamie had died. 

She made the train with plenty of time, and found the most secluded seat so that she could be alone with her thoughts. This in itself was a mistake as the whole train ride consisted of Amelia replaying two words over and over, the only two words that Amelia could remember from the ten minute phone call "he's dead." 

He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. 

So many thoughts were racing through her mind. How were her family reacting? Her sister, Juliet, Jamie's fiancee, how was she coping? Amelia's mum and dad who were ready to officially welcome him into the family on his wedding day- how're they doing? What state will Juliet be in when Amelia arrives at her house?

And why is Amelia even on this train heading to her sister's house? 

Nothing she could possibly say would make it any better. She hadn't seen her family in three years after all. She couldn't expect them to welcome her with open arms after she walked out on them and erased all contact with her mother. 

Ever the pessimist, Amelia couldn't even attempt to distract herself and was completely consumed in her thoughts until the train pulled into Brighton Railway Station. 

The weather was too nice for the circumstances. Amelia had seen enough TV shows and films to know that when someone died it was supposed to rain and hail. Instead, Amelia was greeted with blistering sun and tourists and locals walking around in bikini tops and short shorts and over-sized sunglasses. They were walking around, laughing with their friends and partners with no cares in the world.

It didn't seem right. These people shouldn't be having fun when there's a woman in the same city grieving for her dead fiance. Did they have no consideration for her at all? 

A line of taxis waited outside the railway station so Amelia walked over to the front one, her suitcase trailing behind her, and knocked on the window gently.

The tinted window rolled down and exposed a young gentleman with what looked like soft black hair and a well cared for beard. He glanced over the top of his dark sunglasses and if Amelia was in the right frame of mind, her work frame of mind, she definitely would've complimented the dark blue shade of his eyes, and told him the shade of his grey shirt suited them perfectly.  

"Where are you off to?" He asked, a friendly tone to his voice. 

"Can you take me to this address..." Amelia fumbled in her jacket pockets looking for her phone to find the address her father had text her. "Here it is," she said, scrolling through her messages, "42 Cherry Tree Street." 

"Cherry Tree Street?" The driver questioned, sounding a little too taken aback for Amelia's liking.

"Yes, please tell me you've heard of it because I definitely won't be able to direct you." Amelia sighed in desperation. 

"I know Cherry Tree Street, stick your suitcase in the boot and I'll get you there." 

Grateful, Amelia heaved her suitcase into the boot and slid into the passenger seat next to the driver, gazing out the window and appreciating the beauty of her hometown that she hadn't seen in three years.

"Not from around here then are you?" The driver asked, clearly attempting to initiate a conversation that Amelia did not want to have. 

"Nope." 

"Visiting anyone nice?" 

"My sister." 

"She must be living pretty comfortably, living in that area..." The driver trailed off, seeming to sense the tension in the car, "lots of nice houses up there." 

"Yeah, I don't think she's struggling." Amelia commented, and then completely regretted her choice of words. "To be honest, I don't really know. I haven't seen her for a few years. I'm not even sure what she does for a living."

"What do you do for a living?" 

The question Amelia dreads. By this age, twenty three, Amelia is not as high up the fashion industry chain and she wished to be. She's certainly getting there, but she promised her mother she'd be much, much, more by this age to prove her wrong.

"I'm a fashion designer for a small independent company." Was the best way for her to say that she gets paid minimum wage to draw pretty drawings and have them thrown in the bin in front of her. 

The driver snorted slightly, which Amelia thought was slightly uncalled for. "Of course," He said, and mumbled something again about Cherry Tree Lane. "Must be a special occasion for you to come back now then," he changed the topic of conversation, clearly trying to pry further into Amelia's life. 

Amelia wasn't too sure what was too much to say, to a guy that she'd only just met, about her troubled past- and now present- but his chatting was beginning to irritate her. "Her fiance died last night. I haven't seen my family for a long time and now I'm going back to help her grieve over a guy that I feel as though I don't have the right to grieve over myself." 

That shut him up, but Amelia felt a pang of guilt. He mumbled a quick apology and the remaining few minutes of the journey were spent in an uncomfortable silence. 

It was only when Amelia could no longer see the Brighton pier in the horizon that the car came to slow. The driver was not wrong when he said that Amelia's sister, Juliet, must've been living comfortably. The street was basically just a row of mansions, and although they seemed to have pulled up outside the smallest of the lot, it was definitely considerably larger than any house Amelia ever dreamed of owning. 

It was a beautiful white house with large windows, protected by a wall of greenery that was so thick that Amelia could only just see the small water fountain in front of her house. 

"This is the right address?" Amelia asked, certainly not expecting any of this. 

"42 Cherry Tree Lane, Miss."