Here are some sisters...in no particular order.
From an article in the Telegraph; this latter part cracked me up (which I need because at the moment, growl...):
It was 1975 and West was in her eighties. Her sister, aged 90, did most of the talking, while West fell into "the well-rehearsed role of recalcitrant younger sister... sighing loudly, casting her eyes up to heaven, looking at a nonexistent watch on her wrist, while her sister's voice winds on".
The sisters boasted and squabbled about their aristocratic connections, "calling each other 'dear' with emphatic frequency". The moment Fairfield left the room, West remarked: "Now you see. She's always been like this. I've had to listen to her all my life."
Which, as sisters don't tend to gush about each other, is really as close as one could get to a declaration of the love and fury that is so often the hallmark of the sibling bond.