The Sister: A psychological thriller with a brilliant twist you won't see coming (27 page)

‘
D
on’t suppose
you’ve got a fag?’ Lexie asks.

‘No.’

‘Thought not.’ We lie in stunned silence. There’s a wall of unanswered questions dividing us and I don’t know where to begin knocking it down.

‘I knew when you didn’t turn up for visiting yesterday that something was wrong. When I got your text first thing—’

‘Not my text.’

‘From your number anyway, asking me to come here, I did a runner. Hitched a ride from a bakery van. You’ve met my Belle, then?’

‘Anna.’

‘Anna?’

‘Dan…’

‘Dan? You’re not making any bleedin’ sense, girl. Spit it out.’

‘Dan has… He was unfaithful.’ The knot of anxiety in my stomach twists tighter and tighter as words tumble out of me.

Lexie’s eyes glisten as I go back to the beginning and tell her how much Charlie wanted to find her father. Her brow creases as I admit I stole the photo of Paul, tried to trace him through social media, but she sits silent and still. By the time I’ve told her how Anna got a job behind the bar she knew Dan drank in, how she seduced and blackmailed him, how she moved in and led me to believe she was Charlie’s half-sister, Lexie’s face is as white as the pillow she rests against.

‘She deliberately targeted Dan?’

‘Yes. She filmed them having sex. Dan says he can barely remember the night at all. I didn’t believe him, but I do now. I think she’s crazy enough to have spiked his drinks. She probably thought if she wrote to you, you’d ignore her… Again.’

Lexie flinches.

‘I think you owe me an explanation, don’t you? I take it from the birth certificates that Belle and Charlie were twins?’

‘Yeah.’

‘And Charlie never knew?

‘No.’

‘Why?’

‘It’s complicated,’ Lexie snaps. She picks at a stray thread on her bandage and pulls until it begins to fray.

‘Complicated?’ I explode. ‘
I’ll
tell
you
what’s complicated.
Your
daughter lost me my job, my relationship, killed my cat and then tried to burn my cottage down with me inside.’

‘What? How did…’

I raise my hands as though her words will just bounce off them.

‘You. Start. Talking.’

Lexie sighs so hard her body judders. ‘I told you the truth, you know.’ I have to lean forward to hear her hushed tone. ‘About Paul being the dad. But he didn’t know I was pregnant. He didn’t leave because of that. He left because he thought his ex-girlfriend was pregnant and he wanted to go home to talk her into having an abortion.’

‘Why?’

Lexie pauses for the longest time and I fight the compulsion to grab her shoulders and shake the words from her.

‘Have you heard of Marfan’s?’

‘No.’

‘It’s a hereditary disease. Paul was a carrier. He didn’t want a family of his own. Didn’t want to risk passing it on. I didn’t know too much about it, but he said it can cause sudden heart failure, especially during exertion.’

‘Charlie. The race.’ I cover my mouth with my hands.

‘Yeah. That’s why I blamed you. If she hadn’t run, she probably wouldn’t have died. Not then anyway.’

‘But I didn’t know…’

‘I know. Neither did she. I wasn’t being fair. It was easier to blame you than to look at my own failings. I didn’t know she had it. There were symptoms to look out for. Being really tall…’

‘She
was
really tall.’

‘But not fucking giant-like, was she? She wasn’t tired. Didn’t get aches and pains. Stretch marks. She had none of the signs. None.’

‘Isn’t there screening? Couldn’t she have been tested?’

‘I didn’t tell the doctors it was a possibility. I was young and shit-scared. Tried to pretend I wasn’t pregnant, didn’t go for any check-ups, but I was huge. Looked like I had a bleedin’ watermelon stuffed up me jumper. Me parents slung me out, never spoke to me again and I slept on friends’ sofas until I went into labour. The worst experience of me life. Then as soon as one came out, the pain started again and they said there was another on the way. Fucking twins! I was seventeen. Nowhere to live, no money, but I loved them as soon as I saw them.’

‘So what happened?’

‘I got a council house, benefits, some cash-in-hand cleaning. I was knackered all the time, but we got by. I was scared, though, always scared they’d be ill. I found it hard enough to cope with two healthy babies. Didn’t know what I’d do if one of them was sick.’

‘And was Belle? Sick?’

‘She was different. I didn’t know if it was the disease. Never happy. She cried all the time when she was a baby and as she got older she had massive tantrums.’

‘That’s normal.’

‘She’d smash things up and lie to my face, deny it was her. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat.’

‘Did you see a doctor?’

‘She said I was depressed. That Belle would grow out of it, but then Charlie started being naughty too. She never was before. Said Belle told her to do things. Whenever I told Belle off, she’d hurt Charlie: biting, punching. I caught her playing with me fags and matches one day. Gave her a slap round the legs. I was hanging out the washing later on when I smelled the smoke. Belle rushed outside. Charlie was up at the bedroom window. I thought I’d lost her.’ Lexie’s voice cracks and I almost feel sorry for her, but then I remember how outraged she had been when I asked her about the fire Charlie remembered. How she’d lied to my face. How she’d convinced Charlie that she had an overactive imagination, that all her memories were false.

‘Social services got involved then. Placed Belle in temporary foster care to give me a break, but it was so much easier without her. Charlie was happier. I was happier. I refused to have her back. Tried to pretend she never existed. Every time Charlie mentioned her, I told her Belle was an imaginary friend: not real.’

‘I can’t believe she fell for that.’

‘Can you remember being four?’

I think. ‘No.’

‘Children have short memories; believe what you want them to believe.’

‘So when Anna got in touch…’

‘It was such a bleedin’ shock. I panicked. Didn’t know what to do. How to tell Charlie I’d kept her sister hidden all these years. Tried to drink myself into oblivion.’

‘I think that’s when Anna involved me, when she didn’t get a reaction from you. Remember those notes I got?’

There’s silence. A sigh. ‘They weren’t from Belle.’

‘Not Charlie?’ Horror rises.
I’ve done something terrible.
How could she?

‘No.’ Lexie shakes her head. ‘They were from me.’

‘You?’ I recoil as though she has physically struck me.

‘I’m so sorry, Grace.’

‘You? You sent me a box of dog shit? Why?’ I’m shaking with rage and I sit on my hands to stop myself from grabbing her straggly hair and yanking it from her scalp.

‘I was a bleedin’ mess at that time. At your eighteenth party you came into my room when I was crashed out on the bed. I overheard you tell Charlie you’d help her find her dad, egging her on, and I panicked. That’s the last thing I wanted. Thought if I distracted you, then you’d forget. But you didn’t. All that Jeremy Kyle shit. The “a girl in our class found her dad” conversations. Did you think I was stupid? After the first letter, I couldn’t stop. It all got out of hand. I didn’t want Charlie to meet him. To find out she might have an illness that could kill her. To look into birth certificates and find out about Belle. I didn’t want her to hate me. I loved her so much. But I drove her away.’

‘Why did she go?
What did you do?
’ I’m shouting now, but I don’t care.

Lexie’s face is bone-white, her cheeks hollow. There’s a thin layer of sweat beading on her top lip. I’m glad she looks as bad as I feel.

‘Charlie was putting my shoes back in my wardrobe after the New Year’s party and she found a half-finished letter I was making to send you, the cut-up newspaper and glue. She was inconsolable. I promised I’d stop. Begged her not to tell anyone. She said she wouldn’t betray me by telling you, and I thought it’d be OK, but then Siobhan had to go and die.’

‘She didn’t “go and die”; she OD’d because she was so lonely. We all blamed her for the letters. Nobody talked to her. Those junkies were her only friends.’

‘Charlie said Siobhan would be alive if I hadn’t sent the letters. She was furious. I was terrified what might happen if the police got involved and the truth came out. I begged Charlie to promise that she’d never tell anyone, especially you, Grace.’

‘She hated liars. You turned her into one.’

‘She didn’t want to lie. She wanted to tell you the truth, but I said she had to choose. You or me. And she promised me she’d never tell but said she couldn’t stay. Couldn’t bear to look at me. Or face you.’

Please forgive me, Grace. I’ve done something terrible.
The promise she’d made… The secret she’d kept. How could I ever have thought she had sent the letters?

‘You’re disgusting.’

‘I know, Grace, but I…’

She reaches out her hand and I slap it away. ‘Don’t fucking touch me.’

‘Fine.’ We spend the next few moments lost in our thoughts.

‘Let’s just get out of here,’ Lexie says.

‘Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. What would I do without you?’

‘Drop the attitude, Grace. It doesn’t suit you. We need to make a plan. Work together.’

The silence is thick, broken only by the clattering of Anna moving around the kitchen downstairs.

‘What can we do?’ I ask. ‘We can’t break the wood. There’s no one to hear us scream. I couldn’t pick the lock…’

‘Pick the lock?’

‘Look.’ I pull the hairgrip from under my pillow.

Lexie snatches it.

‘I’ve already tried.’

‘There’s an art. Dagenham Dave taught me.’ The tip of Lexie’s tongue pokes between her teeth as she eases the grip into the lock of her cuff, twists it around.

‘Gotcha.’ Lexie opens the cuff, frees her ankle. ‘Even one-handed I’ve still got the knack.’ She grins and, despite myself, I grin back.

‘Do mine. Quickly.’

Lexie leans over, fumbles with the hairgrip. There’s a click and I almost cry with relief as the pressure on my ankle eases.

‘Let’s go.’

But footsteps crash up the stairs and the bedroom door begins to swing open.

L
exie’s feet
are on the floor but I grab her arm and frown.

‘The knife,’ I hiss. ‘We need to wait.’ Lexie nods. She swings her legs back into bed and I drape the quilt over our feet, hoping that Anna doesn’t check the cuffs and chains. My pulse gallops as Anna enters the room. I can feel the tension radiating from Lexie and I pray that she won’t do anything rash. Anna clanks the tray down on the dressing table and picks up the knife with one hand, a bowl with the other.

‘Pasta.’ She hands the dish to Lexie, backs away, fetches a second for me.

My stomach lurches as Parmesan and garlic mingle in my nostrils. The mince is clumped together; grease pools on the surface.

Anna drags my dressing table stool over to the door and perches on the floral seat. I’d been delighted when I discovered that stool in the little second-hand shop on the high street. I’d spent ages rubbing down the legs and varnishing them, before choosing the fabric from John Lewis to upholster the seat. Now I want to burn it.

Anna picks up a third bowl and forks pasta into her mouth. ‘Eat,’ she mumbles.

I pick up the bowl. Swirl spaghetti strands around. Promise myself that if I ever get out of here, I’m never eating pasta again.

‘I’m not fucking eating.’ Lexie throws the bowl across the room. It falls before it reaches Anna. Tomato sauce soaks into the smoke-stained carpet.

‘You. Just. Can’t. Be. Nice. Can you?’ Anna slams her food down. The dressing-table mirror vibrates. Sweat trickles between my breasts.

‘Nice? You’ve chained me to a bed.’

‘At least I didn’t give you away.’ Anna’s hand spiders over the knife; her fingers curl around the black handle.

‘At last, she gets to the fucking point,’ Lexie says. ‘What do you want? An apology? I’m sorry, all right?’

‘I want…’ Anna’s breath judders. ‘I wanted a meal with my mum. And now it’s spoiled.’ She raises the knife. I draw my knees up, ready to spring to Lexie’s defence, but Anna drives the blade into her own thigh, slicing the skin open. Blood stains Charlie’s white shorts crimson. I realise that the scars I’d seen on Anna’s body at the spa must all have been self-inflicted.

‘Belle!’

Anna lifts the knife. Thrusts it down, scraping it across her skin, drawing the perfect cross. Her face is as white as the shorts once were.

‘Belle, don’t. I am sorry.’ Lexie’s voice is pleading.

‘Why didn’t you love me?’ Anna sounds desperate, and as much as I want to hate her, I can’t help feeling sorry for her.

‘I did love you. I do. I thought it was for the best.’ Lexie’s voice wobbles. ‘I thought you’d have a better life.’

‘Why give up me and not her? What did I do that was so terrible?’

Lexie reaches out and takes my hand. Her palm is clammy. ‘I don’t know. I’m sorry. I couldn’t cope with both of you.’

‘Nobody could cope with me.’

‘Was it your foster parents who were killed?’ I ask.

‘Killed?’

‘In the car, on the way to the seaside.’

‘I made that up so you’d feel sorry for me. There were no foster parents. I was shoved from pillar to post. “Oh Belle’s so disruptive.” “Oh, Belle’s a bad influence.” When I got to twelve, no one wanted me; they wanted the cute ones. I lived in a care home. Oliver fucking Twist. Do you know how depressing those places are? The only thing I had was the photo you left. We looked so happy in it: you, me and Charlie. I slept with it under my pillow every night. I couldn’t understand what had gone wrong.’

‘Oh, Belle,’ Lexie says. ‘I’ve fucked up. I know. But this isn’t the answer, keeping us here.’

‘It was the only thing I could think of to make you listen. For years, the only thing that kept me going was the thought that when I turned eighteen I could find you, Mum. We could find Charlie together. But Charlie was with you all along. You kept her. Having a great time, while I…’

‘I wasn’t having a great time. I gave you up because I was depressed…’

‘Were you still depressed eighteen years later? Why didn’t you answer my letters?’

‘It was a shock.’

‘I hated you then, wanted to hurt you, make you suffer, make…’

‘Why didn’t you?’ I interject. ‘You broke contact for six years. Why?’

‘Because I stopped needing her. I had a family of my own. People who loved me.’

‘You have a family?’

‘I married a boy from the home, Sam. We were so happy. We got a flat. Not a council one, either. Ground floor, with a garden. I made a little rockery, planted some herbs.’ Anna stares into the distance as though she can see something we can’t. ‘Sam wanted a pond with some fish in, but I really wanted a kitten. He brought one home from work one day. He always let me have my own way. She was black with white feet. We called her Socks. He never did get a pond, was afraid she’d eat the fish.’

‘Sam sounds nice.’ I keep my tone soft.

‘He was. We were saving up for our own house. The flat wasn’t big enough, not with Lucas.’ Anna closes her eyes.

‘Lucas?’ Lexie grips my fingers so tightly I’m afraid my bones might snap.

‘We had so many baby toys. There was barely room to move. I couldn’t stop buying him things. Sam told me off. We were supposed to be saving, but I loved Lucas so much. I wanted him to have all the things I’d never had.’

‘What happened, Anna? Where’s Lucas?’ I am cold. I already know the answer. Lexie presses against me. I can feel her trembling.

‘We’d been swimming.’ Anna’s voice is small and tight. ‘He loved the water. I’d sit him in his orange duck ring and he’d kick his legs and giggle like mad. He fell asleep on the bus on the way home. I carried him up to bed. Switched the monitor on. I thought I shut his door. Went downstairs to do the ironing, but I was tired. I was always tired. I lay on the sofa and closed my eyes. Didn’t wake up till Sam came home. I panicked when I saw how late it was. Lucas never napped for longer than an hour.’ Anna pauses and I hold my breath. ‘I ran to his room. He was so still. My beautiful boy. Socks was purring in the cot next to him. Sam was screaming that the cat shouldn’t be in the nursery. He scooped Lucas from the cot – he was so floppy – and breathed into his mouth, but…’ Anna is rigid. Panting. ‘They took him away. I didn’t want them to take him away.’

Lexie covers her mouth with her hands, but she can’t contain her anguished cry.

‘It was my fault. I should have been more careful. Sam left me.’ Anna’s body convulses as she wails. ‘Everyone leaves me. I just wanted my mum. I just needed my mum.’

The knife drops onto the carpet as Anna covers her face with her palms. Rocks backwards and forwards, keening like an injured animal.

‘Oh, my poor baby girl.’ Lexie slips from the bed. Drops to her knees in front of Anna, wrenches off her sling and wraps Anna in her arms. ‘I’m here, Belle, I’m here.’

‘Mummy.’

‘Shh. It wasn’t your fault. It was probably genetic – there’s a disease, a genetic disease. Charlie had it; you could have had it, passed it on. There’s nothing you could have done.’

‘Genetic? So it’s your fault?
YOU KILLED MY BABY!
’ Anna screams, pushes her weight forwards and Lexie topples backwards.

I feel suspended, like the marionette I used to own: strings tight, unable to move without direction. Lexie screams and I remember Dan’s words.
You can do anything.
I throw back the covers, jump out of bed. I land awkwardly and pain rips through my left ankle – the one I twisted during the race against Charlie – and I’m splayed on the floor. My ankle burns and for a moment, I’m back in that day. Charlie on the ground. The fear. The panic.

And then I’m clutching the drawers, hoisting myself to my feet, lurching towards Anna. Her hand curves over the knife, her fingers clasp the handle, and I hurl myself forward, grab her wrist. The blade slashes my thigh and I feel the pressure but don’t feel any pain, am surprised to see a crimson line stain my pale pink pyjama bottoms. I get hold of the knife handle over Anna’s fingers and don’t let go, but I step back as it swishes through the air again.

‘It’s OK, sweetie.’ Lexie clings on to Anna like a baby monkey with its arms wrapped around its mother’s neck. ‘Mummy’s here.’

‘Mummy.’ Anna’s fingers slacken and sobs wrench through her body. I whisk the knife away. Stumble downstairs to find a phone.