Who is Sarah Lawson: A Captivating Psychological Thriller
Read Who is Sarah Lawson: A Captivating Psychological Thriller Online
Authors: K.J. Rabane
WHO
IS
SARAH LAWSON?
By
K.J.RABANE
Copyright © 201
2 K.J.Rabane
All rights reserved.
ISBN-10 -1480160768
ISBN-13 -978-1480160767
This book is a work of
fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Dedication
To Frank
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My thanks go to retired Police Sergeant Alan Lloyd, MBE for putting me on the right track, to Mrs Nona Evans for her tireless proof-reading, to Rebecca of Rebecca Sian Photography for the cover images, and to my husband and family for their enthusiastic support during the long, and it seems, sometimes, continuous process of editing this book.
K.J.
Rabane
has written for local newspapers, had short stories published in magazines and an anthology of crime fiction, in addition to which she's written television scripts for an on-going drama series, which is ready for submission. She is also a commissioned contributor to the Food & Drink Guide and works as a freelance supporting artist for film and television productions.
H
er main interest is in writing crime fiction and psychological thrillers but her novel According to Olwen falls into neither category. All her books are full of idiosyncratic characters and her crime fiction novels are plot driven.
Her poem Luminous socks was a finalist in the 2012 All Wales Poetry Competition and
her novel, Who is Sarah Lawson? reached the quarter finals of The Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award 2013 Competition. To check out a comprehensive list of all of K.J.Rabane's books visit www.kjrabane.co
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It was Thursday. I remember catching the bus to work, having lunch sitting in the park, and at five catching the bus back home in the rush hour traffic. I’ve gone over it again and again, not only to the police
but also to myself, and my version of the day’s events doesn’t change.
I walked down the lane from the bus
stop; next door’s cat wrapped itself around my ankles and an ambulance siren wailed in the distance. When I put my key in the lock, I had no premonition of what I was to find. The hallway smelled, as it always did, of furniture polish and lavender air freshener. I heard the sound of a strange voice coming from the kitchen before I saw the plastic scooter lying on its side at the bottom of the staircase.
“Sally, Jake, tea is ready – wash your hands fir
st remember.” I took a step backwards in the direction of the front door. Maybe I’d entered the wrong house? But my key was still in my hand and it had turned in the lock. Then I heard children’s footsteps running down the stairs followed by a girl of about eight and a boy who looked a year or two younger. They glanced briefly in my direction then called out, “Mum, Aunty Sarah’s here.”
At this point I was certain I was dreaming. I pinched my arm and felt a sharp pain shooting up to my shoulder as the kitchen door opened and a woman, with brown hair tied in a ponytail and wearing a floral apron, looked at me and said, “About time, where on earth have you been?”
I was dumbstruck. Who was she and why was she using my house as if it was her home?
“Do I know you?” I asked.
“Don’t start all that again, Sarah. If you want tea with the children you better say so, otherwise you’re going to make me late, I’m in the middle of cooking dinner.”
The woman turned on her heel and walked back into the kitchen from
which came the aroma of coffee and baking. It crossed my mind to think that neither smell would be present in my kitchen as I didn’t drink coffee and hadn’t baked anything since I’d moved in.
When my heart rate slowed to something approaching normal, I found the words tumbling out of my mouth in a torrent as I rushed after her.
“Look, whoever you are, what on earth are you doing in my house? I don’t know you or your children and if I don’t get a satisfactory explanation, I’m going to phone the police immediately. I’d also like to point out that my name is not Sarah, it’s Rowena.”
The woman was at the sink. She didn’t turn around but in a bored tone said, “I suppose you think that’s funny?”
The children looked on open mouthed.
“You’re the giddy limit, Sarah. You do realise you could frighten the children with all this nonsense.”
The feeling of being lost in the middle of a nightmare swirled around me like thick fog. I sat on one of the kitchen chairs, unhooked the telephone from the wall, and dialled 999.
“Emergency services? Police please. My name is Rowena Shaw and I live at 34
, Bramble Lane, Lockford Heath.”
The woman spun around.
“Sarah, this has gone far enough. How dare you? You know the penalty for wasting police time. I don’t understand what’s got into you. Is it about Andy? Is that the reason?” She wiped her hands on a towel. “You’ll have some explaining to do, my girl, not only to the police but to Andy when he comes home.”
I sat and stared at the unfamiliar scene – children eating their tea at the table I’d spent hours searching for, the woman preparing a meal for her husband. It seemed an age before the front doorbell rang. I stood up and went to answer it but before I could reach the hallway the woman hurried ahead of me and I smelled Mischief - my favourite perfume.
Through the opened door I could see a tall man getting out of his car in the driveway and two police officers waiting on the step. The woman stood back as a WPC stepped inside
, followed by a stocky policeman and the man whose car was parked in the driveway.
“Miss Shaw?” The WPC looked at the woman first then turned to me.
I sighed with relief. “Yes, that’s me”
“Sarah?” The tall man took my arm. “What’s this all about?”
I would say he was about six foot two maybe three with thick dark hair curling over his collar. He was wearing a business suit and carrying a laptop case. In the kitchen he spoke to the police officers.
“Look, I’m sorry you’ve been troubled. Sarah is my sister and I’m afraid she’s been having some memory problems resulting from an accident.”
I was even more baffled. I was his sister? This must be Andy. He looked nothing like me. For a start, my hair was the shade of pale blonde that people always found remarkable when they knew it hadn’t come out of a bottle, in addition to which he had dark brown eyes whereas mine were blue. Nevertheless, I couldn’t help looking for comparisons even though logic told me it was ridiculous to do so. I wanted to scream and shout but knew I would be playing into their hands. How easy it would be to write me off as suffering from delusions. Gradually my ‘brother’s’ words began to sink in as I watched the WPC taking notes - what was all this rubbish about an accident?
After she’d closed her notebook, she sat down beside me. “Miss Shaw?”
I could see what it must look like – the children, the husband and wife, all obviously at home in their kitchen and me, the mad aunt. How could I possibly explain that this was my house and I’d never seen any of them before? The man called Andy was talking to the policeman, his voice was lowered and I saw a look of sympathy etched on the police officer’s face. He nodded then spoke to his colleague, “I’m satisfied with the situation here. I think we should leave Mr and Mrs Lawson to finish their tea in peace.”
He didn’t look at me. I opened and closed my mouth, aware that my sanity was hanging by a thread, unable to find the right words and frightened at the prospect of being left alone in my house with these strangers. As she stood in the doorway, the WPC put her hand on my arm. “If you need any assistance in future, Miss Shaw, please give me a ring.” She removed a card from her pocket and slipped it into my hand.
I recognised that under the circumstances there was nothing more she could do so I nodded in bewilderment, as the door closed behind them leaving me staring at the tall man who ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “I don’t know what you think you’re playing at, Sarah. But if this goes on you do realise we’ll have to take you back to Dr Kilpatrick at the Hermitage.” He shot me a look of exasperation. “In view of this latest piece of nonsense, I think I should take you home right now.”
He
held my arm and marched me towards the front door. “I won’t be long, darling. Just taking Sarah home, put my dinner in the oven, I’ll eat it when I get back”
I followed in a daze, part of me intrigued as to where he was taking me and where my ‘home’ might be, the rest of me wandering in a maze of confusion. The power to shape my own destiny disappeared as I slid into the front seat of his car with an uncomfortable feeling that this was just the start
of it all.