We Were Sisters: An absolutely gripping psychological thriller

by Wendy Clarke

  Kelly can’t bear it. ‘I’ll help you.’

  She pulls at Freya’s sleeve, trying to free her small pointed elbow from the stretched material, but as she tugs, the towel loosens from Freya’s fingers and slips down. Her face white, Freya grabs at it and drags it back, clutching it to her but not before Kelly has seen. From her chest to where her shorts start, the skin is pale pink, puckered and ridged as though someone has ironed it on a too-high setting. Kelly stands mesmerised. Fascinated and revolted in equal measures.

  Forcing down her T-shirt, Freya backs away. Her pale eyes fixed on Kelly. ‘I hate you.’

  When she turns and runs, her feet sliding on the slippery tiles, Kelly realises these are the first words she’s heard Freya utter.

  15

  July 28th

  I know it’s been a while, but I was sorting through some things and came across this picture. It’s a copy of one we took on her birthday and I think you’ll agree she looks very happy. I just wanted you to know that. It made me wonder whether the two of you look alike. Anyway, I just thought you might like to have it.

  All the best

  16

  Kelly Now

  Maddie opens the door at the first ring. ‘Kelly, what a nice surprise.’

  I force a smile, knowing it’s not true. Whenever I see Maddie without Mitch, it feels awkward. We try to pretend this isn’t the case, but it’s hard to ignore the uncomfortable silences when he’s not with us. It was Isabella who had insisted we come. She’d said it wasn’t fair that she’d seen the kitten and Sophie hadn’t, and even though I’d known it was just a ruse for her to hold the kitten again, I’d agreed. After the afternoon I’d just had – Noah’s constant crying, the girls arguing – I’d have agreed to anything that got me out of the house. Now I’m wondering if it was such a good idea.

  ‘Can we see the kitten? Can we see the kitten?’ Isabella does a little jig on the doorstep, craning her neck to see inside. ‘I want to hold him again.’

  I pull her back by the sleeve of her coat. ‘Izzy, mind your manners. I’m sorry, Maddie. We were just passing, but if you’re busy…’

  Maddie shakes her head. ‘Don’t be silly. You’re here now. I was just getting things ready for my next client, but she’s not due for another hour and a half. Mitch not with you then?’

  It’s said lightly, but I can tell she’s disappointed.

  ‘He went to the site.’ Even as I’m saying it, it sounds unlikely. Why would he go on a Sunday? He didn’t stay long at the pub last night but, even so, after the conversation we had, we’ve both been walking on eggshells and, to be honest, I’m glad he’s not come with me.

  ‘Are you feeling all right, Kelly? You look very pale.’

  What can I tell her? That I’m kept awake at night, not only by my baby, but by the thought of the locket in my jewellery box. Or maybe I could say that since I saw the village where I used to live, memories have been crowding in – threatening to tear me apart and leave me in pieces.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I say.

  I’m feeling more uncomfortable by the minute; I know my company isn’t enough. ‘We won’t stay long. Noah will be wanting his next feed soon and then all hell will let loose.’

  Maddie looks down at Noah, who’s kicking at his blanket, then back up again. ‘Honestly, it’s not a problem. Come inside and I’ll make us all a drink.’

  The girls run in and Maddie helps lift Noah’s pram into her bright hallway. Although her house is almost identical to ours in layout, it looks very different. It’s warm and inviting, the saffron-yellow walls adorned with colourful prints advertising local art exhibitions. A rag rug, in geometric patterns, runs down the centre of the floor and twisted around the banisters are fairy lights in the shape of dragonflies. I look at all these things and wonder why I’ve never felt comfortable here.

  ‘He’s in here.’ Isabella runs ahead into the living room and by the time we’ve joined her, she’s laying on her stomach, peering under the settee. ‘He’s hiding. Come out kitty cat.’

  Sophie crouches down next to her and Maddie and I watch them in an awkward silence. I’m grateful when the kitten at last emerges from its hiding place.

  Isabella scoops it up and holds it to her chest before Sophie gets the chance to touch it. ‘If you’re good, you can hold it too,’ she says to her sister, and I smile because Sophie is always good.

  ‘Come on, Izzy. Let Sophie have a turn.’ Lifting the kitten from Isabella’s lap, I hand it to Sophie, who buries her face in its fur. Isabella scowls, but I ignore her.

  ‘Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?’ Maddie asks.

  What I want to do is to say no and go back home as soon as Sophie has had enough of the soft ball of fluff she’s holding on her lap, but I don’t. It would be rude and that’s something my mother would have hated. I bite my cheek – annoyed that she’s wormed her way into my thoughts. Why should I care what she would have thought? It’s not as if I’ve seen her in years.

  Crouching next to the twins, I stroke the kitten’s head, trying to relax. ‘A coffee would be nice, thank you.’

  As I turn my head to smile at Maddie, Isabella uses it as an opportunity to take the kitten out of Sophie’s hands. I stop her and tell her off, but it worries me. How on earth can I expect Sophie to manage at school if, at other times, I’m constantly there to help her? No wonder she’s unhappy. I picture her in the playground waiting patiently for a turn on the slide while others push in front or, worse still, standing on her own with no one to play with. Mitch is right. I need to start letting her fight her own battles.

  Leaving the children to it, I go into the kitchen to see if there’s anything I can do to help, but Maddie waves away my offer. Pulling out a wooden stool from the breakfast bar, she gestures for me to sit, then hands me a mug with You are what you want to be written on it.

  There’s an earthenware vase filled with fat spikes of lilac on the breakfast bar and Maddie picks it up. ‘Sorry, they’re a bit overpowering, aren’t they?’ She takes them over to the Welsh dresser on the other side of the room where they join an assortment of paperwork and a wooden bowl filled with gourds of all shapes and sizes. Next to me, her mug of tea steams, its fragrance astringent.

  ‘Ginseng and thyme,’ Maddie says, even though I haven’t asked. ‘It’s good for you. Supposed to keep you calm yet focussed.’

  Pulling out the stool next to me, she perches on the edge of it, one long leg reaching to the floor. Her other foot rests on the wooden bar. Whatever she drinks, it must be doing her good as she looks a picture of health. Needing the caffeine, I take a sip of my coffee, trying hard not to compare Maddie’s clear skin with my own, which is in dire need of sleep and attention.

  ‘How’s Mitch?’ she asks brightly. ‘Work going well?’

  I wonder if she’s just making conversation. Does she really want to know or has Mitch already told her and she’s just being polite? That’s the problem with Mitch having known Maddie for so much longer than he’s known me. He tells her things about our life. Some of which should stay private.

  ‘He’s good,’ I say, deciding to give her the benefit of the doubt. ‘In fact, he’s just started a new project in Hove that he’s excited about. It’s bigger than his usual contracts so will mean he’ll have to take on more labourers. Should be pretty lucrative, though.’

  Maddie runs a finger around the top of her mug. ‘That’s good,’ she says. ‘And what about you, Kelly?’

  ‘Well, you know. Mitch told you about Noah. How difficult he is at the moment.’

  ‘What you need is a change of scene. If you and Mitch want to go out, I could look after the kids.’

  From the living room, I can hear Isabella telling Sophie how to hold the kitten. How to stroke it properly. I think about intervening, but I’m just too tired. ‘I couldn’t ask you to do that. It’s not just the girls, it’s Noah. Besides, I’m still breastfeeding him.’

  ‘You must come here then.’ Maddie spreads her fingers on the
table. Her nails are painted a dark blackberry. ‘The girls can sleep in the spare room and you can bring a travel cot for Noah. I’ll invite some others too. It will be fun. Tell Mitch it’s about time we had a proper catch-up.’

  I want to say no. Tell her that all I want to do, when the long day turns to evening, is sleep, but I’m not sure what Mitch’s reaction would be if I did that. After all, Maddie was his best friend before I took over that role.

  ‘What about next Saturday?’ Maddie is looking expectantly at me and I know I’ll have to answer.

  ‘I’ll check with Mitch when he gets home.’ If we go this once, then, hopefully, we won’t have to do it again for another year.

  ‘Great.’ Maddie lifts the calendar from the nail on the wall, finds the correct date and writes Mitch in big letters in the empty box. ‘I’ll start thinking about what to cook.’

  Trying not to let it bother me, I drink my coffee and look around the kitchen. On the worktop, under a large, modern print of a fig cut in half, which looks strangely pornographic, is a row of brown bottles with black lids. Each one has a different coloured label and I can just make out the names on the nearest two: patchouli and sandalwood.

  ‘How’s the aromatherapy going?’ I say, in a bid to be pleasant.

  ‘Not bad.’ Maddie pushes up the sleeves of her top to reveal slim, freckled arms. ‘Since I finished the course, I’ve had several bookings.’

  ‘You must be pleased. It looks like you’ll make a success of your business.’

  ‘Hopefully. Although it’ll take a while for me to pay back the bank loan for the equipment. The massage table alone cost an arm and a leg.’

  I roll my shoulders, imagining firm fingers releasing the tension in them. My whole back aches from the endless nights pacing with Noah. As if on cue, I hear him cry. I know I should go to him, but instead, rest my elbows on the table and press the heels of my hands into my eyes. Counting how many ticks of the clock it will be until one or other of the girls calls out to me from the living room to complain about the noise. If it’s more than twenty, he’ll settle after his feed. If it’s less, he won’t.

  Maddie’s voice cuts through my counting. ‘Kelly? Are you okay?’

  Quickly, I lift my head from my hands, letting the stars at the back of my eyes disperse. ‘Sorry, yes, I’m fine. It’s just that I wish he’d settle for more than an hour at a time, that’s all.’

  ‘I’ll check him if you like.’ Lowering herself from the stool, Maddie goes into the hall. She’s back almost immediately. ‘It looks like he’s gone off again.’

  I breathe a sigh of relief. ‘Thank God.’

  Maddie picks up one of the bottles of oils. ‘The children are happy playing with the kitten. How about I give you a quick shoulder massage? I can pretty much guarantee it will make you feel better and I could do with the practice.’

  I’m surprised by this offer. ‘I don’t know. I really should be getting home. The children will be wanting their tea and then there’s the supper—’

  ‘Get Mitch to make it. You know he’s a pretty good cook when he wants to be.’

  ‘Of course, I know. I live with him, don’t I? I just meant he’ll still be on-site.’

  The words have come out sharper than I meant them to. Looking uncomfortable, Maddie puts the bottle of oil down on the table. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…’

  Heat rises to my face. My mother’s voice is in my head again, telling me I should be ashamed of my behaviour. Why can’t you be more like Freya, Kelly, instead of always thinking of yourself?

  ‘No, it’s me who should be sorry. I’m tired and it’s been a long day. A massage is probably exactly what I need.’

  ‘You don’t need to apologise.’ Opening a drawer, Maddie rummages inside, then brings out a tortoiseshell clasp. ‘Why don’t you clip your hair up with this?’

  I twist my hair behind my head and secure it with the clasp. ‘Five minutes then.’

  Maddie’s hands rest lightly on my shoulders. ‘Take a few deep breaths for me. It’ll help you relax.’

  Doing as I’m told, I take a deep breath in, letting it out slowly through my mouth. Maddie moves closer. Resting her forearms on my shoulders, either side of my neck, she rolls her arms outwards and immediately my shoulders relax. She knows what she’s doing. Her hands slide either side of my backbone. With gentle pressure, she moves her thumbs in small circles up my neck towards the hairline. Her touch is light and, as her thumbs work their magic, her fingers curl round the sides of my neck.

  I’m no longer in my body but out of it looking down. Where her fingers touch, I picture a ring of dark bruises. Imagine how easily the fragile bones could crush.

  ‘Stop it!’

  Maddie drops her hands and steps back, startled.

  ‘What is it?’

  I don’t answer. Screwing up my eyes, I start to count my breaths. In for five. Out for five. I’ve got to push away the hideous images. Put them back in the box marked never open.

  ‘Kelly?’

  The warm kitchen with its colour and clutter and the cloying smell of lilac is too much. I want to be back in my own home with Mitch – the curtains closed against the world.

  I’ve reached twenty. Is that enough? I drag the clip from my hair. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve got to go.’ Unwilling to explain further, I hurry to the living room and tell the children we’re leaving. Isabella isn’t happy, but I don’t care. I just want to be home.

  Maddie frowns as she opens the front door. ‘Are you feeling unwell? I know there’s a bug doing the rounds.’

  ‘Yes, that’s probably it.’

  We’re in the hall now and Isabella’s complaining loudly, telling me I’m mean. Pushing her in front of me, I release the brake on Noah’s pram and wheel it into the street. We leave Maddie standing at the door and take the shortcut home through the park. As we walk, I try to empty my mind, but it’s impossible. I’ve allowed Freya to slip in and now she’s with me, all I can think of is my guilt.

  17

  Kelly Before

  ‘Are you going to tell me what happened, Kelly? Anne Johnson says Freya wasn’t feeling well.’

  Her mum is cross, sweat making her forehead shiny, her puffy hands bunched on her hips. Kelly can tell by the creases on her cheeks that she’s been napping while they’ve been at the sports centre and she’s made no attempt to hide how unhappy she is to have been called back to pick them up so soon. Kelly looks across at Freya. She’s standing by the French windows, her forehead pressed to the glass. Why doesn’t she answer? She knows she can.

  Her mum taps her on the shoulder. ‘Kelly, I’m talking to you. You didn’t do anything to upset her, did you?’

  Kelly’s not sure what to say. What to tell her. She pictures again the shiny pink skin, imagining what it would feel like under her fingers, and shudders. Should she tell her mum or is it a secret?

  ‘She had a tummy ache.’ It’s the best she can do.

  ‘Is that all?’

  ‘Yes. That’s all.’

  Freya’s no longer looking out of the window but is staring at Kelly and she doesn’t like it. She doesn’t know if she’s done right or wrong. Whether she’s said the right thing or whether it will make her even more upset with her.

  Kelly’s mum goes over to Freya and runs a hand down her hair. ‘How are you feeling now, love? Any better?’

  Freya nods and her mum looks relieved. ‘That’s good.’ She pinches her lower lip between her thumb and forefinger and looks at the phone on the sideboard. ‘Maybe I should call the surgery, just in case. We shouldn’t take chances.’

  Freya steps back and shakes her head so hard, hair escapes from the black band. Kelly doesn’t blame her – she doesn’t like going to the doctor’s either. If Freya goes to the surgery, they might ask her to lift her T-shirt and then they’ll see what she’s seen. She likes the idea that if no one else knows, it can be their secret.

  A thrilling gruesome secret.

  ‘Look,’ she says, taking
Freya’s hand and raising it like a boxer who’s just won a match. ‘She’s better, now.’

  Her mum frowns. ‘Please don’t interfere, Kelly.’ She studies Freya’s face. ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’

  Freya nods.

  ‘Well, if you’re certain.’ Lifting her arm, she wipes the sweat from her brow. ‘I’m going upstairs for a lie-down. It was so hot last night I could barely breathe, let alone sleep. You can call me if you need me.’

  ‘We’ll be fine, Mummy. Won’t we, Freya?’

  The girl nods again.

  Kelly waits for her mum to leave the room, then turns to Freya. ‘I know you can talk.’

  From the kitchen, Ben gives a bark. His signal to be let out. When nothing happens, he pads into the living room and slumps down, his big head resting on his paws.

  ‘I’m going to take him outside.’

  Kelly goes into the kitchen and Ben follows. She twists the key in the door, then pushes down on the handle and lets him out. Tail wagging madly, he runs down the side passage to the back garden. Kelly follows him. When she gets to the garden, she looks back and is surprised to see Freya. She’s standing at the side gate, her fingers on the metal bolt.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  Freya doesn’t look up but draws the bolt across and back again. Across and back. Across and back.

  ‘Don’t do that. Mum will be cross.’