Twin Turmoil

by Vanessa Brooks

  Shutting myself into Claire's room, I retrieved the diary from where I had hidden it this morning, under the carpet behind my bed. With a sense of wonder, I began to read—it was as if Claire stood at my side talking to me. As I read, I had a strong sense of her presence.

  'Daddy told me today that he had put Liam in charge of the tourists and the bad girls. Why when I am so confident of running the tourist side of things? I think he still sees me as his little girl. Just because I didn't go to away to college, but stayed at home and went to the local one instead, does not mean I have any less maturity. I must find a way to convince him that I am ready to handle some of the ranch business.'

  I read on down the pages, skimming them until I came to this. It was dated two years ago.

  'What is Daddy up to… Dennis cannot run a casino! He is a sweet young man and by all accounts, was a competent croupier, but surely Daddy must see his limitations in trying to run a business? He has no business acumen and no head for figures at all! I must speak to Daddy and maybe to Dennis too.'

  I read on, skipping entries here and there.

  'It was my birthday today and Liam gave me a wonderful framed photograph of myself. He is a genius with that camera. The photo gave me a brilliant idea for the bunkhouses, I hope Liam will agree. He can act so proprietarily and be damn awkward at times. I was really touched by his present though because I know that, at times, I irritate him tremendously. Sometimes I think he might even forget himself and spank me!'

  Ah, so Liam was the photographer. Hmm, hidden depths—so my sister was worried he'd spank her. I wasn't the only one worried about protecting her bottom! It occurred to me that our father might have spanked Claire as a child. I wondered what it felt like to be spanked, how much would it hurt? I shook myself out of my reverie and began to read again.

  'Matt is such a hon. I know he really likes me but I don't know what it is. Although I like him, I don't really dig him.'

  Interesting.

  'He wants me to partner him at Leanne's birthday hoedown. Maybe I will.'

  I carried on reading, then further on.

  'Matt say's he loves me. I really do like him, but do I love him? I wish I could take last night back. He might have believed me then.'

  What had happened that night, I wondered?

  'Daddy and I aren't talking. He can be so stubborn at sometimes! I have told him I am worried about the figures and he threatens me with a spanking for shouting at him just as if I'm some little kid still. Heck, he just needs to hear me out'.

  What's this? So Claire had been spanked as a child. I panned back to find out more. The date was only six months ago. A tap on my door made me jump out of my skin. "Just a moment," I called, kicking myself for not remembering to whisper. I closed the diary, hurriedly stuffing it under the pillow out of sight. Luckily, when I opened the door it was my father. He looked sheepish.

  "Hi, honey, I hear you already know about Molly."

  "Hmm yes, and Dennis," I added coldly, tapping my foot and holding the door still.

  "Nicky, hon', I'm sorry, I was selfish I know. It's just I thought you might think all these people a bit scary and not agree to come over and impersonate Claire."

  "You are absolutely right and I am packing my things and leaving right now!" Childishly, I wanted to scare him.

  "What? Darlin', no...Aw, honey, I'm sorry. I know that I should have told you about Molly, she isn't here very often you see, so… I thought it could wait awhile."

  "Another incidental," I said, sarcastically.

  "I guess." He either didn't get the sarcasm, or chose to ignore it.

  Voices from downstairs drifted up to us. My father looked over his shoulder. "Can I come in… just for a moment, please?"

  I drew back, holding the door wide so that he could enter. "Thanks," he said and sat down heavily on the bed. I shut the door but remained standing, my arms folded.

  "I have told Molly and Den that you have lost a chunk of memory and may not recall either of them. I thought that might make it easier for you."

  "Cool, thanks, but you should have told me about them."

  "Yeah, I know… what can I say, I'm sorry, Nicky… forgive an old man?"

  I snorted at that but nodded. There was little else I could do after all. "Why are you keeping my identity a secret from your own wife?"

  "Molly just cannot keep secrets. She'd try real hard but she'd just have to tell so and so, in absolute confidence, of course. Then 'so and so' would tell 'so and so' and on it would go. No, our secret must remain between us, Jules obviously and Matt, who already knows. Have you seen him today by the way?"

  "Matt no… but I did meet Liam O'Donnell."

  "Did you now... and what did you make of him?"

  I frowned. "Well, he's a good-looking guy. A bit threatening in his manner though, I thought."

  "Threatening… O'Donnell… surely not?"

  "Well, I found him… somewhat… strange at any rate." I paused. "Do you know of any reason he may have disliked or even hated Claire?"

  My father looked thoughtful. "No, not really, not hated, at any rate. Claire was taking charge of the dude side of things, you know, the books mainly, whereas, up to now, Liam had been running the whole show. Perhaps he felt a bit resentful. I guess I hadn't thought about that. It just seems so impossible to think of Liam ever hurting anything, let alone killing. I have to say… I don't think he's our guy."

  "Yeah, but the police think it was someone from the ranch."

  '"I know, I know they do. I just can't believe any of our people are capable of murder. Until that day, I would have trusted anyone here with my daughter's life."

  I sat next to him on the bed and took his hand in mine. "I keep forgetting how you must be feeling. Are you okay?"

  He looked at me and I could see the raw pain of loss in his eyes.

  "I pretend," he said, quietly.

  "Pretend?" I queried.

  "Yeah, that nothing has happened—that you truly are Claire. It's only when we talk like this it becomes real and… well, I just… can't bear it."

  "Oh, Dad." I swallowed hard and reached out, hugging him.

  He leaned into me and returned the hug. We sat quietly together for a moment. He broke the silence first.

  "That's the first time you've called me Dad you know… as yourself I mean, not as Claire. I am so glad you're here with me… my Nicky." I nodded and just before I could speak, there was a knock at the door. My father jumped up and opened the door a crack. "Ah, it's you, come on in." Jules came into the room, throwing her jacket onto the chair.

  "Hi there, Mr. Keedon, has Claire told you about the curtain thing last night?"

  My father turned and fixed me with a gimlet eye. "No, she has not."

  I stared back at him and shrugged. "It's all cool and I didn't want to worry you," I told him.

  "Not worry? Hell, I'm worrying all the goddamn time, you ridiculous girl! Now tell me, what is this 'curtain thing'?"

  Jules explained and I shifted uncomfortably under my father's furious gaze.

  "You weren't going to tell me any of this, were you?" He was glaring at me from under his bushy brows.

  I shrugged.

  "Nicky, you will tell me everything, however small, that occurs from now on… do you understand me?!"

  I nodded, my face flushed with embarrassment. He may be my father but I barely even knew him and here he was yelling at me, the way any regular Dad yells at his kid. I relaxed and felt a warm glow building inside of me at the thought.

  "Nicky are you listening to me? If I hear one more thing you haven't told me about, then big as you are, I promise that, as your father, I will put you over my knee—you got that?"

  I was so embarrassed by his words. What was it that made the men out here want to spank their women at every provocation? However I surprised him by jumping up and hugging him. He stood stiffly, still angry at me. "Of course I promise to tell you everything that happens from now onwards," I told him, pecking his che
ek. He relaxed but looked surprised at my ready capitulation but, obviously gratified, he gave me a massive hug back.

  "Okay-okay, it's just I'm responsible for putting you in this situation and I just want to protect you is all."

  "I know, Daddy, it's all cool. I understand," I said, smiling gently at him.

  He harrumphed and reached for the door handle. "All right, enough, let's go eat."

  Jules put her hand on the door. "Just a moment, Mr. Keedon, about this party you normally hold on your birthday."

  "Yup."

  "I think it should go ahead as normal."

  "No. Sorry. I cannot celebrate under the circumstances."

  "I understand that," Jules said, gently. "However, it will look very odd to the killer if you don't carry on as usual. Nicky is meant to be Claire, why then would you cancel the event?" My father looked at her thoughtfully.

  "Mmm, yes, I suppose it would look odd. It is supposed to be held Saturday next. I'll speak to Sarah."

  "Thank you, Mr. Keedon. It is important that you all behave as normally as possible. You know—using the same routines and so on."

  "Yup, I realise that. Thank you, Jules. Come on then, let's go eat."

  "I'll be right behind you," I called, before I dashed back into the room and hid the diary safely away for later.

  Chapter Six - Terror

  Faces turned towards us as we entered the dining room. They gazed past my father and me, to where Jules stood. I realised, it was not I they took for the stranger in our midst… but Jules. I was just as they expected. I was Claire. I was the same as always and I must remember to behave as Claire. So did Claire usually kiss Molly and Dennis? I went towards Molly and smiled at her, she held out her cheek as if expecting an embrace thus making the decision to kiss easy for me. She was a tiny bird-like person with a pretty but over painted face, sharp eyes and carefully coiffured, fake copper coloured hair. We embraced briefly and she asked me how I was feeling. All the while, her eyes were fixed on Jules with open curiosity. I assured her of my well-being in a soft whisper and then half turned to introduce Jules as my therapist. Dennis, her son, was a tall man, slim and ginger haired. I wondered if perhaps my judgement of Molly's hair as fake was unjustified. Dennis gave me a friendly grin and reached out and hugged me fondly, "Hi, sis, been in the wars I hear... feeling okay now?"

  I assured him that I was, "A-Okay!" in my usual whisper and he laughed at me in a teasing way. I liked him. I had not expected to be treated as a sister and I found it a pleasant surprise that he was so relaxed around me. My father patted my shoulder and grinned around the table at us. I think he was genuinely pleased to have his family meet me at last, even though they themselves didn't realise they were meeting me. I had forgotten that Claire was a vegetarian and was slightly disappointed to be served a pasta bake, while the others all tucked into Sarah's delicious smelling stew, beef in red wine sauce. Though my pasta was delicious, creamy and fragrant, the rich smell of the stew set me longing to taste some of the meat dinner. I was a complete hypocrite—I loved the meat experience—the chew, rich flavours—I just didn't agree with eating other species of mammal. I always feel so guilty about enjoying meat when the practice goes against what I believe.

  The conversation flowed around me and, to my relief, it seemed that I was not expected to join in much, other than the odd nod and smile. I had my father to thank for that. He took the trouble to keep on adding to discussions that included me. "Just nod, Claire, don't try and talk. She must rest her voice… isn't that so, Miss Danker?"

  "Oh absolutely, Mr. Keedon, the more Claire rests her throat, the quicker her voice will recover." I smiled gratefully at her for that.

  "Claire?" It was Dennis. I turned and smiled at him across the table. "Can't you remember anything, any tiny little detail?"

  I shook my head. "Sorry, no," I whispered.

  "Den!" My father boomed warningly at him.

  "Hey, I'm just curious. Seems real strange to me that you can't remember anything at all about such a terrible experience."

  "Actually, it's not that unusual. People often forget things they would rather not recall. Claire's memory will return given time." I glanced at Jules gratefully. She smiled winningly at Dennis, Jules seemed to like him and either he had picked up on that, or the feeling was reciprocated. They flirted together throughout the rest of the meal and then went outside for some 'air' together before coffee. I excused myself too, expressing a desire for an early night and went upstairs to my room. I decided to have a bath, relax and plan the following day. I filled the bath using some of Claire's heavenly scented bath oil which stood on the side of the tub.

  I was stretched out full-length in the bath, my eyes closed enjoying the sensation of the warm, sweet smelling water, when I noticed the light beyond my eyelids had suddenly darkened. Opening my eyes, I realised it was pitch black. Without warning, rough hands grasped me about the shoulders, fingers dug into my throat and my head was forced downwards beneath the water. I grappled with my assailant trying to prise their hands off me. It proved impossible since my attacker had on a pair of close fitting gloves that were so slippery I couldn't get a proper grip on them. I cursed myself for being so liberal with the bath oil and kicked and flailed uselessly. My lungs burned and I was becoming desperate. My eye sockets felt as though they would explode with pain. Someone was killing me and this was for real!

  I knew I was about to die. I would if I didn't do something now. Frantically searching behind me, my hands hunted for anything to grab onto. My hand brushed up against something solid, the bottle of bath oil. I flailed about trying to get a grip on the neck of the bottle. Desperately floundering and slipping, my hand finally grasped the glass neck and lifting it high, I brought it down as hard as I could onto my attacker, wildly hitting out until I felt solid impact. It was a few seconds before I realised that the hands holding me down had released me and I was free. I burst upwards through the surface of the bath water gasping, filling my painful lungs with huge gulps of precious air. It was pitch black as I scrambled from the bath. I slapped at the wall trying to locate the light pull in the inky dark. Finally I had it and I was bathed in blessed light. I could see. I stumbled out into the bedroom but that room too was in darkness. I reached for the light switch and turned it on. The door was slightly ajar; otherwise the room was as I had left it moments before. Hurriedly, I closed and locked my bedroom door and reached for a towel. Then I sat on the bed and began to shake. I had nearly died. Claire had suffered the same suffocating pain that I had just done. The difference being that she had died. The awful desperate struggle for air, the burning in my chest, my own sister had died in just that way. Her killer was here, somewhere in this house at this very minute. I leapt up and patted my clothes, searching for the walkie-talkie, finding it I pressed it with a trembling figure. Where was Jules—was she inside the house? I dried quickly, pulling on the clothes I had taken off before my bath. "Come on, come on," I muttered urgently to myself as I fumbled into my clothes with difficulty.

  After ten minutes had passed with no response to my walkie-talkie, I decided to go and find Jules or my father. I felt so unsafe that I needed a weapon for protection but after a fruitless search for something sharp, I gave up. I was partially relieved, not being certain that I could use such a thing. I decided to take a tin of hair spray with me; at least I could temporarily blind an attacker and so make good my escape.

  The house was very quiet. Though I didn't find Jules, the question as to why my call had received no response became obvious when I saw the second walkie-talkie sitting in the middle of Jules's bed, light flashing to indicate my call. Closing the door, I descended the stairs cautiously. I crept into the dining room, by now deserted, leaving the lights switched off so I could observe outside without being seen. I could see the shadow of someone out of the window, across the yard towards the barn. I crept up to the side of the wall to the window, careful to stay within the darkness of the side of the frame. Nestled up against the c
urtains, I watched as a person crept along the wall of the barn. I couldn't tell if it were a man or woman, a few paces more and they would be caught in the light shining out from the porch, then I would know. Holding my breath, I waited to see who it would be. Suddenly the room was flooded with harsh light and I blinked in the sudden glare.

  "Miss Scarlet in the dining room with the… whatever is that… my God, hairspray. Claire, you feeling okay?"

  It was Dennis. He was standing in the doorway of the room. I nodded feebly and sat down on the nearest chair, promptly bursting into tears. Dennis was very kind and gentle with me, offering me his handkerchief and insisting that I have a glass of brandy.

  My father appeared in the doorway. "Ah there you are, Den, gee, we thought you'd gone to France for the brandy, you've been gone for so long. N-Claire, what's happened?"

  He crossed the floor and knelt at my side. "Honey?" I reached out and leaned into his big frame and he, in turn, gathered me close. "You're shaking girl. Den, what happened here?" he asked his step-son sharply.