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

by Louise Jensen

  ‘That’s terrible,’ says Anna. ‘Someone’s really got it in for you. Any idea who?’

  ‘Someone without their own fucking life,’ says Dan.

  ‘Lyn thinks it’s Greg, Emily’s dad. I had a confrontation with him a few weeks ago.’

  ‘But you don’t?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve been thinking I’m being followed for a while.’

  Dan looks doubtful. ‘Are you sure? You know how… suspicious you can be.’

  ‘It’s true. I’ve seen them,’ says Anna. ‘I chased their car.’

  ‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me?’ Dan looks furious

  ‘I didn’t want to worry you.’

  ‘If I catch anyone following you they’ll have me to deal with.’

  ‘Quite the knight in shining armour, aren’t you?’ says Anna.

  ‘Anna?’

  ‘Yes, Dan?’

  ‘Shut the fuck up.’

  ‘Will you two give it a rest!’ The silence is thick and uncomfortable, more oppressive than the shouting. ‘I want a bath and a peaceful evening.’

  ‘I won’t be here. Football practice.’

  ‘I’m going out, too.’ Anna looks mutinous.

  ‘Anywhere nice?’ I ask her.

  ‘A date, actually.’

  Dan stands up, the muscles in his neck twitching. ‘Shame it’s not an interview. I’ll see you later.’ He kisses the top of my head. I try to catch his hand, but I grasp air as he disappears out of the door.

  ‘Sorry you came home to that, Grace. I’m quite competitive.’

  ‘So is Dan.’ I inhale deeply. ‘And I think he’s finding it difficult, sharing our space. I love having you here, we both do, but it would be nice to have some idea of your plans.’

  ‘Of course. Sorry. I know I can’t stay here indefinitely. I’ll sort something out soon. I promise. It’s been so lovely getting to know you though, learning about Charlie. I just wish I could meet Lexie. Hear some baby tales and see some photos. Anyway, I’ll run you a bath. I’ve got some lovely oil that will relax you.’

  ‘Thanks, Anna.’

  She tramps upstairs and the tension in the room dissipates. I close my eyes and stroke Mittens, lulled by her soft purring. ‘What would I do without you? You don’t care what people say, do you?’ She pats my hand with her soft paw.

  ‘Bath’s ready,’ calls Anna.

  My phone beeps. It’s Dan. ‘She has to go.’

  I can’t wait to wash away the day.

  Anna’s unearthed a bag of tea lights and the bathroom flickers and glows. A fluffy white towel hangs over the warmer; my robe is on the back of the door. A chilled glass of white wine stands on the windowsill, next to my iPod and headphones.

  ‘Here,’ Anna hands me Jane Eyre. ‘Anything else you need?’

  ‘I think you’ve thought of everything. This is fabulous, I feel like I’m in a rom-com.’

  ‘We all need looking after every now and then.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome. Do you want me to get you any food before I go?’

  ‘No, thanks. There’s a pizza in the freezer if I get hungry. Who’s your date with?’

  ‘Just a guy I met online; we’re going for a bite at the Beefeater.’

  ‘Enjoy it. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’

  ‘Now, where would be the fun in that?’ She smiles, then leaves me alone with my bath and my thoughts, rough and jagged. The water acts like a sander, smoothing away the edges until I’m able to close my eyes and relax.

  I lie in the bath until the water cools and my fingers prune. Emotionally drained, I skip dinner and go straight to bed, falling into a dreamless sleep. I don’t hear Anna or Dan come home.

  Dan drops his towel to the floor and yanks a shirt from a hanger. I can’t remember the last time I saw him naked. I usually leave for work before him, and often at the weekends he dresses in the bathroom, leaving early for football practice. He senses me watching, turns.

  ‘I talked to Anna yesterday,’ I whisper, although it is unlikely she can hear. ‘She’ll be gone soon. We can…’

  ‘We can.’ Dan pads over to the bed. His palms rest on my shoulder, weighted, pushing, and I lie back against the pillow. He kisses my neck, his hand snaking under my top.

  ‘What about Anna?’

  ‘What about us? It’s been too long.’

  He tugs down my pyjama bottoms and my nails claw his back as I bite my cheek to stop myself from crying out. I swallow blood, dark and salty. It’s over in minutes but I’m giddy with relief that he still wants me. That I still want him.

  Dan sits up, brushes the hair from my eyes. ‘I’ve missed that.’

  ‘Me too. I love you.’

  ‘I love you, too.’ Dan rubs my lips with his thumb. ‘We could do it again later?’

  ‘We could.’

  ‘We should take a break. Have a long weekend with your mum. I’m owed some hours at work. Fish and chips on the seafront?’

  ‘What about all the stuff with the pre-school?’

  ‘There’s nothing we can do right now. At least the signal at your mum’s is so rubbish you won’t be checking Twitter every five minutes.’

  ‘I’ll ring her later and arrange it.’

  We kiss goodbye – a proper lingering kiss, none of the short, sharp pecks we’ve grown used to – and it’s ridiculous to think that with everything going on at work I could be happy, but I do feel lighter. Part of a team again. I know whatever happens, Dan and I will deal with it together.

  The day spans before me and I think I’ll spring-clean. Bessie Smith croons ‘Downhearted Blues’ and I hum along as I hoist up the sofa to hoover beneath it. There is enough fur there to make a new cat. My heart springs into my mouth as someone taps my shoulder.

  I spin around. Anna switches the vacuum off at the wall and I pull out my earbuds. There are two policemen behind her.

  The room tilts and shifts and I feel as though I’ve gone back in time. ‘Is Dan OK?’

  ‘Grace Matthews? I’m PC Dunne and this is PC White.’ A badge is flashed at me. I nod wordlessly, hands on cheeks.

  ‘Do you mind telling us where you were last night?’

  ‘Last night?’ My voice breaks. I run my tongue over dry lips and start again. ‘Last night? I was here.’

  ‘Was anyone with you?’

  ‘No. Why?’

  ‘I believe you work at Little Acorns?’

  I nod.

  ‘Last night, someone vandalised the place.’

  ‘What? Who?’

  ‘That’s what we’re trying to find out. There was no sign of a break-in; whoever did it probably had a key. Do you have a key, Miss Matthews?’

  ‘Yes.’ My voice is barely a squeak.

  ‘Do you mind checking if it’s still in your possession?’

  I’m followed into the hallway. I bunch my keys, picking out the one to Little Acorns.

  ‘Here.’

  ‘We’d like you to come down to the station and make a statement, please. Can you get your shoes?’

  Anna fetches my trainers. It takes two attempts to slip my feet inside, but my hands are shaking so much I can’t knot the laces.

  ‘Let me.’ Anna kneels and ties them. ‘Do you want me to call anyone?’

  I stare blankly. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Miss Matthews?’ PC White opens the front door. I walk outside to the squad car, past the rows of daffodils and bluebells poking through the verge.

  Mrs Jones is standing on her step. ‘Is everything all right, Grace?’

  I don’t answer.

  I climb into the back seat, hardly believing I’m in a police car again. Memories roll by, along with the country views I usually find so soothing. Today they’re cold and hostile. I close my eyes and the Twitter feed flashes through my mind. Grace belongs in jail.

  28

  Then

  The snow was fallin
g lightly and I brushed it off my windscreen with my gloved hand. My grandparents had bought me a second-hand Fiesta for Christmas and I loved it. It was grey – the colour of fungi, Dan said, and joked that there ‘wasn’t mush-room in it’.

  Stuffed under the windscreen wiper was a letter. My skin prickled and I checked to see if I was being watched before I crumpled the envelope into my back pocket. There had been no more ‘gifts’ since the shoebox, but letters continued to arrive, each more threatening than the last. I tried not to let it get to me but it was hard. I didn’t know why Siobhan was still doing it, but at least I didn’t have to see her at school every day.

  The lounge curtains twitched and I saw Grandma’s lined face peering out. I forced my mouth into a smile and waved. I’d kept the letters hidden from her; she worried enough now I was driving, and I didn’t want Mum finding out either. It had been lovely, her spending Christmas with us, but our relationship was still new. Fragile. I didn’t want anything to put a strain on it. I was scared of losing her again, so I smiled brightly at her jokes, keeping our conversations light.

  The muscles in my upper back felt like stone as I chugged through the village, gripping the steering wheel tightly. Dan found it amusing that I adhered to the speed limit at all times, but he’d been driving a year longer than me. The tortoise always got there in the end, Grandma said. I indicated as I turned into Charlie’s street, despite the roads being deserted.

  The engine thrummed as I sat in the car checking my mirrors, making sure I hadn’t been followed, before I stepped out and hurried down the path. I was constantly edgy, jumping at the smallest of things: the tree in the front garden casting shadows in my bedroom, dogs barking. I tried to tell myself that the letters couldn’t hurt me, but anxiety had taken up permanent residency in my stomach, leaving little space for food. At least I was losing weight.

  Ice crystals scattered onto the wooden floor as I stamped my booted feet. ‘It’s me,’ I called as I headed towards the kitchen. Lexie couldn’t afford to heat the whole house ‘all the bleedin’ time’, but a fan heater blasted out warm air in the kitchen, clicking on and off as it tried to regulate the temperature.

  ‘I’ve got another one.’ I dropped the envelope on the table, then slumped into a wooden chair that was just as uncomfortable as it looked.

  ‘What’s it say?’ Charlie picked it up. ‘You haven’t opened it yet?’ She sliced open the envelope, pulled A4 lined paper out and smoothed it open.

  ‘LEAVE OR YOU’LL REGRET IT.’

  The letters were uneven, cut from a magazine just like all the others.

  ‘Fucking Siobhan.’ Charlie tossed it down onto the table.

  ‘She says it’s not her.’

  ‘She would, wouldn’t she? Who else can it be?’

  ‘For you.’ Lexie slopped a chipped mug of milky tea on the table. I pressed my spine back against the chair, turned my head away from her stale alcohol breath. She slid a packet of cookies towards me with a hand that was shaking so violently I was surprised the biscuits weren’t crumbs.

  ‘It must be bleedin’ awful. Don’t know how you’re concentrating on your exams.’

  ‘I’m not.’ I yawned.

  Lexie picked up the letter. ‘Why don’t you?’

  ‘Why don’t I what?’

  ‘Leave? I don’t mean for good, but you could go and stay with your mum in Devon, give that Siobhan one a chance to cool off?’

  ‘No.’ I couldn’t even contemplate being so far from Dan. ‘It’s only words. Sticks and stones and all that.’

  ‘Doesn’t want to leave Dan either. I’ve barely seen her the past few weeks,’ said Charlie, and she was right. ‘You’re turning into one of those girls who dumps her friends when she gets a bloke.’

  ‘I’m not. It’s just…’

  ‘You look bleedin’ knackered, Grace.’

  ‘I am, but this is an important year. I’ve got exams. I can cope with a few letters.’

  ‘She’s promised to help me with something important, too.’ Charlie’s voice softened. ‘In fact, Mum, I need…’

  ‘Bugger!’ Lexie said, as her mug clattered to the floor. She grabbed a grey cloth that could once have been white and dropped to her knees, soaking up coffee. She stood up to wring out the cloth. Mud-coloured liquid splattered over the ketchup-encrusted plates piled in the sink.

  ‘We’d better go.’ Charlie scraped her chair back. ‘We have an appointment.’

  ‘We do?’ I asked.

  ‘We do. Wanna leave your car here? Town will be rammed with all the sales on and you’re crap at parking.’

  ‘Thanks for that. Yes. Let’s get the bus.’

  I huddled on a bench on the high street, stamping my feet to keep warm. Charlie had leaped off the bus last minute – she’d forgotten her purse. I hoped she’d had time to go home and find it and run back to the stop in time to catch the bus that was trundling towards me. It slotted into its bay, and I was relieved to spot Charlie waving out of the window. There was an almost manic atmosphere in town as crowds hurried from shop to shop, hunting for the elusive New Year’s Eve outfit. The it-doesn’t-make-me-look-like-I’ve-eaten-a-million-mince-pies dress. Clothes marked at fifty per cent off were tugged from hangers, bundled towards the till.

  Charlie weaved through the throng. I kept my eyes on her green hat and tried to keep up. Despite questioning her, I had no idea where we were going.

  She stopped in front of a peacock blue doorway. A neon pink sign flashed: Tattoo Parlour.

  ‘You’re kidding, right?’

  ‘I thought we could have matching tattoos.’

  ‘Yes. And then we can grow beards,’ I said.

  ‘Nothing masculine. Look, I drew this.’ Charlie pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket and unfolded it. It was a butterfly. ‘We can have them somewhere discreet. On our shoulders?’

  ‘You’re serious?’ I was absolutely never getting a tattoo, I was sure of that.

  ‘I am. New Year, new start.’

  ‘What will your mum think? Ben?’

  ‘I’ve dumped Ben.’

  ‘What! Why?’ It was selfish, but I was disappointed we wouldn’t be able to double-date any more.

  ‘Got my eye on somebody new.’

  ‘Who? Ben’s lovely…’

  ‘But boring.’ Charlie flashed a smile and pushed open the door. The reception area was white and clinical. Christmas songs blared from a Roberts radio.

  ‘Charlie Fisher?’ I couldn’t help but stare at the woman behind the desk. Tattoos crawled like vines up her bare arms, snaking around her neck.

  ‘That’s me.’

  ‘Hi. I’m Nancy. An appointment for two small tattoos, isn’t it?’

  ‘You can make it one.’ I sat on the bench, crossed my arms.

  ‘Charlie said she thought you’d back out.’

  ‘Back out?’ I said. ‘That would imply I was ever in.’

  ‘Spoilsport.’ Charlie showed her drawing to Nancy.

  ‘That’s cute. Did you design it yourself?’

  ‘Yeah. I wanted something that represented freedom.’

  ‘Come through,’ Nancy said. ‘You can watch if you want,’ she added, to me.

  ‘Are you doing it?’ I was surprised. I’d anticipated a man: black T-shirt and too many piercings.

  ‘Yeah. Expecting someone else?’

  I shook my head, embarrassed.

  The back room was not the dingy, dirty place I’d expected. Posters of fifties girls hung from stainless steel frames on stark white walls. Nancy snapped on gloves as Charlie lay, face down, on a black leather bench. Charlie twitched as the needle touched her skin, inhaled sharply.

  ‘Does it hurt?’ I was fascinated.

  ‘Yeah. Take my mind off it. What did you do last night?’

  ‘Saw Dan.’

  ‘I don’t need to be Einstein to figure that out.’

  ‘We took his telescope to the forest. It was quite
a clear night.’

  ‘You must have been freezing.’

  ‘We lit a fire, toasted marshmallows. Kept each other warm…’

  ‘I bet you did! You seem really happy?’

  ‘We are. I thought it would be strange making that transition from friends, but it isn’t. I know we’re only young but I think he’s the one, Charlie.’

  ‘God. You’ll be getting his name tattooed on you in a minute.’

  Sixty minutes later, Nancy was finished. She leaned back in her chair and tugged off her gloves, dropping them into a waste bin as she ran through the aftercare instructions. Charlie sipped water, the colour gradually returning to her cheeks.

  ‘How about you?’ Nancy looked at me. ‘Are you tempted?’

  ‘I don’t think it’s really me. It’s beautiful, though.’

  ‘You should spread your wings and fly, Grace,’ said Charlie.

  ‘Maybe one day,’ said Nancy.

  ‘Maybe.’ But I doubted it. I liked having both feet firmly on the ground.

  We hopped off the bus, carrier bags bumping our shins. I’d spent the Christmas money Mum had given me in Topshop, on an off-the-shoulder purple dress to wear to the New Year’s Eve party at the pub the following night. I couldn’t wait for Dan to see me. Charlie had bought a postbox-red Lycra dress and a lipstick to match.

  ‘Do you want to come back to mine?’ I asked.

  ‘Yeah. I’ll grab my stuff and tell Mum.’

  ‘I’ll wait in the car.’

  I fished my keys from my bag, walked around to the driver’s door and froze. The word ‘BITCH’ was carved in large, uneven letters onto the side of my car.

  29

  Now

  ‘Do I need a solicitor?’

  I hope Anna has rung Dan and told him where I am. I’m not sure if I get a phone call or if that’s just in the films. The glaring brightness of the artificial lights hurts my head and the smell of cleaning products is nauseating. The air in this windowless room is stagnant and far too warm for a winter’s day. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d ever see the inside of an interrogation room again. I wait for someone to speak. There’s the shuffling of paper before heads are raised, eye contact made.