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

by Louise Jensen

  ‘Ready?’ she asks.

  ‘On three.’

  We push and kick until my thighs ache too much to move, and scream until my ears ring. There isn’t so much as a hairline crack in the wood.

  ‘Fuck.’ Lexie rubs her feet. ‘How the hell do we get out of this?’

  I look into her eyes and see my own fear reflected back at me.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  45

  Then

  Six days after Charlie died, the morning sky was grey and black like an angry bruise. Mist shrouded the church spire that was usually visible from my window. Everything seemed muted somehow, dampened down. Even the birds were uncharacteristically quiet. Charlie had taken the sunshine with her. Dan brought me tea I couldn’t taste and toast I couldn’t swallow. I should have been dressing in party clothes – it was Charlie’s twenty-fifth birthday – but instead, I wore black to attend her funeral. The shift dress I’d worn the Christmas before had been snug when I’d bought it, but now zipped up with ease; the material skimmed my body rather than clinging to it. I’d barely eaten a thing since Charlie died. Dan wore his interview suit and a borrowed black tie: a little boy dressed up.

  A taxi took us to Charlie’s house; we were both too shaky to drive. As there was no other family, it had been decided that we’d ride in the funeral car with Lexie. Mum and Oliver had driven down. They’d meet us at the crematorium with Grandma and Grandad. I pushed open the door to what had once been my second home and followed the clouds of cigarette smoke. Lexie sat at the kitchen table, one arm crossed in front of her, the other holding a cigarette, her eyes fixed on an overflowing ashtray. I touched her shoulder. She slapped my hand away. I glared at Dan. Say something.

  ‘I’ll make some tea,’ he said.

  While the kettle boiled, I ran hot water into the slimy washing-up bowl and began to scrub the dirty mugs and plates that covered every surface. I filled the silence with sloshing water and clinking china. Dan carried the milk over to me, holding it up so I could smell it. I sniffed and wrinkled my nose. He tipped it down the sink, congealing yellow lumps that I prodded down the plughole with a teaspoon. He made steaming cups of black tea that nobody drank. I dried up whilst Dan emptied the stinking bin and stacked the wine bottles and lager cans outside the back door for recycling.

  There was nothing left to do but wait. The three of us sat around the kitchen table, silent and avoiding eye contact. It was a relief when there was a rap at the door. Dan jumped up to answer it and Lexie’s eyes bore into mine. She was bristling. Her anger engulfed my sadness.

  ‘I need some air,’ I told her and joined Dan in the narrow hallway, clinging on to the back of his belt while he talked to the driver, so that I wouldn’t float away in a bubble of grief.

  The gleaming hearse contained the oak coffin and flowers: Charlie’s name in white carnations. Grandad had helped organise things with Lexie. I suspected he’d contributed financially too; she’d never been good with money. Lexie got in the car first, then Dan, then me. I stared out of the window as we made our slow journey to say goodbye to someone who had been so full of life I still couldn’t quite believe she was gone. I watched the people in the street talking, laughing. It seemed inexplicable that their lives remained unaffected. This was just another ordinary day for them. I envied them.

  The sky was an iron-grey shroud of anger, full of weeping clouds. A large crowd, mainly dressed in black, waited outside the oak double doors of the chapel, dabbing eyes and blowing noses. Wreaths were studied and cards were read. Everyone looked as dazed as I felt.

  We waited in the car until everyone had gone inside and then the funeral director came to escort us in. I hadn’t cried by this stage. It all seemed so surreal. We made our sombre walk into the crematorium as Eva Cassidy promised blue skies. ‘Somewhere Over The Rainbow’ was Lexie’s choice; Charlie would have made a face – ‘What’s wrong with a bit of Madonna?’

  We sat on wooden benches designed to make bottoms as numb as hearts. At the front of the chapel, crimson velvet curtains trimmed with gold hung behind the plinth where Charlie’s coffin sat. On top of the coffin was a silver-framed photo of a laughing Charlie on Cromer beach. I remembered Grandad taking it.

  A middle-aged man who’d clearly never met Charlie led the service. Generic words such as ‘warm’, ‘funny’, and ‘kind’ were bandied around, and then it was my turn. My jelly legs somehow carried me to the lectern and I faced row after row of eyes bright with tears. I cleared my throat. ‘Charlie was my best friend,’ I began. I recounted the day we’d met; how she’d filled Dan’s jam sandwiches with ketchup. There was tentative laughter at this point. I described how I knew from that moment that she’d be one of the most important people in my life.

  ‘Why then?’ Lexie’s voice rasped through the crematorium, sounding as though she hadn’t stopped chain-smoking since Charlie died.

  My mouth hung open, my words ripped from me.

  ‘Why?’ Lexie stood now, her voice louder. Her face dark and twisted.

  ‘Why?’ I repeated. Not understanding what she was asking of me.

  The congregation’s gaze flicked between Lexie and me as though they were watching a macabre game of tennis.

  ‘Why did you kill her?’

  Lexie stared at me with such hatred that I stumbled backwards. Dan rushed to my side. I’d twisted the same ankle I’d hurt at the race, but it wasn’t the pain that was making me cry.

  ‘Lexie, it’s understandable you’re upset today.’ Grandad stepped in, his voice even and calm.

  ‘I’m upset every day because that fucking bitch killed my daughter. Killed Siobhan. It’s her fault. Everything’s her fault.’

  ‘I didn’t. I don’t understand…’ My eyes darted wildly around, searching for an answer.

  ‘Siobhan’s death was ruled an accidental overdose. Hardly Grace’s fault.’ Dan’s hand felt scorching hot as he rested it against my spine. ‘And I can’t see how you can possibly blame Grace for Charlie.’

  ‘If Charlie hadn’t left…’

  ‘Why did she leave, Lexie? She’s your daughter – enlighten us.’ Dan’s voice got louder and Grandad placed a hand on his arm.

  ‘It’s not the time or the place, son. Lexie, do you want to come outside with me and get some air?’

  ‘I don’t want some fucking air; I want my fucking daughter back.’ Lexie fell to her knees, keening.

  The funeral director smiled at us, although his eyes were cold. ‘I think you should go.’

  People fidgeted in their seats, straining their necks for a better view.

  I was shaking with shock. Dan supported me like I was ninety, one arm around my waist, the other gripping my elbow as I limped towards the door.

  ‘I’ll never forgive you, Grace,’ Lexie screeched behind me.

  Outside, I clung to Dan’s arm.

  ‘I’ll fetch the car.’ Grandad dashed over to the car park while Dan rubbed my back. Mum, Oliver and Grandma huddled together, too stunned to speak.

  By the time we got home, I’d used up all the tissues in my bag. My throat was raw and my eyes felt gritty.

  ‘What about the wake?’

  ‘Do you want to go?’ asked Grandad.

  ‘No,’ my voice was hoarse. ‘But Charlie—’

  ‘Charlie loved you. She’d understand.’

  I climbed out of the car and stood on legs that didn’t quite feel like mine.

  ‘Are you coming in?’ I asked.

  ‘I think we should go to the pub and check on Lexie,’ Grandad replied.

  ‘Fuck Lexie.’ Dan’s voice was hard.

  ‘She has no one else,’ Grandad said. ‘But we’ll stay if you want us to?’

  I shook my head. Grandad did a three-point turn. Oliver’s car followed.

  ‘We’ll come back and see you before we head back to Devon,’ Mum called out the window.

  We stood in the hallway, not quite sure what to do.

&
nbsp; ‘Tea?’ Dan asked.

  ‘Something stronger.’ I wanted to drink myself numb. I unzipped my dress that smelled like the chapel and cloaked myself in a fleecy throw. Even though it was twenty degrees, I was chilled.

  Dan handed me a vodka and Coke and we sat side by side on the sofa and toasted the girl who would now forever remain twenty-four.

  46

  Now

  ‘Don’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 o
ut 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.