A minicab pulls into the kerb next to me.
‘I’m not supposed to do this without a prior booking, but do you want a lift?’ he calls out of the window.
I climb in the back.
‘Where to?’
‘The train station.’
I need to get as far away as possible, the Continent, America, anywhere. I’ll go back to the flat, get my passport then I’ll be gone. No one will ever see me again. I’ll harvest grapes in the Loire or surf in California as I dreamed Edie did. I’ll be the mystery, the missing twin.
I buy a clutch of mini wine bottles at the station off-licence and board my train.
Two hours to London, one to collect my passport and an hour and a half out to Heathrow and it’s over. This life, Tess Piper’s life, will be over.
On the train, I find a double seat and pull my knees up next to me and rest my chin on them. My breath remains shallow, my forehead hot and clammy. The wine will cool it down. I unscrew the first bottle.
The carriage starts to fill up. People pause at the seat next to me. I glower at them. Sitting here, hunched up, bottle in hand, no one challenges me.
By the time we reach Marylebone, the wine bottles are in a pile beneath my feet, but they haven’t cooled me down and my brow is burning. I sway off the train and a man in a checked jacket has to help me put my ticket through the barrier.
At Friday rush hour the station is packed. People pushing to get onto trains, people pushing to leave trains, to cross the station to the underground, to leave the station to find a taxi. I can’t move against the pull of the crowd. It feels as if my feet are no longer in contact with the floor and I’m pushed outside and down towards Marylebone Road. Buses, cars and taxis toot as they crawl from traffic light to traffic light. It’s cacophonous, disorientating. I need to lie down.
My phone rings.
‘Tess, where are you?’ Max asks.
I don’t reply.
‘Your dad called me, said you might be coming back. I’ll wait in for you.’
I hang up. I don’t want him to wait. I can’t face him. I can’t face anyone. He sounded worried. Dad can’t have told him the truth about me. Unless it’s a trap. He’s in league with Vilas and Craven. Of course he’s waiting. He’s waiting with the police.
I cross Marylebone Road and wander down past the library. I need somewhere to go. I could call Cassie. But what if she knows? What if Aunt Lola knows? I turn away from the main road, go into the nearest pub, sit at the bar and order a large glass of wine.
‘Are you alright?’ the barman asks. ‘You don’t look well.’
I touch my face. My cheeks are burning, my hairline damp. I nod at him, drink the wine and order another.
The next thing I know, someone’s shaking me.
‘Sweetheart,’ the barman says. ‘You can’t do that here.’
My head’s resting on the countertop. I jerk upright and nearly fall off the stool. The two suits standing next to me laugh. An older man drinking alone shakes his head in disgust.
They know, they all know who I am. They all know what I am.
‘Get a cab,’ the barman says. ‘Go home.’
‘I don’t have a home.’
I’m not sure if I say it out loud or not.
In the time I’ve been asleep, the pub has changed from an after-work drinking stop to a destination night out. A DJ’s hunched over decks in the corner and customers have moved to the tiny dance floor in front of him. The barman turns away to serve another customer and I dive onto the dance floor and push my way to the centre of the crowd. I’m safe here. I can’t be seen.
The music is just a series of annoying beats and beeps and none of my limbs seem to move in the right direction. I keep knocking into people. No one minds, they’re mostly too out of it to notice. A guy in a thin white vest is dancing next to me. He rolls his body in time with the music. He’s grinning, wide-eyed and happy. He reminds me of Jem and I move away.
The bodies move faster. As they move their flesh melts and blends into one another until there’s a single pulsating mound. The music has got louder, the strobing brighter and the rest of the club darker.
The volume increases until it’s not noise any more, just vibrations pulsing through my body. The air’s rank with sweat and beer. I can’t breathe. I need to get out of here. I try to find the exit and end up in the toilets. Inside, two girls are chatting, one is perched next to the sink, the other facing the mirror, reapplying red lipstick. They stop talking when I come close. They stare at me. I stare back. They’re still staring. Do they know? Does everyone know? Dad knows, so does Ray, Becca and Valentina Vickers. I back out of the toilets without taking my eyes off them and hear the tinkle of laughter as the door swings shut.
So as not to miss the exit again, I circle the room, trying not to make eye contact in case anyone else knows the truth about me. Finally, I find the exit, miss the step, trip and land on my knees and gash my forehead on the railing. I get to my feet and stagger forwards. Hordes of people fill the streets, spilling from pubs and bars onto the pavement. Some laugh, some sneer as I stagger. They all know. I’ll never get to Heathrow, I’ll never leave.
Two young women walk towards me, done up for a night out in strappy dresses and heels. One of them peels away from the other and stops me.
‘What’s happened to you?’ she asks.
I put my hands to my forehead, warm, sticky liquid’s running from the cut.
‘Blood,’ I say. ‘It’s not Edie’s.’
She looks confused.
‘I’m calling an ambulance,’ she says.
‘No need for that,’ the other woman says.
‘She’s hit her head,’ the woman says.
She starts dialling 999. I think of the police, of Vilas and Craven.
‘No,’ I say.
I pull my hand free from the woman and try to walk away. I make it as far as a shop front, then lose energy and lean against it. The woman without the phone follows me and makes me sit down, so that my legs are flat on the floor and my back’s against the wall.
‘Stay here for now,’ she says.
‘I think she’s worse than drunk,’ the other woman says.
I lift my hands and hold them in front of me. They seem a long way away. Not part of my body, these blood-covered hands that killed Edie. The woman watches me with my arms outstretched twisting them in the street light.
‘See what I mean?’ she says.
A phone rings. It’s mine. The woman bends down, reaches into my pocket and takes it.
‘Yes, she’s here,’ she says. ‘Yes, I think you should come.’
‘I wanted to go to the Loire,’ I tell her.
She puts the phone back in my pocket.
‘Your friend’s coming,’ she shouts at me.
‘I haven’t got any friends.’
She smiles.
‘Well, someone’s very worried. You need to take care of yourself.’
They stand next to me chatting and I’m drifting off to sleep when a cab pulls up and Max jumps out. He runs over and kneels down.
‘What’s happened? Are you hurt?’
I shake my head.
‘Look, we’re going. She needs to be more careful,’ the one who answered the phone says. ‘Do you know how many young women go missing each year?’
She trots off into the night with her friend.
Max takes hold of me and presses me to his chest. Blood from my cut smears his T-shirt.
‘Tess, what’s happening?’
‘Max, I did it,’ I whisper.
He holds me tighter.
‘I’m the creepy twin. I killed Edie.’
‘You didn’t. How could you have?’
He’s right. I couldn’t have. However much Dad, Ray and Becca believe it, I know I could never hurt her. She was my sister, my twin. From nowhere rage rises within me. How small and stupid, ugly and useless Edie made me feel as she sloped off into the night wearing eyeliner and a tight black top. Her
smile as she told me she was going out with Michaela, her love of secrets and blocking me from her life. I did hate her. Sometimes.
But I would never hurt her. And yet she’s dead.
Chapter 64
Edie: July 1998
Edie felt the summer heat as a weight on her head, the pressure beating against her temples. Her stomach gurgled with emptiness, though the thought of food repulsed her.
Each school day was a slow torture, but she couldn’t stay off sick. She had to sit her end-of-term exams and Tess was watching. She’d think time off school was a chance to sneak away and see a boy. Edie had two more days of this, then she could live in bed all day over the summer holidays and be left alone.
She should be working harder. Even Tess was predicted better grades. At this rate Edie wouldn’t even get work in a supermarket and she needed a job that would pay good money, so she could get out of this place. Only she could no longer find the energy.
Natalie pushed past her.
‘Come on, you’re like an old woman,’ she said.
Edie woke from her dreaming.
They were nearly at the school’s main gates. She stopped and pushed back. What was she doing? She could have walked right into Bob. Natalie looked at her, puzzled.
‘I’ve forgotten something, Nat,’ she said and turned back towards the school. Walking against the flow, she was bumped on either side going into the building. The glass entrance intensified the heat so it became unbearable. Edie teetered and nearly fell but made it the few feet to the narrow corridor, where it was much cooler.
‘Are you alright, Edie?’
It was Mrs Stanley. Edie forced herself upright.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I forgot something.’
‘You’re not unwell?’
‘No.’
‘Are you sure? I could get you some water.’
‘No, really, I’m fine. Thank you, miss.’
‘OK then.’
Mrs Stanley looked at her. Edie thought she might have stopped, but she had her car keys in her hand, as eager to escape as her pupils.
‘Well, see you tomorrow.’
‘Bye, miss.’
Edie watched her leave and wondered why she needed a cardigan in this weather. As she turned towards the school’s back entrance, she caught sight of someone in the corridor on the opposite side of the atrium, standing still and staring at her.
It was Tess. She didn’t speak, didn’t approach, just stood and stared.
God, she was so sick of Tess, her moping, her surveillance, her silences and pretend secrets. Edie didn’t acknowledge her. She continued to the back of the school, anger giving her the energy she lacked earlier, and stomped out. Nausea was still swilling around her stomach but she felt less faint. In the distance, she could see the thin trickle of pupils still leaving by the front gates. She was tired of this nonsense, lying, sneaking about. Soon, it would all be over. Just two more days.
Halfway across the field, she felt eyes boring into her back. She turned around. Tess was standing at the back entrance staring at her, a cold, blank expression on her face. How long was this going to go on? Edie spun back and marched towards the hedge, her fists clenched. She checked behind once more before stepping through the narrow gap and running straight into Bob.
Chapter 65
Tess: July 2018
‘Drink this,’ Max says.
I’m in the bed in our shared flat. He’s holding a glass to my lips. I haul myself onto my elbows and sip at the weak orange squash. Mum used to give me that when I had flu. I don’t have flu now, though I’m frail enough and my head’s heavy.
‘You’ve been ill.’
I flop back down.
‘How long?’
‘Two days.’
I groan and turn my head into the pillow. Neither sickness nor alcohol can explain what’s happened to me. I must be losing my mind. For some reason this thought is comforting.
‘So you’ve seen him?’ Max says.
‘Who?’
‘Bob.’
‘How do you …?’
‘You talked a lot when you were ill.’
I can’t remember what I told him. He doesn’t seem angry.
‘I didn’t do it, Max, did I?’
He leans over and tucks the duvet under my chin.
‘You do believe me?’ I say.
‘Yes,’ he says.
‘Nobody else does.’
‘I know. You told me the night I came to pick you up.’
The pub and the fall seems a long time ago and I can’t remember talking, only the dreams.
‘I don’t know what’s true any more,’ I say. ‘I thought it was Ray, then Bob or Jem or whoever he is. Even Dad for a moment. And then there’s Michaela and …’ I think of Max, that insignificant little boy following her around. ‘And maybe others, but they all think it’s me. Becca said I went and told her. It must be true, only I know it’s not.’
‘I’m telling you, it’s not possible,’ Max says.
‘Dad told me—’
‘You’re not listening, Tess. I know you didn’t do it.’
‘How can you know that?’ I ask.
‘Because I was there.’
Chapter 66
Edie: June 1998
Edie pulled her hands across herself as if to hide her school uniform from Bob. For a moment she thought it was a horrible accident, that he was there by chance, until he grabbed her arm.
‘What the fuck …’ He spat the words at her.
He was a different person now. Not the smiles, jokes and slouchy stance. He seemed taller; his facial muscles were tensed into an ugliness that frightened her. His fingers dug tighter into her arm as she tried to pull free.
‘I should have known better than to go with some stupid schoolgirl.’
Edie stopped struggling and looked at him.
‘Did you think I didn’t know?’ he said. ‘You must think I’m as dumb as you are.’
Bob grabbed her other arm and pushed her into the hedge. She lost her balance and nearly fell.
‘What do you think you’re playing at?’
‘Just leave me alone,’ she said.
‘Are you going to leave me alone?’
Edie pulled back and this time he let her go.
‘Yes. What did you think, I’d tell Michaela?’
‘Michaela. So you’re not so innocent.’ He stepped back and looked her up and down. He seemed less angry now, though he was still breathing hard. ‘What do you want from me?’
‘I told you. I don’t want to see you any more.’
‘Yeah, then you sent your aunt round to find me.’
‘What?’
Edie struggled to understand what he was saying.
‘Like you don’t know. You sent her to see me.’
‘I never told her anything about you. I never even said your name.’
‘Then how did she know where I live?’
‘I don’t know how she found out but I never told her.’
Had Freddie known his address?
‘I don’t believe you,’ Bob said.
‘I don’t care if you believe me.’
‘Is she going to come again?’
‘How should I know?’
Edie pictured an irate Auntie Becca against Bob’s relaxed insolence. But seeing him now, maybe he hadn’t reacted like that. She couldn’t imagine what Auntie Becca had said, she didn’t want to know. Edie went to walk past him. He moved in front of her. She stopped, not wanting him to grab her arm again.
‘Don’t play games with me,’ he said.
‘I’m not playing games. Let me past.’
‘I told her it wasn’t mine.’
‘What?’ Edie heard herself say as she realised the answer to what Auntie Becca had said.
‘The baby.’
‘There is no baby.’
He leant in to study her face.
‘You’re telling me you’re not pregnant?’
‘Of course I’
m not.’ She almost laughed.
‘Why did your aunt say you were?’
‘I don’t know. To scare you off, teach you a lesson, I guess.’
‘So you’re definitely not?’
‘No.’
He looked away from her and let his shoulders drop. He was about to say something but Edie took the chance to slide past him.
‘No hard feelings, eh?’ he called after her.
She didn’t reply and didn’t look back. She wanted to rub her arm where he had bruised it but wouldn’t while he was still watching.
Cars passed by. She looked behind her, scared one might be Bob’s. Instead, she saw that stupid boy, Max. He was standing on the opposite side of the road. Why was he still hanging about? She’d told him enough times to get lost. The sun was in her eyes and she couldn’t tell if he was looking in her direction or not as he ran across the road.
Chapter 67
Tess: July 2018
‘It wasn’t you, Tess,’ Max says.
He strokes the hair from my forehead.
‘Did you hurt her?’
‘I tried to protect her. Especially after I saw her with Bob. I knew exactly what he was, and what some of his friends were like. Look how Michaela ended up.’ He puts the drink on the side and looks down at his hands. ‘Only I couldn’t protect her. That’s what hurts the most. I should have followed her, even though she told me not to.’
‘Was I only ever a substitute?’
‘It’s not like that. I love you, Tess.’
Maybe he believes this, but it’s not true. Someone who loved Edie could never love me for myself. I turn my head back onto the pillow so I’m no longer facing him. For Max, it was always Edie.
‘I remember the first time I saw her, at a party,’ he says. ‘She was different to the other girls. But honestly, Tess, it was so innocent. I never wanted anything from her, not like Bob. I just wanted to be with her, be next to her. She thought I was a silly little boy. I hated that.’
‘And it made you angry.’
‘No, Tess, it made me sad and that’s not what I’m trying to tell you.’
‘What are you trying to tell me?’
‘I was there that day, the day she disappeared. I was following her. You left by the front of the school. You went a different way. You were nowhere near the canal.’
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