We Were Sisters: An absolutely gripping psychological thriller

by Wendy Clarke

  Everything’s starting to make sense now. The symbol on the window, Noah’s mobile, the back door that had been left open. Putting the photograph down, I feel my panic rise, and as I hear my mum’s footsteps on the stairs, I start to count. If I can get to twenty before she comes into the room, everything will be all right.

  ‘Please tell me what’s going on, Kelly. You’re not making any sense.’

  I’ve reached my goal and feel myself relax a little, but I haven’t time to explain now. I need to go to the school and make sure the girls are okay. I won’t be happy until I’ve seen them.

  Leaving the letters and photographs on the floor, I run into the hall and pick up my coat. Checking my phone, I see there’s a missed call from Mitch, but I haven’t got time to ring him back. I can’t focus on my husband right now; this is more important. In minutes, I’m in the car, retracing the journey I made only a short while earlier. As I drive, I think of my Sophie. So tiny. So fair. It would have been how Freya looked when she was that age. With certainty, I know that she’s in danger.

  At the roundabout, as I come off the A27, a car is slow to pull away and I press down hard on the horn, eliciting a black look from the passenger of the car on my right. ‘For Christ’s sake, get out of my way!’

  I’m breaking the speed limit and just have to hope there are no police cars around at this time of day. Freya knows where my daughter is. She could have seen her in the classroom. She could have been waiting. Watching.

  Either side of the road, the trees have started to lose their leaves. A rhyme comes into my head. Here’s a tree in winter. Here’s a tree in—

  Bile rises to my throat. Miss King taught Sophie that rhyme. Miss King who I’ve never seen and who wasn’t in school this morning. Is it possible? A worse thought hits me. Mrs Allen said she’d be coming in this afternoon. I press my foot on the accelerator, knowing I’m driving dangerously, but I can’t help it. I have to get there as quickly as I can.

  When I reach the school, I park the car on a yellow line outside the gates and run in. The playground is empty and I race across it, my bag thumping against my leg. Breathless, I arrive at the twins’ classroom door and fling it open. Mrs Allen is in the reading corner, the children gathered around her. When she hears the bang of the door against the brickwork, she looks up, surprised.

  ‘Mrs Thirsk. Isabella’s already been collected. Your husband said you knew?’

  ‘Yes, of course, but it isn’t Isabella I want to see, it’s Sophie.’ Frantically, I scan the children but can’t see her. Thirty-odd pairs of eyes stare up at me, but I’m too wired to care. ‘Where is she? Where’s Sophie?’

  ‘Please calm down. Sophie’s fine. She’s with Miss King in the special needs room. She’s helping her with her reading.’

  ‘I need to see her. It’s important.’

  Mrs Allen looks unsure, but it’s obvious I mean business. She points to the door that leads into the corridor. ‘It’s the first door on the right, Mrs Thirsk, but I can see you’re upset. Why don’t you wait here a while until you feel a bit calmer?’

  I look at her as though she’s mad. ‘You don’t understand. I need to see her now.’

  Pushing past her, I open the door to the corridor. Along its length, classroom doors lead off it on both sides, but luckily, the room I’m looking for is clearly marked. As I barge in, I’m not sure what I’m expecting to find but it’s not this: Sophie is sitting at a large table, her head bent to a reading book. She looks up and a smile lights up her face when she sees me.

  ‘Mummy!’

  ‘Sophie. Come with me now.’ My voice is too loud, too high-pitched, but I don’t care. I need to act fast.

  Pushing back her chair, she runs over to me and flings her arms around my legs. ‘Why are you here?’

  I’m almost crying with relief. Bending my head, I kiss her hair. ‘You’re safe. Thank God.’

  ‘Is everything all right?’

  I’d been so relieved to see Sophie, I hadn’t noticed the young woman at the other end of the room. She has a sheet of coloured stickers in her hand, which she replaces in the packet she’s holding.

  ‘This is my mum,’ Sophie says, dragging me over to her.

  ‘Delighted to meet you, Mrs Thirsk. I’m Miss King. Mrs Allen said you wanted to see me. I’ve just been giving Sophie a sticker for brilliant reading.’

  The young woman who comes towards me with extended hand is petite with thick, dark hair tied back in a scrunchy. She can’t be more than about twenty.

  Suddenly, I want the room to open up and swallow me. How could I have been so mistaken? Jumped to the wrong conclusion. This girl couldn’t be less like Freya if she wanted to be. I’d been so sure and now I’m not sure about anything.

  Apologising for barging in, I leave. My face burning. There’s nothing for me to do except go home.

  As I walk along the corridor, I remember Mitch’s call. Taking my phone out of my bag, I see he’s left a voicemail.

  Kelly, I’ve been held up. The shit’s hit the fan. That kid, Dale, reported what I did to him and I need to get some legal advice. I managed to get an appointment at the solicitor’s, but he’s running late. Is there any way you can collect Isabella for her hearing test after all? If I don’t hear back from you, I’m going to have to ask Maddie to collect her and drop her off to me at the solicitor’s as it’s on the way to the hospital.

  I stare at my phone, then throw it back into my bag. I’ve heard the message too late. My day is going from bad to worse.

  56

  Kelly Now

  I’m just passing reception on my way out, when Lorraine, the school secretary, calls to me.

  ‘Mrs Thirsk. Could I have a word?’

  ‘Of course. If it’s about me barging into Mrs Allen’s classroom, then I’m sorry but it was an emergency.’

  Lorraine swivels her chair away from her computer and looks at me through the sliding glass panel. ‘It isn’t that. I just wanted to talk to you about our policy for picking children up from school.’

  I’m not sure why it’s me she wants to talk to. ‘Yes, what about it?’

  She takes off her glasses. ‘It’s just that, even with permission, we don’t really like children being collected by adults they aren’t familiar with.’

  ‘I understand that.’ Now, I’m very confused. ‘But why are you telling me this?’

  ‘Because of Isabella’s ear appointment. Luckily, she’s a confident little girl and didn’t seem to mind being collected by someone she hadn’t met before, but I expect it would have been a different story if it was Sophie. We do prefer it to be someone the children know who picks them up although, obviously, there will be times when—’

  ‘No, it’s fine,’ I interrupt her. ‘Maddie’s a family friend. Isabella’s known her for most of her life.’

  ‘That’s what your husband said when he rang to give permission, but Isabella looked a little unsure when she came to pick her up. Can you confirm her name is Maddie Parker?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’

  ‘That’s fine then. That was the name she gave.’

  My phone’s ringing again. Maddie’s name flashes across the screen. I hope there’s not a problem. ‘Excuse me, do you mind?’

  Lorraine shakes her head. ‘Go ahead.’

  As I answer, the memory of my embarrassing call last night presses down on me. ‘Hello.’

  ‘Oh, I’m glad I caught you, Kelly.’

  ‘Why? Is something the matter?’

  ‘Yes, there’s been an accident on the A259. I’m stuck in a jam and nothing’s moving. A police car went by about five minutes ago and I can see the lights of an ambulance behind me, so it doesn’t look as if I’ll be going anywhere for a while. I’m really sorry but I haven’t even got to the school yet. I thought I should let you know.’

  A sick feeling rises inside me and I grip the edge of the counter for support. ‘You mean you haven’t picked Izzy up?’

  ‘No, I told you. I don’t th
ink I’m going to be able to get there. I’m really sorry.’

  Jesus.

  Ending the call without even saying goodbye, I bang on the glass of the receptionist’s window. ‘Are you sure Isabella’s definitely been collected?’

  Lorraine looks up and frowns. ‘Yes, I’m certain. I saw her leave.’

  I look out of the double glass doors that lead onto the playground. Desperate to be wrong. Scared to ask the question. ‘What did this woman look like?’

  ‘I thought you said you knew her,’ she says pointedly.

  ‘Please, just tell me.’

  Lorraine closes her eyes as if trying to conjure up a picture. ‘She was tall and quite thin, like a model actually. Very striking.’

  ‘Her hair. What colour was her hair?’

  ‘It was unusual. Very pale… almost white. She was wearing a black coat and a blue scarf. What is this all about, Mrs Thirsk?’

  I don’t answer. It’s what the woman who gave me the tree survey leaflet was wearing, on the children’s first day at school. The same day I found the locket in Noah’s pram.

  It’s Freya.

  Mitch mentioned Izzy’s appointment at the hospital in one of his letters to my mother. It’s how she knew. There’s no doubt in my mind the woman who killed her own sister has my child. I slide down to the floor, my head cradled in my hands, and break down in tears.

  ‘Mrs Thirsk. What’s happened?’ Lorraine is beside me, her hand on my shoulder.

  I look up at her with wild eyes. ‘Phone the police. Please hurry. My foster-sister has Isabella and I’m not sure what she’s capable of.’

  ‘And her name is Maddie?’

  ‘No, Freya,’ I shout at her, as though she’s mad.

  ‘Please sit down and I’ll get you some water.’ Taking my arm, she helps me to my feet. ‘I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.’

  I brush off her hand in frustration. ‘It’s not a misunderstanding. She pretended to be Maddie to get to my child. She’s unstable. Ring the police now. Please.’

  Lorraine looks uncertain but goes back into the office and picks up the telephone. She watches me as she speaks.

  ‘Yes, police please. It’s Lorraine Jarvis from Longways Primary. I’d like to report a possible child abduction.’

  57

  Kelly Now

  The police say they’ll send someone straightaway to take a statement, but as the minutes go by, I become more agitated. Scenes from my past come back to me. Freya leaning with her back against the wall of the rifle range, her long legs stretched out in front of her, the vodka bottle between us. Freya up against that same wall, my first crush, Ethan, pressed against her. Freya telling me her awful secret.

  The tea Lorraine has brought me sits untouched on the low table next to the chair I’m sitting on. This area is meant for visitors, not for mothers who have just lost a child. The head teacher has been to see me and is now talking to Mrs Allen and Miss King. Mitch is on his way. The police are on their way. Everyone is doing something except me.

  I can’t just sit here and do nothing when my child needs me. My guilt is like a physical pain. All these years I’ve worried about Sophie. Fussed over her. Loved her more than her robust sister because, in some strange way, she reminds me of the little lost girl who arrived at our door when I was just eight. My motherly instincts have been skewed by parents who didn’t want me and by those few short weeks when Freya was my sister. When I needed someone to love me.

  If it had been Sophie who’d had the ear appointment, she would never have gone off with a stranger. Her nervousness would have kept her safe. But Isabella, my feisty, fearless little daughter who will talk to anyone – of course, she was the perfect choice. And Freya would have known that. When Mitch had written his letters to my mother, full of those choice things he thought were safe to say, he wouldn’t have known who else would read them. That one day these same words would put my daughter in danger.

  Taking out my phone, I write a short message to Mitch, telling him where I’m going, then pick up my coat and hurry to the door. When I reach the car, and start the ignition, I wonder if I’m doing the right thing. Maybe I should wait for the police and try and explain, but if I do, it could be too late.

  It’s the second time I’ve driven this way in one day, but this time there’s an urgency to my mission that wasn’t there before. The only thing I can think about is getting back to my mother’s house. It’s where Freya will have taken her. I just know it.

  It’s getting dark by the time I arrive at the house, but there’s a light on in the kitchen window. I see my mother at the sink and bang on the glass. She looks up, startled. Realising she can’t see who it is who’s banging, I go to the front door and call through the letter box.

  ‘Mum, it’s me, Kelly. Open the door. It’s important.’

  The door opens and I push past her. ‘Where is she? Where’s Isabella?’

  She folds her arms. ‘I don’t know what you mean. Why would she be here? Without you?’

  Every nerve in my body feels stretched to breaking point. ‘Because Freya has her. I don’t have time to tell you everything, but have you seen anything odd here at all? Any cars in the road you don’t recognise?’

  My mother shakes her head. ‘No, but this came through the door earlier. I thought it rather strange.’ She lifts a newspaper from the sideboard. ‘I don’t have my paper delivered, but someone pushed it through my letter box.’

  I snatch it from her and tear at the pages, throwing them aside until I get to the one I want. The horoscope page has been marked, just as I knew it would be. The Gemini symbol circled in red ink.

  The words themselves are innocuous, something to do with needing to be more assertive and being more capable than you realise, but it’s the symbol itself that’s the message.

  ‘When we were teenagers, Freya spray-painted her sign of the zodiac on the wall of the rifle range. She’s telling me where she is, Mum.’ I think of the leaflet that was shoved at me the first day at school, the beech tree with its spreading branches. ‘All this time, she’s wanted me to know she’s found me. She left me clues, but I let Mitch persuade me it was all in my head.’

  ‘But why wait?’ My mum sits heavily in the chair. ‘Why not just come up to you? Speak to you directly?’

  ‘I don’t know. I think she was biding her time. Waiting until she could take my child. Where she’s taken Izzy is important. She wants me to go after her.’ Running to the back door, I unlock it. ‘If Mitch comes, tell him where I am.’

  The torch is on the shelf in the same place it’s always been and I grab it, then let myself out, slamming the door behind me. My fingers fumble with the latch on the side gate, but eventually I manage to open it. It’s years since I’ve been down this lane and just as many years since I entered the meadow. This time there’s no fever to insulate me from the growing cold. It’s just me and the darkness: the biting wind stinging my eyes, the swell of the downs rolling like waves in an angry ocean and the knowledge that out there somewhere is my daughter.

  This evening, the moon looks almost full. It picks out the tips of the grass in silver as it writhes and undulates in the wind. There’s no need for the torch, but the grass is thick and coarse in places, conspiring to trip me, and I have to look down at my feet as I run through it. My phone is ringing in my pocket, but I don’t stop to answer it. It will be Mitch asking me what the hell is going on. He’ll want to know why I didn’t wait for the police… where I am. If I stop to answer, I’ll be wasting time.

  The frozen meadow feels endless, the downs behind it never seeming to get any closer. My fingers are numb with cold and my coat is too thin, but I have to keep going. I think of Izzy in her uniform. The raincoat she’s wearing instead of her winter coat because she got it muddy and it’s in the wash. She will be shivering. Her cheeks red with cold. I stifle a cry. My baby’s in danger and it’s all my fault.

  My phone is still ringing. Insistent. Demanding. Stop it! Stop ringing me! As
I drag it from my pocket, it slips out of my bloodless fingers and onto the frozen ground. With every ring, the number flashes. It’s not Mitch, after all. It’s a number I don’t recognise. I press ‘accept’ and wait, my breath coming in gasps. Maybe it’s the police. Maybe they’re ringing to tell me that they’ve found Isabella and she’s at home with Mitch and Sophie. That I’ve been mistaken. It’s all just been an innocent mix-up.

  It isn’t, though. The voice on the end of the phone is one that sends a chill down my spine.

  ‘You came.’

  I stand stock still, staring into the darkness. ‘It’s you.’

  ‘Yes.’ Freya’s voice is as I remember it from all those years ago.

  ‘Tell me what you want.’ I struggle to keep my voice level. Hoping against hope that she can’t hear the fear in it. ‘Tell me what to do. Just give Izzy back to me.’

  I can hear a faint crying and I know it’s my daughter. She’s with her somewhere and I just want to hold her in my arms. Tell her it will be all right. But I can’t.

  ‘Please tell me my daughter’s safe.’ I hear Freya sigh and remember how she would often tire of our conversations if they didn’t go her way. I try to keep my voice upbeat. ‘Where are you? Let’s meet. We can talk. We used to be sisters, Freya. We used to be friends.’

  ‘Did we?’ She sounds bored. ‘Is that why you told them what I’d done? Is that why you lied about me and had me sent away?’

  ‘I didn’t tell them, Freya. I never told your secret.’

  ‘Are you sure about that? Not even your husband?’

  I wonder how she knows. ‘Please,’ I say again. ‘Where are you?’

  Pressing my mobile against my ear, I strain to hear something that will give me a clue. Traffic. A television. Anything. But all I can hear is Isabella’s plaintive voice. Where’s Mummy?