The Silent Sister

by Shalini Boland

  ‘No,’ Llewellyn says. ‘That’s okay. If you leave us your car keys, we can wait for them in our vehicle. But there is another reason we wanted to talk to you today.’

  I take up my position on the arm of the chair once more – too tense to take a proper seat – and wait for her to continue.

  ‘The results of the stain analysis have come back from the lab,’ she says, her face expressionless. I wonder if it’s part of police training to perfect a poker face.

  ‘You mean the stain on the letter?’ I ask.

  ‘That’s right.’ She pushes a wisp of fringe off her forehead. ‘Unfortunately, the lab tests determined that the stain is in fact blood.’

  My skin goes cold. ‘What kind of blood?’

  ‘The technicians used what’s called a precipitin reaction, to detect the presence of a specific antigen,’ Llewellyn says.

  I have no idea what she’s talking about, and my face must show my confusion because she quickly goes on to explain. ‘They used a test to determine whether the bloodstain is human, or from another source.’

  ‘And?’ I wish she’d hurry up and get to the point.

  ‘The results are positive for feline blood.’

  A wave of nausea rises up from my gut, but I manage to keep it down. I take a deep breath in through my nose to try to damp down the horror of what Llewellyn is telling me.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Llewellyn asks.

  ‘Not really,’ I reply. ‘Frank’s paw,’ I continue. ‘They must have cut it, mustn’t they? Whoever is doing this, whoever is hounding me, it was them who cut my cat’s paw, wasn’t it?’

  Neither of the officers replies.

  ‘Wasn’t it?’ I say.

  ‘We shouldn’t jump to conclusions,’ Llewellyn says. ‘But it does look that way. Yes.’

  I stand up and start pacing the room. ‘I don’t believe this. Did you get any prints off any of the letters?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. But we’re working on other avenues.’

  ‘Like what?’ I ask.

  ‘Like where the paper and envelopes were bought. That kind of thing.’

  ‘What about Leon Whittaker? Have you spoken to him again?’

  ‘Not yet. But in light of all these new incidents we’ll be finding out his whereabouts for yesterday and today. Checking if he has any alibis.’

  ‘My neighbour…’ I begin, and then tail off.

  ‘What about your neighbour?’ Llewellyn asks.

  PC Matt Ryan is writing in his notebook again.

  ‘Ian Clutterbuck,’ I say. ‘He…’ But I have no evidence that my neighbour has done anything. I can’t accuse him simply because he gave me this weird look one time. ‘I’m pretty sure he’s harmless, but then again, I’m not sure what to think any more. Maybe you should speak to all my neighbours. Find out if they’ve seen anything strange, or anyone hanging around.’

  ‘We’ll do that,’ Llewellyn says. ‘Any reason why you singled out this Ian Clutterbuck person?’

  ‘No. Only that… he lives next door. If he’s got anything to do with it, he’d be able to see my comings and goings. It would be easy for him to follow me.’

  ‘And that’s all? No other reason you mention his name? Has he behaved inappropriately towards you? Said anything strange?’

  ‘No, he hasn’t. In fact, Joe and I went round there for dinner with him and his girlfriend last week.’

  She nods slowly. ‘And what about your other neighbours?’

  ‘I only know Mrs P, on the other side of us. She’s my old school teacher. Really nice. Said she’d keep an eye out for me.’

  ‘And your neighbours opposite?’

  ‘I don’t really know any of them.’

  ‘Okay,’ Llewellyn says, getting to her feet. ‘Matt and I will start going door to door. We might have to come back to finish up later, as most people will probably be at work. Talking of work, feel free to head off to the shop, if you’re up to it. But no one would blame you if you took the day off.’

  ‘Thanks. But I’d rather go in than sit around at home worrying.’

  ‘I know what you mean,’ Llewellyn says. ‘Actually, why don’t I drop you in while Matt makes a start on the door-to-doors?’

  Matt raises an eyebrow and then nods at his superior.

  ‘Really?’ I say, feeling relieved. ‘Would that be okay? I don’t feel safe walking on my own at the moment.’

  ‘Of course,’ Llewellyn says. ‘And please make sure you get a lift home after work, too. I don’t want you out on your own at all. Not until we’ve caught this person. I thought I told you that last time we met?’

  ‘You did,’ I say.

  ‘Well, please, Lizzy, take my advice this time.’

  ‘I will.’ I nod, wishing I’d taken it the first time. ‘Can you give me ten minutes to get myself together?’

  ‘We’ll make a start on the neighbours,’ she says. ‘Meet me outside when you’re ready.’

  The two of them leave and I sink into the sofa, pulling my legs up under me and closing my eyes. I can barely take it all in. Two weeks ago I was living a peaceful, normal life. Now I’m living in the middle of a nightmare. I don’t know what to think. How to be. I feel absolutely exhausted and overwhelmed. I mentioned Leon and Ian to the police, so why didn’t I tell them my suspicions about Emma? She lives in Bristol, so she could have been in that crowd yesterday, but what about all the hand-delivered letters? She works full-time, so how would she have managed that?

  I should call her at work. See if she’s in today. If she’s not there, then it makes it more likely that she was here hanging up that air freshener and stealing my spy cam. But she could have done all that last night and still made it back in time for work in Bristol. The truth is, I don’t want to believe it’s her.

  My phone buzzes in my lap. It must be Pippa. I’d better go. It’s almost half ten. My customers will be going mad wondering why we’re not open. I check my messages and see that I’ve received another text. It’s from an unknown number. Part of me hopes it’s a spammy marketing text, but the other part knows it won’t be. My heart twangs as I open the text:

  Surely you didn’t think you’d catch me out with your oh-so-obvious camera, did you?

  I read it again, my stomach swirling.

  They have my number! Who is it? Who is it?

  My shock and terror suddenly morph into something harder. Before I can stop myself, I find myself tapping out a reply:

  Who is this?

  There’s no reply, so I write another text:

  What do you want?

  Still no reply. I furiously tap out another one.

  Just leave me alone!

  The phone buzzes in my hand, making me jump. A reply comes back with just a single emoticon – a crying-with-laughter face.

  I clench my fists and throw my phone onto the sofa. It bounces onto the floor and lands face up, the laughing icon staring straight back at me, like my stalker is watching me through my phone screen. I kick the handset over with my toe so it ends up face down on the floor. But that laughing face remains stamped on my brain. How am I going to make this nightmare stop?

  So now I’m getting closer to what I really want.

  * * *

  This is not about their fear any more. It’s about getting revenge.

  * * *

  Proper revenge on the one who’s to blame.

  * * *

  Nothing will make up for the wrongs I’ve suffered. But I can taste the sweetness of everything that’s coming and it will be worth it.

  * * *

  I’ll make sure of that.

  Twenty-Seven

  ‘Darling, what on earth happened to you?’ The horror on Pippa’s face tells me just how awful I must look.

  ‘Let’s get inside,’ I reply.

  Pippa waits in the corridor while I disable the alarm and switch on the lights, and then we bustle through to the shop. I couldn’t face coming into work yesterday. I was too shaken up by everything that happened. I
messaged George to tell him I was unable to go in. To give him credit, he was sympathetic and arranged for one of his other shop managers to open up for Pippa. Luckily, he didn’t prod me about the thefts. But I’m aware that Pippa is very much on borrowed time.

  George gets back from his holiday in two days, so I’m going to have to speak to Pippa soon. I’m lucky George hasn’t messaged me about it again. Hopefully his wife Sophia has banned him from any more work-related activities while they’re supposed to be on holiday. But he’s a proper workaholic, so I’m not banking on it. He could call at any moment.

  I check my watch – still ten minutes until opening time, so I’ve got a few minutes in which to fill Pippa in, although the thought of talking about the attack makes me queasy.

  I sit on the stool while Pippa rests her elbows on the counter.

  ‘You said you were in an accident,’ she prompts. ‘So what happened?’

  ‘I went to Bristol on Monday,’ I begin.

  ‘Ooh, Sebbie was there on Monday. He went to visit the auction house. We’re going to sell some artwork. Poor Mummy’s distraught.’

  ‘Seb was in Bristol on Monday?’ I’m getting an uncomfortable feeling in my chest. ‘When was he there? What time?’

  ‘Oh, he left home at the crack of dawn. He was there all morning.’

  My stomach lurches. Could that be a coincidence? I decide not to voice my fears about Seb. My questions didn’t go down very well with Pippa last time. But I make a mental note to tell Llewellyn that Seb was in Bristol at the same time as me. Maybe Joe’s initial hunch was actually correct.

  ‘So?’ Pippa persists. ‘What happened to cause all this?’ She gestures to my face.

  I decide to give her a simplified version of the truth. If Seb is something to do with the letters, I don’t want Pippa blabbing to him about how shaken up I really am. So I tell her that I was knocked over by a pedestrian.

  ‘You mean, on purpose?’ Her mouth hangs open.

  ‘I’m not sure. It happened so fast. It was busy, it could have been an accident,’ I lie.

  ‘But it might not have been! Sweetie! That’s absolutely horrific! Who would do such a thing? And why? You must have seriously pissed someone off, Lizzy.’ Pippa is so blunt, I’d laugh if the situation wasn’t deadly serious. ‘Any idea who it could have been?’

  At the moment I’m thinking it might be your brother. ‘It could have been anyone,’ I say instead. ‘The street was crowded.’

  ‘Have you fallen out with anyone recently?’ she asks. ‘Someone who might have a bit of a screw loose?’

  Thoughts of my sister flash into my head. ‘No.’ I shake my head slowly. ‘I can’t think of anyone I’ve fallen out with, not recently.’

  ‘Except the lovely Leon,’ Pippa drawls.

  ‘Hmm. Yes, well, the police were going to have words with him again. But they haven’t got back to me yet.’

  ‘Who do the police think is responsible?’ she asks. ‘I take it you did call them?’

  I shrug. ‘They know as much as I do.’

  ‘Poor you. Should you even be in work? I mean, no offence, but you look like an extra from a horror movie.’

  ‘Thanks a lot!’ I put a hand self-consciously to my cheek.

  ‘Darling. You know I think you’re drop-dead gorgeous. Just, maybe not today.’

  ‘Yes, well, I thought I’d hide in the stockroom. You can come and fetch me if it gets too busy. Sorry I left you hanging around outside the shop for so long.’

  ‘Excuse me, I don’t “do” hanging around.’ She laughs. ‘Actually, I waited in Clare’s with a cappuccino, and had a jolly nice morning being chatted up by one of the waiters.’

  ‘Well, I’m glad my crisis perked up your love life.’ I roll my eyes. ‘Things feeling better after Toby?’ I ask.

  ‘Ah, you know. Can’t let the bastards grind you down.’ She drops her flippant tone for a moment. ‘Seriously though, Lizzy. If you need anything, any time, I’m here for you, all right?’

  ‘Thank you.’ I lower my eyes, feeling wretched about her imminent redundancy. I hate being so two-faced.

  ‘Gracious, it’s past nine o’clock,’ Pippa says, glancing down at her watch. ‘Hadn’t we better—’

  ‘Yes, I’ll sort out the till, you get the door. And then I’m going into the back to catch up on my paperwork.’

  Being back at Georgio’s is strange. What with everything that’s gone on, it seems like weeks since I was last here, not a few days. I’m hoping that being at work will take my mind off the fact that someone out there is trying to kill me. But it’s not working. Hurriedly, I slot the float into the till and retreat to the back room, relieved to be away from the openness of the shop floor.

  I slide into the leather swivel chair that sits in front of the desk and close my eyes for a moment, wondering if I’m going to have the strength to get through a whole day. I could so easily fall asleep right now. Maybe sleep is a coping mechanism – a way to block out all the crap I’m going through. My mind slips back to yesterday. To the air freshener, the spy cam theft and then the text messages. I was sure Llewellyn would be able to trace the texts. But she said that they’d most likely have been sent from a pay-as-you-go phone with an unregistered SIM, which would be untraceable. So, no joy there. Whoever is doing this is smart. They know how not to get caught. But I’m hoping it’s only a matter of time before they slip up.

  I open my eyes, make myself a strong coffee and get to work ordering new stock. The morning goes by reasonably quickly and, before I know it, Pippa’s asking if she can take her lunch break. My breath shortens at the thought of going out onto the shop floor, but I tell myself not to be silly. I can do this. I can’t let whoever is threatening me ruin my life.

  I slick on some lipstick, dab some more concealer on my bruises and leave the stockroom, feeling like I’m about to go on stage.

  ‘I won’t be long,’ Pippa says. ‘Twenty minutes or so, okay?’

  ‘Don’t worry, you can take your full hour,’ I say.

  ‘No, it’s fine. See you in twenty.’ She blows me a kiss and leaves.

  I can cope with twenty minutes, can’t I?

  The shop isn’t too busy. Just a few customers browsing the clothes rails. Normally I would try to catch their eye and give a smile to acknowledge that I’m here to help if they need me. But today I purposely don’t look their way, hoping they don’t want any assistance. Instead, I busy myself rearranging one of the china displays.

  Someone taps me on the shoulder, making me jump. I drop the cream jug I’m holding, but manage to fumble and catch it.

  ‘Lizzy.’

  I turn to see my neighbour, Ruby, her hair pulled up into a ponytail, large silver hoops in her ears. Her mouth drops open when she sees my face, but she clamps it shut again.

  ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to make you jump,’ she says. ‘What happened to your face? Sorry, that was rude. Tell me to mind my own business.’

  I bring a hand self-consciously to my cheek and set the jug back down on the shelf. Obviously I didn’t do as good a job with my make-up as I thought. ‘Hi, Ruby. No, that’s okay. I know, I look a real sight, don’t I? I fell over on the pavement earlier this week.’ I don’t have the energy to go into what really happened. Not after going over the whole thing with Pippa earlier.

  ‘Poor you!’ Ruby briefly places a hand on my arm.

  I shake my head. ‘It looks worse than it is. Anyway, Joe and I had a lovely time round at yours last week. We’ll arrange an evening at our place next, if you fancy it?’

  ‘Cool. Me and Ian would love to come round yours.’

  ‘Okay, great.’ There’s a brief awkward silence. ‘Did you come in for anything special? Or did you just pop in to say hi?’

  ‘Oh. Yeah. I need a card for Ian’s dad. We’re going to his retirement party at the weekend. Ian just wanted to get him some booze and chocolates, but we need a card too. Ian told me to get something funny.’

  ‘Sure. Okay. I’ll show you w
hat we’ve got.’ I accompany Ruby across to the card section and point out a few that might be suitable.

  She picks out quite a rude one and smirks. ‘Ian will like this one.’

  ‘Okay, great.’ I take the card and ring it through the till. Before she leaves, I promise to sort out a date for our next meal. Through the window, she gives me a short wave before continuing on up the street.

  Outside, I notice a youngish guy talking into a mobile phone. But he’s holding the handset out in front of him like he’s taking photos, or filming. It looks as though he’s staring right at me. I tense up. What if he’s just pretending to speak to someone as a cover? Could he be filming me? It’s warm inside the shop, but suddenly I’m so hot I can barely breathe. I know I’m being irrational, but I can’t help myself. Should I go closer? See what he’s doing? I step out from behind the counter and move into the centre of the shop. As I do so, the man laughs and turns around. He walks off up the road.

  I run to the door, open it and peer out. He’s still talking and laughing. If he’s been filming me, I have to know. I have to find out, so I stride after him. I have no idea what I’ll say when I catch up to the guy, but I hurry after him anyway. I’m so close now, I could tap him on the shoulder. I’m about to pluck up the courage when I see that there’s a woman on his phone screen. The man is FaceTiming with someone. He isn’t interested in me. He wasn’t filming me at all.

  My heart is racing; my skin is clammy. I’m an anxiety-ridden mess. I stand where I am for a few seconds more, trying to breathe in some fresh air. But the atmosphere is so close, so moisture-laden, that each breath catches in my throat.

  ‘Lizzy?’

  I turn at the sound of a man’s voice. I take a step backward when I see who it is.

  ‘Leon,’ I croak. ‘What are you doing here?’