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

by Louise Jensen

‘Several times.’

  I kneel down in front of the tiny staff fridge and Lyn passes me a bag of leaves. I have to pierce the plastic before I can squash it in the fridge.

  ‘Rocket. Very posh. Look, Grace, I know how much this means to you, but really, if she’s anything like Charlie she won’t want a fuss. A bag of chips and can of lager will do.’

  I lean back on my heels, picking up a box of silver candles. ‘Dan says I’m acting like the Queen’s coming to tea.’

  ‘It’s natural that you want her to like you, that you want that connection to Charlie, but we all love you just as you are. Give Anna the chance to get to know you and she will too.’ Lyn unpacks four shallow glass bowls. ‘What sweet treat is going in these?’

  ‘They’re finger bowls. We’re having garlic bread.’ I hold up a stray lemon. ‘Too much?’

  ‘Much too much. Slice the lemon into a gin and chill out a bit?’

  ‘Shouldn’t we wait until lunchtime or shall we share with the children?’

  ‘I bet a few mothers would welcome a G&T. Probably not this early, though.’ Lyn checks her watch. ‘It’s time to open up. You finish tidying this lot, Nigella, and I’ll unlock the doors.’

  I slot a bottle of balsamic vinegar in the fridge door, wishing I had bought a jar of Hellman’s mayonnaise instead.

  I paint my face like a tiger for the kids and spend the day prowling and pouncing. By the time the last mother has left, I’m exhausted. I’m clunking the toys back into their brightly coloured storage tubs that are stacked against the wall when Lyn hefts my shopping – neatly packed back into bags – into the room.

  ‘Oi. Stripy. I’ll finish up. You get home and iron your napkins.’

  ‘The butler should already have done it.’ I pull on my coat and fish car keys from my pocket. ‘Thanks, Lyn. I really appreciate it.’

  ‘Hope it goes well. If it doesn’t, you’ve got enough wine here to drown your sorrows.’

  ‘And an emergency-sized bar of Dairy Milk. See you tomorrow.’ With the bag handles cutting fresh grooves into my hands, I bustle my way to the car.

  Everything is ready. The newly lit candles hiss and flicker before the flames glow tall and strong. Fairy lights twinkle around the lounge window.

  ‘Can you open the wine?’ I ask Dan.

  The cork is pulled with a squeak and a pop.

  The doorbell chimes and I rush to answer, smiling brightly as I pull open the door. There’s no one there. I step forward.

  ‘Anna?’

  The lane is dark. Quiet. I shiver and shut the door.

  I fill a glass with water and swallow down half a tablet. It’s just because I’m nervous. Anyone would be. The smell of garlic and basil triggers a deep rumble in my stomach: we’ve normally eaten by now. I scroll through my classic iPod before settling on Einaudi, Islands. I hum along to the piano music as I polish already gleaming cutlery. There’s a rap on the door and I answer, cloth and knife still in hand.

  ‘Wow. Is this a rough area?’

  ‘I was just…’

  ‘I’m kidding. At least you’re not telling me to fork off.’

  Anna steps into the hall, thrusts a box of chocolate-covered Brazil nuts into my hands and brushes a sprinkling of snow from her coat. ‘Something smells delicious.’

  ‘Spag bol. Is that OK?’

  ‘One of my favourites.’

  ‘I’ve gone a bit overboard on the garlic, I’m afraid.’

  ‘That’s OK. Rest assured I’m not a vampire.’

  ‘I can tell that by the way you stepped in uninvited.’ I grin. Our friendship feels easy already. Natural. ‘Did you pass anybody on the lane?’

  Paranoid Polly, Grandma would say.

  ‘No. There was a car, though.’

  I stiffen. ‘What sort?’

  ‘Don’t know. It was red I think. Why, have you…’ Anna’s speaking; I watch her mouth move and I hear the sounds but I can’t understand what she’s saying. There was a car. A red car. It must be the Corsa from the other day. Someone is definitely following me.

  ‘Hello?’ Anna swooshes her hand up and down in front of my eyes. ‘Earth to Grace.’

  ‘Sorry.’ I plaster over my fear with a smile.

  ‘I said you’ve not fixed me up with a blind date, have you?’

  ‘No.’ I remind myself how to act. ‘Come and meet Dan.’ I lead the way into the lounge. Dan stands, hands in pockets, shuffling from one foot to the other.

  ‘Hello, handsome man.’ Anna opens her arms and Dan half hugs her in that one-armed way you do when you feel uncomfortable. He’s put a shirt on and made an effort, but damp patches are visible under his arms. Poor Dan. He isn’t really a dinner party type of guy.

  ‘Look what Anna brought.’ I rattle the box.

  ‘You’re allergic to nuts.’ Dan frowns.

  ‘I’m sorry. I…’

  ‘Don’t worry, Anna. It was a lovely thought. Dan will eat them. Drink? Glass of wine?’

  ‘Please.’

  ‘I’ll get them.’ Dan seems relieved to have something to do. Small talk is not his forte. He returns a minute later with two glasses of white wine and hands one to Anna.

  ‘Is white OK for you?’ I ask. ‘We have red and rosé too.’

  ‘I didn’t think to check. Sorry,’ Dan mumbles.

  ‘It’s OK. White’s my favourite.’ She takes a sip. ‘Better than that paint stripper they served at the pub.’

  ‘It couldn’t be worse.’ I scrunch my nose as I remember.

  ‘So, is it rude to ask why you are orange?’

  I touch my cheek. Despite my scrubbing with a flannel, the face paint hasn’t quite come off. ‘I was a tiger today.’

  Anna grins mischievously. ‘Lucky Dan.’

  Dan’s neck turns red and blotchy. I rub his forearm and frown encouragingly at him. I don’t know why he’s being so awkward. I really want this evening to be a success.

  ‘Anyway, make yourself at home.’ I motion towards the sofa where Mittens is asleep on the faux-fur throw draped over the arm.

  ‘You have a cat.’

  ‘Mittens. I’ve had her since she was a kitten.’

  ‘No Tom or Moppet?’

  ‘You’re a Beatrix Potter fan?’

  ‘My dad used to read them to me.’

  Memories explode in psychedelic colour. I hurry to the kitchen, lean my hot face against the fridge, trying to cool away the images of Dad and me on my bed, giggling our way through the tale of the naughty kittens.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Dan stands in the doorway. ‘This was a bad idea. I’ll ask her to leave?’

  ‘No. I’m fine,’ I say. ‘I’m just tired and over-emotional. I want everything to be perfect.’

  An expression I can’t quite read flickers over Dan’s face, and then it is gone.

  ‘Everything’s good. Honestly. You go and sit with Anna.’

  ‘I’ll stay and help you.’

  ‘It’s rude to leave her own her own.’ I half push him towards the door. It doesn’t take long to plate the food up and we cramp around our bistro table, which creaks under huge bowls of pasta, garlic bread and sauce, eating with our elbows pulled firmly into our sides.

  ‘You’re a good cook,’ says Anna. ‘This sauce is divine. What make is it?’

  ‘It’s not shop-bought. Grace grows her own herbs,’ says Dan. ‘The garden’s her pride and joy.

  ‘Very clever. I live on salads. It never seems worth cooking for one.’

  ‘Well, you look fabulous on it. I’m always saying I need to lose ten pounds. Dan gets bored of hearing it, don’t you, Dan?’

  ‘I’m sure he likes curvy women, not sticks like me. What do you say, Dan?’

  ‘I say, I’m going to fetch some cheese.’ Thin-lipped, he rises from his seat. He has hardly touched his food.

  ‘Very tactful,’ says Anna.

  ‘He’s learned with age. He wasn’t that sensitive when we met, bel
ieve me.’

  Dan returns with a bowl of Parmesan.

  ‘Have you known each other a long time?’ Anna’s expression is quizzical.

  I twirl spaghetti. ‘Ages. We met at school. Our first meeting didn’t go well, did it, Dan?’

  ‘Why?’

  Dan groans. ‘That’s a story you really don’t want to hear.’

  ‘Of course she must. It involves Charlie, too.’ I relay the details of our first meeting. Anna’s eyes widen as she hears how her half-sister took revenge for me.

  ‘Dan, Dan, the ketchup man,’ she splutters. ‘That’s so funny.’

  Dan shrugs. ‘I was only ten. I learned my lesson pretty quickly. Don’t mess around with girls.’

  ‘No, you shouldn’t.’ Anna scrutinises Dan over her wine glass.

  ‘Look.’ I pass Anna the photo of me, Charlie, Dan, Esmée and Siobhan. Ben had taken it outside school. ‘We went to the pocket park and decided it would be a good idea to burn our school ties. We had a pile of old newspaper and some matches. Dan lit the fire and tipped some whisky he’d stolen from his dad’s shed over the flames to make them bigger. It had been such a dry summer that the fire spread quickly. The flames were enormous. We had to ring the fire brigade in the end.’

  ‘Were you in much trouble?’

  ‘Huge. The police came around to our houses to tell our families. I was so scared; I’d never been in trouble before. The policeman was really stern. We were lucky they didn’t charge us with arson. The pre-school wouldn’t have employed me with a criminal record.’

  ‘Did you actually burn your ties?’

  ‘No. We lost the moment after that. Dan and I still have ours in the wardrobe.’

  Anna picks up the silver candlestick and waves it around. The flames splutter and wax drips onto the tablecloth. ‘Go get them. Let’s finish what you started.’

  ‘I think we’ll give the smoke alarm a rest. It worked hard enough when I forgot the garlic bread in the oven earlier. What about you? Do you have a wild side?’

  ‘If I did, I’d do something suitably nasty to my boss.’

  ‘Anna calls him “the octopus”,’ I tell Dan.

  ‘I’m sick of him trying to put his hand up my skirt or peer down my blouse.’ Anna looks utterly dejected.

  I feel so awful for her. ‘I don’t know how you cope.’

  ‘I have to until something else comes up.’ Anna’s eyes fill with tears. ‘You say I’m thin, but that’s because I’m too knotted up to eat half the time. I go to bed at night and can’t sleep, playing the day over in my head, all the innuendos he has made, the times he’s physically touched me. I spend most of my time worrying about what’s to come, how far he’ll go. My muscles are always so tense, I have constant neck pain.’

  I pass her a box of tissues.

  Anna blows her nose. ‘How embarrassing. I’m not usually like this.’

  ‘Can’t you find something else?’

  ‘I’m trying but it’s difficult. I work long hours and he won’t give me time off for interviews. The rent on my bedsit is extortionate. If I could manage without an income for a couple of weeks I could find something else. It’s so hard when you don’t have family to fall back on.’

  I squeeze her hand. ‘You have us now. You’re Charlie’s sister and you must ask for help if you need it, mustn’t she, Dan?’

  Dan grunts, swipes the empty bottle off the table and leaves the room. He’s always uncomfortable with tears.

  ‘Could I stay with you? I really can’t face that awful man again. It would just be for a week or two while I find something else. This is nearer to Oxford than where I am. It’ll be easier for interviews. I want to be closer to you. Find out more about Charlie. You’re beginning to feel like family already.’

  Dan crashes plates around the kitchen.

  ‘Of course,’ I say. ‘It’ll be fun. I’m happy to help.’ But that isn’t the only reason I want her to move in – the sense of being watched is getting stronger, especially after the red car in the lane. If Anna is here and Dan goes out I won’t be alone. Feel afraid. I’ll be safe, won’t I?’

  15

  Then

  The heat from the fire pushed us back and we watched from a distance as it spat and crackled. Charlie never liked to get too close. Always said she was too scared after being trapped in a fire, even though Lexie said she was making it up. I saw the terror in her eyes as she watched the flames: that fear had to come from somewhere. Guy Fawkes slumped in the middle of the burning logs, head hanging to one side as though wracked with guilt, resigned to his fate. Flames licked around his feet and the crowd cheered as his trousers ignited.

  ‘Hot dog?’ Charlie tugged my sleeve.

  I nodded and we pushed our way through the throng – most of the village had gathered on the green for the annual fireworks display – and joined the queue at the snack van. Onions covered my cremated sausage and I zigzagged ketchup down the middle.

  ‘Coke?’

  Charlie shook her head ‘Let’s go to the beer tent.’

  ‘There’s no way Mike will serve us.’ The landlord of the village pub knew us.

  ‘I’m eighteen now.’

  ‘I’m not.’ I still had ten days before I could legally drink.

  ‘You practically are. I’ll get them; you wait outside. It’s so busy he won’t know. Then we’ll find the others.’

  ‘OK.’ I stayed close behind as we sidestepped children with sparklers looping their names in the air. I wished Siobhan wasn’t coming tonight. I faded into the background whenever she was around, lost behind her fake laughter and hair flicking as she thrust her boobs towards Dan at every opportunity. My boobs were growing bigger, but the rest of me was as well. I’d started forging letters from Grandma to my teacher, pretending I had a bad knee so I didn’t have to do PE and get changed under Siobhan’s scornful gaze. She was so thin. Her sister was a bitch, too. If I passed Abby in the corridor at school she’d look at the floor and scurry away, but when she was with Siobhan she was fearless.

  We reached the beer tent and I swallowed the last of my hotdog, licked my fingers clean, pulled my gloves back on.

  Charlie shouldered her way towards the bar and I hovered in the entrance to the marquee, stamping my booted feet. The air was biting and my breath clouded before me. I watched the curling Catherine wheels, which were nailed to the fence, while I waited. They spun faster and faster until they were a blur of blue and gold, the sparks shooting through the sky like falling stars.

  ‘Gracie Grace!’

  I jumped as two arms encircled my waist. Sour breath warmed my neck. ‘Lexie.’

  ‘This is Ant. Isn’t he handsome?’ Lexie giggled and stroked the blushing face of the boy next to her. He worked behind the counter in the Co-op and couldn’t have been much older than me. Lexie slung an arm around my shoulders. Lager sloshed from her plastic pint cup, saturating my scarf. I tried to soak it up with my gloved hand.

  ‘This is Grace. Isn’t she beautiful? She’s never given me any trouble, this one.’ Lexie staggered and I shifted my weight to steady us both.

  Ant shrugged.

  ‘Don’t bleedin’ shrug.’ Lexie tried to stand tall, swayed like a tree in the breeze. ‘She’s lovely, is Grace. Good as gold she is, too.’

  ‘And I’m not?’ Charlie thrust a cider towards me. I stepped away from Lexie. She lost her footing and lolled on the frosty grass, clutching her cup.

  ‘Didn’t spill a drop. Woohoo!’ She lay on her back, raised her beer and kicked her legs in the air like a dying fly.

  ‘Mum,’ Charlie hissed. ‘Everyone’s looking.’

  Lexie clasped Charlie’s outstretched hand and clambered to her feet. Ant mumbled something and shuffled off.

  ‘That’s right, fuck off. Didn’t like you anyway. You’re a boy; I need a man. Any takers?’ Lexie raised her pint and spun around, landing sprawled against the side of the beer tent. Pegs pinged out of the hard earth an
d guy ropes flapped in the breeze. Charlie and I dropped our cups, grabbed one of Lexie’s arms each and hoisted her to her feet.

  ‘I’ll have to take her home.’

  ‘I’ll come with you.’

  The crowd thinned out as we reached the edge of the green. Siobhan, Abby and Esmée were silhouetted in the distance, and as they drew closer my jaw clenched.

  ‘You leaving?’ Esmée asked.

  ‘Yeah, gotta take Mum home.’

  ‘Want a hand?’ said Siobhan.

  ‘Nah, me and Grace can manage.’

  ‘Of course, Grace will be more help; she’s much bigger than me.’

  ‘Don’t be nasty.’ Esmée elbowed Siobhan in the ribs.

  ‘I wasn’t. I meant she’s stronger, that’s all. Anyway, best let you go.’

  We staggered forward a few steps with Lexie.

  ‘Oh, Grace?’ I twisted my head around. Siobhan was smiling menacingly. ‘I’ll give your love to Dan, shall I?’

  ‘Cow,’ I muttered.

  ‘Ignore her,’ said Charlie, as they walked away. ‘I’m getting sick of her. She must be freezing her tits off in that mini skirt. Ben says Dan doesn’t fancy her anyway.’

  ‘Really?’ Charlie and Ben were going steady. I had visions of them double-dating with Siobhan and Dan, while I sat at home in plaid pyjamas watching Bridget Jones on repeat and stuffing myself with sour cream Pringles.

  The fifteen-minute walk to Charlie’s house took nearly half an hour as Lexie alternated between lurching forwards and stumbling backwards. By the time we reached Charlie’s, my arms were burning with the effort of keeping Lexie upright.

  Charlie propped Lexie against the front door. ‘Grab the key, Grace.’

  I lifted Brian the gnome. Grandma had taken Charlie to a garden centre to choose a birthday present for Lexie years ago. Lexie wasn’t one for plants and flowers – ‘All that bleedin’ weeding’ – but Charlie had fallen in love with the little fishing figurine. Lexie had screeched with laughter when she’d unwrapped him – ‘He’s so bleedin’ ugly no one will ever steal him’ – and he’d guarded the spare front door key ever since.

  Charlie inched up the stairs backwards, dragging Lexie by both hands as I followed behind, hands on Lexie’s back, pushing her forwards.