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

to do?’
    ‘I thought about being a nurse. It would be great to be able to help people who have accidents, you know?’
    I nod. ‘What stopped you?’
    ‘Money, I guess. I had to support myself as soon as I turned sixteen.’
    As we continue to chat, I think about how different my life might have been. At one point, after the waitress has cleared away our plates, I reach out to squeeze Anna’s hand, but a dessert board is slammed between us.
    ‘Well?’ the waitress demands.
    ‘Black coffee for me,’ says Anna.
    I think of my thighs and resist ordering sticky toffee pudding.
    ‘Do you have hot chocolate?’
    The waitress sighs. ‘No.’
    ‘A tea then, thanks.’
    We sip barely warm drinks from chipped china mugs and I settle the bill.
    ‘I’ll get the next one,’ Anna says.
    ‘That would be nice. I hope it hasn’t been too shocking for you today?’
    ‘It’s a lot to take in, losing a sister I never knew I had. I feel so alone sometimes. The thought that I could have had a sister, a family…’ Anna shrugs. ‘I feel like I’ve found a friend, though.’
    ‘Me too. How about coming to mine for dinner next week? I can show you some photos of Charlie. You can meet my boyfriend, Dan?’
    ‘That would be great, thanks.’ We hug our goodbyes and Anna sashays off, reminding me of the half-sister she never knew. I wonder what Dan will think of her. Will she remind him of Charlie too, and if she does, is it a risk inviting her into our home?
    Darkness is blanketing the village. We’ve had every other street lamp turned off and it’s gloomy and Sunday-night-still. Families are huddled in front of fires, around TVs, weighted with Yorkshire puddings and thoughts of Monday morning. I walk briskly, stopping when there’s a buzzing inside my bag. My phone is vibrating. Dan must be getting impatient; I’ve been gone hours. The number’s withheld and I answer it, say hello. There’s the sound of breathing on the other end. I hear someone swallow. Sniff. I hang up and the screen lights up almost immediately with an incoming call. An engine purrs behind me. Someone is driving very, very slowly and I duck behind the wall of the church, almost holding my breath as the car crawls past. It seems ages before the sound gets fainter and I uncurl my body, stamp my numb feet. As I stand, I think I see a flash of red disappearing around the corner but I can’t be sure, and I run as fast as I can in the opposite direction, not stopping until I’m home.

14

Now
    U sually I’m wrenched from a medically-induced sleep by the trill of the alarm. Not this morning, though. Excitement has nudged me awake early. It’s Thursday. Anna is coming to dinner.
    ‘Are you asleep?’ I stage-whisper.
    ‘Not any more.’ Dan pulls a pillow over his head.
    ‘You will be home on time tonight, won’t you?’
    ‘Yes. Calm down. It’s only Charlie’s sister. Not the bloody Queen.’
    Sister. I hug the word close, as comforting as Dan’s old fleece that I wear around the house. Anna and I have been texting all week. Dan sighs whenever I pick up my phone, but I already feel a strong bond with her. Not a replacement for Charlie of course, but something fresh, a new beginning. I slip out of bed, shower and dress at Olympian speed, bound downstairs and pirouette into the lounge. ‘What shall I cook?’ I ask Charlie, smiling at me from her silver frame on top of the piano.
    The kitchen is cast in a daffodil glow. The thin curtains that Grandma made are no match for the early-morning sunshine. I swoosh them open and the birds tweet their good mornings. Everyone is happy today. Mittens purrs, rubbing her face against my legs, as I refresh her water and squeeze a pouch of meat into her bowl, scatter biscuits on the top.
    I flick through recipe books as I spoon porridge into my mouth, honey sweet on my tongue. I scribble a list and fuss around the cottage, straightening cushions and refolding throws. It’s still early. If I’m quick, I can