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

call into Waitrose on the way to work.

    * * *
    I tilt forward and push the security buzzer with my nose. The muscles in my arms tremble from the weight of my shopping, plastic bag handles slicing into my palms.
    ‘Goodness.’ Lyn opens the door as wide as it will go as I inch forward like a cowboy, one hip at a time.
    ‘Thanks. I didn’t want to put this lot down to find my key.’ I stagger into the staffroom, drop the bags on the floor and massage the indentations on my hands.
    Lyn raises an eyebrow at the mountain of food and wine spilling over the lino. ‘Are you sure you’ve bought enough?’
    ‘Anna’s coming for dinner,’ I say, as though she could forget. I’ve talked of nothing else all week. ‘I daren’t leave this lot in my car all day. Don’t want to poison her.’
    ‘Not on your first dinner, anyway. It’s probably colder outside at the moment than it is in the fridge.’ Lyn picks up a bottle of Chardonnay as it rolls across the floor. ‘I hope Ofsted don’t turn up to do a spot check today. How much alcohol have you bought?’
    ‘Just three bottles. I had to buy red, white and rosé, and some orange juice in case she doesn’t want to drink, and sparkling water in case she doesn’t like fruit juice. I got some real coffee too, and herbal teas and after-dinner mints, although I’m sure she won’t touch those. Did I tell you how tiny she was?’
    ‘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.

    * * *
    E verything 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