Read Online The Sister: A psychological thriller with a brilliant twist you won't see coming by Louise Jensen - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Louise Jensen
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is pounding. I take another sip, bigger this time.
Lexie rummages through the sideboard and I cross my fingers behind my back.
‘Here they are.’ She drags out a brown A4 envelope with ‘ Charlotte ’ scrawled on the front in black felt tip, photo corners poking through split seams.
‘Always meant to put them in an album.’ Lexie tips them out between us.
A toothless Charlie grins at me from the kitchen sink, hair frothy with shampoo.
‘Very cute.’ I pick up an old Polaroid. A pink-haired Lexie wearing a spotted gown, hospital band on her wrist, sleeping baby nestled against her. ‘Was this the day she was born?’
‘Yeah. Fourteen hours of labour. Christ, I was knackered. Did love that gas and air though.’
‘Was Charlie’s dad there?’
‘No.’ Lexie gulps her wine.
‘Why not?’
Lexie shrugs. ‘He didn’t wanna know. Fucker did a runner as soon as he found out I was pregnant.’
‘He never met Charlie?’
‘No.’
‘It must have been hard for you. Alone with a baby.’
‘You don’t know the half of it.’
‘Tell me about him.’
‘He’s a bastard. She was better off without him.’
‘I’m sure she was.’ The lie trips off my tongue. ‘I’m just curious.’
The silence between us stretches tighter and tighter until it snaps.
Lexie exhales deeply. ‘OK. What do you want to know?’
She shakes the last drops of wine into her glass – it’s almost overflowing – and reaches down the side of the sofa. She waves a new bottle and raises her eyebrows at me.
‘I’m driving.’ I cover the top of my glass with my hand and fidget in my seat. The air is clouded with cigarette smoke and secrets. Lexie flicks through the photos and pulls out a dog-eared print of a man. He’s raising his pint to someone off-camera. A cigarette dangles from his lips. He’s the spitting image of Charlie.
‘His name’s Paul Lawson. I met him when I was sixteen. I was hanging around The Folk Lore all the time. That was a great music venue. They had in-house bands that changed every few weeks. Think it’s shut down now.’ Lexie scrunches her forehead and I lean forward, willing her to carry on. ‘I used to sneak in through the back door without paying. Stand at the back watching the bands, wishing it was me singing on stage. One day Frank, the owner, clapped me on the shoulder. I nearly shit myself. Thought I was gonna be thrown out. He said, “If you must insist on sneaking in, the least you can do is make yourself useful and collect some glasses.”’ Lexie smiled at the memory. ‘Paul was a singer. It was his first gig and he was fan-fucking-tastic. I fell in love with him on the spot.’
Lexie paused to light another cigarette. Her smoke swirled around my face as her words swirled around my head. She’d loved Charlie’s dad? Really loved him?
‘He were twenty-two. Not a big age gap really, but he felt a lot older than me. A proper man, you know? I fancied him like mad. He’d bright blonde hair and the greenest eyes.’ Lexie’s cigarette flutters ash onto her leg. She doesn’t seem to notice.
‘Here.’ I hand her the ashtray. ‘So you had a relationship with him?’
‘The first night he sang, he came off stage on such a high. Picked me up and twirled me around so fast I thought I might chuck. He asked me to celebrate, but Frank told him he wouldn’t serve me, even after hours.’ Lexie unscrews the new bottle and tops up her glass. ‘Paul bought a bottle of whisky to take out and we went to the park.’ Lexie wraps her arms around herself, as if holding the memory close. I’ve never seen her look so vulnerable. ‘I didn’t like whisky, thought it was fucking horrible. Didn’t say that though. I spat half of it back in the bottle rather than swallowing it.’ She shuddered. ‘Never try and change yourself for a man, Grace.’
‘What happened?’
‘He told me I was special and I fell for his crap. We had sex on his coat. It was me first time. Classy, eh?’ Lexie
Lexie rummages through the sideboard and I cross my fingers behind my back.
‘Here they are.’ She drags out a brown A4 envelope with ‘ Charlotte ’ scrawled on the front in black felt tip, photo corners poking through split seams.
‘Always meant to put them in an album.’ Lexie tips them out between us.
A toothless Charlie grins at me from the kitchen sink, hair frothy with shampoo.
‘Very cute.’ I pick up an old Polaroid. A pink-haired Lexie wearing a spotted gown, hospital band on her wrist, sleeping baby nestled against her. ‘Was this the day she was born?’
‘Yeah. Fourteen hours of labour. Christ, I was knackered. Did love that gas and air though.’
‘Was Charlie’s dad there?’
‘No.’ Lexie gulps her wine.
‘Why not?’
Lexie shrugs. ‘He didn’t wanna know. Fucker did a runner as soon as he found out I was pregnant.’
‘He never met Charlie?’
‘No.’
‘It must have been hard for you. Alone with a baby.’
‘You don’t know the half of it.’
‘Tell me about him.’
‘He’s a bastard. She was better off without him.’
‘I’m sure she was.’ The lie trips off my tongue. ‘I’m just curious.’
The silence between us stretches tighter and tighter until it snaps.
Lexie exhales deeply. ‘OK. What do you want to know?’
She shakes the last drops of wine into her glass – it’s almost overflowing – and reaches down the side of the sofa. She waves a new bottle and raises her eyebrows at me.
‘I’m driving.’ I cover the top of my glass with my hand and fidget in my seat. The air is clouded with cigarette smoke and secrets. Lexie flicks through the photos and pulls out a dog-eared print of a man. He’s raising his pint to someone off-camera. A cigarette dangles from his lips. He’s the spitting image of Charlie.
‘His name’s Paul Lawson. I met him when I was sixteen. I was hanging around The Folk Lore all the time. That was a great music venue. They had in-house bands that changed every few weeks. Think it’s shut down now.’ Lexie scrunches her forehead and I lean forward, willing her to carry on. ‘I used to sneak in through the back door without paying. Stand at the back watching the bands, wishing it was me singing on stage. One day Frank, the owner, clapped me on the shoulder. I nearly shit myself. Thought I was gonna be thrown out. He said, “If you must insist on sneaking in, the least you can do is make yourself useful and collect some glasses.”’ Lexie smiled at the memory. ‘Paul was a singer. It was his first gig and he was fan-fucking-tastic. I fell in love with him on the spot.’
Lexie paused to light another cigarette. Her smoke swirled around my face as her words swirled around my head. She’d loved Charlie’s dad? Really loved him?
‘He were twenty-two. Not a big age gap really, but he felt a lot older than me. A proper man, you know? I fancied him like mad. He’d bright blonde hair and the greenest eyes.’ Lexie’s cigarette flutters ash onto her leg. She doesn’t seem to notice.
‘Here.’ I hand her the ashtray. ‘So you had a relationship with him?’
‘The first night he sang, he came off stage on such a high. Picked me up and twirled me around so fast I thought I might chuck. He asked me to celebrate, but Frank told him he wouldn’t serve me, even after hours.’ Lexie unscrews the new bottle and tops up her glass. ‘Paul bought a bottle of whisky to take out and we went to the park.’ Lexie wraps her arms around herself, as if holding the memory close. I’ve never seen her look so vulnerable. ‘I didn’t like whisky, thought it was fucking horrible. Didn’t say that though. I spat half of it back in the bottle rather than swallowing it.’ She shuddered. ‘Never try and change yourself for a man, Grace.’
‘What happened?’
‘He told me I was special and I fell for his crap. We had sex on his coat. It was me first time. Classy, eh?’ Lexie
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