Twin Turmoil Read online

  Hank sighed. "I suggest that if asked, you could say that a snake spooked the horse which most people would understand. Now we're gonna wait outside, Nicky, and allow you to become Claire. You can still change your mind you know… last chance."

  I felt my father's eyes on me. I took a moment to reflect before I spoke. "No… I'm cool, I'll do this. You wait outside and I will be ready in a jiffy." As they all turned to leave the room, I overheard Matt whisper to my father. "What's a 'Jiffy'?"

  Hey, my first lesson in Anglo American language difference. I must be so careful while playing the role of my American sister; American was another language.

  Chapter Four - Nervous

  I did not sleep well that night. The bandage they put around my neck was uncomfortable and I was so nervous about the following day. I still had not met the detective, Jules Danker, as her flight from Vegas had been delayed. Apparently, she specialised in undercover work and was unknown in this area. As far as I knew, it was unheard of to have police women like her in England and I was intrigued to meet with her.

  I watched some TV before I settled down for the night. A news announcement was made that Claire Keedon was out of danger and was likely to be released from the hospital the following day. There was a brief summary of the accident and an old news shot of my father leaving the ranch in a car while waving at the camera. The media would hopefully lose interest now. As far as they were concerned, Claire being alive was no news... if only it were true.

  The police had stated that they were prepared to go along with the charade for about a month. If the killer had made no move by then, they would move in and begin to question everyone at the ranch. One month. I wondered what would be the end result of this charade. Unfortunately, I possess a vivid imagination.

  *****

  Jules Danker looked as though she would be more at home teaching sports in a girl's school than working as an undercover detective. She had an open and honest sincerity about her. She was very reassuring but, at the same time, she made the danger seem very real and my apprehension grew. We waited for my father to arrive and when he did, I dressed in the clothes he brought—Claire's clothes. I was wheeled down through the main entrance, this time without the blanket over me. A long black car awaited us, complete with a driver. There were two photographers waiting and although they took pictures, nobody expected me to speak. My father made a brief statement to them after which I was safely stowed in the back of the car with Jules.

  Even after turning off the main road and onto the private drive that I assumed led to the ranch house, it took another ten minutes for me to get my first view of The Plomosa. We swept around a bend in the road and there it was; I was captivated! A long low building constructed of soft golden stone and finished with white weatherboard cladding sat solidly and comfortably in the gentle dip of land. A veranda with a green roof ran around three sides of the building. It was a pretty and no doubt, functional house and I loved it at first sight. The car carried on around to the back of the ranch house and parked in front of a block of barn type garages. I hung back as we all made our way towards the house. My father turned to look for me and slid an arm around my shoulders giving me a squeeze. "Don't forget to call me Daddy and stop saying 'cool'. It's not a term Claire used," he whispered.

  I looked at him aghast; this was the first time he'd mentioned Claire's name for him. Why hadn't I thought to ask about such a fundamental thing as, 'what did my sister call you'? It made me wonder what other things had I neglected to find out about. Well, it was much too late to worry now.

  Two collie dogs ran to greet us and seemed very interested in my scent, sniffing about my feet and whining with their tails held down. My father patted them both and pushed past them guiding me to the back door.

  We entered the house via the kitchen. A pretty girl, I guessed her to be about my own age, just into her twenties perhaps, was standing at the sink peeling potatoes. She looked up and grinned when we came in. This must be Kate, I thought. She dropped what she was doing and came straight over to give me a hug. "Carl said you've no recollection at all of what happened out there, you poor thing!"

  My attention was distracted away from her by a woman's sharp yell. A small plump, middle-aged lady shot towards me and pushing Kate aside, enveloped me in her arms, weeping as she patted my back. "Och you gave us such a scare, Claire lass, you naughty wee girl… so are you all right, my dear? I've changed the bedding but otherwise I've left your room just as it was. Yon nurse can have the blue guest room next to your room. Why don't you go up now and have a nice rest; I'll bring you a wee drop o' tea in a while. What d'you say, Claire?"

  Not a lot it seemed, for just as I opened my mouth to reply, she was off again. "You've a bandage then. Is it very sore, your poor wee throat? Aye, well, I suppose you would be…"

  "Sarah will you stop your blasted blethering woman and let me into my own home!" Father had had enough it seemed, although I noticed he spoke with a grin on his face. It was all I could do to stop myself from falling into hysterical laughter, nerves on my part no doubt. It seemed though that the grin was what was expected and Sarah laughed and waved us through the kitchen.

  "Go on then the lot of you, away and I'll bring you through your coffee and Claire's tea.

  I was relieved I was expected to drink tea and not the bitter brew my father called coffee. As I moved into the interior of the house, I found that beyond the kitchen, the floors were all of honeyed wood, solid and warm. A wide staircase rose upwards from the left and closed double doors were on the right of them. In front, were more double doors which stood flung wide, leading into a sunny sitting room that was spacious and light; woven rugs in mellow coloured tones were on the floor and a fire burned in the huge stone hearth. Large comfortable looking leather covered arm chairs were placed on either side of the fireplace with a huge Chesterfield sofa facing the hearth. I went into this welcoming room and sat at one end of the Chesterfield. Curling up, I kicked off my shoes and drew my feet up under myself. The gesture was truly my own but my father said, "Ah, it's good to see you curled up in your favourite spot again, Claire." I noticed his eyes looking rather moist as he turned away from me.

  Jules Danker sat down next to me and winked as she spoke. "After your tea, I want to begin your treatment, Claire." I nodded and smiled at her.

  *****

  Jules closed the double sitting room doors and checked the windows were all closed before coming to sit next to me once again. We were alone; everyone had dispersed about their own work and left us to ourselves. "Now then, Claire... and I shall call you Claire the whole while, this is so that I don't slip up on your name."

  "I understand," I said, quietly.

  "Good. Now, I want to know wherever and whenever you go anywhere, even when you go to the bathroom, is that understood, Claire?"

  "Yes, but won't it look odd—you following me everywhere?"

  "No, as far as everyone is concerned, I am here to nurse you and they will expect me to fuss over you. I want you to make it clear to one and all that you have no memory of the attack. Call it an accident if people ask about it; the killer won't be so desperate if he thinks you don't remember him—or her."

  "Cool, but how will the killer make a move with you there protecting me all the time?"

  "I will appear to take breaks. No one will suspect a thing. Don't worry, Claire, that's my job."

  "God, this is all so weird!"

  "I'm sure—look just try to relax—you're doing really well! Do you feel ready to look around upstairs yet, you know, get to know the layout of the place? We can say you're showing me around if we meet anyone while we poke about."

  We left the sitting room and explored, firstly all the downstairs rooms and then the upstairs.

  Finally, I opened a bedroom door onto what I knew had to have been Claire's bedroom. Jules put her hand on my arm. "I'll leave you alone for a bit. If you need me, I'll be next door in the blue guest suite.'' She said this in a good imitation of Sarah's Sco
ttish accent and I giggled.

  Claire's room, her private place, was painted a soft primrose yellow and the woodwork was a brilliant white. The curtains were white with bright yellow daisies scattered randomly; they were moving gently in the cool breeze from the partly raised sash window. The bed was covered in a white cotton throw, with central embroidery which included a circle of yellow daisies. A solid pale wooden desk sat under the window. I picked up a paperweight and looked at its intricate inner world of swirling gold and yellow. My fingers trailed over pens and flicked open note pads. I pulled open drawers with increasing urgency, looking—but looking for what?

  I stopped looking the third drawer down; I had found what I sought, Claire's diary. I hesitated and then closed the drawer again. Not yet. It was too soon. I turned around and leant back against the desk; my gaze taking in the room and its contents. My sister's room—this was the closest that I would ever get to her now, the only link left with her in this life—except, my thoughts strayed to the diary, later!

  Purposefully, I moved across to the closet and opened the door; a light popped on inside. On the top shelf sat a motley collection of teddies and dolls, they stared mournfully back at me. Next to them sat a pretty pink jewellery box. Lifting the lid, tinkling music began to play. Gently, I closed the lid. I cast my eyes over the hanging rail and thumbed through the selection of clothes. A faint almond smell wafted out. I closed my eyes and breathed in her scent, my sister's smell. So familiar, so comforting and yet, I had never known her. Do people retain scent memories as babes I wondered, was it possible that I retained some memory of her smell from babyhood, perhaps even from the womb? I closed the closet and opened the adjacent door. A pink bathroom and a walk-in shower, wow what luxury! A pale pink towelling robe hung on the back of the door, Claire's. I fingered it sadly for a moment and then turned to the cupboard over the pink basin.

  Jars of face creams and shampoos, conditioners, tweezers, etc. stood neatly in a line upon the shelf. I picked up a jar of face cream, took off the lid and smelled it. I did the same with all of the bottles and jars. A very pale pink lipstick seemed to beckon me to try it on. It was okay but made me look so much younger than my twenty odd years. Not how I wanted to look but then, of course, I must try and look as Claire did. The picture I was building in my head of Claire was someone fresh, natural and slightly more immature in her tastes compared to my own. I turned back to the mirror and applied another light coat of the pale pearly lipstick.

  I had noticed a photograph beside Claire's bed, so I closed the bathroom door and went to the bed reaching for the picture as I sat down. I stared at my likeness. It was as if someone had taken a photograph of me and from then onwards, the memory of the moment had vanished. The picture was of a much younger Claire, sitting upon a horse. Our father stood beside her holding the halter at the bit. He was grinning up at her, his face alight with laughter and love but also something else—pride. Claire, her face, my face, turned towards the camera, head thrown back, blue eyes shining, full of merriment. The honeyed tones of her sable brown hair glinted gold in the sun, her hair was tossed casually over one shoulder and tucked behind her ear. How could I ever know her now? My twin was gone forever; I realised my face was awash with tears and I lay down, giving way to my grief.

  *****

  I had gone to bed straight after a quiet supper, eating with just my father and Jules. I fell asleep quickly and slept deeply until I awoke during the wee small hours. There was moonlight streaming through the window and onto my face. I stumbled out of bed and closed the curtains. With a jolt, I remembered that I had closed them before climbing into bed the evening before. Someone must have been in my room and opened them again. Just as I pulled the curtains together, a movement down in the darkness below caught my eye. Opening the curtains a little, I saw a dark shape detach itself from the shadows and turn to stare up at me. Whoever it was, their face was clouded by shadow. Disturbed, I quickly pulled the curtains closed and ran to the door. I opened it a crack and peered out onto the landing, listening. I could hear the faint hum of machinery, a refrigerator perhaps somewhere in the bowels of the house. Quietly closing the door again, I realised there was no key in the lock; I determined to find the key in the morning. Uneasy, I lay in my bed, wakeful and wondering whether I should wake Jules or not. Perhaps the person outside had, in fact, been Jules. Who had been in my room while I slept and opened my curtains? You are being silly I told myself, it was probably Sarah. Perhaps Claire always slept with the curtains open and she had opened them to be kind. With that reassuring thought, I turned over and finally slept.

  When I woke, it was to bright sunlight shining in through the window—my curtains were open once again. I fetched Claire's pink robe and went next door to Jules's room. I tapped lightly on the door and was reassured to hear her voice calling me in.

  "Claire, did you sleep well?"

  I shook my head. "No, actually something strange happened during the night."

  Jules's look sharpened as she sat up in her bed and patted it invitingly. I closed the door and went and joined her. "So tell me," she said.

  "When I went to bed last night, I closed the curtains, but in the middle of the night, I woke up and found that they were open." I glanced at Jules, wondering if she thought I was being daft. She nodded encouragingly, so I continued. "When I got up to close them, I looked outside and I saw someone. I think they were watching my window."

  "Could you tell whether it was a man or a woman?"

  "No, it was too dark and whoever it was stood in the shadows. I was hoping you'd say it was you watching out for me."

  She shook her head. "Sorry to disappoint you, kiddo, but it wasn't me. Anything else?"

  "Yes, when I woke up this morning, my curtains were open again."

  "How'd you mean, 'again'?"

  "Well I thought that Sarah had opened them."

  "It's unlikely she would come into your room in the middle of the night," Jules frowned as she spoke.

  I nodded my agreement. "Exactly my thoughts. In fact, I convinced myself she had opened them last night and that the person outside was you simply keeping an eye out."

  "Say what?"

  "Sorry, it's an English expression, meaning that you are looking out for me."

  "Hmm, watch those English expressions, especially 'cool'; you could give the whole game away. If anything else happens out of the norm, come straight to me. Don't wait 'til morning next time. Hold on, I've got something for you that I forgot to give you last night." Jules jumped out of bed and pulled her suitcase out from underneath it. She opened it up and took out a black walkie-talkie set. "Here, this is my latest spy gadget, take it, it's for you." She held out a hand set. "Now if anything odd, however small or insignificant, happens to you, just press the talk button and alert me; I'll be with you in seconds."

  I took the hand piece from her. "Thanks, I feel safer now that I have this with me. Should I ask Sarah about the curtains?"

  Jules cocked her head and thought for a moment before answering me. "Yeah, I think so but wait until there's no one else about listening in. Right, you'd better go get dressed. I'll knock for you in say, twenty minutes?"

  "Yup, that will be fine. I'll just take a quick shower."

  Jules called me back just as I was about to leave the room. "Claire, you've removed the bandage from your throat. Put it back on and don't let anyone else see you without it, it's way too soon to remove it." My hand flew to my throat. I had indeed removed the wretched thing to enable me to sleep more comfortably. I wondered if the person in my room last night had noticed it was gone.

  It seemed everyone at The Plomosa kept early morning hours. Jules and I were the last two down for breakfast. We ate in the kitchen and despite our polite protests, we were waited on by Kate. She was a chatty girl and we learned that my father had gone off early on business and that he wouldn't be back until late morning. I was a little hurt by this information. Why hadn't he awoken me to say goodbye... why had he gone at all
on my first day at the ranch? We also learned that Sarah had driven into Flagstaff to fetch the weekly groceries. I remembered to whisper and asked Kate if she knew where the key to my room was. She was surprised to learn it was not in the lock on the door.

  I wanted to go back upstairs and start investigating Claire's diary, but Jules was worried about the unlocked bedroom doors. Her own room key was also missing. She suggested that she drive us into Flagstaff and buy some more locks thereby ensuring that only she and I would have keys to my door. I was quite excited at the idea of looking around the American town, so I went upstairs to grab a jacket and my purse.

  We drove around to the front of the house in Claire's car, a sleek red Cadillac. I itched to drive but Jules thought it best that she drove until I was familiar with the road lay out. We passed a cowboy complete with a western style hat, walking towards the stables off to the right. He was a tall man, broad shouldered and masculine, although I couldn't see more because his features were hidden under the shadow of his large hat. He stopped and stared as we passed him. As I turned back to watch him, Jules said, "Wow, he looks kinda cute, let's hope he's not the one."

  "The one?"

  "Yeah, you know, our murderer."

  "Oh," I said. Somehow the trip was spoiled by that comment and we didn't speak again until we entered Flagstaff.

  Flagstaff is a tourist town where real people live. At least that's how my father described it to me while travelling over on the plane from England.

  We pulled into a large car park outside the mall. Inside were a variety of shops including a JC Penney store and it was with great excitement that I walked inside. JCP was world famous as the archetypal American store. Claire's jeans were a little tight on me around the bum, so I decided to buy a couple of pairs of jeans that were a more comfortable fit. I also bought some cute checked shirts to wear while I was on the ranch. Luckily Claire and I shared the same shoe size, so I could make good use of her shoes. We also had the same 'C' cup bust measurement. I had only packed a few pairs of slacks, some sneakers and underwear for the trip over, since I knew that I would be using Claire's wardrobe once here.