Free The Sisters by Claire Douglas

the table next to my bed. We both look tanned, our arms around each other’s neck, grinning into the camera. It was taken while on holiday in Portugal with Callum and Luke, the summer before she died. We had come from the beach and, as we sat on the wall waiting for Luke to return with ice-creams, Callum, ever the photographer, decided to take a few snaps with his camera. Both Lucy and I have, or should I say had , the same photo by our beds. I wonder idly what happened to hers. Did Mum take it when she came to pack up her room, a job I was too distraught to do so I let my poor grief-stricken mother do it instead? The guilt still gnaws at me. I put the photograph down.

    The sky is hazy, shot through with violet and orange, the sun about to go out of sight behind the row of houses opposite. An evening breeze filters through the opening in the sash window, bringing with it the aroma of cut grass and bonfires. I close my eyes and inhale deeply, breathing in the smell of summer. I’m here, I’m actually here at last. And, when I think about it, getting here has been easier than I ever thought possible. I’ve managed to become part of her life within six short weeks.
    There is a soft knock on my half-opened bedroom door. My eyes ping open and I see a long denim-clad leg, a linen sleeve. I jump off the bed eagerly, causing the mattress to groan in protest.
    ‘Hi,’ says Ben sheepishly. ‘Can I come in?’
    I shrug. ‘If you want.’
    ‘I’m sorry I didn’t call you, but it’s difficult with Bea. Her rules, you know.’
    ‘That’s okay, it probably wasn’t a good idea anyway,’ I say nonchalantly.
    The echoes of chatter, Pam’s raucous laugh and the clink of cutlery tell me that the others are still in the kitchen and I push the door closed on the darkening hallway with my foot.

    I turn to face him, noticing his downcast expression at my words.
    ‘That’s a shame,’ he says. ‘Because I’ve not been able to stop thinking about you since the party.’
    ‘Really?’ I’m annoyed at how eager I sound.
    He takes my hand. We are inches away from each other, his eyes are dark and intense in the half light and my heart hammers and I’m trembling with nerves. I don’t know who makes the first move, but we are suddenly kissing, his hands in my hair, mine stroking the warm soft skin of his back under his shirt. I’ve not felt so much desire since Callum. I press my body up against his, so that we’re as close as we can be with clothes on. His erection presses into my abdomen, his teeth nip my lips. I don’t know how long we kiss for, but I’m conscious that the room has darkened. Then he stops abruptly, pushing me gently away so that I almost stumble on one of my boxes.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ he says, running his hands through his hair. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’
    I frown, confused. ‘Ben, it’s fine. I wanted you to kiss me. I’m glad you did.’
    I watch as he walks over to the window, his face like parchment from the light of the moon that filters through the open curtains. Something is clearly troubling him.
    ‘Beatrice has warned me off you,’ he says eventually.
    ‘What?’ I’m shocked. Why would Beatrice do that? Am I not good enough for her twin brother? ‘Why?’ For the first time, I’m furious with her.

    ‘Because of your sister, your twin. She told me that she died. I’m so sorry to hear that, Abi.’
    I swallow a lump that’s formed in my throat. ‘Thanks.’ I pause, something doesn’t add up. I walk over to where he stands by the window. ‘But why would that make her warn you off me?’
    He turns to face me. ‘She thinks you’re vulnerable after everything that’s happened to you.’
    I frown, oscillating between feeling flattered that Beatrice cares enough to worry about me and angry that she’s poking her nose into something that is none of her business. ‘She doesn’t know what happened to me.’
    ‘No, I know,’ he says, too quickly. ‘But she knows you’ve