The Missing Twin: A gripping debut psychological thriller with a killer twist

SIX

Edie

The mop handle clanged angrily and water sloshed onto her bare feet as Edie lugged the bucket into the cabin and began to clean, making wide, bad-tempered arcs across the tiles. Three cabins in two-and-a-half hours was too much, especially when so many of the guests were absolute slobs, leaving dirty dishes in the sink that she had to wash up and making sure that they’d messed up all the beds so that she still had to make them again even if they hadn’t actually been slept in.

She snatched a clean sheet from the pile she had dumped on the sofa and snapped it out across the double bed in the main bedroom, tucking it in haphazardly. Really, if anyone thought they were paying for hospital corners, they had another think coming. Pillowcases next, then the same to the single beds in the twin room. She swept the floor, whisking the grains of sand swiftly across the tiles so that they flew and caught the light like mini crystals. Slowly, she backed towards the door, dragging the bucket with her and cleaning right to the threshold. She paused to flick the air-conditioning off and stepped outside into the broiling heat. Fumbling for the key in her pocket, she could feel sweat gathering on her forehead and trickling down her back and legs, running from the nape of her neck to her shoulder blades. The door slammed as she pulled it closed.

The next cabin on her list was number 15, which brought back a few fond memories. She’d spent an interesting night there with two Serbian lads whose willingness to muck in together and get themselves – and her – into some gravity-defying positions had been entertaining to say the least. Not so much fun in here now though, she mused wryly to herself, pulling pubes out of the shower trap and trying to rid the sink of a tide mark of grime. Eleven o’clock already and still one more cabin to go. It was simply too much.

It was after midday when she locked the door of her third cabin and emptied her bucket out, slinging the water towards the roots of one of the parched olive trees nearby. She turned around, pushing her hair behind her ears with the back of her free hand and jumped out of her skin. Standing motionless in front of her was a man. Edie shrieked and then, realising who it was, clapped her hand to her mouth to suppress it. Zayn. She glared at him.

‘Not funny, Zayn, not funny at all. You nearly killed me.’

‘Sorry, Eeedie.’

In contrast to Stefan the chef, Zayn stressed the first part of her name so that it rhymed with an elongated ‘seedy’. Seedy-Edie – she was surprised the boys at school had never come up with that as a nickname, but they were mostly too preoccupied with Laura to bother their heads with her.

‘It’s OK,’ she conceded, feeling a twang of guilt at how sad and perplexed he looked and sounded. ‘Did you need me for something, because I’m in a bit of a hurry.’

‘Why are you in such a rush? And looking so angry?’

Edie suppressed a quiver of irritation that slid through her; she could do without an interrogation right now. ‘Sorry, Zayn. It’s not you – I’m just mystified about where Laura’s gone, that’s all.’

‘Laura?’ Zayn’s bushy eyebrows knitted together in further puzzlement. ‘I don’t know any Laura. Who is she?’ Edie sighed in exasperation; Zayn was evidently another one of those unobservant people who couldn’t tell them apart, who thought identical twins were exactly the same in every respect, from appearance to number of fillings in their teeth and bra cup size. Whereas in fact Edie not only had no fillings to Laura’s three but also was a D cup to Laura’s C.

Zayn was staring at her expectantly, waiting for an answer. Slowly, it dawned on Edie that she was forgetting a crucial fact. Neither Zayn, nor anyone else, had actually met Laura nor even known of her existence. No one at all other than Edie had seen her when she arrived at the resort. Edie had been in no hurry to advertise her presence, partly because she had wanted to keep her to herself for a few hours at least, partly in case Vlad made a fuss about someone freeloading and partly, of course, to make sure Laura didn’t get anywhere near Vuk before Edie herself had had a chance to consolidate her position.

‘Laura’s my sister. My twin sister,’ she explained, a flicker of irritation causing her to frown. ‘She came yesterday but now she’s disappeared and I don’t know where she is.’

Zayn said nothing for a moment. Then, gently, he asked, ‘But can’t you phone her and find out?’

For one fleeting second, Edie thought that Zayn had come up with the answer, the easiest and most obvious way to make contact with Laura. And then something Laura had said whilst they were drinking drifted back to her. She’d had her phone stolen along with everything else and had no money to replace it. That was one reason why she hadn’t so much as sent a text to alert Edie to her imminent arrival. She had suggested that, if Edie didn’t mind lending her the dosh, that’s the first thing she would do in the morning. This morning, right now, Laura had intended to take the scooter into the town and buy a new phone. Edie would have told her where to go, drawn a map of the old town which was so confusing with its maze of cobbled alleyways and passages. She would have asked her to buy homegrown strawberries from one of the old women in the marketplace to bring back for them to feast on. But none of that was happening now and, as Edie thought about it, tears began to trickle down her cheeks. Honestly, it was too bad of Laura to leave her in the lurch like this.

‘No, I can’t,’ she snapped back at Zayn. She folded her arms angrily over her chest. ‘She doesn’t have a phone right now.’

‘That is not good,’ answered Zayn, his brow furrowed in concern. ‘But don’t worry!’ He released the frown and smiled at her encouragingly.

‘We’ll look for her, we’ll find her.’ He cast his gaze skywards, narrowing his eyes as he searched for the right words. ‘How do you say in English? I’ll put my thinking cap on and see what I can come up with.’

Edie shrugged. ‘Yeah, thanks Zayn. That’s great.’

He was trying to help, and she appreciated it, but in all honesty what would he be able to do? Being sweet and kind wasn’t what was required right now. To work out Laura’s whereabouts she needed someone with natural authority about them, someone who knew how to kick ass. A description which exactly fitted Vuk. She also needed someone who could console her for the brevity of the time she’d had with her adored sister. Surely he’d be back from whatever boat trip he was on soon? Suddenly she felt desperate for him, for the soulmate that she was sure he was beneath his taciturnity and undemonstrativeness. She yearned for arms around her, strong and capable arms. Vuk’s arms.

Abruptly taking leave of Zayn, Edie sloped off to the bar for her shift. The afternoon dragged, each order an irritation, every customer an inconvenience. She kept looking around, anxious for any sign of Vuk, simultaneously expecting – hoping – that at any moment Laura might also reappear, a taunting smile on her face, wondering what Edie was making such a fuss about, decrying that anyone might have so much as noticed her absence.

‘Where on earth have you been?’ Edie would ask.

‘Here and there, shooting the breeze,’ Laura would reply, and that would be that.

So much for the idea that twins are psychic. Edie had never been able to read Laura’s mind. She banged down glasses and crashed piles of plates together for several long hours. ‘Edeeee,’ remonstrated Stefan. ‘You need be careful. You break something.’

‘Yeah, sorry.’ Edie began shoving handfuls of clean cutlery into the grey plastic tray on the table behind the bar. ‘I’d slow down but Vlad always tells me I’m letting the team down if I do that.’ She smiled self-righteously at the long-suffering Stefan as she flung down the last handful of forks.

‘You are a good worker, Edie,’ countered Stefan, his voice eager and anxious at the same time. ‘I’ve told Vlad that.’

‘Thanks, Stefan,’ said Edie, turning to survey the tables and assess what needed doing next. A tiny glow of pleasure seeped through her, despite herself. Stefan’s praise was nice to hear; at least someone appreciated her.

And then she saw him.

Vuk was making his way across the dry, powdery sand that edged the beach. Tall and upright, attracting admiring gazes from every woman around, just the sight of him turned Edie’s stomach upside down. Haphazardly depositing a pile of teaspoons on the counter, she raced towards him.

‘Vuk!’

He looked in her direction. Flying across the loose, shifting sand, Edie could not focus on his expression. She arrived at his side, grabbing his arm and hanging onto it while she caught her breath.

‘You are in a hurry today, Edie.’ The few words he spoke were always in impeccable English, learned during a few years he’d spent as a student in Leicester. She looked up into his eyes and saw the outline of herself, perfectly reflected in his black pupils. He smiled his lop-sided smile and she melted.

‘Oh, Vuk, I’ve been desperate to find you. I’ve missed you so much.’ As soon as the words were out, she regretted them. She mustn’t put Vuk off by being too available, too clingy; she’d made that mistake before. But he just riffled her hair with one of his dextrous hands and smiled, albeit somewhat distractedly.

‘Let’s go and get a drink,’ she suggested hastily, to cover up her over-zealous greeting. ‘I could do with one.’

She squeezed her fingers around Vuk’s. His hands were so big, so strong and muscular. They were hands that could cope, that could fix things.

The bottles that Edie fetched from the bar bled with condensation and foamed pale and yellow as Vuk poured the beer into glasses. Edie stuck her finger into the middle of the spume and circled it, observing how the frothy bubbles attached to her skin and then quietly imploded and melted away. It reminded her of the tops of the breakers on the Atlantic beaches of home, where she and Laura would wave-jump, shrieking from the cold and even more so when they landed and felt the squirm of a disappearing crab underfoot. How James had longed to join them when he was small but their parents had said it was too rough. It must have been hard for him, Edie suddenly realised, to be always on the outside looking in, always chasing after them but never quite catching up. A bit like how she felt about Vuk right now. She seemed to be doing all the running.

‘Edie, you should not play with your food and drink. It’s not hygienic.’

Edie smirked in pseudo-embarrassment. ‘Sorry, Vuk. I forgot you were Mr Clean.’ She put her finger in her mouth and sucked it, long and slow.

She expected a reaction to her provocative action but Vuk merely lit a cigarette and began to smoke.

‘There’s something I need your advice on,’ she ventured tentatively, looking up at Vuk through her eyelashes and pushing out her chest in her skimpy T-shirt. Rather than dropping the flirting as a reaction to Vuk’s seeming indifference, she intensified it.

Vuk raised his eyebrows infinitesimally in response. Edie nearly snapped with exasperation.

And then he reached out and ran his thumb and forefinger around her cheek and chin and along her lips.

Finally! Satisfied that he wanted her and that she had his attention, she was able to say what was burning her tongue.

‘I don’t know where Laura is.’

Vuk’s eyes creased as they narrowed in perplexity. ‘Edie, you are talking in riddles. I don’t understand.’

Remembering again that Zayn was still the only other person who knew about Laura, she qualified her explanation. ‘Laura’s my twin sister, she came yesterday but now she’s gone. I’ve been half-expecting her to turn up all day but there’s still no sign of her.’

Edie put her fingertips to her forehead, covering her eyes. She shook her head, took a deep breath and slid her other hand down Vuk’s forearm.

‘So what do you think I should do?’

Vuk took a long draught of his beer.

‘Nothing.’

‘Uh?’ Edie’s surprise made her inarticulate. Surely Vuk could do better than that.

‘She has gone travelling again,’ he continued, laconically. ‘That’s all,’ he shrugged.

‘But I don’t understand why she would have done that without telling me,’ protested Edie, flinging her arms in the air. ‘Why would she? Why would she come one day and leave the next? It doesn’t make any sense.’

‘You are twins. Don’t you know?’ Vuk drained his glass and made as if to get up from the table.

‘NO!’ Edie slammed the palms of her hands on the table. ‘That’s all just bollocks. Of course we know each other inside out but we, like everyone else on earth, need a telephone or a computer to have a long-distance conversation. Cut the “twins are psychic” crap – everyone does it and it really annoys me.’

Her anger rolled off her like the hot breeze from the nearby fan. And then dissipated as Vuk pushed his chair back and picked up his sunglasses from the table.

‘Wait, where are you going? Is that all the help you’re going to give me?’

‘I have an appointment. See you later maybe.’ Vuk was already making his way towards the side path that led away from the beach and up into the resort. All he ever had was appointments, business to conduct. Where was the time for her?

‘You need to stop fussing, Edie,’ added Vuk as he retreated. ‘Laura is okay. You just look after yourself.’

Edie slumped into her chair, her head in her hands. And then sat bolt upright, her eyes widening with horror. No, no, no. Surely the thing she’d dreaded hadn’t happened? There had been something so strange about the way Vuk dismissed the whole story. He knew something, she was sure of it … could Laura possibly have got her hands on him so soon? But even if so, it still didn’t explain why she had completely vanished, he would hardly be keeping her prisoner.

Edie hauled herself out of her chair and started to make her way up the sandy brown slope of the hill towards her room. She was tired after such a short night’s sleep and, as well as her suspicions about Vuk and Laura, she couldn’t get his words out of her head. ‘Look after yourself.’ What had he meant by that? If anyone needed minding, it was Laura. Why on earth should she, Edie, need looking after – and if she did, why not by him?

SEVEN

Fatima

‘I don’t understand,’ stammered Fatima, feeling her legs go weak. ‘It can’t be right. I – we – always have money, we – my husband was an accountant; he had many clients. Of course not the same as it used to be …,’ her voice faltered.

‘Maybe your husband was planning something,’ the bank clerk shrugged, half-bored and half-enjoying her discomfort. ‘I can see here that he withdrew all the money from this account and the associated savings account a week or so ago.’

Fatima leaned against the counter for support. She felt hot and sick and dizzy.

‘You better ask him why,’ continued the clerk by way of conclusion. ‘Now if you don’t mind, many people are waiting.’

Fatima inched herself along the counter just far enough for the next client to take her place. She rested her forehead against the cool glass of the empty booth in front of her. In that moment, she hated this war as she had never hated anything before and surely never would again. It had made Fayed do something which he would not have countenanced in any other circumstances – act in secret, without discussing his plans with her. Fatima knew his actions would have been driven by love and a desire to do the best for his family. But that was little comfort now that he was gone and all of their money with him.

All Fatima had was what she kept deposited in an account she had set up when the girls were born, that she herself managed and paid into. She took out every penny. The sum that had disappeared by the time she had bought the items on Safa’s list was frightening; prices of the most basic goods were escalating by the day. That evening, Fatima sewed a secret pocket into the waistband of her trousers and stashed the remaining money inside it. There was only one explanation for Fayed’s actions. He must have decided that they should leave; he probably hadn’t wanted her to know to prevent her from worrying or perhaps because these days, it was often best to know nothing in case of summary arrest and interrogation. Aware of what Fayed had had in mind, and believing in her husband’s ability to make the right decisions as he always had, she went to Ehsan to talk about their future.

It turned out that Ehsan had a fair amount of cash; between them, they might just be able to manage. Manage to get away, that was, not to stay. The widow Safa and the various members of her family who lived with her were kind but, like everyone, were struggling hard enough to keep themselves going in these terrible days. Often, there was not enough food, power supplies were intermittent and unreliable and the cramped conditions they were living in were bound to breed illness and disease. When the next winter came, everything would be a hundred times harder. By then, who knew what would be left of the country.

More and more bombs dropped by day and by night. Where they struck was random and indiscriminate. House raids could happen anytime; nobody knew when the door would be broken down and the men, such as were left, taken, imprisoned, tortured, killed. Towns in the north were besieged; starving residents reduced to eating grass and cats to stay alive. New threats arose all the time, bands of fighters more vicious than the last, their methods and ideologies ruthless and barbaric, devoid of mercy. Public beheadings were commonplace, mass slaughter just another everyday occurrence. The enemy was everywhere and everyone; most people no longer knew who was fighting who or why.

It was obvious to Fatima that they must make arrangements to leave. There was no time to apply for new passports to replace the ones that had been lost along with the house. That could take weeks or months in the current chaos, even supposing they were issued at all. Anyone could be accused of being on the other side, an enemy of the state, and then there would be no documents and probably no freedom. In any case, it was not a good idea to make yourself known to the authorities, to draw attention to yourself. They would have to take the chance of getting across the border illegally.

There had to be a better life for them all than this. There had to be a life.

***

In the idle days before they left, and the silent hours of the night when there were no air strikes, Fatima began to think about contacting Ali. For the first time since the war had begun, it seemed that perhaps now was the time to mend bridges and renew family ties. Ali was out there somewhere, in Europe Fatima assumed. He was in a safe place, and maybe if she could find him, he would be able to help, send money, get them a route out, support them into Europe also. But so much had been said; so many accusations been made against Ali by her father when he was still alive – accusations of betrayal because he had refused to have an arranged marriage, did not want to take over the family business and did not follow all aspects of Islam – that it seemed unlikely the rift could ever be healed. Fatima had been instructed to join the rest of the family in disowning him, and she had done as she was told because she had been so young at the time, only twelve, although underneath she still loved her big brother like she always had.

She thought about contacting him now the chips were down and their lives might depend on it, but did not do it. He would most likely hate her for being party to the whole sorry affair of his banishment from the family home and subsequent exile, and for only getting touch when she needed something from him. To track him down and then have her requests fall on deaf ears would be worse than not hearing anything at all, because then she would know that she had lost her only brother for ever. She pushed thoughts of Ali from her mind. Imagining that out there somewhere lay a saviour, a guardian angel who could guide and help them to safety, was plain fantasy. She, Ehsan and the children would survive only on their wits, by the making of good decisions, and with a whole lot of luck.

Angels do not exist.

EIGHT

Edie

Abandoned anew by Vuk, Edie meandered through the resort, at a loss for what to do. She had thought about the whole Laura shenanigans almost without let-up and decided that in all likelihood, she had gone off with some bloke – perhaps one of the Russians they had met at the marina – and would amble back once his flight had departed for Moscow or St Petersburg or Vladivostok or wherever it was he was from. She had no idea where Vladivostok was but she liked the way the letters rolled off her tongue and it amused her to think what its inhabitants would be called. If people from St Petersburg were Peterburzhy, would it make them Vladivostokhy? Or Vladivostokites like Muscovites? Either one could double as the name for an unpleasant intimate infection or a particularly repellent insect.

She passed cabana 16, grumpily kicking at the sand as she walked. The cabana was quiet and still; the loungers piled on top of each other in the corner, the washing line free of swimming costumes and towels, the recycling crate by the front door empty of bottles – all indicating a property waiting for its next inhabitants.

Pausing only for a second to think about it, Edie slipped through the gate and disappeared behind the fence. Stripping off her clothes as she walked, she arrived at the edge of the pool in seconds. It was not deep enough for diving so she slid into the water and struck off from the side, reaching the opposite wall in just a few strokes. The cabana pools were small but kept at just the right temperature – cooler than the sea at this time of year, and in the middle of the afternoon, when the beach was at its busiest, Edie preferred to stay away. It was all right if you had nothing to do but lounge around and read trashy novels, but when it was only ever a brief respite from her life of drudgery, it made her too jealous of the holidaymakers.