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  It had to be the twin connection; it had always been strong between them.

  She could try and phone Helena but Corinne knew that she was useless at keeping her phone charged; sometimes she didn’t even bother taking it with her. Corinne just didn’t know what to do next. She was too scared to touch the cards again. All she could do was stand and stare at the table with one hand on the photo frame and the other clasped tightly to the locket around her neck.

  *

  Helena had been outside the church for twenty minutes and had finally resorted to removing the offending footwear. Sitting on the low wall she enjoyed the soothing coolness of the pavement under her feet. She listened to the hidden sounds of the night. Enthralled, she watched bats as they flew around the belfry. She was enjoying the peaceful serenity of the night. It wasn’t often she got the chance to just to sit still and enjoy the moment. With a husband, two children and a job, Helena had little time for herself.

  Sighing, she knew it was time to go home to Jimmy, it was past midnight and he’d be waiting up for her as he always did. Stupidly she had forgotten to bring her phone with her, so she couldn’t even call to let him know she was on her way. She gathered up her shoes and despite the cold pavement beneath her feet, set off barefoot, childishly swinging her shoes in her fingers.

  *

  Jack had left the long country road behind him. After passing through numerous villages he finally found himself in a sprawling town. The roads were completely deserted, and he was able to traverse the suburban streets to the town’s centre unhindered.

  Keeping an eye peeled for a lurking police car, Jack took another swig from the bottle before wedging it back between his legs. The numbness had made its way into every bone and muscle and the light from the street lamps blurred into a bright white haze. The hurt and depression had subsided and he was left with a sense of numbness, inner peace and calm.

  Jack turned a corner into a side street. He hadn’t been to this town before and he appreciated its quaintness. Old style houses lined the pavement with neat organised gardens, well-tended trees, shrubs and flowers. The people who lived here cared; it was clean, tidy and well looked after. It showed that they loved where they lived. He wished he and Nikki could have lived in a place like this, but that life was as dead and unobtainable as she was.

  Jack was still mulling over the past and trying to light another cigarette as an animal ran across the road in front of him. The frightened mammal’s eyes flashed a luminous green as it stared at the hulk of metal bearing down upon it. Swerving erratically, Jack narrowly managed to miss the creature. It was a lucky night for the fox, which ran for cover into a nearby garden as Jack breathed a sigh of relief. He felt dampness on his jeans and, glancing down, realised he’d spilled his bourbon for the sake of avoiding the mammal. In vain he tried to brush the excess liquid away, whilst fumbling to re-cap the bottle to avoid further waste of his precious alcohol.

  *

  Helena stepped blindly into the road humming her favourite song. Jimmy loved it too and it had unofficially become ‘their song’ over the years. Strange that she should think of it now. She smiled as she felt a chill in the air. Autumn was swiftly turning to winter. It wouldn’t be long before ice appeared to cover puddles and flakes of shimmering powder fell from the sky to dust the world a clean bright white. Her favourite season was fast approaching and she couldn’t wait for long dark nights, roaring fires, snow and Christmas. Oh how she loved Christmas!

  A screech of tyres stirred Helena from her thoughts and she saw a car swerving wildly in the road, narrowly missing a frightened fox. She breathed with relief as the animal safely scuttled into a garden.

  Suddenly, reality hit her. The vehicle was close. Far too close. It was heading straight for her at a speed that was excessively fast. Her brain urged her to run but it was already too late. The vehicle was too quick.

  Helena stared at the driver in bewilderment, as everything became slow motion. He wasn’t even looking at the road, then, at the last moment, he lifted his head and his shocked and scared eyes locked with hers. Horror etched itself upon both of their faces and there was a brief spark of connection before the sickening sound of metal crunching into breaking bones engulfed them both.

  Helena’s body flew into the air and she knew in an instant that it was over. Everything fleetingly rippled and she saw Corinne standing next to the fireplace, holding her locket in her hand, her face etched with worry. It disappeared to be replaced by a final vision of Jimmy and her children’s faces, making her feel at peace. She was barely able to utter, “I love you” before everything turned black and her fragile body thudded to the road.

  Bones shattering.

  Skin bruising.

  Blood spilling.

  Life escaping.

  FOUR

  Jack tried to brake, honest to God he did. The creature had been one thing, and had scared the shit out of him, but he hadn’t expected a woman to step into the road from nowhere, especially at this time of night. The car had skidded violently, brakes and tyres smoking and screeching, before finally hitting her. He had been powerless. The crunch of breaking bone and metal revolted him, and the taste of bile rose to mix with the stale taste of tobacco and alcohol. The girl flew into the air and bounced off the bonnet before landing on the road close to the car, like a battered rag doll discarded by a petulant child. Jack could only stare in horror, his limbs frozen in shock. Despite trying he just couldn’t move, he could barely utter a breath.

  He sat motionless in the vehicle for a few minutes before eventually setting foot outside, he already knew she was dead; he could see just from looking at her. He had taken a life, turning a bad day into something ultimately much worse. Shaking, he knelt over the body. Brushing a stray hair from the beautiful face, his worst fears confirmed. What had been vivid cerulean blue eyes were now becoming lifeless and glazed, as the colour dulled with every passing second. A trickle of blood seeped from the corner of her mouth, staining her otherwise perfect pale skin. Her body lay twisted and shattered, and a pair of shoes lay abandoned in the road.

  What an utter waste.

  Clutched in the girl’s dead fingers was a silver locket, the chain snapped and tangled. Taking it from her, he glanced at the beautiful face again, running his finger down her cheek, before turning his back. He climbed into his car, trying hard not to vomit. He needed to get away. He had done a terrible, terrible thing and he needed to flee the scene as quickly as possible. Back in the driver’s seat he took a reassuring slug of bourbon before leaving the trail of destruction for someone else to find.

  *

  Corinne was motionless by the fireplace. Her hand gripped the photo frame so hard that her knuckles had turned white. Corinne had felt Helena’s pain and knew she was dead. A tear slid down her cheek and all she could do was utter her beloved sister’s name. Blinking back the sting of further tears, her mind played out endless images: running hand in hand with Helena across the school playground; swinging on the swings at the park, each pushing the other higher and higher; blowing out candles on a brightly coloured iced birthday cake, inscribed with their names. All were memories, now lost to the past and Corinne felt completely empty, as though a part of herself perished along with her sister.

  The room was airless and still, candles sputtered, nearing their end and the fire extinguished itself in the grate. The tarot spread remained where it was, the unused cards face down on the table, unread.

  *

  Jack could barely steer the car in a straight line and the rain that had suddenly begun to fall had made the road ahead slick and unsteady. The combination of shock fuelled with alcohol made his hands shake violently. Everything was a blur: the accident, where he was and where he was heading. He had no idea what to do now. He should have reported the accident straight away, he should have stayed with her, and he should have left the locket behind for her family. But he hadn't. Why was that?

  Something had taken hold of him, forcing him to act out a
nd do things he would never considered doing before, and now the very worst had happened. He had taken a life he had no right to take, and an innocent girl was dead. He had stolen her locket and was nothing more than a common criminal.

  He was a murderer and a thief.

  Driving silently through the town, he considered his next move. The darkness of the night smothered him, not even the light from intermittent street lamps helped; they looked ethereal and ghostly, the yellowing light bleeding into the night. He should leave, get as far away as possible, as quickly as possible, but he couldn't. Something was forcing him to stay. He felt a need to hang around, to face up to his responsibilities. He would find somewhere to stop, get some rest and deal with the chaos when he had sobered up and had a clearer head. A few miles on he spied a hostel and checked in, ignoring the wary looks from the receptionist. Once the door was shut behind him, Jack surrendered himself to the dark, dank room, and the lingering stale smells of previous occupants. Despite the bed being lumpy and uncomfortable, sleep came quickly, fuelled by the alcohol that still coursed through his veins. But it was a fitful night filled with repetitive nightmares of lingering death.

  *

  Eventually Corinne found herself sitting on the bottom step of the hallway staircase. In the dim light she fiddled with her locket staring at the front door, waiting desperately for the knock that she knew was coming but that took an eternity to arrive. She already knew it would be the police and she allowed the officers to enter the house. They guided her back to the stairs making her sit down before confirming the worst.

  Helena had been killed in a hit-and-run.

  Corinne felt the final break in her heart. Her sister had died alone and the person responsible hadn't even stayed to report the accident, it had been a routine police patrol that had discovered her. Corinne tried her best to listen to what the officer said, but her mind was dragged elsewhere.

  Jimmy.

  Oh god, Jimmy and the children.

  Jimmy had lost his wife and the children, their mother. They would be hurting and she should go to them. She needed to go to them. They were her only family now and they needed her.

  Once the police had done all they could, they left Corinne to the solitude of her hurt and grief. She sat on the stairs holding the locket in her hand, shedding tears for the sister she loved so very much. The sister she would never see, speak to or laugh with again. Corinne couldn’t imagine life without her. It took a while to pull herself together enough to stand, but after wiping her eyes and taking a few deep breaths, she extinguished the candles and damped down the fire before setting off to Helena’s house.

  *

  Jimmy’s hands shook with shock. He had been sitting there, unable to move, ever since the police had visited him to break the terrible news. He was trying his best not to wake the children, but his sobs echoed around the large high-ceilinged living room.

  He couldn’t believe it. His precious, beautiful Helena, light of his life, was dead. He tried his best to take in the news, but it just wouldn't sink in. He would never again see her walk through the door, never again see her smiling face as she praised the children, never again see that playful glint in her eye as she seductively kissed him, before leading him up the stairs to their bedroom room to hold each other tight and make love.

  The loss was unbearable, as though his heart had been torn from his chest and ripped into tiny pieces. He had yet to tell the children their mummy was never coming home and he dreaded it. How was he going explain that their mummy would never walk them to school again, or tuck them into bed and read them a story? How much heartbreak could one man suffer? Losing his wife was one thing but causing his children life-long hurt would be something else, and he wasn’t sure he would cope with it very well.

  The sudden sound of a key in the front door lock made him look up. As it swung open his heart leapt, and he hurriedly ran to the hallway wiping the salty tears from his face. Disbelief etched itself across his face as he watched the figure walk through the open doorway.

  His heart skipped a beat; Helena was alive! The police had gotten it wrong!

  She ran over to Jimmy, threw her arms around him, hugged him tightly and whispered his name. Sitting on the stairs she held him close and rocked him gently. But the elation that had briefly overwhelmed him disappeared. The smell wasn't Helena, the voice not hers either, and the tone was edged with sympathy, not love.

  Corinne.

  Quietly they sat, with only the continual howl of the wind and patter of rain against the windows breaking through the silence that pervaded the house. The in-laws remained seated on the stairs sharing their grief. Corinne was thankful to hold on to a small part of her sister’s world that still existed, the husband and home that had been her everyday life. Jimmy clung resentfully to the mirror image of Helena, a woman who was identical in every way to his wife, but who wasn't, and never would be her.

  FIVE

  The day was cold and misty. Rain had fallen steadily overnight, drenching thirsty plants and trees, leaving behind fresh puddles that littered roads and pavements. The wind whistled through the trees, detaching leaves, and sending them on a chaotic skyward journey. They flew in all directions eventually coming to a standstill in small piles where they briefly rested before being lifted aloft once more to be carried away on the breeze.

  A solitary gravedigger, wrapped in warm clothes to protect against the elements, was hard at work in the churchyard. He was in the final stages of digging a fresh grave that would be filled later in the day. It was cold for excavating and he was finding it hard going. His job was always difficult, as he knew most people who lived in town, but this time it was different. He had known the deceased very well. He’d gone to the same school as her and been friends with her husband growing up. It was hard when one of your own friends died. It made you think about your own life and mortality.

  The entire town had a subdued atmosphere which would remain a while longer, until the happy spark of life that everyone had known and loved so well was laid to rest. Many of the town’s inhabitants had known the twins from birth, and the callous hit-and-run death of one of them a few weeks before had shocked the community to its very core. What upset them more was the suspicion that a cold-hearted murderer could be living amongst them. Distrust was rife and the town’s cracks were starting to show. They needed to stick together in times like these.

  *

  Corinne had appropriately dressed herself in black. Perched upon her head was a small black hat with a thin veil that partially covered her face. An unsettling reflection stared back at her from the mirror: darkness circled her eyes, and she looked pale and gaunt. Most notably, her normally brilliant cerulean eyes had lost their life and sparkle; the blueness had dulled, like the sky losing its colour to a grey overcast day. Grief had hit her hard and the signs were all too visible.

  The tarot spread from the night Helena died still sat undisturbed on the table behind her, the cards taunting her each time she looked at them. Dust had settled upon them and she knew she should put them back in their box, but couldn’t bear to touch them, at least not until after the funeral. She couldn’t explain why; she just felt she needed to leave them where they were until Helena was finally buried.

  Adjusting her clothing one last time, she glanced lovingly at the photo of her and her sister. Corinne missed her so much and the grief was eating her from the inside out, making her exhausted and miserable. She could barely eat, sleep had eluded her since the accident, and it was beginning to take its toll on her, both mentally and physically. She extinguished the sole burning candle next to the photograph; her own silent, daily, mark of respect to her sister.

  It was time to go and lay Helena to rest.

  *

  Jack was sitting in a café at a scuffed and stained plastic table that had seen better days. A strong black coffee was cradled in his hand. It was the first sober day he’d had since the accident and today of all days he wanted to stay that way out of respect. Rathe
r than running away, he’d stayed in the hostel, going over the accident in his head, trying to make sense of what had happened, of why he had acted the way he had and why he was so reluctant to leave. In the end he had decided to wait around for the funeral. He was filled with guilt and felt the least he could do was stay to pay his respects; he owed the girl that much. It hadn’t been difficult to find out the details. Talk of her death was everywhere. It seemed many knew her and mourned for her.

  The clock on the café wall crept closer to one o’clock, and Jack ordered another coffee. Opening his tightly clutched hand, he took another look at the necklace. A thin silver chain and locket containing a photograph of the girl lay in his palm. Jack still had no idea why he’d taken it, but he had, and he had looked at it almost every hour of every day since the accident, as if trying to soften his guilt somehow.

  Unthreading the locket from the tangled and broken chain, he carefully placed it in his jacket pocket before discarding the chain. Turning his head, he stared out the window. The funeral procession was passing as expected. The hearse containing the coffin was decked out with three simple floral tributes that simply read wife, mummy and sister. The sight of it made him go cold. He was utterly ashamed of what he had done, and felt he was no better than the person who’d killed Nikki; a common, cowardly criminal. How dare he sit here and pretend to care when he had caused so much pain and despair to so many people? He was a hypocrite, talking to shop owners and bar keepers about the terrible accident, speculating who had caused such hurt and deceit in the midst of their community, when all along he wanted to stand in the street and scream, “It was me!”