In the end, I went for my favourite: a soft caramel-coloured sheath that looked deceptively simple on the hanger but found the contours of my body and accentuated them perfectly. It was the kind of dress that hinted, rather than shouted, at what was beneath. The neckline stopped short of revealing any cleavage, and yet it still made me feel sexier than anything in my sister’s closet had done. I finished off the look by slipping silver hoops into my ears and threading a collection of colourful bangles on to my wrist, neither of which were Amelia’s style. These days, it felt important to stress the differences between us rather than the similarities.
I did one last check of my make-up before pulling the clip from my hair and shaking it free, so that it tumbled down over my shoulders.
‘What can I do? Shall I lay the table?’ I asked as I walked into a kitchen filled with steam from the collection of pans bubbling away on the hob.
‘That would be great, Lexi,’ Mum said gratefully. ‘Amelia was going to do it, but she’s busy looking for something at the moment.’
I glanced into the hallway and caught a glimpse of my sister moving from the lounge and heading towards the stairs. I paused for a moment, frowning as I saw her stop to catch her breath halfway up.
I was just setting the last dessert spoon into position when Amelia joined us in the kitchen. She was wearing a pair of smart black trousers, a silky long-sleeved red shirt, and an expression of immense frustration.
‘What’s up?’ I asked, as I began folding paper serviettes into something resembling a pyramid shape.
‘I’m looking for something,’ she replied, clearly distracted as her gaze travelled the four corners of the kitchen. ‘I swear I’ve looked absolutely everywhere, and I can’t find it.’
I gave up in my attempt to turn the serviette into a recognisable shape.
‘What have you lost? I’ll help you find it.’
Amelia smiled gratefully, opened her mouth, but then stopped as though someone had pressed a pause button.
‘It’s um… it’s my… it’s…’
‘Dying of suspense here,’ I said, which was meant to make her laugh. Only it didn’t. And when I saw the first flicker of confusion in her eyes, suddenly I didn’t find it funny either.
She raised her left arm and looked down at it, like an actor who’d written their lines on the back of their hand. But there were no scribbled cues scrawled on her smooth skin.
‘It’s my wrist clock,’ she declared at last, with a small, relieved laugh.
It was hot in the kitchen with the oven going and the hob at full blast, and yet I felt an icy shiver travel down the length of my spine.
‘Your what?’
‘My wrist clock,’ Amelia said, her eyes going from me to Mum as though we were being exceptionally dense.
I caught the look on Mum’s face and knew my own was wearing an identical expression of concern.
Amelia glanced meaningfully back at her bare wrist.
‘Do you mean yourwatch?’ I asked, aware that my voice didn’t sound entirely normal. ‘Is that what you’re looking for?’
‘Yes. That’s what I just said,’ Amelia replied, sounding impatient with me in a way she seldom did.
‘No, actually you didn’t. You called it your “wrist clock”.’
She gave me a long stare, as though daring me to take back what I’d just said. But I didn’t, because this felt like something we couldn’t and shouldn’t ignore. Amelia gave a casual shrug. ‘Yeah, whatever. You knew what I meant. I just couldn’t think of the word for a moment. So, have you seen it? Have you seen mywatch?’She emphasised the word pointedly.
‘It’s in the bathroom, on the window ledge,’ I said, biting my lip worriedly as she left the room to retrieve the missing item.
I waited until she was safely out of earshot before saying anything, but Mum beat me to it.
‘It’s nothing, Lexi. She’s just overexcited about the lunch today, that’s all.’
‘Mum, she forgot the word. You could see her struggling to look for it, and she just couldn’t access it.’
‘Maybe it’s the heart pills she’s on,’ Mum said.
‘Or maybe it’s starting to get worse,’ I countered darkly. She didn’t get a chance to respond to that because there was a timely knock on the front door, telling us our lunch guest had arrived.
