Read Twisted for Free Online
Authors: Lynda La Plante
hats and scarves. Rows of boots and shoes were lined up along the bottom. Lena didn’t touch anything, she just stood there admiring how neat and tidy everything was. It was hard to believe this was a bedroom of a fifteen-year-old; there were no posters of rock stars on the walls, in fact they were devoid of any kind of pictures apart from some family photographs. The bedside cabinets were uncluttered, with only an alarm clock, two matching lamps, bedside house phone and a stand for her mobile. Beneath their tops were rows of paperback books, all stacked together by size and width. Lena looked at the large antique dressing table; this was placed in front of the window and faced the large garden. A hairbrush and comb were in a blue pottery jar next to a hand mirror and a large bottle of ‘Daisy’ perfume sat beside a tube of moisturizer.
Lena began to look through the neat rows of dresser drawers, starting from the left, and found everything neatly arranged. Lena knew that Agnes was more than likely the person who carefully folded each bra and matching panties, rolled the tights into small balls and tucked them into the plastic dividers: black tights, woollen tights, socks, white tennis and sports socks all rolled up and tidy.
The bottom dressing-table drawers held old school books, sketchpads and envelopes in one, in another some Christmas cards still in their packaging. Only one drawer was locked, a small one on the top right-hand side. Lena had no idea where the key would be, and even had she known she would not have unlocked the drawer to discover what it contained. She reckoned it was probably Amy’s diary – as a child she had always kept diaries but once her schoolwork intensified, she was given her own computer and abandoned the ritual. Then before Christmas she had asked for a journal: she was inspired to write short stories and wanted something special to put them in. She asked to have a proper bound one with a lock and key. Marcus had bought her one with her name embossed in gold letters; it had been very expensive, in dark green leather.
Lena stood in the centre of the room looking from one side to the other. She then went to close the wardrobe and she saw the stack of matching suitcases, in three sizes – small, medium and large. Lena knew Amy also had an overnight cabin bag at school, which she used when visiting Serena’s or her father’s, and it was the only one missing.
By the time Lena returned to her bedroom, it was after seven, and she had still not heard from Marcus. She was loath to call back yet forced herself to do so, but it went straight to voicemail yet again and she didn’t leave a message. She tried Amy’s mobile phone one more time and that too was on voicemail. She next called the school to ask if Amy had turned up or if they had heard either from her or her father.
The matron said they had not, and asked if she would call as soon as she heard when they could expect Amy to arrive. They did not approve of unplanned absences or really allow pupils to return after lights out, but if she was expected to be back that evening there was always someone on duty.
‘I hope there’s nothing wrong?’ the matron asked and Lena, keeping her voice pleasant, replied that she suspected her husband had taken their daughter to the theatre. It felt lame even to her. Replacing the receiver she lay back on her bed, wondering if the school knew about the impending divorce. Because Amy stayed alternate weekends with her father they might very well suspect some kind of marital problem, even though Amy spent her school holidays mostly with Lena and she always allowed her friends to stay. The truth was, it was so much easier if Amy did have a friend to stay as it kept her occupied and Lena didn’t have to arrange activities. It was much easier now that she was a teenager, but when she was younger, having to chauffeur her around had usually fallen to Lena. Marcus said he loathed having to remember which
Lena began to look through the neat rows of dresser drawers, starting from the left, and found everything neatly arranged. Lena knew that Agnes was more than likely the person who carefully folded each bra and matching panties, rolled the tights into small balls and tucked them into the plastic dividers: black tights, woollen tights, socks, white tennis and sports socks all rolled up and tidy.
The bottom dressing-table drawers held old school books, sketchpads and envelopes in one, in another some Christmas cards still in their packaging. Only one drawer was locked, a small one on the top right-hand side. Lena had no idea where the key would be, and even had she known she would not have unlocked the drawer to discover what it contained. She reckoned it was probably Amy’s diary – as a child she had always kept diaries but once her schoolwork intensified, she was given her own computer and abandoned the ritual. Then before Christmas she had asked for a journal: she was inspired to write short stories and wanted something special to put them in. She asked to have a proper bound one with a lock and key. Marcus had bought her one with her name embossed in gold letters; it had been very expensive, in dark green leather.
Lena stood in the centre of the room looking from one side to the other. She then went to close the wardrobe and she saw the stack of matching suitcases, in three sizes – small, medium and large. Lena knew Amy also had an overnight cabin bag at school, which she used when visiting Serena’s or her father’s, and it was the only one missing.
By the time Lena returned to her bedroom, it was after seven, and she had still not heard from Marcus. She was loath to call back yet forced herself to do so, but it went straight to voicemail yet again and she didn’t leave a message. She tried Amy’s mobile phone one more time and that too was on voicemail. She next called the school to ask if Amy had turned up or if they had heard either from her or her father.
The matron said they had not, and asked if she would call as soon as she heard when they could expect Amy to arrive. They did not approve of unplanned absences or really allow pupils to return after lights out, but if she was expected to be back that evening there was always someone on duty.
‘I hope there’s nothing wrong?’ the matron asked and Lena, keeping her voice pleasant, replied that she suspected her husband had taken their daughter to the theatre. It felt lame even to her. Replacing the receiver she lay back on her bed, wondering if the school knew about the impending divorce. Because Amy stayed alternate weekends with her father they might very well suspect some kind of marital problem, even though Amy spent her school holidays mostly with Lena and she always allowed her friends to stay. The truth was, it was so much easier if Amy did have a friend to stay as it kept her occupied and Lena didn’t have to arrange activities. It was much easier now that she was a teenager, but when she was younger, having to chauffeur her around had usually fallen to Lena. Marcus said he loathed having to remember which