“Just need sleep,” he slurs, the words jumbling together. “It’ll be mostly gone when I wake up.” I go to move away and stop when he grabs my hand. “Sorry,” he says fretfully. “Sorry, you’ve had to play nursemaid.”

“My mother had them,” I say keeping my voice low. “I know how bad they can be. I’m going to get you some water. Try and drink it.”

He doesn’t let go. “Thank you.”

Before I know I’m going to do it, I reach out and brush his hair back from his face. The strands are silky and his expression eases a little.

“Sleep,” I whisper.

By the time I get back with his water, he’s done just that. I linger for a few seconds, looking down at his face still drawn tight with pain and brush his hair back from his face again. He looks younger and almost innocent in his slumber.

Realising that I’m stroking a sleeping man’s hair, I give an exclamation of disgust and leave the flat quickly, shutting the front door behind me with a decisive snap.

Chapter Five

One Week Later

Laurie

I look up at the black-painted front door and hesitate for a few seconds. Then as the rain dampens my face, I exhale noisily and give the door knocker a couple of sharp taps. Even the door knocker is shiny, I think and wince when I see my fingerprints are now all over it.

The door swings open, and my twin sister stands in front of me. Her brown hair is styled in a sharp bob, and she’s wearing a sleek black dress and looking as lovely as ever. My mother fervently believes that Lennie robbed me of my sense of style when we were in the womb.

“Oh my God, Laurie,” she exclaims and pulls me into a tight hug. I inhale the scent of Dior perfume and hug her back.

After a few seconds, she pulls back and smiles at me. Her eyes are suspiciously shiny. “It’s been too long,” she scolds me. “I hate that you live so far away in France. How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” I say automatically.

She’s never been inclined to accept bullshit. This is proved when she blows a raspberry. “Well, that’s good because you look fucking terrible.”

I laugh. “Tell it like it is, Lennie.”

She rolls her eyes. “You do, though.” She pushes my hair back from my face, and I can’t help but remember Mags doing the same a week ago. I force the memory away.

“You’re too thin,” she observes. “And you look like you haven’t slept in a few months.”

“I’m fine,” I say firmly.

She grimaces and steps back to let me in. I know it won’t take long before she returns to her subject, and I’m proved correct a few seconds later.