Sisters - Michelle Frances Page 0,87

It was elegantly simple, falling just to the knee with a deep V-neckline. But it was the colour that made it: a blue that equalled a cloudless August sky. Instinctively she glanced at the price tag, then winced. Three hundred euros. She gazed at it wistfully, knowing how it would look on her, knowing how much she already loved it.

‘That’s not bad, actually,’ said Abby, from behind her. ‘Flipping heck!’

Ellie turned to see her sister staring goggle-eyed at the dress, or, more accurately, its price tag.

‘Here,’ said Abby, handing over a fresh coffee. ‘You weren’t seriously thinking of buying that, were you?’

‘Have you forgotten our little escapade at the petrol station?’ said Ellie. ‘I was going to dash into the shop, grab it and do a runner. Joke,’ she added, seeing Abby’s face.

Abby appraised the dress, considering it properly. ‘It’s nice. But three hundred euros? Would you actually spend that much on one item of clothing?’

‘If it looked amazing, then yes.’

‘You’re nuts.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Welcome. It won’t cost anywhere near three hundred euros to manufacture.’

‘Course not.’

‘And that sort of money would keep you going for at least a couple of weeks of retirement.’

‘But I’m not retired,’ said Ellie tartly. ‘You’re taking all the magic out of it.’

Abby looked at the dress again and pulled a face – part amusement, part puzzlement. ‘Magic?’

Ellie grabbed her sister’s arm, led her up to the window. ‘Look at it. The design, the fabric. Look at how it’s going to swish around your legs. Look at that colour. Instant holiday. It’s not about the cost. It’s the fact that when you put it on you’ll feel as if nothing in the world can bring you down.’

Abby nodded. ‘Wow. But not convinced. There’s always something in the world to bring you down.’

Ellie went quiet. ‘Tell me about it,’ she said.

‘What’s up?’

Ellie looked at her sister incredulously. ‘Are you serious? “What’s up?” What are we going to do, Abby? How are we going to get out of this? We are in so much shit, I don’t even know where to begin.’ She started laughing hysterically. ‘Oh my God,’ she said. ‘What’s up? What’s up?’

‘OK, OK,’ said Abby, ‘I get it.’ She indicated over to the square. ‘I was going to see if Jamie had called back. I’ve left my phone in the car . . .’

‘I’ll just hang out here a bit,’ said Ellie, deflating. She took a sip of her coffee. ‘Until you’ve finished your call.’

Abby went to retrieve her phone and, once she’d switched it on, saw she had a message. Heart thumping, she dialled into the mailbox. But it wasn’t Jamie, it was Matteo. As she listened to his voice, she felt herself well up. She swallowed down her emotion, now certain of two things. One, the police had found the body. It was in his voice, the way he sounded so careful, while trying not to be. The other thing she was certain of was that, despite his plea, she couldn’t call him back. She knew that on some level, the police were controlling what he said. This hit her like a punch to the gut and she got such a pang of loneliness she had to lean against the car, catch her breath.

Abby didn’t want to keep the phone on too long, but there was one other thing she wanted to do before she switched it off. It felt very strange typing her name and the word ‘murder’ into the search engine. The news report came up and she recognized the man from the photo. Then she saw herself and Ellie staring out from the screen – that same photo from the restaurant. It had only been three days ago but it felt like an eternity.

Hands shaking, she hurriedly turned the phone off. Abby felt sweat beading on her forehead. She wiped it away with the back of her hand, forced deep breaths to calm herself. She looked around the square for faces, someone who might be watching her, about to report her. But apart from an elderly lady pulling along a shopping trolley on wheels with a rustic loaf sticking out of the top, there was no one.

They don’t know where you are, she told herself, then repeated it, her internal voice more stern the second time. And anyway, that man would’ve killed them. Surely that gave her some sort of defence?

How long did she have? she wondered. Until the police caught up with her? Because no matter how much she might be able