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Don’t look around now, but I think we’re being followed,’ I told my sister, Lisette.
We were window-shopping on the High Street and had stopped outside a homeware shop.
‘You can see her reflected in the window – red hair, purple floral dress.’ I didn’t recognise the woman.
Lisette stared at the redhead in the glass. ‘What makes you think she’s following us?’
‘She was outside that boutique we went into and she was in the bookshop as well. When I glanced in her direction, she looked away, but then she was watching us again. She’s giving me the creeps.’
‘It’s probably coincidence. Summerfield isn’t exactly a teeming metropolis.’
‘The SAS manual says there’s no such thing as coincidence.’ When Lisette looked at me in astonishment, I added, ‘I read it a long time ago.’
‘Maybe you shouldn’t have, if it’s putting that kind of idea in your head.’
Obviously having dismissed the subject, she scrutinised a dinner set displayed in the window. ‘I like that one. Let’s go in and have a look.’
‘I was terrified she’d come back and take you’
I trailed after her. Her wedding was the next day, but she was still buying things for her marital home.
Ages later, after she’d examined every piece of china in the set, I said, ‘Don’t ask for my opinion.
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