Everyone adored Alexander, intelligent, funny, good looking with a charming personality that made people want to hang onto his every word. His name appeared first on the who to invite list, the man who men wanted to know and the girls wanted to be with.
A foregone conclusion he would make a success of whatever career path he chose.
He was the golden boy in the family, playing Joseph to my sheep, scoring the winning goal in the primary schools cup final, while I sat on the bench the unused sub. The man who turned heads, with the best looking girl in the college on his arm.
Alexander went on to university where a first in mathematics and engineering made sure he was in demand and headhunted by leading companies. Finally settling on the American based charity Worldteach, his work ethic along with innovative new ideas helped him rise through the ranks to the lucrative position of Head of Development.
His beautiful secretary Eliza became his wife and mother to his three charming children. Their six bedroomed house in Bel-Air with indoor pool and games room gave mother bragging rights amongst her U3A writer’s group.
Yes, Alexander had it all and I despised him. Hated him with a burning unrelenting passion. Lying awake at night I thought of a million ways of killing him. Without Alexander in my life it would have been so much better. No constant, 'Why can’t you be more like your brother?’ A phrase I had heard throughout my life, when I was expelled, after I failed my exams and every time I lost a job. Although I had managed to keep hold of my current position, working part time at Jackson’s homeopathic emporium.
We only saw each other once or twice a year, when he flew home for meetings with big businesses to raise funds. He always made sure we spent time together, a meal in a top restaurant that had a long waiting list, or the best seats in a sold out concert. There was nothing Alexander wouldn’t do to show me how big and important he was.
A phone call from Alexander this morning informed me he was back this weekend and he had booked us a table at the exclusive Carter’s fish restaurant on the Thames.
Could this be my chance? Jackson’s had just taken in a new shipment of plants including Belladonna, a few of its dark berries crushed into a drink would be undetectable and deadly.
Sitting in that window table opposite Alexander with the ornate street lamps reflecting in the water and the soft background music belied what I was about to do. I laughed loudly at his jokes, the small vial hidden in my pocket felt like it was burning a hole into my skin. Alexander’s phone began to beep making me jump. Apologising he headed for the door to take the call.
Sweating profusely I took the vial from my pocket, checking no one was looking, I poured the contents into his red wine. Alexander arrived back at the table 'Sorry about that he sighed. ‘I need the bathroom,’ I stammered and just made it into a cubicle before throwing up my lobster thermidor.
Standing at the sink I looked into the mirror. ‘Oh, God, what have I done?’ I cried. ‘I must stop him.’
Rushing back to the table, to my horror his wine glass was empty.
‘I’m sorry I have to leave … he began,’ then looked into my face. ‘Are you feeling ok, you look as white as a sheet?’ Picking up my glass I drained it in one gulp.
‘Oh by the way,’ he smiled, ‘I have to drive later, so gave you my wine. Shame to waste it.’
Waking up groggily in that sterile room, the first person I saw was Alexander sitting in a wheelchair next to my bed he looked pale and drained. ‘Hi,’ he smiled, ‘the transplant was a success, the doctors said you will make a full recovery.’
As the tears ran down my face, Alexander reached out for my hand and squeezed it. Don’t cry Alice. You’re my twin sister and I was not going to let you die.’