The New Girl: A gripping psychological thriller with a shocking twist perfect for fans of Friend Request

‘Hi! It’s Rachel. For the room?’

‘Right, yeah. Of course. Come on up.’

‘Thanks!’

I press the button for the front door and hear a short, low brrrrrrpt on the other end.

She’s in.

Swallowing thickly, I pour myself some water, then stop. Shit, I’ve forgotten. Today of all days. Dashing to my room, I yank open the top drawer of my dresser and find the aluminium popper pack. I thrust my thumb into the foil twice and throw back the small, white pills with a slug of water. As I’m wiping my mouth on my sleeve, there’s a knock at the door.

‘Coming!’ That’s better. Normal-sounding, friendly. I make myself walk slowly to the door, breathe, then open it.

At first all I see is an oversized grey raincoat with a hood and a shadow for a face. Then the hood slides back and a face appears: pale, angular, with a high, domed forehead and hazel eyes. Dimpled cheeks bracket a wide, even-toothed smile. Two small hands reach up to disengage a bundle of dishevelled, shoulder-length blonde hair from the hood of the raincoat.

All thoughts of greeting are erased by the sudden feeling of recognition. A face like that would be hard to forget, I think. But I can’t pinpoint where I may have seen her. I almost ask if I know her, but she’s thrusting out her small hand, beaming, and saying in that rough-edged voice, ‘It’s so nice to meet you!’

‘Hi. Yes, you too.’

Rachel grasps my hand with fingers that are ice-cold. She’s surrounded by the scent of something sharp and sweet. I’m about to pull my hand back when our eyes connect. I feel a jolt; there’s something in those wide-set eyes, something that makes me feel exposed.

‘Are you okay?’ Rachel’s peering at me, brow furrowed. I can see the dusting of freckles on her small, upturned nose. She’s pretty. Really pretty. And then I wonder if it’s okay to think she’s pretty when she looks a bit like me. Not a dead ringer, of course, but the basic stats: blonde, slim, around the same age. But I’ve got nothing on this girl. At my best, I was that balance of plain and pretty that made me approachable, not too intimidating.

‘Mary?’

I shake my head to clear it. ‘Yeah, yes. Sorry. I just … Bit of a headache.’

‘You poor thing,’ Rachel puts her hand on my upper arm and squeezes gently. The sleeve of her raincoat rides up and I glimpse a black, Celtic-looking pattern on her wrist. A tattoo? ‘I get headaches a lot, so I totally sympathise. Do you want some ibuprofen or something?’

I force a smile. ‘No, really, I’m fine. Sorry about that. Come in. Would you like a coffee, or a tea maybe?’

‘I’d love a coffee, thanks.’ Rachel kicks off her trainers and walks down the hallway and into the kitchen, placing her handbag on the counter. ‘Oh god, wow,’ she breathes, her gaze settling on the dark, rolling clouds, the grey sea and the misty mountain beyond. The flailing branches of the fir trees by the shore hint at a storm. ‘This place is amazing.’

‘Yeah. The view is pretty great.’ I flick on the kettle and spoon instant coffee into two mugs. ‘Did you walk here?’

‘Yup. I don’t have a car at the moment.’ Rachel shrugs out of her raincoat to reveal a baggy jumper emblazoned with the Sydney University logo and a pair of black leggings. Her long legs remind me of a dancer’s or a model’s, and I wonder if she has that ‘thigh gap’ everyone has become obsessed with in recent years.

‘Sorry, I didn’t dress up for you.’ She grins and I wonder if she saw me looking. ‘I’m more of a “dress for comfort” kind of girl.’

‘You’re in good company,’ I say with a smile, gesturing to my T-shirt and jeans.

‘Oh, I love your shirt! Where did you find it? Astro Boy is so retro!’

‘It was a gift, ages ago. It’s way too big.’ I pull at the hem of the shirt, which hangs mid-thigh.

‘It really suits you.’ Rachel smiles warmly and I feel my cheeks heat up as though a boy I liked just paid attention to me. Rachel is not just gorgeous; she’s cool, confident. Like I used to be.

The kettle squeals as it reaches boiling point and, grateful for the distraction, I turn and pour hot water into the mugs. ‘Milk? Sugar?’

‘Thanks, yes. Milk and two sugars.’

I slop milk into both mugs, some of it splattering onto the counter, and stir in the sugar. ‘So,’ I say as I hastily wipe up with a grubby cloth and hand Rachel her mug, ‘how about you take a look at the room, see what you think?’

Rachel beams. ‘Great.’

I lead her down the hall. The room is clean and smells of fresh paint. Cat’s family had some furniture in storage so we decided to rent it furnished so we could ask for more money. The space looks neat and inviting. The room is a mirror image of mine, and beyond the glass sliding doors that connect to the balcony, the sea is visible through the mist.

‘Jesus,’ Rachel murmurs, so softly I can barely hear her. ‘I knew it would be nice, but I wasn’t expecting this.’

I smile. There’s something endearing about her reaction. ‘You’re available straight away, is that right?’ I ask. As soon as the words are out, I cringe inwardly. It sounds like I’m already asking her to move in.

Rachel nods, smiling wide. ‘I am, absolutely, yes.’ She takes a sip of coffee as she combs her fingers through a strand of fine, blonde hair. ‘I’m currently crashing on a friend’s couch – not ideal – until I find somewhere. I just moved from Melbourne, kind of in a hurry actually, so I’m still finding my feet.’

‘Oh! I’m from Melbourne, too.’

Rachel’s eyes pop. ‘Seriously? Wow!’ She beams, hazel eyes twinkling. Again, I have that feeling of exposure, of being really looked at. Being seen. I haven’t felt that in a long time. ‘You know – and please don’t think I’m crazy here – but I get this weird feeling like I already know you. You know how sometimes you meet someone and you just click?’

A smile touches my lips. ‘Yeah. Actually, I do.’

Rachel puts a hand over her mouth. When she pulls it away, she’s grinning. ‘I was thinking, oh my God, Mary’s going to think I’m a complete freak saying that. But you didn’t. Thank fuck!’

A laugh escapes and I can’t believe it, I actually laughed.

‘And now I’ve gone and said fuck! See how comfortable I am with you already?’

‘Oh, don’t worry. I swear all the time,’ I tell her. ‘Fuck is probably the most frequently used word in my vocabulary.’

Rachel giggles, an airy, girlish sound, and I find myself joining in. I feel lighter all of a sudden. Taller.

A sharp trilling intrudes and it’s a moment before I realise what it is. I snatch my phone from my pocket.

Aunty Anne calling.

‘Sorry,’ I say to Rachel. ‘I have to take this.’

‘No probs.’ Rachel waves a hand in the air. ‘Take your time.’

I slip out on the balcony, sliding the door shut behind me. ‘Hi, Aunty Anne.’

‘Mary, darling.’ The familiar voice is muffled by the teeming rain. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m fine, thanks. What’s new?’

There’s a pause. The storm’s moving in, the mountain across the water barely visible through the mist. ‘He’s been here again.’ There’s a note of apology in her tone. ‘Asking after you. Mentioning something about police this time.’

A cold shiver moves through me. ‘Are you okay?’ I ask. ‘Did he …’

‘I’m okay, darling. He tried his best to rattle me, but you know your old aunt, I stood my ground. I told him you were still on holiday. He called me a liar and … a fucking bitch I think it was?’