by Carys Jones
‘That’s exactly the point,’ Laurie enthused. ‘What if the file was merely misplaced as an admin error, and it transpires that yes, Lorna did take her own life. I don’t know how I’d take that. I’ve tried to prepare myself for it, but in all honesty, if that is the truth, I’d rather spend the rest of my life being ignorant to it and pretending that she didn’t willingly leave me, that she was taken.’
Charles understood Laurie’s perspective on the situation. Both of them were clinging to the notion that Lorna had been killed, because if it weren’t true, if it had been suicide, then it tainted that love which had ever existed between them either as her sister or her lover.
‘But we need to see this through,’ Charles urged, but Laurie just looked at him with weary eyes.
‘When do we stop torturing ourselves for her death?’ she queried.
‘You tell me.’
‘And what if we find out who was behind her death, what then?’
‘I don’t know yet,’ Charles said quietly. It was a notion he had briefly entertained but he was wary to get his hopes up too much.
‘What would you want to happen?’ he turned the question back around onto Laurie.
‘No idea,’ Laurie shrugged flippantly. ‘Six months ago, I’d have gladly killed whoever had taken my sister’s life because I was so … angry back then. But now, I realise that revenge wouldn’t change anything. But still, I’d want them brought to justice, Lorna deserves that much. Not that I trust in our current justice system all that much; it’s like a revolving door policy, no offence.’
‘None taken.’
‘I’ll stay in London until the end of the month,’ Laurie stated after a brief silence had settled between them. ‘That gives us two weeks which I think is adequate. But I will be going home this weekend regardless.’
‘Oh?’
‘It’s my birthday, which means it would have been Lorna’s too,’ Laurie explained quietly.
Charles felt as though his chest was collapsing in on itself but he tried to retain a calm composure. How could he not have been aware of something so pivotal? His cheeks flushed red with shame and a sob began to claw its way up along the back of his throat.
‘You’d better get back to work.’ He managed to dismiss Laurie and wait for the door to click shut behind her before he let the tears of shock and anguish fall. It had been one year, how could he not have known?
As Laurie walked home, slowly becoming accustomed to being jolted by eager passers-by on the pavement, she felt her phone whir to life in her coat pocket. Instinctively she ignored it. She was still cautious about city life and felt that wandering around with a phone stuck to her ear would make her a target for potential muggers. When she was within the relative safety of Lorna’s modest apartment she removed the phone from her pocket and noticed that she had seven missed calls from Arthur. Sighing, Laurie flung the mobile device onto her bed.
When she returned from showering, the number of missed calls had risen to twelve. Whatever Arthur wanted, it was important enough to warrant persistence and so Laurie felt compelled to return the call. She dialled his number and he answered after just one ring.
‘Where the hell have you been?’ he greeted her angrily.
‘At work,’ Laurie answered flatly, in no mood for an argument.
‘Well, I’ve been worried about you,’ Arthur continued, his voice softening.
‘Why?’
‘You’ve not been in touch since you went back to London.’’ There was an element of hurt within Arthur’s voice which made Laurie feel guilty. She kept vowing to stop neglecting the man she had once loved so dearly and yet she seemed fated to remain on her current path of self-sabotage.
‘I’m sorry, I’ve just been so busy.’ It was a poor excuse but it was all Laurie could muster under pressure.
‘Right, okay.’
‘So is everything alright … back home?’ Laurie crossed her legs beneath her as she sat on her bed.
‘Same as ever,’ Arthur replied sadly. ‘You’ll be home this weekend, won’t you?’
‘Of course.’
‘Apparently there is going to be a memorial service at the town hall to commemorate her birthday which everyone is going to.’
‘What bullshit,’ Laurie said nastily.
‘How is it?’ Arthur asked defensively.
‘We’ve had the memorial service, at the funeral. Why do people insist of reliving truly terrible things? It’s ridiculous!’ Laurie fumed.
‘Yeah, I guess it is,’ Arthur reluctantly agreed. ‘I guess that means you won’t be going to it?’
‘No, Art, I won’t. Seems people forget it’s my birthday too.’
‘People are just trying to come together and make sense of it all. Not everyone is as strong as you are, Laurie.’
‘I’m not strong,’ Laurie protested.
‘It shook the whole community up, a beautiful young girl taking her own life like that.’
‘Lorna did not kill herself!’ Laurie screamed the words so loud that she feared the entire apartment block would have heard her.
‘Yeah, of course,’ Arthur answered but it was obvious from his tone that he was not convinced.
‘Why have you even called me?’ Laurie asked angrily, her mood now well and truly soured.
‘Because, I think that when you come home this weekend you should stay. No more running off to London and no more running away from me. Laurie, it’s been months. I’m tired of waiting around for you to love me again.’
‘Are you giving me an ultimatum?’
‘No, no nothing like that. Just think about what I’m saying, please. We need to be a couple again. We can be great again, I know it.’
‘I’ve changed.’
‘People do, it’s fine. Things change and we adapt, it’s what growing up is all about.’
Laurie had worked hard at suppressing her feelings for Arthur so that she could concentrate on gaining closure over Lorna’s death. But now, speaking to him at length, those feelings were threatening to resurface and Laurie couldn’t deal with them, not yet.
‘I need to go.’ She felt cruel to be cold and indifferent but she felt like she had no choice. Really, she knew that she should let Arthur go, release him from the mess which was their relationship. But she still loved him, and perhaps it was out of selfishness that she didn’t want to relinquish him to someone else. Laurie wanted to believe that one day they could be normal again, even if she doubted that it would ever be possible.
‘You need to come home,’ Arthur said, his voice strong and commanding. ‘Either you choose to come home or else I’m going to come to London and drag you back,.’ He said the latter in jest but there was a hint of sincerity to it. ‘Laurie, I miss you. I need you. Come back to me, please.’
‘I’ll be back this weekend.’
‘Dammit, I don’t know why I bother,’ Arthur said angrily before hanging up the phone.
Laurie sat with the handset cradled in her hands, pondering on the mess which was now her life. Twelve months ago, everything was perfect. Lorna had come home, she and Arthur were in love, the world was as it should be. But one night, one accident had irrevocably changed everything.
‘What do I do?’ Laurie asked the empty room. She needed more than ever the guidance from her twin. She could almost envision what Lorna would say. She would lie on the bed beside Laurie, listening to her sister offload her troubles and then she would laugh and prop herself up one arm and scrutinise Laurie with a steely glare.
‘Arthur loves you. What is the problem?’ she’d ask.
‘Stop overthinking things. You always overthink things, Laurie, it’s a curse not a gift. That boy thinks the world of you; do you know how lucky you are? I’d give anything to have someone look at me the way he does you.’
Releasing the phone, Laurie stroked the empty bed beside her in the space where she imagined Lorna would lie. A solitary tear fell down her cheek and rather than wipe it away she let it fall and then softly la
nd upon the duvet beneath her, briefly darkening the floral pattern.
‘I need you, Lorna,’ she whispered, before grabbing her phone once more and dialling her deceased twin. She sat and listened to the familiar voicemail message and then lay back on the bed and wept.
That night, Charles didn’t go up to bed. Elaine lay and waited for the soft thud of his footsteps ascending the stairs but they never came and at three in the morning she gave up her silent vigil and let sleep take over.
After Laurie left the office, Charles had spent the remainder of the day in a dazed stupor. He was desperate for Laurie not to leave. She had promised him only two more weeks of her time and that didn’t feel like nearly enough.
Back home, Charles sat in the chair which had first absorbed his grief over Lorna and poured himself a whisky, much to Elaine’s disapproval.
‘Charles, what are you doing?’ she had scolded when she spotted the glass of liquor in his hand. ‘You are drinking! And on a work night no less!’ Elaine continued her vitriol even though Charles was paying her no attention.
‘This is ridiculous, put that glass down!’ When she moved to retrieve the glass from her husband’s hand, Charles abruptly moved it from within her grasp and stared at her coldly.
‘Please, Charles,’ she pleaded. ‘Just put the drink down and go to bed.’
‘Unlike you, I am not controlled by my demons,’ Charles said coldly.
‘Charles …’ Elaine wanted to respond but the words refused to manifest themselves. She looked at her husband who was regarding her how he would an unsightly insect which had crawled into his home.
Years ago, the demons he spoke of had nearly pulled their marriage apart. Elaine lost count of the times she would awaken, disorientated in bed and fully-clothed, only to have the forgotten events from the previous night relayed to her by a weary Charles. She drank to numb the pain of being infertile. She drank until the world went black. And then Charles, back then a loving husband, would hold her head over the toilet for hours on end as she purged, before putting her into bed and watching over her all night long. Then, in the morning he went out to work to helpt run the country. In those days, despite her inner turmoil, Elaine idolised Charles and had no doubt that he could rule the world if he so desired. What plagued her then, and still, was the notion that she had failed on her part; the Lloyd legacy would die with them because of her.
‘But you are not this man,’ Elaine said through tears. ‘You were great once.’
‘No, I was never great,’ Charles said pitifully. ‘I’ve always been just a man. That’s the problem; you never saw that, you always wanted me to be more.’
‘That’s not true!’ Elaine protested but Charles looked away, for him their conversation was over.
Distraught, Elaine retreated to bed, and lay in silence, listening for sounds of movement from her husband below.
Charles wanted to drink the pain away but he knew better than that. He left his third glass half-full, refusing to succumb to the emptiness inside him which longed to be blotted out. He sat and thought of Lorna, and of Laurie, and it occurred to him, as it had many times, how strange it was that he never knew that Lorna had a twin. And Laurie, being so different, had seemed at first like an impostor, like a fake Lorna. But Charles soon realised that she had her own mind; her own views completely separate from those he had associated with Lorna. It pained him to realise how little he really knew of Lorna, and he wanted to rectify that by getting to know Laurie. But if she left now, he would still barely know her and that would mean that he had failed.
Two weeks was all she had given him and she couldn’t have picked a worse two weeks. The refined budget went to the vote the following day, which meant that Charles would have to endure hours within the House of Commons which he detested. It bored him, how insolently the members of parliament would behave, heckling one another after every little comment. It was completely counterproductive; what should take an hour took six as a result. And being locked away with Parliament meant that he would be inaccessible to Laurie.
Charles wasn’t about to shun his duties as Deputy Prime Minister; that was something he would never do. But he also felt that he had a responsibility to be there for Laurie which he wasn’t upholding. As he sat and contemplated, the hours spun past and without realising, his head grew heavier and closer to his chest until he at last fell into a restless sleep.
When he wearily rubbed his eyes, the first few tentative rays of sunlight were reaching across the floor through a gap in the curtains. Charles got up, smoothed down his slightly crumpled suit and left the house in the clothes he had worn the previous day. He thought about going upstairs to change but he didn’t want to risk waking Elaine; the last thing he needed was a repeat of their argument from the night before.
Elaine awoke when she heard the front door slam shut, signalling Charles’ departure. She rolled over and groaned in annoyance. It felt as though her hard work to keep some semblance of a marriage together was being ignored and almost thrown in her face. Elaine spent the morning angrily attending to some minor duties, but not before first carefully dressing and applying her make-up. But her anger soon subsided when at eleven in the morning the doorbell rang and she was greeted by a beautiful bouquet of flowers.
Smiling, Elaine arranged the flowers in a vase and made them the centrepiece on her dining table. The card accompanying them was succinct but it had done what it had intended. Elaine was now appeased.
I’m sorry. Charles.
But as beautiful as the flowers were, they would soon die, leaving only the decay which had begun to rot away at the relationship.
Chapter Twelve
Rest in pieces
The last time Laurie had visited the cemetery which lay behind her small local church it had been raining. Mourners gathered in their black attire, huddled beneath umbrellas, a parade of darkness, watching the casket which contained the mortal remains of Lorna Thomas being committed to the ground.
Laurie stood alone at the back, in a black shift dress which until that day had been one of her favourite items of clothing. Unfortunately she did not own a black coat, and the weather had shifted so suddenly that morning that she had not had the time nor the mind set to go out and purchase one. So she stood there, wrapped beneath her green jacket, which was the only blast of colour amongst the black of everyone else. It made Laurie feel even more alienated.
As she stood and watched the events unfold from a safe distance, a few well-meaning relatives approached her. Unsure what to say or how to behave, most merely offered her the use of their umbrella. But Laurie didn’t want it. She wanted to feel the rain splash upon her and didn’t care that her hair was now soaked against her scalp and that intermittently her body shivered with the threat of the fever which would soon come.
Laurie wanted the rain to wash it all away. She was grateful that the rain drops hid her own tears, as though even the heavens were crying over the loss of Lorna. Standing away from the open grave helped Laurie feel detached from it all. But only slightly. She didn’t want to see her sister lowered in to the ground to sleep evermore amongst the dirt. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye.
It was Arthur who came and ended her rain-drenched sentry duty. In silence, he came through the crowd and stood beside Laurie. Then he opened the umbrella he was carrying and positioned it above them both. Laurie turned to look at him, her skin now frozen beneath her wet clothes, her skin ghostly white. She wanted to thank him for doing what no-one else could; for understanding. But her teeth began to chatter with such ferocity that it disabled her ability to speak.
‘Happy birthday. We can leave now if you want?’ Arthur whispered gently, as a number of feet away from them, the vicar called up to God and asked him to watch over Laurie, which sent her mother in to a distressed burst of sobs.
‘Father Collins is an asshole,’ Laurie managed to chatter bitterly.
‘He’s just doing his job.’
‘Yeah, but Mom thinks Lorna killed hersel
f. Whilst not true, it means that God won’t take her soul; he won’t want anything to do with it.’
‘But, if it’s not true, then its fine,’ Arthur reasoned kindly.
‘Yes, but everyone thinks it’s true. So Father Collins is being a dick, because he doesn’t believe for one minute that Lorna is going to heaven. Not that it even exists. It’s all bullshit.’
‘Shall we just go home?’
‘Yes.’
Back within the warmth and dryness of her home, Laurie removed her once cherished black dress and immediately put it in the bin, knowing that she would never be able to wear it again. Then she wrapped herself up in her dressing gown and sipped on the hot tea which Arthur had kindly made her. She felt numb, and the numbness went further than the cold of her body brought about by the rain. Laurie felt empty, as though she no longer existed; like she was a ghost.
Once warm, Laurie went to bed and there she fell in to a deep, dreamless sleep which lasted for hours. She wished she would never awaken, that her soul would find Lorna’s deep within the ground, and that they would lie there together for evermore.
Many months had passed since that awful day, but Laurie felt locked in time, unable to move on. Back in that same churchyard, even though the sun was shining, she still felt plagued by feelings of anguish and despair. She had not seen her sister’s gravestone, had played no part in the choosing of the design or its resurrection. Her parents had dealt with that side of things, mainly her father as her mother had been inconsolable back then. She was a little better now that time had made her wounds less raw, and the two of them would pay weekly visits to the grave of their daughter and leave fresh flowers behind.
The whole ritual of visiting the grave felt absurd to Laurie, which was why she had never entered into it. She would hear her parents discussing how her disinterest wasn’t healthy, that she clearly wasn’t accepting things. But in Laurie’s mind, it was them who were delusional; them who so easily accepted that Lorna had taken her own life. And if that were the truth, the last thing Lorna’s spirit would want is a weekly offering of flowers.
