by Carys Jones
Laurie knew that she had become bitter. She could taste it upon the foods she ate. She accepted her bitterness, almost embraced it, as it made dealing with awful things a little bit easier. But now, enough time had passed that she thought she should visit the grave, out of interest more than anything. She did not associate the place with her sister. It was merely the plot in the ground where Lorna’s body was rotting. The crash site was more significant, but she had already been there.
And so Laurie had come and walked in the sunlight past the rows of headstones until she found the one which belonged to her twin sister. The black pearl of the stone sparkled in the sun, glistening in a boastful show of how new it was compared to the others around it.
Etched gold lettering contrasted against the black, and the image of a single white dove was emblazoned in the top right corner. Laurie knelt before the stone and read the words;
Here lies Lorna Thomas
Beloved daughter, granddaughter, sister and friend.
Forever in our hearts and minds.
Laurie sighed at the words and shook her head sadly for she knew it was not what her sister would have wanted. It was too impersonal, too standard. It would have aggrieved Lorna had she known how average her eternal resting place was. Laurie considered that if she had spoken up, expressed what Lorna would have liked, things might have been different. The words upon the black stone might have now meant something. But her efforts would have been in vain. Laurie’s parents shut her out the moment they lost Lorna. Her opinions and thoughts meant nothing to them.
With the sun gently warming her neck, Laurie reached out and placed her palm upon the centre of the stone. It was cold to the touch, a macabre coincidence. In the small metal flower holder at the base of the stone was a bunch of fresh daffodils, no doubt lain there earlier in the day.
‘It’s good that you came here,’ a kind voice said from behind, making Laurie jump in surprise. She turned as her grandmother’s shadow fell over her. The old woman smiled fondly at her sole granddaughter. She was carrying a bunch of pink carnations and dressed smartly in her beige trench coat.
Lorna had adored their grandmother, who was their mother’s mother. Even in her seventies, she had been fashion-conscious, always dressed smartly and with her lips painted rouge. She had doted on the twins, but Lorna soon emerged as the favourite as she had the most in common with their grandmother. They were both very feminine and enjoyed pretty things. She was always loving towards Laurie but it was obvious, even in childhood, that once again, Lorna was the firm favourite.
‘I was just about to leave,’ Laurie said nervously, rising to her feet and brushing the dirt from her knees.
‘No, stay,’ her grandmother said. ‘Please.’
Laurie stood and awkwardly waited whilst her grandmother arranged her carnations amongst the daffodils.
‘I never knew her favourite flower,’ the old woman mused as she poked the stalks down into the metal holes of the holder. ‘I suppose you would have though. You knew everything about one another,’ she turned and said to Laurie.
‘Roses,’ Laurie replied bluntly. ‘They were one of her favourites.’
‘Ah,’ her grandmother acknowledged as she finished her task and came to stand beside Laurie.
‘But no-one is going to pay for a dozen roses just to sit out here on a gravestone,’ Laurie said bitterly.
‘Still, it is nice to have somewhere to come and speak to Lorna.’
‘Grandma, she’s dead. Anything I say to her she will never hear.’
‘You don’t know that.’ Laurie felt her grandmother wrap an arm around her as they stood gazing down upon Lorna’s gravestone. It made Laurie uncomfortable to be so close to the grave after trying so desperately to avoid it.
‘I still talk to your grandfather sometimes.’
‘But it’s all pointless,’ Laurie said sadly.
The sun continued to shine even though the atmosphere around the grave had darkened.
As much as Laurie cared for her grandmother she no longer had much time for her, nor any of her family. When Lorna died they all shed their tears but they forgot about Laurie, or like her parents they were just avoiding her. And in turn, she learnt to avoid them.
‘All this anger you have, it’s not healthy,’ her grandmother said, her arm still cupped around Laurie’s shoulder. She felt her granddaughter stiffen beneath her touch at the comment.
‘Not healthy? None of this is healthy!’ Laurie shook loose of her grandmother’s touch. ‘Lorna was my twin, she was twenty-two and she is gone. And I didn’t just lose her, I lost my whole family simply because I look like her. You all abandoned me and don’t even bother denying it Grandma because you know it’s the truth.’
Laurie felt guilty to unleash all her anger upon the old woman but seeing her there, at Lorna’s graveside, after not seeing or hearing from her for almost a year was simply yet another painful reminder of just how unbearable the aftermath of Lorna’s death had been. Her grandmother recoiled in pain from the outburst and she appeared genuinely hurt.
‘I know we let you down,’ she said softly after a couple of minutes. ‘It has been hard on all of us.’
‘But that doesn’t excuse anything,’ Laurie said, still angry. ‘You adored Lorna and being left with me, well, it’s not good enough for anyone.’ As she said this, her anger dissolved i to sadness and she felt the familiar sensation of her eyes welling up with tears.
‘You shouldn’t think like that,’ her grandmother coaxed, drawing close once more to wrap an arm around her granddaughter. ‘We all love you very much. But after Lorna died, you pushed everyone away. But that was always your style; even as a twin, you were always very solitary.’ Her voice was gentle and soothing as she spoke. Laurie drank up the words and tried to console herself that there was some truth within them. even though she didn’t really believe it.
‘I just…’ Laurie looked down sadly at her sister’s grave. ‘I just know that she didn’t kill herself.’ Her grandmother shot her a pitying look at this which Laurie chose to ignore. ‘Everyone thinks she did, but they are wrong, Lorna would never do that.’
‘Sometimes people are hurting and we don’t see it.’
‘No, not Lorna. I knew everything about her. I was a part of her,’ Laurie replied defiantly.
She noticed now how her grandmother seemed to search carefully for her words, as though she had been prepped on how to cope with the situation of Laurie’s denial over the suicide allegations. It angered Laurie that these clandestine conversations had been held in her absence, no doubt with her parents. They all cared enough to meet and discuss her actions, but no-one cared enough to talk with her directly. Even this meeting with her grandmother was purely coincidental; she had not sought Laurie out to check on how she was coping.
‘You were both always such passionate girls,’ her grandmother stated diplomatically.
‘There is a difference between passionate and suicidal,’ Laurie said angrily. ‘How can you come here and pretend to care about Lorna when you believe she would do that? You can’t have known her at all!’ Laurie shouted the last two words before turning and fleeing from the churchyard, leaving her grandmother standing alone and feeling distraught.
It occurred to Laurie, as she settled herself in her car and prepared to drive away, that her family had chosen to give her such a wide berth because they were waiting for her to fall in line with their way of thinking, to believe that Lorna did kill herself. And when they realised that she would not buy in to the police ruling, they wrote her off as a lost cause. It infuriated Laurie how they would all so readily attach the stigma to Lorna. If it were true, she would readily accept it and the guilt which came with it also. But it wasn’t true. Laurie knew that, so why didn’t everyone else?
‘People are just stupid,’ a twelve-year-old Lorna had declared to her sister one afternoon when they were sat on her bed listening to music pretending to be older than they were.
‘Not really,’ Lauri
e had answered.
‘Yes, really. April Connors is a stupid little bitch to make fun of us like she did.’ Lorna was referring to a dispute which had occurred at school a few days earlier, when the girl in question, April, had pointed out to Laurie that she need never invest in a mirror as she had her twin sister, unless of course, ‘one of you gets fat’.
‘She was just being ignorant,’ Laurie said, wanting to change the subject and move onto a more pleasant topic.
‘But it’s just not on. Do you know that, years ago, twins would join the circus and people would pay to see them as they were such an oddity?’
‘That’s not true,’ Laurie answered dismissively.
‘The point is,’ Lorna continued, lost in her vitriol, ‘that people do not understand what is like to be us. To be two rather than one.’
‘I guess.’
‘So the next time ‘April fat nose’ makes a bitchy little comment, you tell her we are so great that when God made us, he made double!’
‘Yeah,’ Laurie agreed but with an air of melancholy.
‘Why are you still sad?’ Lorna asked with concern, resolving in her mind to challenge April Connors in the playground first thing the following morning.
‘I don’t know. I mean, do you ever wonder what it would be like to be … original? Just one?’
‘No, never,’ Lorna answered without hesitation.
‘Never?’ Laurie echoed in disbelief.
‘Never, because it is better to be two rather than one. All the best things come in twos. Eyes, ears, feet …’ The twins fell into fits of giggles at this and began to reel off a list of things that came in pairs. They didn’t notice their mother stop by the doorway, listen in on their conversation and smile fondly to herself.
Laurie ran her hands over the steering wheel and considered returning to the cemetery and apologising to her grandmother, but then decided against it. She was entitled to be strident about the death of her sister. Lorna had been right; life wasn’t so great when you were original and one of a kind.
Sat in her car, with the seat beneath her warmed from the sun, Laurie thought about what she would have instructed her parents to inscribe upon her sister’s stone had they sought her advice. It was a strange topic to dwell upon, but it felt oddly therapeutic. Dealing with Lorna’s death in a practical sense had a cathartic effect on Laurie. As she turned the key to bring the engine roaring to life, her mind was still flashing through all the potential dialogues which she would have chosen.
Pulling up on her driveway Laurie noticed the curtain twitch and sighted her mother peeping out with the telephone held against her ear. Laurie immediately concluded who was probably calling; her grandmother to report her outburst at the cemetery which meant that her parents would hardly be rolling out the welcome wagon for her. Even on a day as emotionally dark as this one, they would still chastise her for being rude and Laurie was in no mood for that.
For a brief moment Laurie was unsure where to go. Inside her home her parents lay in wait to scold her and she was in no mood to face them. Arthur’s home was a possibility, but Laurie was still processing her feelings towards him. To go there and see him now would only confuse matters further. The only place left was London, which meant returning far earlier than Laurie had planned. Her bags were still in the boot of her car, waiting to be unpacked. She dwelled on the idea for a moment longer.
By the time her father opened the front door the driveway was clear and Laurie was heading off towards the motorway.
As Laurie drove back towards London, weaving through traffic, she found the words she would have put upon Lorna’s stone, even though she knew that her parents would have disapproved.
Growing up, Lorna adored the book The Very Hungry Caterpillar. There was a whole year where she read it religiously each and every night. What fascinated her most was how the caterpillar eventually blossomed into a beautiful butterfly. And of course, a butterfly’s wings were perfect duplicates of one another, which gave added substance to the story.
‘When I grow up, I want to turn into a butterfly too,’ she would tell her sister, who would nod in bemusement, because in her eyes, Lorna was already beautiful and spectacular.
‘Lorna Thomas, always a butterfly,’ Laurie said the words aloud to herself and she found them comforting, primarily because she knew how much Lorna would have approved of them.
Charles Lloyd repositioned himself on the uncomfortable bench and continued to listen to the Chancellor of the Exchequer reel off numerous legislations which would soon be coming into existence. It was now his third hour within the House of Commons and the Deputy Prime Minister felt exceedingly weary. Yet he could not risk letting his fatigue show, as he was currently being filmed, with a live broadcast being fed out to the masses via a number of news networks.
The time with Parliament was not going well. As Charles had anticipated, the new legislations were being met with a harsh wall of negativity. Members from across the other side of the hall were guffawing in protest, ready with their teeth bared and their barbed comments to devour the flesh of the presiding political party. It all felt like a pantomime charade which Charles took no joy in participating in. He dutifully played his part as an impassive overseer, fighting the urge to berate more belligerent Members of Parliament. But he always felt that his time sat upon the bench, nodding solemnly on cue, could be better spent.
As the third hour rolled in, at least he could take solace in the fact that it would all soon be over. He could return to the welcome solitude of his office and bask in the peaceful silence within.
‘I hope you are ready with a decent rebuttal,’ the Prime Minister, Thomas Clarke leaned in and whispered after a particularly spirited show of disagreement from the other members which echoed around the room in a wave of chants, reminding Charles of when he would frequent rowdy outdoor concerts during his youth. ‘Our new implementations have not gone down well, at all, I hope you are prepared.’
‘We anticipated resistance,’ Charles whispered back. ‘But I won’t address them, not today.’
‘You won’t?’ Thomas asked, stunned.
‘Look at them,’ Charles indicated to the room around him with his hand. ‘They are enraged and behaving like a pack of wild dogs. Anything I say here now will fall on deaf ears. I’ll give my rebuttal, but when the time is right for it to be clearly heard.’
Thomas Clarke nodded with understanding, but not in agreement. He did not approve of Charles’ calm and methodical leadership style. Thomas was much more impetuous and hot-headed, which had made him an unusual selection for Prime Minister. But what Thomas Clarke lacked in charisma he made up for with quick wit and logical thinking. His visions of the party and for the country made him a worthy leader. Charles had always felt proud to help Thomas implement his plans for the future.
‘I should speak on your behalf,’ Thomas offered. Charles considered the offer for a moment and then shook his head.
‘No, it should come from me,’ he concluded, noting the disappointment flash across Thomas’ face for only a brief second.
‘You have enough to deal with,’ Charles smiled at the older man.
‘True,’ Thomas noted glibly.
Charles did not intend to run for Prime Minister in the next political year. Since Lorna’s death, a plan had been formulating in his mind and now his ideas had finally solidified. He would stand down, retire, and take up some semblance of a normal life. He knew that Elaine would challenge this with every ounce of her being but Charles had made his mind up. The role of Prime Minister would probably fall again to Thomas Clarke, and whilst Charles had once wanted to challenge him for his position, he wasn’t ready, he was too worn down by so many things to be able to continue. With his resignation, his biggest obstacle would be Elaine.
Glancing at his watch, Charles was relieved to note that it was almost time for the current session of Parliament to conclude. But when he looked at the hands rotating around the clock face, he thought not of the time it w
as, but of when he received the watch. It had been an anniversary gift from Elaine about two years ago.
‘The man in the shop said it was imported from Switzerland,’ she had noted boastfully as Charles unwrapped the silver paper from around the box.
‘Isn’t it exquisite!’ she had gushed, rushing over to procure the new gift upon her husband’s left wrist. Charles had found the watch a little extravagant for his tastes, but he had worn it to appease Elaine and, soon enough, putting on his Rolex had become as natural a part of his morning routine as brushing his teeth.
It was Laurie who reminded him of his dislike of the watch when she noticed it one day, the branding peeking out from beneath his shirt sleeve.
‘You could buy a house for that,’ she said flatly, nodding at the watch. Embarrassed by the indulgent gift, Charles had quickly hidden it beneath his shirt, turning red.
But when he later thought about it, he himself had paid for the watch, and that angered him more than anything. Elaine was wasteful with money that wasn’t even hers. She enjoyed opulence but had not the capacity to fund it. Without his position as Deputy Prime Minister, she would have to sacrifice her luxury meals out and fancy holidays, as she would no longer be able to buy her way through life as ‘The Deputy Prime Minister’s wife’.
Charles pre-empted that her reaction to his resignation would be even more negative than the congregation of MPs had just been. And he knew that she would leave him, to seek someone richer and more powerful. Charles felt excited at the thought of relinquishing power. He had served his country well during his time as Deputy Prime Minister, but his bones ached and his eyes were always heavy. The country needed a strong, vibrant leader and Charles felt that they already that in Thomas Clarke.
The session of Parliament concluded and Charles left with the throng of suited men and women. Passing through the great, ancient doors he knew in his heart that it would be his last visit. He could sense how Lorna and Laurie had changed him in their own, unique ways. He was a better man for knowing them both.
