by Gayle Curtis
‘Just that. You were very close.’
‘Yes, we were,’ Cecelia snapped. ‘Were being the operative word. I don’t want him anywhere near Caroline.’
Eleanor began to cough. Her chest was now like a small brittle cage housing two little blackened birds. She still wore the same floaty clothes she’d always worn. They never covered her properly, even less so now her illness had really taken a grip on her body. When she coughed, Cecelia imagined she could see the cancer through her transparent skin.
‘I’ve learnt something over the years, an old cliché but a good one: keep your enemies close, Cecelia. I always did.’ Eleanor looked at Cecelia, her expression cold and hard.
‘I need to check on Caroline and think about what we’re all going to have for dinner.’ Cecelia got up from her seat and went to leave the room, but Eleanor grabbed her arm on the way past.
‘I know, Cecelia.’
Cecelia pulled her arm free from Eleanor’s bony fingers. ‘You don’t know anything,’ she hissed into her face.
CHAPTER FIVE
When Sebastian stepped away from Yvonne’s house – she’d gone away for a few days – he started thinking about their relationship. As far as Yvonne knew, Sebastian had killed Roger. They’d never talked about it when she visited him in prison and they had avoided the subject since he’d moved in, a kind of silent agreement between the two of them.
He’d fallen into a routine alongside her, a structure he quite enjoyed. After so many years of set boundaries, he’d been anxious about how he would conduct his life without instruction. Although now he had the added thrill of being able to make choices outside the rules if he wished to do so. Yvonne followed the same pattern each week, vehement that she didn’t have any sort of routine because Monday was different to Tuesday, as was Wednesday, and so it went on until she reached the beginning of the week and it all started again.
Sebastian found this a calming influence, a gentle ease to his turbulent emotions and the feelings that had risen to the surface since he’d seen Cecelia. His probation officer said he’d feel unsettled – it was normal when you’d spent so many years in an institution. He said a lot of things, Sebastian’s probation officer. Sometimes it sounded like he was repeating the same sentences, as though every case was the same.
Pausing on the street corner, as he did every night when he collected the newspapers, Sebastian saw the woman who had waved from the window coming out of her front door. Once she was stood next to him he realised who she was. She was one of the weird twins that he and Cecelia had spent time with at the foster home; the ‘gorgeous girls’ as he and his friends had called them, their looks were so striking. He didn’t know why he was so surprised she’d grown up. As he looked at her face he thought it was a shame. He wished he hadn’t seen her again. She’d been so pretty back then and even though he knew this woman was definitely her, she didn’t fit the person he had stored away in his memory.
‘I thought I’d come and say hello rather than just waving from the window.’
‘Hello,’ Sebastian said, searching her face for the person he remembered, instead seeing the unfamiliar woman before him. ‘You’re one of the twins from the foster home?’
‘That’s right. I recognised you straightaway . . . you haven’t changed at all.’
‘Oh, I have,’ Sebastian muttered, although, he thought, not in the ways she meant. He continued to stare at the house, the transition from inside to out having not yet ceased to fascinate him. ‘I can’t remember your names, which one are you?’
‘Ava . . . Why do you always stop on the corner before you go in? I see you most evenings.’
Sebastian looked at her – she seemed taller, more elegant than when he’d seen her through the window and it was as though he was continuing a conversation with someone he knew well.
‘Why do you stare out of the window every night?’
Ava frowned, unsure whether he was being friendly or sarcastic. He knew there was no point in giving her a proper answer as any explanation of his need to stand outside – experiencing freedom instead of confinement – would be lost on her. She chose to laugh off what he said.
‘Do you fancy going for a drink?’
‘What, now?’ Sebastian suddenly became aware of his freedom again, a frequent occurrence since being released from prison.
‘Yes . . .’ Ava turned to stare at him squarely in the face, clearly expecting him to say no.
They chose a pub on the outskirts of town, a slightly stark place but bustling all the same. The conversation was awkward, clumsy to begin with, until after their first drink when Ava relaxed.
Sebastian pressed her for details about Cecelia and Samuel, assuming she’d know something about them since she’d stayed in the area. She wasn’t forthcoming though, answering each of his questions with only one word. She was mildly interesting, but mainly boring, steering the conversation round to her work; she had qualified as an accountant but hadn’t yet taken her official exams in order to be classed as chartered. He had no idea why this was as each time he asked the question, his mind wandered and the answer just wouldn’t sink in. She only talked about her own life – a background drone of information he didn’t particularly care about – until there was any mention of Cecelia, who she claimed to have been back in touch with. He was happy to listen, quite content to explore her from the top of her head downwards, taking in her lopsided shoulders and her breastbone, which he noticed was protruding slightly more on the left than the right. He wanted to rearrange her frame, mould it back into perfect form with his fingers. He liked the mixed sensations her imperfections gave him, the draught hovering dangerously near the surface.
‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ Ava asked, tipping her head to one side, her cheeks flushed from alcohol and laughter.
‘I’m just wondering what happened to you? You’ve changed so much since I last saw you. You seem surprisingly level headed. You and your sister used to be quite . . . what’s the word? Quite temperamental . . .’
As they drank more and became increasingly familiar, Ava became prettier, more attractive to him. The teenager she’d once been was becoming more apparent in her face.
‘Temperamental . . . that’s very diplomatic of you.’ She swirled the alcohol around her glass.
‘Does your sister still live around here?’
‘Imogen. No. She died.’
‘Shit . . . What happened? I didn’t know . . .’ Sebastian shifted uncomfortably in his seat, resting briefly on the thought of losing Cecelia.
‘She killed herself.’
‘Fuck. That’s awful. I’m sorry.’
‘No you’re not.’ Ava smiled at him; a reaction that he thought was slightly strange.
Sebastian shrugged. An awkward silence ensued. He wanted to ask her more about it, twin to twin, wondering what it was like to suffer your twin killing herself. It seemed too unbearable to think about. It was something he’d never even considered.
‘That’s always a conversation killer.’ Ava drained the rest of her drink.
‘Another?’ Sebastian pointed to her glass.
‘OK.’
They talked more easily after he returned with another set of drinks. There had been something attractive, endearing almost, about finding out she was now one when she’d been two, as if they had something in common. His separation from Cecelia had been painful and he wondered if it would have been easier if she had been dead. Wanting her, but knowing she didn’t want him, seemed worse than not having the choice.
‘Have you seen much of Cecelia since you were released?’
‘Not really. I don’t think she’s too keen on the idea. She hasn’t visited me, put it that way.’
‘Maybe she’s waiting for you to come to her. It must be difficult after everything that happened . . .’
‘You seem to know a lot about it.’ Sebastian’s tone was sarcastic but it went unnoticed.
‘No, I just
read about it in the papers. Only you two know what happened that night at the farm. I’m just talking from the point of view of being a twin. Don’t let it destroy your relationship . . . that’s all I’m saying.’
Sebastian smiled at her, an image of her naked body being slammed up against his bedroom wall flooded his vision. Standing up, he took her hand and led her out of the pub.
CHAPTER SIX
Cecelia turned the sign on the shop door round to closed, poured herself a coffee from the percolator that she provided for her customers, and sat down at her large desk which doubled as a counter. She always spent time after she’d closed up tidying the shop and getting everything ready for the next day.
The old Georgian shop had a beautiful atmosphere when it was dark and quiet. Not that it was ever noisy in there – the customers were usually serene and calm – and it was more like visiting a library than a busy shop. She offered three floors of reasonably priced second-hand books and free coffee. After five years of trading it was beginning to become quite a lucrative business.
People rushed past the large window, desperate to get home and out of the rain that had begun to pelt the pavements; April was for once living up to its reputation. She turned her attentions to tidying her desk, switching everything off before she made her way up the two flights of narrow stairs to the attic to check there weren’t any customers lurking, lost in their books or asleep in the armchairs, as had happened many times before.
Wandering through the many rooms she picked up discarded books, tidying the shelves as she went. She tried not to think about last week, when Sebastian had stood outside her home – she didn’t want her mind to rest on it while she was in the old shop by herself. She felt on edge and it made her look behind her as she moved from room to room. Having reached the top floor, she sat down in one of the tatty old armchairs so she could catch her breath and calm down. Her heart had started to race slightly and she knew it was the turbulence of her mind causing it, the tug of her heart, a yearning she wished would go away. She neatly arranged the books on the table and, now sufficiently calm, she stood up and had one last look around. Her vision took in the window and something outside amongst the threads of people caught her eye. It was as though a strand had come loose from the crowds. She stepped closer to the window and peered through the downpour. There was a narrow alleyway opposite, leading to a Bring and Buy clothes shop. And just shy of the shadow of the path there stood a very young child. As her eyes focused on the figure she realised she looked just like her daughter when she’d been that age. The little girl was staring up at her window and no one else seemed to be aware of her presence.
Cecelia put her hand against the window, feeling the cold pane returning her warmth with steam. To her surprise the child’s hand moved up in response, as though in greeting. She turned to look behind her, as if the girl might be waving to someone else, but of course there was no one there. When she turned back to the window the child had gone. Her eyes searched the people passing up and down the road, but she was nowhere to be seen. The shop door slammed below startling her even more; heart pounding she ran down the stairs to tell whoever had come in that the shop was closed.
‘Hello!’ she called before she’d reached the last set of stairs. ‘I’m afraid we’re closed.’
There was no answer and Cecelia began to feel slightly unnerved, cursing herself for yet again not locking the front door.
On the shop floor there was no one visible and she reasoned with herself that maybe someone had opened the door, seen the darkness and realised she was closed so had exited again.
She quickly began to grab her things so she could lock up and go home. As she collected the takings and began putting them into her cash tin she saw movement in the shadow of the shelves. She looked up slowly, nausea beginning to rise in her stomach.
‘Hello, Cecelia.’
Cecelia’s hand flew to her pounding chest.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’
‘This is quite good.’ Sebastian tilted the small hardback book he was holding.
‘You shouldn’t be here.’
‘Shouldn’t I?’ Sebastian looked up from the shelves and stared right at her.
‘No, you shouldn’t. I don’t really want to see you.’ They stared at one another.
‘Well, either you do or you don’t. I don’t really want to see you, implies that you’re thinking about it.’
Sebastian turned to put the book back where he’d found it and as she watched him the familiarity of his movements began pricking at her skin.
‘I don’t want to see you like this . . . you can’t just turn up with no warning . . . And stop coming to the house, it’s making things difficult for me . . .’ As soon as the words had left her mouth she wished she could take them back as she felt the letters tumble down her sweater. She didn’t want Sebastian to think there was something wrong at home.
Sebastian turned to face her, hands in his pockets. ‘Well, since you haven’t come to see me since I was released and, knowing you like I do –’
Cecelia raised her hand, feeling a sudden surge of confidence. ‘I’m going to stop you there, Sebastian. You don’t know me at all –’
He in turn cut her off, raising his finger as if to point at her.
‘I know you better than anyone. Remember?’ He tipped his head slightly, observing her. ‘I decided to come and find you, to show that there are no hard feelings. I understand how guilt can hold a person back. I spent a lot of time thinking about why you wouldn’t come and visit me in prison and I get it, I really do.’
Cecelia laughed, more from nerves than anything else. She didn’t really know how to respond to what he’d said.
‘Come for a coffee with me, Cecelia.’ He smiled at her.
She sighed. ‘I can’t right now. Maybe another day . . .’
‘Saturday? You choose where since you know the town better than I do.’ The words were carved into a sharp edge. It didn’t go unnoticed but Cecelia chose to ignore the pointed inflection.
‘OK . . . but just one meeting, that’s all . . . I’ll meet you in the café across the road. I think you already know it.’ She looked at him pointedly.
Sebastian nodded. ‘See you there at eleven.’
He moved forwards, arms outstretched to embrace her, and like a see-saw she tipped the opposite way. Awkwardly, he grabbed her arms as if she was about to fall. Firmly, he pulled her forwards and lightly kissed her cheek, hovering briefly, making all the muscles in her body tighten as she felt his breath brush her ear.
When he eventually let go, she stepped backwards. The pull, the thread of what they had once been was still there, ever present, as though it had just been rewired.
He turned in the doorway on his way out.
‘You know, you shouldn’t leave this door unlocked when you go upstairs. Anyone could walk in.’ He grinned, causing the tiny hairs on her forearms to rise, her skin prickling.
‘It’s good to see you, Mouse.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sebastian had recognised Caroline as soon as he saw her in the bookshop; he’d spent quite a bit of time watching her from the café across the road, a perfect observatory with its big glass windows and dark interior. Caroline had long, dark red hair and her face was smattered with freckles, highlighting her baby pink coloured lips. Her green eyes were as bright as Cecelia’s were dark blue and there was a perfect symmetry about her face that mesmerised him. Her bottom lip had a deep crease in the middle, her almond-shaped eyes set in perfect line with one another.
The day had arrived when Cecelia and Sebastian were due to meet in town, but Sebastian decided that he’d visit Caroline first. He was eager to meet her, regardless of Cecelia’s wishes.
Finding out that Cecelia owned a bookshop had given him some glimmer of hope, a way he could reach her without going to the house. The information was vague, the shop being the only outwardly public fact about her life she couldn’t hide.<
br />
Sebastian stood outside the shop for quite some time, observing the building, the sign and the windows. This was something he hadn’t been able to do from his position across the road as the light reflecting on the glass obscured his view. The girl within stared at him, obviously intrigued rather than worried. He realised how familiar he must look to her – the male version of her mother. He smiled and moved towards the door.
‘You’re my mother’s brother, aren’t you?’ she said, as soon as he entered the shop.
‘Yes, and you’re Caroline.’
‘I am . . . how did you know that?’
Sebastian hesitated; there was a glimpse of someone else in her face, another type of familiarity he wasn’t quite sure of. Then it came to him, all the way from eighteen years ago.
‘Does my mum know you’re here?’ There was a wary note in her voice, suggesting to Sebastian that she must know that he and Cecelia didn’t get along.
‘Yes. I’m just about to meet her for coffee. Didn’t she tell you?’
‘Errr, no she didn’t mention it actually. I’ve seen you watching me from across the street . . . and outside the school.’
He raised his hand to stop her talking. ‘I’m not here to cause trouble; I just want to see my family.’
She nodded. ‘I knew there was something going on. She’s been acting weird lately . . . well, weirder than normal.’ She laughed and then reverted back to her hostility. ‘We saw you standing at the gate . . .’
‘You’re just as beautiful as I remember your mum being at your age.’
Caroline blushed, her shoulders rising slightly in a shrug – she obviously wanted to let him in but wasn’t sure if she was allowed to.
‘It would be nice if you and mum could sort out your differences. Eighteen years is a long time to hold a grudge.’
‘You’re right, it is.’
‘Are you just visiting, or are you planning on staying for a while?’
He frowned, trying to work out what Cecelia had told Caroline about him. ‘I’m staying for the time being.’
