Replica

by Lexi Revellian

  “Hold it up to the camera. A bit closer … that’s it, hold it there.”

  After a few seconds the paper was lowered and we could be seen again. I put the lid on the Cherry Blossom, and we wiped our fingers on tissues. We suggested signing our own signatures beneath our fingerprints, and of course they came out almost identical. Matt tried to get us to talk about what had happened at the laboratory, which we did a bit, but not taking it as seriously as he wanted. At the end, he sighed and thanked us. “No, thank you!” we chorused; caught each other’s eyes and exploded into giggles. The screen went black. We were all silent for thirty seconds.

  Matt said, “D’you think that’s enough? Have we got anything else?”

  I said, “Well, there’s you. Did you claim on your insurance for the window I broke?”

  “Yes. And the door.”

  “It’s all a bit circumstantial, but if we could track down Jarek – he lived in the derelict flats I stayed at – he’d be able to confirm I was there while the other Beth was in her flat, or at work. Jenny, too. And I doubt the Prof would lie, if it came to it.”

  “It’s enough,” Nick said. “Let’s do it.”

  Replica ~ Lexi Revellian

  CHAPTER 45

  Convergence

  Four months later, as the hard winter finally gave way to spring, Beth Two sat on the sofa, one leg tucked under her. She was listening to Rob; who, at the other end of a phone line, was happily unaware when she rolled her eyes.

  “Why don’t I come round tonight, Bethie?”

  She wished she hadn’t mentioned the beastly gutter – she should have known he’d offer to fix it for her. She intended to ask Jarek when he came back. He was away in Poland, having used some of the money he got for selling his story to the Daily Mail to visit his family. Jarek would be happy to help, and she could make him supper as a thank you. She wished Rob hadn’t rung; also that he’d stop calling her Bethie. She’d asked him not to but he still did.

  “Thanks, there’s really no need.” She didn’t want him coming round, interrupting her cosy Friday evening curled up on the sofa with Inky Pink and a book, but tried not to sound impatient. He was offering to do her a favour, after all. “I don’t want to bother you.”

  “It wouldn’t be a bother. I’ve been meaning to talk to you anyway. I miss you.”

  She curbed a feeling of irritation. She didn’t want to be talked to, which meant him trying to persuade her into becoming his girlfriend again, as if it were a debate he could win, and the prize would be her. Rob had seen the news coverage – indeed no one could have missed the revelations throughout Christmas and the New Year, splashed all over the television and newspapers. The repercussions, including investigations into Sir Peter Ellis’s conduct and the likely fall of a weakened government, rumbled on even now. In spite of this, Rob had decided to behave as if she was the original Beth. Beth Two could sort of see the logic of this, given that she had Beth One’s memories up till that Friday in December, so in a way was the same person. She lived in the original Beth’s flat, drove her car, and saw her friends – though these days she also saw Jarek and Matt, and babysat Freddie for Jenny. She’d decided not to return to the Marling Institute, and had got herself a job at the London headquarters of a big pharmaceutical firm. The authorities didn’t seem to mind her using the same driving license, passport and bank account. Her life was back to normal. But she’d been a metre away when the bullet claimed Beth One’s life, and watched her die. The distinction mattered.

  She didn’t feel the same, either. Her struggle to survive had changed her perspective. When she first came back to the flat, feeling as if she’d been away a year, lying on the sofa was Just Say No: every woman’s guide to assertive behaviour. She had picked the book up and read a little, and could not remember what it had been like to need such advice.

  Beth said, “It’s not me you miss, it’s her. I’m different.” Maybe this wasn’t the best line of argument. The main difference as far as Rob was concerned, that she had not slept with Nick, was an improvement in his eyes.

  He sighed. “We’ll talk about that, if you like. It’s bad for you bottling it all up. I was telling Andy about it the other day, and he agreed with me that what you need is counselling. He knows a really good …”

  “I don’t need anything! I’m fine. And I’m not interested in what Andy, who I’ve never met, thinks about me.”

  “Calm down, Bethie, I didn’t mean to upset you, I only …”

  “I’m not upset. I just get fed up when …” The doorbell rang. “I’ll have to go, that’s the door. See you, Rob – thanks for offering about the gutter.”

  She went to the window, heaved up the sash and peered out into the dusk, inhaling the faint fresh smell of spring rain. The man standing below looked up. Her stomach flipped. Nick. She hadn’t seen or heard from him in months, not since they’d done the last press conference back in January. ITN had put her, Nick and Matt in a modest hotel on the outskirts of London while media interest was at its height and the Two Beths video became the most viewed on YouTube. The video of Sir Peter Ellis, jostled by paparazzi and having red paint thrown over him was popular, too. Holed up together the three of them had followed the progress of the story, until it became obvious that Sir Peter, hounded by the press and public opinion, facing possible prosecution, was too occupied defending himself to act against them. Thrown on each others’ company, they had sometimes played cards when not reading or watching the latest news. Nick had been taciturn and slightly remote; she guessed he was going over in his mind Beth’s death and his failure to protect her, blaming himself.

  The last night, when Matt went to bed early, she’d stayed up till three drinking with Nick, talking as if they had known each other forever. She’d told him about her childhood, and he had closed his eyes and listened, telling her to go on whenever she stopped. He’d talked about Josh, Ollie, Iraq, his schooldays; everything except the other Beth. Since then, Matt had come round for dinner once, and they’d been for the odd friendly drink and meal, but Nick had disappeared off the radar. She had no way of contacting him, and assumed that’s what he wanted.

  Nick waited in the rain as the light came on in the hall, uncertain as to whether he should have come. Maybe he should have left it. The door opened and there she stood, just as she, or rather Beth, used to, but with a short tousled hair cut. For some reason this wrong-footed him. He stared at her.

  “Good God, what have you done to your hair?” Oh, really great start. Well done.

  “Red roots didn’t look good, so I had all the black hair cut off.” She ran a hand through springy red curls. “It feels peculiar, I haven’t had short hair since I was a child. I’m going to grow it.” She stood aside to let him in and shut the door. He followed her up the stairs and into her living room. It looked different without the Christmas cards and fairy lights, but welcoming. Daffodils glowed in a vase on the mantelpiece. He could have brought her a bunch of flowers. Hadn’t thought of it.

  “Would you like a coffee? Or a glass of wine?”

  “No thanks.”

  They sat at opposite ends of the sofa. The cat jumped on her lap, settled and eyed him narrowly. She was looking at him too, not quite the way Beth had, but there was something there … unless he was imagining it. “Two, I didn’t –”

  “Don’t call me Two.”

  “What d’you want to be called?”

  “Beth. I know you think it’s her name, but most names aren’t unique, after all.”

  “Beth, then. How’s it going, what’s been happening since I saw you?”

  “It’s been quite … strange.” She leaned forward, an arm along the sofa back, as if she’d been waiting for someone to tell who would understand. “The problem is, I am Beth Chandler, but I’m not. Only you and Matt saw us together. If she was alive, it would be easier – even though of course she’d be living here and I’d have had to go somewhere else – because there’d still be the evidence of what happened. My father
really struggled with it; his daughter had been shot, and he was sad and angry about that, but there I was right in front of him, just the same as always, except for the hair – so should he grieve or not? He couldn’t work it out.”

  Nick could relate to that. He had trouble getting his head round it, too. “Can I change my mind about the drink?”

  Beth fetched a bottle of Pinot Grigio and two glasses, poured the wine and handed one to him. They drank in reflective silence for a while. He was getting used to the hair – it quite suited her, you could see the outline of her face, where the line of her jaw met her ear. Her cheekbones were more evident; she was thinner. She said, “That’s why I find Jarek soothing. He never met the first Beth, so to him I’m Beth. Except he calls me Leo. But you know what I mean. How’s Ollie?”

  “Much better. It’s going to take a long time, but he’s getting there. He’s amazingly cheerful about it all. He’s going to marry Lisa this autumn, a bit later than planned.”

  “That’s good. The other Beth liked Ollie, she told me about him.” A pause, while they each remembered that evening when he’d fallen and decided they didn’t want to talk about it. “So what are you doing now? I thought maybe you’d left England.”

  “No, I’m stuck here till they tell me I’m not needed as a witness. Then I’ll get a job with Xe doing private security work in Afghanistan. They hire ex-soldiers.”

  “Isn’t that dangerous?”

  “About the same as for the military, but a lot better paid. Right now I’m working as a bouncer at a nightclub.”

  Beth smiled. “You’d be good at that.”

  “Yes. There’s a lot of hanging about between bursts of activity … so no change there. Annoying drunks hurling abuse feature more than they did in MI5, and the money’s crap. Are you happy now you’re back the way you used to be?”

  “Yes and no … it’s not the same.” Beth held her left forearm vertically in front of her. “It’s like, this was the path I was on. Then suddenly it diverged.” Her right hand swerved away from her left arm. “Everything was different and frightening for a while, then the paths converged …” Her hands moved together, and dropped in her lap. “And it’s as if nothing has happened. Everyone wants me to be the same as before, Dad, Rob, my friends, and I’m not. I’ve changed. I’m less likely to do what I’m told, less anxious to please – and much more angry. I think I’ve been suppressing my anger ever since Mum died. I’m not so trusting. I thought this was a decent, civilized country, but look at Sir Peter, a pillar of society, having people shot and confident he’d get away with it. Look at me, breaking into Matt’s flat, and smashing up Sir Peter’s Jaguar.”

  Nick smiled. “I wish I’d been there. Pete didn’t get away with it, though, did he?”

  “That remains to be seen. It wouldn’t surprise me if he wriggled out of it in the end.”

  “True. He’s a wily bastard.” In principle Nick agreed with Matt, but was a lot more cynical. Yes, they’d successfully shone a light on the undercover doings of the Security Service, and caused a huge scandal; a few people would lose their jobs, might even be prosecuted, but nothing would change. It never did. But this wasn’t what he’d come to talk about. “So, you and Rob … did you get back together?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Right.”

  A silence, while Nick wondered how to interpret of course not, and realized he couldn’t ask her if she’d met anyone else. Instead he asked the question that had been preying on his mind for months. “When we were at Matt’s sister’s house, did Beth tell you what she thought about me?”

  “She didn’t say much about you.”

  “Right,” he said again.

  “It was obvious, though, from what she said and didn’t say, she was really keen on you. I could tell. She liked all the little things; your smile, your eyes, the way you never seem to have had a shave recently, and she probably liked the rest, too. She’d have forgiven you. She’d have made it up with you if she hadn’t been killed. I’m sorry, I know I didn’t make things easier. I wasn’t very nice that day. If I’d known …”

  Nick felt warmer inside, and couldn’t help smiling. Beth was looking at the cat. Now or never. Come on, get it over with. She’ll think I’m trying it on, get indignant no doubt … Ask her, she’ll say no, you can forget it. “Look, what I came here tonight to say was …” He needed to get this right, and he wasn’t sure he had the requisite tact. He remembered that first night with Beth; but she’d been attracted to him with no reservations, and he hadn’t taken it too seriously. Now he was in deadly earnest, cared deeply about the outcome, and that wasn’t going to help. “You’ll probably tell me to get lost. I know you’re not Beth …” He ground to a halt. She sat there, blue eyes on his, judging him, stroking the cat. She had every reason not to think well of him, no reason to forgive him; the first Beth might have done, but she wouldn’t. It was no good, he was wasting his time, he shouldn’t have come. “I’m sorry.” He got up. “I’d better go.”

  She stood hastily, heedless of the cat who sprang to the floor, and stepped towards him, eyes on his.

  “What? What was it you were going to say?”

  The phone rang. Beth didn’t move to answer it. He smiled as he saw how her irises were darker round their rims, and as she blushed they became bluer. The moment lengthened, till the phone finally stopped ringing. Nick stepped through that invisible barrier which separates strangers and keeps them apart, and laid his cheek against hers. Giving her plenty of time to recoil or remonstrate, should she want to, he pulled her to him, turned his head and kissed her soft lips. Three heartbeats, then her arms circled his waist, pulling him closer.

  “You know I love you, Beth,” he said.

  www.lexirevellian.com

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  If you have enjoyed Replica, you may like Remix and Ice Diaries, also by Lexi Revellian.

  Remix US

  Remix UK

  REMIX: Caz Tallis restores rocking horses in her London workshop. When shabby but charismatic Joe and his dog turn up on her roof terrace, she is reluctantly drawn into investigating a rock star's murder from three years before - an unsolved case the police have closed. Which, as her best friend James says, is rather like poking a furnace with a short stick...

  Ice Diaries US

  Ice Diaries UK

  ICE DIARIES: It's 2018 and Tori's managing. Okay, so London is under twenty metres of snow, almost everybody has died in a pandemic or been airlifted south, and the only animals around are rats. Plus her boyfriend never returned from going to find his parents a year ago when the snow began - but she's doing fine. Really.

  She lives in an apartment that's luxurious, if short on amenities, in a block which used to be home to rich City bankers. A handful of fellow survivors are her friends, and together they forage for food and firewood, have parties once a month and even run a book club. The problem is they have no long-term future; eventually provisions will run out. Tori needs to find transport to make the two-thousand-mile journey south to a warm climate and start again.

  Enter Morgan, a disturbingly hot cage fighter from a tougher, meaner world where it's a mistake to trust people. He's on the run from the leader of the gang he used to work with. And he has a snowmobile.

  To be notified when Lexi Revellian publishes a new novel (no spam will be sent, ever) email: lexi14@hotmail.com