Her Fearful Symmetry

  Robert paused, unsure whether he had meant to tell her this story so early in their acquaintance. He kept forgetting they barely knew one another. 'Erm, well. My parents weren't actually married to each other. In fact my father had another family, in Birmingham. They were his proper family - they still are - and they don't know about my mum and me. I didn't meet him until my fifth birthday. He showed up in a Lamborghini and took us out on a day trip to Brighton. It was the first time I ever saw the sea.'

  'That's so weird. How come he waited all that time to see you?'

  'He's a very self-absorbed man, and he doesn't like children. It's funny, too, because I have five half-siblings. My mother says he came to meet me because she finally asked him for money. After that he would come round occasionally, bring us impractical presents ... He's quite entertaining, and completely undependable. When I was younger I used to worry that he was going to take me away from my mum and I'd never see her again.'

  Valentina looked at Robert. Is he joking? If he was, she couldn't detect it. The cab pulled up in front of the restaurant. Valentina had expected it to be large, well upholstered and quiet, but found herself in a tiny crowded room full of age-blackened wood and low ceilings. She had a rare sensation of being too big. This is the real London, where the Londoners eat. A welter of emotions hit her: triumph at finally being a non-tourist; satisfaction because she was here and Julia wasn't; inadequacy to the task of conversing with Robert. What do you say to someone when he says he thought his dad was going to kidnap him? What would Julia say? Once they were seated at a small table squeezed between an exuberant party of City people and a literary agent wooing an editor, Valentina said, 'Why would he do that?'

  Robert looked at her over the menu and said, 'Sorry?'

  'Um, your dad? You said ...?'

  'Oh, right. I know now that he never would've, but he was always joking about it, saying how great it was, just him and me, and how he was going to take me up north ... To me he was like a goblin. I was quite frightened of him until I was in my teens.'

  Valentina looked at him wide-eyed, then took refuge in her menu, at a loss for a reply. He seems so calm about it. I guess no matter what your family is like, you're not surprised. She had the feeling, now very familiar to her, of being absurdly young and Midwestern.

  I've gone too far, Robert realised. He said, 'Would you like a glass of wine? What are you having to eat?' They began to chat haltingly, righting the conversation with shared affection for Monty Python, anecdotes about the cemetery, the antics of Valentina's kitten, appreciation of the fennel soup. By the end of the meal they were easy with each other again, or at least less uneasy than they had thus far managed to be.

  It was a long evening, alone in the flat. Julia considered going upstairs to see Martin, but she was angry at being left on her own and determined to have the most miserable evening possible. She was gratified that the TV was still broken.

  Julia heated some tomato soup and sat in the dining room, eating while reading an old copy of Lucky Jim she'd found in Elspeth's office. Elspeth sat across from her and watched her. Don't spill soup on that, it's a signed first. Elspeth realised that she should have left more detailed instructions for the twins. Without meaning to be destructive, they were maddeningly casual with her things: they read rare editions of Tristram Shandy and Villette in the bath; they tucked Daniel Defoe pamphlets into their handbags to read on the tube. Elspeth yearned to snatch the book away from Julia. But why do I mind? It's a book, she's reading it, I ought to be fine with that. I shouldn't be bothered that Valentina is wearing my clothes and having dinner with Robert - but I am, I am very bothered indeed. Julia finished her soup, shut the book, cleared the dishes and washed up. She played with the Kitten until the Kitten got bored and disappeared into the dressing room to nap. Then Julia lay on the sofa in the front room and stared at the ceiling until she couldn't stand it and had to turn on her computer. She managed to kill a couple hours writing emails to a few long-neglected high-school friends. Elspeth retreated to her drawer to sulk. At ten o' clock Julia took a bath. At ten thirty she began to think that Valentina really ought to be home any minute now. By midnight she had called Valentina's phone three times and was beginning to panic. Elspeth watched Julia pacing and had a premonition of ... what? Trouble. Danger. It was too much, the past repeating itself with unnerving variations. Elspeth imagined all the places Robert might have taken Valentina, favourite bars, cherished walks ... Come home, come here where I can keep an eye on you. Julia went to bed but lay awake, fuming. Elspeth sat in the window seat. They waited.

  'Would you like to walk along the South Bank?' Robert asked Valentina. He had paid the bill, they were gathering themselves to leave the restaurant. Valentina hesitated. She considered the shoes she was wearing. They were pointy and spiky and half a size too large. 'Sure,' she said.

  They took a cab to Westminster Bridge. The streets were strangely empty. Their footsteps sounded sharp on the pavement; they could hear laughter across the river. Valentina had never been in Westminster at night. It's so much nicer without the crowds. Robert led her across the bridge and down some steps. They stood side by side at the railing looking over the Thames at the Houses of Parliament. There was a low orange moon slung just above Big Ben. Robert put his arm around her. She stiffened. They stood that way for a few minutes, each wondering what the other was thinking. Eventually he said, 'Shall we walk? You must be getting cold.'

  'Yeah, a little,' she said. They went back up the steps. It was a relief to Valentina to be walking. She was unsure of the protocol; she thought he would kiss her, but would he expect more than that? Did he imagine she would go home with him? Did he understand how impossible that would be? What time is it? Julia would be upset if she wasn't home soon. She's upset anyway, but she'll totally freak out ... Valentina tried to read Robert's watch without him seeing. Then she remembered where she was and turned to see Big Ben. It was almost midnight. They walked past Waterloo Bridge, Blackfriars Bridge. Her feet were on fire. He was talking to her about an exhibit he'd seen at Tate Modern. She looked at each bench they passed with longing. They were near London Bridge when she said, 'Can we sit down?'

  'Oh,' he said, realising. 'I'm awfully sorry - I forgot about your shoes.'

  Valentina sank onto a bench and slipped her feet out of the shoes. She wriggled her toes and rotated her ankles. Robert stooped and picked up the shoes. He sat beside her, a hand in each shoe. The shoes were warm and a little damp. 'Your poor feet,' he said.

  'They aren't my shoes,' she said.

  'I know.' He put Elspeth's shoes on the bench. 'Here,' he said, holding out his hands. 'Give me your feet.'

  She looked dubious but complied. He eased her around so she was leaning back on her elbows with her feet in his lap.

  'Could you take off your stockings?'

  'Don't look,' she said.

  He began to massage her feet. At first she watched him, but soon she let her head hang back and all he could see was her long neck and her little pointed chin. He gave himself over to her feet, feeling that he had achieved a new level of debauchery, giving a foot massage to a young girl in public. I wonder if they arrest people for this? He stopped thinking. The world shrank to their bench, her feet, his hands.

  Valentina raised her head. She was dizzy and deeply relaxed. Robert leaned down and kissed her feet. 'There you are,' he said.

  'Oh my God,' she said. 'I don't think I can walk.'

  'I'll carry you,' he said, and he did.

  It was almost 2 a.m. when Julia and Elspeth heard footsteps on the stairs. Julia jumped out of bed, unsure if she should go to meet Valentina or wait for her. Elspeth flew to the hall and saw the door open slowly; she saw that Robert was carrying Valentina; she saw him deposit her gently onto her bare feet; she saw Valentina teeter slightly, a shoe in each hand, and Elspeth knew as though she had seen it exactly what had passed between them. Valentina stood peering into the dark flat. She turned to Robert and gave him a small wave. He bowed
slightly to her with a smile, handed her her stockings and went downstairs. Valentina stepped into the flat and closed the door. She made no sound as she walked into the bedroom.

  Elspeth stayed in the hall. She had no appetite for the fight the twins were about to have. Been there, done that. She wanted to leave the flat, to be alone, to sort herself out. She wanted to find Robert and plead with him. But what would I ask of him? What would I say? Elspeth wanted a stiff drink, a good long cry in the bath. She wanted to walk until she was exhausted enough to sleep. Instead she went into her office and looked out at the front garden in the moonlight. Let me go, she asked of whatever it was that held her here. I want to die now, please; really die and be gone. She waited, but there was no response. Please, God, or whoever you are, please let me go. She looked out at the garden, up at the sky. Nothing happened. She understood then that no one was listening. Anything that happened to her now would be her own doing.

  Valentina crept into the bedroom, still holding the shoes and stockings. Julia sat on the bed in her pyjamas, feet dangling. She turned as Valentina came in. 'Do you know what time it is?'

  'No.'

  'It's nearly 2 a.m.'

  'Oh.'

  Julia hopped off the bed. Valentina thought, I can use the shoes to defend myself if she tries to hit me. They stood facing each other, each reluctant to say the next words that would provoke the argument. Julia thought, We should just go to bed; but she couldn't resist saying, 'Is that all you have to say? "Oh"?' She mimicked Valentina's attempt at innocence. Oh, oh, oh.

  Valentina shrugged. 'It's not like I have a curfew. And you aren't my mom. And even if you were my mom, I'm twenty-one years old.' So whatcha gonna do about it, huh, Julia?

  'It's common courtesy to let me know when you're coming home, otherwise I worry.' I'm more than Mom. You can't just go off on your own.

  'That's not my problem. You knew where I was and who I was with.' You don't own me.

  'You went out for dinner. Dinner doesn't last until 2 a.m.!' What were you doing for seven hours?

  'I went out on a date and none of this is any of your business!' Let go of me!

  'It is! What do you mean?' We don't have secrets from each other ever.

  'Don't you think it's time we started having our own lives?' Oh, God, just let go, Julia.

  'We do! We have our own lives together--' Valentina!

  'That's not what I mean!' Valentina threw the shoes across the room. They bounced harmlessly on the carpet. 'You know what I mean - I want my own life. I want privacy! I'm sick of being half a person.' She burst into tears. Julia stepped towards her and Valentina shrieked, 'Don't touch me! Don't--' and ran out of the room.

  Julia stood with her arms at her sides, her eyes closed. Tomorrow she'll be normal. It will be like this didn't happen. She got back into bed and lay there trying to hear Valentina somewhere in the flat. Eventually she fell asleep and dreamt she was upstairs, in Martin's flat, wandering by herself through the endless paths between the piles of boxes.

  Valentina put herself to bed in the spare bedroom. The sheets were clammy and she felt oddly sophisticated sleeping in her underwear. I can't remember ever sleeping by myself. She was too excited to actually sleep. The fight with Julia occupied her mind; the evening with Robert seemed weeks ago, a dim and pleasant interlude in the real battle. She saw herself as rational and victorious: I won, she thought. I said exactly what I wanted to say, she was wrong, she knew I was right. From now on things will be different.

  In the morning the twins met shyly in the kitchen. They made scrambled eggs and toast, and had their breakfast together in the cold light of the dining room without saying very much. Things between them went back to normal, but things were different.

  VITAMINS

  'YOU LOOK TERRIBLE,' Julia said to Martin a few days later. 'I'm going to buy you some vitamins.'

  'Now you sound like Marijke.'

  'Is that good or bad?' They were in Martin's office. It was late afternoon; Valentina was at the cemetery with Robert, so Julia had come upstairs like a stray creature, complaining loudly that she had been deserted and hoping that Martin would watch TV with her. But Martin was working, so she hovered around him, bored but expectant.

  Martin smiled and swivelled to look at her. In the dim light of the computer screen he seemed otherworldly; Julia thought him beautiful, though she knew it was the beauty of damage. His face was bluish and his hands were an extraordinary blood-orange colour in the warm desk-lamp light. 'It's nice. It's good to have someone worry about me, just a bit. I wouldn't want you to worry too much, though.'

  An idea was forming in Julia's mind. 'I won't. But would you take vitamins if I got you some?'

  Martin turned back to the screen. He was building the grid for a crossword. He clicked and three squares went black. 'Maybe. I'm not very good at remembering to take pills.'

  'I could remind you. It could be my job.'

  'I suppose it's easier than actually eating fruit and veg.'

  Julia said, 'Okay, I'll go to Boots tomorrow.' She hesitated. 'Are you going to work all night?'

  'Yes, I should have started this yesterday, but I got sidetracked. It's due the day after tomorrow.' Martin made a note on his handwritten sketch of the crossword. 'If you want to watch TV, go ahead.'

  'No, I don't feel like watching by myself. I'll go downstairs to read.'

  'Well, sorry to be such poor company, but I really do have to finish this or my editor will be at my door with a truncheon.'

  'S'okay.' By the time Julia was back in her own flat her plan was complete.

  'You can't do that,' Valentina said when Julia told her. 'You can't just give him medicine and not tell him.'

  'Why not? He says refusing treatment is part of the disease. So I'm going to sneak it into him. He'll be glad when it works and he can go outside.'

  'What about side effects? What if he's allergic? And how are you going to get your hands on medicine for obsessive compulsive disorder, anyway?'

  'We'll just go to the doctor and pretend to have OCD. I've been reading about it, it's not hard to fake. I was thinking I would tell the doctor I'm super afraid of snakes. And maybe pluck out all my eyebrows.'

  'Whadaya mean we? I'm not going with you.' Valentina held onto the arms of her chair as though she thought Julia might pull her out of it.

  Julia shrugged. 'Okay, fine. I'll go by myself.'

  It was much more complicated than she had anticipated, but Julia did eventually manage to get a prescription for Anafranil. She decanted the capsules into a vitamin bottle and presented herself in Martin's office one evening after dinner.

  'Look, I remembered,' she said, shaking the bottle so the pills rattled.

  He was bent over some photographs, lost in another language. 'Sorry, what? Oh, hello, Julia. What's that? That's very kind, thank you. Here, I'll put them next to the computer so I remember to take them.'

  'No,' said Julia. 'I'll keep them and make sure you take them. That's our deal, right?'

  'Was it?' he said. She went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. When she handed him one capsule and the glass, Martin let the pill rest in his palm and glanced at it. He looked up at her inquisitively but didn't say anything.

  'Aren't you going to take it?' she asked nervously. ANAFRANIL 25 MG was printed right on the capsule; she was counting on Martin's nearsightedness to conceal that.

  'Hmm? Oh, yes.' He put the pill in his mouth and gulped it down with water. 'There you are, Nurse.'

  Julia laughed. 'You look better already.' She rattled the vitamin bottle flirtatiously and went downstairs. Valentina was sitting on the floor of Elspeth's office peering into her laptop.

  'You're going to kill him,' Valentina said.

  'No, I'm not. What are you talking about?'

  'Look at this.' Valentina swivelled her computer towards Julia, who sat on the floor next to her. 'Look at the side effects.'

  Julia read. Blurred vision, constipation, nausea, vomiting, allergies, heart
palpitations ... It was a long list. She looked at Valentina. 'I'm up there a lot. I see him more than a doctor would. I just have to monitor him, that's all.'

  'What if he has a heart attack?'

  'That's probably not going to happen.'

  'What if he gets seizures? He's not going to tell you if he's suddenly impotent or constipated.'

  'I just gave him a little dose.'

  Valentina logged off and shut down the computer. She stood up. 'You're an idiot,' she told Julia. 'You can't just decide things for people. And you look weird without eyebrows.'

  'You haven't even met him,' Julia said, but Valentina had already left the room. Julia heard her walking through the flat, out the front door and down the stairs. 'Fine,' Julia said. 'Be like that. You'll see.'

  BIRTHDAY

  ROBERT'S BIRTHDAY DAWNED clear and balmy. He had gone to sleep at a reasonable hour the night before, so he bounded out of bed feeling oddly joyous and expectant. 'Dadadadadada - blahblahblahblah BIRTHDAY ...' He sang in the shower and ate a soft-boiled egg and toast. He spent a luxurious morning rewriting the chapter of his thesis devoted to Stephen Geary, Highgate Cemetery's architect. He presented himself at the cemetery before noon and pottered in the archives with James until it was time to give the two o'clock tour. All the familiar memorials seemed to salute him: Eventually you'll be dead, too, but not today. When he returned from the tour he found the ground-floor office empty except for Nigel, the cemetery's manager, and a young couple who were discussing the funeral arrangements for their baby. Robert hastily withdrew and went upstairs.

  Valentina was perched on one of the office chairs, effacing herself. Jessica was on the phone; Felicity was making tea and talking softly to George, the stone carver, about a memorial he was designing; James called down to Jessica from the archives; Edward was photocopying and Phil was unboxing a cake. Thomas and Matthew came in, rather shyly, and the office seemed suddenly overfull as the burial team seldom came indoors and both of them were very tall.

  'Look,' said Phil. 'I had them do the Egyptian Avenue in icing.'

  'Wow,' said Robert. 'That's really ... unappetising.'

  'Yeah,' Phil said. 'Grey icing is not enticing.'