Her Fearful Symmetry

  Julia looked at her mother. Edie sat stiffly, white-knuckled hands gripping her small handbag. She's afraid too. Her father sat overspilling his chair, smelling sweetly of unsmoked tobacco and alcohol. Julia leaned against him. Jack reached over and took her hand.

  People filed in and took their places on the folding chairs. Julia turned to see, but most of them were strangers. There were people from the cemetery. Jessica and James sat behind the Pooles. Jessica patted Julia's shoulder. 'Hello, dear.' She wore a little black cloche with a veil that was like stars caught in a net. The Mouse would have been wild for that hat.

  'Hello.' Julia didn't know what else to say, so she smiled and turned to face the coffin. I would get through this better if I could sit at the back.

  The officiant stood at the front of the room holding a clipboard and watching as people took their seats. She wore something red draped over her shoulders. Julia wondered what was about to happen. They had asked for a non-religious ceremony. Robert had arranged everything through the Humanist Society. He had asked Julia if she wanted to speak. Now she had a much-folded and crossed-out speech tucked into her bag. The speech was all wrong; it was inadequate and somehow untrue. Martin had read it for her and helped with the phrasing, but still the speech did not say what Julia wanted to express. It doesn't matter, Julia told herself. Valentina won't hear it anyway.

  The red-shawled officiant spoke. She welcomed them and said some non-religious things that were meant to be comforting. She invited people who had known Valentina to speak about her.

  Robert stood at the podium. He peered out at the room, which was half-filled. The Poole family sat a few feet away from him, regarding him stoically. Valentina, forgive me. He cleared his throat, adjusted his glasses. His voice, when he found it, was first too soft, then too loud. Robert wished to be anywhere else, doing anything else. 'This is a poem by Arthur William Edgar O'Shaughnessy,' he said. His hands held the paper steady.

  'I made another garden, yea,

  For my new Love:

  I left the dead rose where it lay

  And set the new above.

  Why did my Summer not begin?

  Why did my heart not haste?

  My old Love came and walk'd therein,

  And laid the garden waste.

  'She enter'd with her weary smile,

  Just as of old;

  She look'd around a little while

  And shiver'd with the cold:

  Her passing touch was death to all,

  Her passing look a blight;

  She made the white rose-petals fall,

  And turn'd the red rose white.'

  There was more to the poem but Robert did not read it. He looked at the people sitting in the folding chairs and was about to continue, but then changed his mind and sat down abruptly. People were confused by what he had read and there was some buzz of conversation in the room. Jessica thought, That's quite inappropriate. He's blaming Elspeth for something. He should have spoken about Valentina. Edie and Jack stared ahead at the white coffin. Jack wondered what on earth Robert meant.

  Julia was angry, but she tried to quell it; she walked to the podium. Her limbs seemed to be remote-controlled. She unfolded her speech, then began to speak without looking at it. 'We're far from home ... Thank you for coming even though you haven't known us very long.' What else was I going to say? 'Valentina was my twin. It never occurred to either of us that we might get separated. We didn't have a plan for that. We were going to be together always.

  'When we were little Mom and Dad took us to the Lincoln Park Zoo, which if you don't know is a big zoo in the middle of Chicago. You can see the skyscrapers while you are looking at the emus and giraffes and stuff. And we were looking at this tiger. It was by itself in this fake landscape - I think they wanted it to think it was in China or wherever it was from. Valentina fell in love with this tiger. She stood there, like, forever, just looking at it, and it came over and looked at her. They stood there staring at each other till finally it kind of nodded its head and walked away. And Valentina said to me, "When I die I'm going to be that tiger." So I guess possibly she is a tiger now, but hopefully not in a zoo, because she actually hated zoos.' Julia took a deep breath. I will not cry now. 'On the other hand, that was when we were eight years old, and lately we've been thinking differently about life after death.' Robert thought, Oh, no. Julia continued, 'I don't know what Valentina exactly thought about death. Since we moved here she seemed kind of excited about it, in a way, but that was probably because we live next to the cemetery and we're twenty-one and it didn't seem like it had any direct application to us.' Julia had been addressing her remarks to a flower arrangement at the back of the room but now she looked at her mother. 'Anyway, I don't think she would mind too much. I mean, not that she would have wanted to die, but she was into this aesthetic thing about the cemetery, and if this had to happen I think she would be happy to be there.' What else? I love you, I don't know how to go on without you, you were part of me, you're gone, I want to die too. Don't I?

  'Anyway, thanks. Thanks for coming.' Julia sat down amid murmurs from the guests. Sebastian caught Robert's eye. Robert could tell that Sebastian thought the speeches were a little irregular. The officiant said a few things, told everyone to walk across Waterlow Park to the cemetery, thanked them again for being there. The pall-bearers lifted the coffin and bore it out of the room. People waited for the Poole family to follow it; when they did not there was muted discussion, and everyone rose and filed out in twos and threes. The Pooles sat until the room was empty. Robert stood on the landing, waiting for them. Finally Sebastian offered Edie his arm. He wondered if she was going to make it through the interment. 'Would you like some water?'

  'No. No.' Jack and Julia got to their feet. Edie looked up at the three of them. I can't move. Julia leaned over and whispered to her, 'You can stay here. I'll stay with you.'

  Edie shook her head. She wanted to shut off everything, stop time. She was still thinking about the poem, about the garden laid waste; she imagined herself alone in such a garden, the flowers all dead and night coming; Valentina and Elspeth were buried there, and Edie thought that if she sat very still, if everyone would let her be, she would hear them speak to her. The vision possessed her and she could not shake it away. Jack reached down and lifted Edie off her chair; he enfolded her into himself. She began weeping. Sebastian took himself off to stand with Robert on the landing. They listened to Edie's sobs. Julia walked out of the room and past them, and went downstairs without acknowledging either of them.

  What on earth have we done? Edie's tears were a solvent that removed Robert's detachment, his resolve to just get through the day, his sense of himself as a decent person. He was a monster. Now he knew it. All he could do was carry out the plan, but the plan was ill-conceived and monstrous in its selfishness. 'No,' he said.

  'Sorry?' said Sebastian.

  'Nothing,' said Robert.

  Jessica had a powerful feeling of deja vu. Once again they all stood around the Noblin mausoleum. It was summer instead of winter; there was Nigel by the hearse, the burial team standing by, Robert looking dazed next to Phil and Sebastian. There was no minister; the woman from the Humanist Society said a few words. Valentina's coffin was placed on the floor of the mausoleum, ready to be put into its niche beneath Elspeth. The Poole family huddled together, Julia and the father practically holding up the mother. Sebastian adroitly produced a few chairs. The family sank into them, not taking their eyes off the door of the mausoleum. Poor dears. She was so young. Jessica turned her gaze to Robert, to whom she had not spoken since the morning she'd caught him in the cemetery. She whispered to James, 'I think he's going to faint.' Robert was quite pale and sweating profusely. James nodded. He took Jessica's arm, as though she were the one who needed support.

  The service was over. Nigel closed the door of the mausoleum. People began to drift down the path. There was coffee, food and drink back at Lauderdale House. Jack Poole talked with Nigel; Juli
a and Edie waited quietly. Robert began to walk away by himself down the path. Jessica called to him.

  He turned and hesitated. Then he walked back to her.

  'We're so sorry, Robert,' said Jessica.

  He shook his head. 'It's my fault,' he told them.

  'No,' James said. 'Not at all. These things happen. It's terribly unfortunate.'

  'It is my fault,' said Robert.

  'Don't blame yourself, my dear,' Jessica said. She began to feel disturbed. There was something about the way Robert looked at them. I used to think he was coming unhinged, but now I think perhaps he actually has done. That poem. Oh dear. 'We ought to go down,' she said. They walked slowly together past the Egyptian Avenue towards the Colonnade.

  At Lauderdale House most of the conversation was provided by people who had known Valentina only slightly. Edie and Jack had gone back to Vautravers so Edie could lie down. Julia sat bewildered and silent in a small circle of young Friends of Highgate Cemetery; Phil brought her tea and sandwiches and hovered nearby, waiting to be asked for something. Finally Robert came over.

  'Can I walk you back to the house?' he asked. 'Or Sebastian can give you a ride, if you'd rather.'

  'Okay,' she said. Robert looked at her and decided it would be best to put her in the car. Julia had switched off; her eyes were blank and she did not seem to have understood the question. He helped her extricate herself from the Friends. They walked in silence to the street and waited together while Sebastian brought the car.

  'How long did it take Elspeth before she was a ghost?' Julia asked quietly, not looking at him.

  'I think she must have been a ghost right away. She says she was a sort of mist for a while.'

  'I thought Valentina was there, this morning. In the bedroom.' Julia shook her head. 'It just felt like her.'

  'Was Elspeth with her?' Robert asked.

  'I don't know. I can't see Elspeth.'

  'No, I can't either.' The car arrived. They rode up the hill in silence.

  That afternoon seemed to go on and on. Robert sat at his desk, not thinking or moving. He wanted to drink, but he was afraid he'd get drunk and things would go wrong, so he sat there silently, doing nothing. Edie was asleep in the twins' bed. Jack sat in the window seat with the curtains almost closed, listening to his wife's soft snores and reading an American first of The Old Man and the Sea. Julia found that she could not stand to be indoors. She went and sat in the back garden, knees tucked under her chin, arms wrapped around her. Martin was practising standing near the windows. He saw Julia; he hesitated, then rapped on the window and beckoned to her. She jumped up and ran to the fire escape. He heard her thumping footsteps and unlocked the back door just as she reached it. Julia came in wordlessly and sat in one of the kitchen chairs.

  'Have you eaten?' he asked her. She shook her head. He began to make a cheese sandwich. He poured her a glass of milk, set it in front of her. He turned on the stove and put the cheese sandwich in to melt.

  'You're using the stove,' Julia said.

  'I decided it was okay. I had the gas company reconnect it.'

  'That's great.' She smiled. 'You're getting a lot better.'

  'It's the vitamins.' Martin searched his pockets for his lighter and cigarettes, extracted one and lit it. He sat in the other chair. 'How are you? I'm sorry I didn't come to your sister's funeral.'

  'I didn't expect you to come.'

  'Robert asked me - I went and stood on the landing, but I couldn't go any farther.'

  'Um, that's okay.' Julia imagined Martin standing there, surrounded by newspapers, trying to walk downstairs by himself, failing.

  Martin had been thinking all day of how he might persuade Julia to stay with him that night. He had plotted out various conversations, but now he blurted, 'What are you doing tonight?'

  Julia shrugged. 'Having dinner with Mom and Dad, probably at Cafe Rouge. Then, I don't know. I guess they'll go back to their hotel.'

  'Shouldn't you go with them?'

  Julia shook her head stubbornly. I'm not a child.

  Martin said, 'Will you come up and stay with me? I don't think you ought to be alone.'

  Julia thought of Elspeth lurking around the flat and said, 'Yeah, I'd like that.' She sipped her milk. Neither of them said anything until the timer rang and Martin carefully extricated the toasted cheese sandwich from the oven, put it on a plate and set it in front of Julia. She looked at the sandwich and the milk and thought how odd it was for someone to be taking care of her for a change. Martin stubbed out his cigarette so she could eat. When she was done he cleared the dishes and said, 'Would you like to play Scrabble?'

  'With you? No, too humiliating.'

  'Cards, then?'

  Julia hesitated. 'It seems weird to play anything when she's ... you know. I feel like I shouldn't.'

  Martin offered her a cigarette. She took one and he lit it for her. He said, 'I think play must have been invented so we wouldn't go mad thinking about certain things - but I have another idea: let's have a memorial service of our own, since I missed the other one. Won't you tell me about Valentina?'

  At first he thought she wouldn't reply. She stared at the tip of her cigarette, frowning. But then Julia began to tell Martin about Valentina, in halting words; he coaxed each story from her until the words began to create the Valentina who would now live in Julia's mind. Julia spoke of Valentina for hours; the afternoon slipped into evening, and Martin mourned for the girl he had met only fleetingly, a few afternoons ago.

  Jessica had his key, so Robert had taken Elspeth's. The key to the door in the back-garden wall had hung, unused, in her pantry for as long as he had known her. He had taken the key to the Noblin mausoleum from Elspeth's desk a week ago. The two keys rested with the key to the twins' flat inside his overcoat pocket. Robert stood at his window looking out over the front garden, waiting for dark.

  Julia and her parents walked up the path and through the gate, on their way to dinner. Robert thought, Now. If I don't do it now, I won't be able to do it at all.

  He went out his back door, leaving it unlocked. Though Martin's windows were papered over, Robert still looked up at them as he crossed the back garden. That's odd. He's taken down some of the newspaper. There was light in Martin's office; all the other rooms were dark. Robert slipped through the green door, left it ajar.

  The most direct way to the Noblin grave was to cut through the Circle of Lebanon and the Egyptian Avenue. He used his torch in order to go more quickly. There was a half-moon, but the trees over the Avenue made it ink black. He switched off his torch and listened. He was not afraid then. He was aware of being pleased to be in the cemetery. The only noises were the usual night noises: light traffic up and down the hill, a few insect sounds, muted in the chill of the night. Robert walked out of the Avenue and uphill to the Noblin mausoleum.

  The key did not work easily. I ought to have oiled the lock. He got it to turn and swung the door open. He stepped inside the little room, put on a pair of latex surgical gloves and pulled the door almost shut behind him in case anyone came by. Though they might be more afraid of me than I of them. He knelt by Valentina's coffin. He felt enormous and intrusive in the tiny space, like Alice grown huge with her arm up the chimney of the White Rabbit's house. The coffin had been pushed back into its niche, so he tugged and pulled until it was out where he could work on it. There is no respectful way to do this, he thought as he took a screwdriver out of his pocket and began to unscrew the lid. It seemed to take forever. He was sweating by the time he managed to pry up the lid. It gasped as it came undone, as though he had opened an enormous jar of pickled gherkins.

  Valentina's body lay ensconced in white silk. She looks comfortable. Robert reached into the coffin with both arms and scooped Valentina up; she weighed nearly nothing. She was slightly damp from the plastic-wrapped ice Sebastian had concealed underneath her. She was pliable, though very cold. Sebastian had kept his promise: Valentina gave off no whiff of decay. Robert was not sure where to put her
. He stood awkwardly, turned and put her down on the floor. He took the ice out of the coffin and threw it into the bushes, then put the screws inside the coffin and lowered the lid. He pushed the empty coffin back into its niche. Robert gathered his screwdriver, torch, looked around for any other signs of his visit, found none. He took off his overcoat and laid it on the floor. He placed Valentina's body on the coat and wrapped her up in it. Now she was hidden.

  He realised that the keys were in his coat pocket, so he fished them out and put them in his shirt pocket. Then Robert picked up Valentina. He carried her pressed against his body, her head on his shoulder. He held her with one arm embracing her torso while he opened the door with his other hand and passed through the doorway carefully, anxious not to jostle his burden. He relocked the door, flicked off the torch and began walking back down the path in darkness.

  That was strangely easy. I always imagined bodysnatching to be a more strenuous occupation. Of course, it would be if there was digging involved. And they used to carry dark lanterns and shovels and so forth. Robert wanted to giggle. Or whistle. I'm not quite right. I'll have a drink when I get home. He turned into the Egyptian Avenue. In the blackness he could feel Valentina jouncing with each step he took. He slowed down and held her more tightly.

  He reached the Circle and walked up the stairs. At the top he thought he heard someone breathing. He stood still, held his own breath, heard nothing.

  Finally he was at the Catacombs. He came to the green door and pushed it gently. The garden was empty. The same light was on in Martin's office, as though no time had passed, nothing has happened. There was light in the twins' bedroom; the curtains were drawn. Robert went into the garden, locked the door and ran across the moss. Then he was inside his flat. Sweat was pouring off him.

  What on earth am I doing? He laid Valentina on the kitchen table, went to the freezer and took out a bottle of vodka. He was about to drink from the bottle, but hesitated, then took a glass from the cupboard, poured some vodka and drank it down, staring at his own reflection in the kitchen window. He could see Valentina's muffled form reflected behind him, lying mummy-like, as though on display in a museum. He poured another drink, drank half of it. He locked the back door.