Her Fearful Symmetry

Liminal

IT WAS very early morning and Valentina woke before Julia, as she often did. She gently disengaged herself from Julia’s arms and sat up in bed. The curtains were not quite closed; the light was pale and diffused. Something moved. Valentina wasn’t properly awake and she saw it without really seeing. She thought it was the Kitten, but the Kitten was sleeping beside her on the bed. Valentina looked harder, and as she did the thing unfolded itself from where it had been sitting by the window and Valentina realised that she was seeing Elspeth.

It was like seeing from a long distance; Elspeth was faint and not sharply defined. She looks just like Mom, Valentina thought, but there was something about the way the ghost looked back at her that was unfamiliar and alien. Elspeth moved her mouth as though she were speaking and began to walk towards the bed. Until that moment Valentina had not been afraid but suddenly she was. The fear woke her up completely: Elspeth vanished. Valentina felt a cold touch on her cheek, then nothing. She slid off the bed and ran out of the flat, down the front stairs, then stood panting next to the mail baskets in her pyjamas.

Robert had only been asleep for an hour or so, and it took him some time to become aware of the knocking at his door. His first thought was that the house must be on fire. He came to the door in his underwear and poked his head out, squinting.

Valentina said, “Can I come in?”

“Ah. Minute.” He walked to his bedroom and put on trousers and yesterday’s shirt, then went back to the door and opened it wide. He said, “Good morning,” and then, observing her more carefully, “What’s wrong?”

“I saw Elspeth,” she replied, and began to cry.

Robert put his arms around Valentina and said, “Hush,” to the top of her head. After she had recovered somewhat, he said, “I’ve been trying to see her for weeks. How did she look?”

“Like Mom.”

“Then why are you crying?”

“I’ve never seen a ghost before. I mean, you know, she’s dead.”

“Yes. I know.” He led her into the kitchen. She sat at the table, and he began to make tea. Valentina blew her nose on a paper towel. Robert said, “Did you have the impression that she was trying to appear to you? Or what happened, exactly?”

Valentina shook her head. “I think when I first saw her she was sitting in the window seat looking out. It wasn’t like she was especially trying to make me see her. When she noticed I was looking at her she came over to me and then I got scared and she disappeared.” Valentina paused. “Actually, what I think it was, I don’t think I was totally awake.”

“Oh,” Robert said. “So you dreamed her?”

“No-I don’t think so. But maybe it’s like-you know how when you try to remember something, and you can’t think of it, and then later when you’re not trying to think about it any more it just pops into your head?”

“Yes?”

“Maybe I saw her because I forgot I couldn’t see her.”

Robert laughed. “I’ll have to try that. Of course, she’s not speaking to me lately, so I don’t imagine she’ll appear. How did she seem? Was she angry with you?”

“Angry? No, she was trying to tell me something, but it wasn’t like she was mad or anything.”

The kettle boiled and Robert poured water into the teapot. He said, “Don’t you and Julia talk to her?”

“Sometimes. But she doesn’t want to answer the questions we want to ask.”

Robert smiled and put the tea things on the table. “Perhaps if you let Elspeth do the asking you’ll eventually find out whatever it is you want to know.” He sat down across from Valentina.

“Maybe. I wish you’d just tell us.”

“Tell you what?”

“Whatever it is-we’re not exactly sure, but there’s some big secret about Elspeth and Mom. I mean, they were twins, and then they never spoke to each other again. What was that about?”

“I’m sure I couldn’t say.”

“Couldn’t, or wouldn’t?” Valentina said irritably.

“Couldn’t. I have no idea why Elspeth and Edie parted ways. It happened long before I met Elspeth, and she hardly ever mentioned your mother.” He poured out the tea.

Valentina watched steam rise from her mug.

Robert said, “Why do you need to know? Your mother doesn’t want to tell you, and Elspeth took great care not to leave anything behind that might cause anxiety. Of course, that’s assuming that there actually is a secret.”

“Mom is afraid we’ll find out.”

“Isn’t that a good reason to leave it be?” He said this more vehemently than he meant to; Valentina looked startled. “Listen,” Robert said more quietly, “sometimes when you finally find out, you realise that you were much better off not knowing.”

Valentina frowned. “How would you know? And besides, you’re a historian. You spend all your time finding out stuff about other people.”

“Valentina, it’s one thing to research the Victorians, it’s completely different when you unearth your own family skeletons.”

She didn’t reply.

“Here. I’ll give you a cautionary tale.” Robert drank some of his tea, and experienced a qualm. Do I really want to tell her this? But she was looking at him expectantly. He said, “When I was fifteen, my mother suddenly came into a great deal of money. ‘Who gave you the money, Mum?’ I asked her. ‘Oh, my Great Aunt Pru died and left it to me,’ she said. Now, I come from a family with a prodigious quantity of aunts, but I had never heard of this one; my mother’s family could trace itself back to the Crusades but they didn’t any of them have a bean. But that was her story, and she stuck to it.

“Then, about two weeks later, I was watching television and they were interviewing a new cabinet minister-and it was my father. He had a different name, but there he was. ‘Mum,’ I said, ‘come and look at this.’ We both sat there watching him do this interview, looking terribly smarmy and respectable.”

Valentina knew what was coming. “So, the money came from your father?”

“Yes. He had finally got to a point in his career where she could ruin him quite spectacularly if she went to the tabloids. ‘Cabinet Minister’s Double Life’ would have been the headline, I suppose. So he paid up and I never saw him again. Except on TV, of course.”

Valentina understood something she had been afraid to ask. “So that’s why you don’t have a job?”

“Yeee-ss,” Robert said. “Though eventually, when I’m done with my dissertation, I’d like to teach, I think.” He sighed. “I would rather have gone on being poor and seeing my father now and then.”

“I thought you didn’t like him.”

“Well, he didn’t care much for children, and I had just got to the age where we might have developed an actual understanding-but it was all a sham, anyway.”

“Oh.” Valentina thought she ought to say something. “I’m sorry.”

Robert smiled at her. “You’re sounding more English by the day. No need to be sorry.” They heard Julia’s footsteps in the kitchen above them. “Should you go upstairs?”

“In a while.”

“Would you like some breakfast, then?”

“Sure.”

Robert collected eggs, bacon, butter and various other items from the fridge. “How do you like your eggs?”

“Fried?”

While the bacon and eggs cooked he set out plates and cutlery, jam and juice; he made toast. Valentina watched him, comforted by his efficiency and delighted by the novelty of having a man serve her breakfast while he pretended not to notice that she was wearing pyjamas.

Robert slid the food onto their plates and sat down. They began to eat. Upstairs, Julia stomped across the kitchen. “Somebody’s not happy,” Robert said.

“I don’t care.”

“Ah, well,” he said.

“I wish I could just leave,” Valentina said.

But you just got here. Robert said, “Why don’t you, then?”

Valentina sensed that he was-what? Offended? She said hastily, “I don’t mean you-I mean Julia. She thinks she owns me. She’s, like, a total dictator about it.”

Robert hesitated, then said, “At the end of the year, you can sell the flat and do what you like.”

Valentina shook her head. “Julia won’t sell it. Julia won’t do anything that would let me be independent. I’m stuck.”

“You could go to Xavier Roche and ask him to divide the estate. There’s enough money in the trusts that Julia could keep the flat and you could take your share in cash,” Robert said.

Valentina brightened. “I could do that?”

“It’s provided for in the will. Didn’t you read it?”

“We did,” Valentina said vaguely, “but I wasn’t paying attention to the small print.”

“Elspeth said she regrets having stipulated that you both live here for a year. She’s rather worried about you.”

“When did she say that?” Valentina asked.

“Last week.”

“Too late.”

“Yes,” Robert said. “I think that watching you and Julia come un-glued is too much like whatever happened to her and Edie.”

Valentina finished her eggs and wiped her mouth. “I wish she’d tell us.”

Robert said, “I think she would-I think it’s your mother who doesn’t want you to know.”

“What would you do if you were me?”

Robert smiled and ran his eyes over her pyjamas. “All sorts of things,” he said. “Shall I list them?”

“No-you know what I mean.” She blushed.

He sighed. “I would make friends with Elspeth.”

“Oh.” She thought about this. “I’m frightened of her.”

“That’s because you only know her as cold blasts of air and such. She was wonderful when she was alive.”

“Why is Elspeth not speaking to you?”

“Sorry?”

“You said she wasn’t…”

“Oh, so I did.” He got up to clear away the dishes. “It’s just a misunderstanding. It will pass.”

“Was she…was she more like Julia, or me?”

Robert shook his head. “She was herself. She was plucky, like Julia, but also restrained, like you. She was very clever and she liked to have her own way. But she usually worked it so that I enjoyed whatever it was she’d manoeuvred me into doing.”

“It freaks me out that she watches us and we don’t know she’s there.”

“Perhaps you could use that as an excuse to treat each other more kindly?”

“What did she tell you?” asked Valentina.

He looked surprised. “I can use my own eyes.”

She coloured deeply but did not reply. Robert said, “From what I’ve been able to glean, Elspeth and Edie had an agreement that Elspeth wouldn’t have anything to do with you and Julia. Elspeth seems to feel that she kept up her end of the bargain.” He returned the juice and butter to the fridge. “But now I think she would like to get to know you a bit. Since you’re here.” He began to run water into the sink. “If it’s any comfort, she probably spends less time hovering round than you imagine. She liked to be off on her own. If you put out a few books where she can get at them, or leave the TV on for her, I’m sure she’d let you be.”

“The TV’s broken,” Valentina reminded him.

“Let’s cope with that, then, shall we?” Robert was standing at the sink with his back to Valentina. He stared out of the window and thought of Elspeth. You must be bored silly. No one to talk to, nothing to read. He tried to imagine how Elspeth had felt when Valentina ran away from her in a panic. He turned to Valentina and said, “Do you mind if I go up later and try to talk to her?”

Valentina shrugged. “Sure, no problem. But why even ask? You’re in our flat all the time, talking to her.”

“I hadn’t realised I was so obvious.”

“We can use our own eyes.” She smiled.

“Touché.”

Valentina stood up and padded over to Robert. “Thank you for breakfast.” He had his hands in the soapy water and she darted a kiss at his face just as he turned to her.

“Ouch,” he said. “Let’s do that properly.” Each kiss was a little lesson. Robert enjoyed them, though he was beginning to wonder if they would ever lead to a more advanced curriculum. His hands were wet but he slid them under her pyjama top and ran his palms over her breasts.

She whispered, “That’s nice.”

“It could be much nicer,” he offered.

“Mmm. Not-yet.” She stepped back, looking confused. Robert smiled.

“I have to go upstairs,” Valentina said.

“Okay.”

“I’m going to talk to Elspeth.”

“That’s good,” he told her.

“And I’ll be nice to Julia.”

“Also good.”

“See you later.”

“Yes.”

When Valentina returned to their flat she found Julia at the dining-room table, fully dressed and reading the newspaper over a cup of coffee with a lit cigarette in her hand.

“Hi,” Valentina said.

“Hi,” Julia replied without looking up.

“I wish you wouldn’t smoke in the flat.”

“I wish you wouldn’t run downstairs and screw Robert when I’m sleeping but that doesn’t stop you, does it?” Julia kept her eyes on the newspaper.

“I haven’t-we haven’t-and that’s none of your business anyway.”

Julia looked at Valentina. “Whatever. Your pyjamas are all wet.” She put the cigarette to her lips, blew the smoke in Valentina’s direction. Valentina went to take a shower. By the time she was dressed Julia had left the flat.

Valentina collected a stack of paper and some pens and pencils. She spread the Ouija board Robert had made onto the coffee table, and placed the plastic planchette carefully in the middle of it. “Elspeth?” she called. “Are you here?”

The planchette began to move. GOOD MORNING, it said. As Valentina watched, she saw Elspeth materialise, hovering over the board, pushing the little planchette with great concentration. Elspeth looked up at her and smiled.

Valentina smiled back. “Tell me a story,” she said.

WHAT SORT OF STORY

“Tell me about you and Mom, when you were little…”

Elspeth tilted her head to the side and thought for a moment. She placed her finger inside the planchette and twirled it a few times. Then she knelt by the table and slowly began to spell: ONCE UPON A TIME THERE WERE TWO SISTERS NAMED EDIE AND ELSPETH…

Home Dentistry

MARTIN HAD a toothache. It had been coming on for days. Now it had arrived in his mouth, like a train, and he was unable to think of anything else. He stood in front of the bathroom mirror and tried to see the painful tooth by leaning his head back, opening his mouth, and straining his eyes downward, but this merely caused him to fall over backwards and crack his shin on the bathtub. He gave up and took some codeine that Marijke had left over from her slipped disk. Then he went back to bed.

Later in the morning his phone rang. Since the phone was in bed with him, quite near his head, Martin felt as though it were his tooth that was ringing; the pain was excruciating. It was Marijke.

“Hallo, sailor, what of the sea?” She sounded quite cheerful.

“Still salty,” he said. “How are you?” He sat up and fumbled for his glasses.

“What’s wrong?” Marijke said. “You sound asleep.”

“Oh…I’ve got toothache.” He felt a little ashamed of himself; he wanted her to feel sorry for him.

“Oh, no.” Marijke was sitting in her flat, having a leisurely Saturday morning in her comfortable chair with a detective novel on her lap and a bowl of crisps to hand. She had decided to call Martin in a mood of magnanimity. Now his toothache groped through the phone and demanded that she attend to it. “Have you done anything for it? Which tooth?”

“One of the upper molars. On the right side. It feels like someone’s kicking my face.”

Neither of them said anything, because there was no obvious remedy. Even if Martin could have gone to the dentist, he had no dentist to go to: Dr. Prescott had left the NHS to practise privately; in the process he had dropped Martin from his patient list. Anyway, it didn’t matter, because Dr. Prescott didn’t do home visits. Finally Marijke said, “Maybe you should call Robert?”

“Why?”

“Maybe he could-no, never mind.”

Martin pressed his hand against his cheek. The tooth was throbbing more relentlessly. “He’s a clever chap, but I don’t think he knows much about dentistry.” Martin climbed out of the bed and walked into the bathroom. Something was different-but he couldn’t think what it was, not with his tooth pulsing whilst he was talking to Marijke and trying to find the bottle of codeine capsules-Ah, there. He swallowed two and wandered back to bed. As he got into bed he realised that he had just walked on the floor in his bare feet without giving it a thought. Hmm. The anxiety wasn’t there; no compulsion urged itself upon him. He turned his attention back to Marijke.

“So what are you going to do?” she asked him.

“Sleep?”

“Shall I call Robert, then?”

“All right-tell him to come up with a pair of pliers.”

“Ugh,” she said. “Go back to sleep.”

Later Martin was sitting at his kitchen table in a codeine fog, trying to eat lukewarm porridge. He heard Robert stumbling through the dark flat, calling his name. “Here. The kitchen,” Martin said, with effort.

“Hey,” Robert said softly when he arrived in the kitchen. “Marijke says you’ve fallen afoul of the tooth fairy.”

“Mmm,” Martin said.

“Listen-if I found a dentist-could you leave the flat?”

Martin shook his head very slowly.

“You’re quite sure?”

“I’m sorry…”

“Never mind. I’m going to make some calls. I’ll be back soon, I hope.”

Time passed and Robert did not reappear. Martin put his head on the table and dozed. When he woke again Julia was sitting at the table reading yesterday’s Telegraph. She had washed the dishes.

“Robert sent me,” she told him.

“Time is it?” Martin asked.

“Four-ish,” said Julia. “Can I do anything? Tea?”

“Yes, please,” said Martin. Julia had brought the bag of frozen peas. Martin gratefully held it against his face. She got up and began to make tea.

Julia said, “Robert’s here.” Martin sat up and ran his hands over his hair so that it stood straight up and made him look surprised.

“Martin,” Robert said, “I’ve brought Sebastian.”

Robert’s friend Sebastian Morrow, the funeral director, stood in the kitchen doorway. Martin had always found Sebastian to be rather aloof; now he looked uncertain and reluctant, though resplendent in a beautiful deep-blue suit; his shoes gleamed and he held an ominous leather satchel.

“But I need a dentist,” said Martin, “not an undertaker. Yet.”

Robert said, “Before he became an undertaker Sebastian did the undergraduate course in dentistry at Barts.”

Julia rose from her seat and stood near the back door with her arms folded across her chest. Only Robert would bring an undertaker to pull a tooth.

Martin said, “Why didn’t you carry on with dentistry?”

Sebastian said, “Dead people don’t bite.” He lifted the satchel and asked, “May I?”

“Please,” said Martin.

Robert spread a clean towel on the table, and Sebastian laid out his instruments: a syringe for the novocaine, a bottle of alcohol, wads of cotton and gauze. Robert took a cup and a bowl from the cupboard, and Sebastian put on an immaculate white coverall. He washed his hands and pulled on latex gloves.

As long as he’d been waiting for Robert to come, Martin had devoutly wished for an end to his agony. But now, watching Sebastian prepare, Martin began to feel unendurably anxious. “Wait!” he said, grasping Sebastian’s wrist. “I have to-do something first.”

“Martin,” said Robert, “we can’t wait hours for you to-”

“Here, Martin,” said Julia, suddenly at his side, “I’ll do it for you, okay? You stay here and just tell me what to do, yeah?” She leaned over and put her ear next to Martin’s mouth, expectantly.

Martin hesitated. Is it all right if she does it instead of me? He tried to consult the inner feeling that arbitrated these things. It was mute. At last he whispered to Julia, and she nodded. “Out loud?” Julia asked.

“No, but stand where I can see you.”

Sebastian said, “Let’s try to make you comfortable.” He and Robert rearranged Martin so he was leaning back in his chair with his head supported by telephone directories and towels on the table. Julia stood over him with a torch, shining it down at his face. She began to count, moving her lips silently. Martin fixed his eyes on Julia’s lips and prayed.

“Open, please,” said Sebastian. “Oh dear.”

Martin held Julia’s hand tightly while he waited for the novocaine to work; her other hand shook and the torchlight wavered across his face. Martin had a blessed sensation of pain being lifted away from him. “Steady, please,” Sebastian said. “I’ve almost got it.” The next few minutes were rather bloody. Martin closed his eyes. There was a dull crack, and then some probing. “That’s it, then,” Sebastian said, sounding surprised. Martin smelled clove oil and alcohol. Sebastian packed cotton into the empty gum space. “Bite down, please, gently.” Martin opened his eyes.

“All done,” said Sebastian, beaming. Martin sat up. The tooth lay in the bowl, brownish-grey and bloody-rooted and very much smaller than he’d imagined it. Julia was still counting and Martin put up his hand to tell her she could stop. “Eight hundred and twenty-two,” she said.

“Is that all?” Martin tried to ask her, but his face was numb and she didn’t understand him. The pain was gone, leaving a vacancy where there would be different pain when the anaesthetic wore off. “You’re a genius,” he mumbled to Sebastian.

“Not at all,” Sebastian said, but he looked relieved. “Anyone can extract a tooth. I’m glad it came out in one piece though, it looks awfully fragile.”

“If we’d had proper facilities, could it have been saved?” Robert asked.

“No…but we would have known that before taking it out, instead of afterwards.” Sebastian began to wash up. Julia helped him. He packed his satchel and shook hands with Martin, who tried to pay him for his services. “Certainly not, glad to help. You mustn’t smoke for a couple of days, and keep ice on it, please. I have to run now-I was in the middle of something when Robert rang me.”

Robert saw Sebastian out. When he returned Martin said, “What was he doing when you called him?” Martin imagined Sebastian leaning over an inert form on a steel table, wielding those shiny instruments…

“He was having tea at the Wolseley with a very lovely woman. She’s been waiting in my flat while Sebastian worked on your tooth. That’s one of the reasons it took me so long to bring him. That, and we had a hard time acquiring the novocaine. Which reminds me, we need to somehow get you antibiotics.”

Martin put his fingers to his cheek. “Thank you. Thank you, both. All three of you.” He looked up at Robert. “Must send him a bottle of Scotch. And one for you too.” Martin smiled lopsidedly at Julia. “You too?”

She smiled back. “No, thanks. It tastes like medicine.”

Martin said, “That reminds me, Nurse; I should take my vitamins.”

Julia looked embarrassed. “It’s not time yet.”

“I know, but I’m tired and I’m going to bed early. So be a darling…”

“Okay,” Julia said. She went off to get the pills.

Robert said, “What was that about?”

“Oh,” said Martin, “she’s been feeding me Anafranil. She’s pretending it’s vitamins, and I’m pretending I believe her.”

Robert laughed. “In my next life I’m coming back as a pretty girl. That’s so typical-you wouldn’t do it for Marijke, you wouldn’t even listen to me banging on about it, but for Julia you’re a model patient.” Robert filled the electric kettle and flicked the switch. “Can you eat something?”

“I suppose I ought to.” Martin watched Robert setting out the tea things. “Really, though, I am taking it for Marijke.”

“Are you? Have you told her?”

“Not yet. I thought I might surprise her one of these days.” Martin touched his cheek again; he could feel it swelling. He stood up slowly and retrieved the bag of peas from the freezer. Robert took the bag from him and wrapped it in a tea towel. Martin held it against his cheek, thinking of Marijke. He wanted to call her and tell her everything was all right, but he didn’t want Robert listening. Martin frowned and said, “Did Sebastian say I’m not to smoke?”

Julia came into the kitchen and looked at Robert. Are you still here? Robert said, “You can’t smoke or use a drinking straw because the extraction has to scab over and sucking might dislodge the scab.”

Martin said, “Oh,” so dismally that Robert and Julia both laughed. Robert said, “What’s Valentina up to?” and Julia mimed a hand writing on invisible paper. “Really?” said Robert. “Do you think she’d mind if I popped in?”

“I don’t know,” said Julia. “I don’t think she wanted me around. But go ahead. I’ll make the tea.”

Robert said to Martin, “Just call if you need anything.”

Martin said, “I’m fine now. Thank you again; that was…miraculous.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” Robert said, and went off feeling pleased with himself.

Julia made tea and then poked around in the cabinets and refrigerator for possible dinner ingredients. She held up a tin of chicken noodle soup, and Martin said, “Yes, please.” His stomach growled. He said, “Your sister likes to write?”

Julia hesitated. Elspeth had told them not to tell anyone, and they hadn’t. She had been tempted to tell Martin, but something always held her back; she was afraid he would think her a liar. “Yeah,” she replied. “Just, you know, email, not real writing.” She gave Martin a mug of tea and opened the tin of soup. Martin put the frozen peas on the table and wrapped his hands around the mug, waiting for the tea to cool. The novocaine was wearing off. He hated the rubber-lips sensation it gave, but the in-between pain/not pain was worrying too.

Julia heated the soup, microwaved a potato, set the table, moving quietly around Martin’s kitchen, thinking now about Robert and Valentina downstairs with Elspeth; now remembering Sebastian’s slim gloved hands gripping the forceps to pull the tooth; and now the panicked expression on Martin’s face as he opened his mouth at Sebastian’s request, and the way the panic had subsided as Martin kept his eyes on her lips as she counted for him. Numbers…Why numbers? What’s comforting about counting? She turned to look at Martin. He was sitting slumped with his head tilted, staring off into nothing. He looks sad. Or maybe that’s just how he looks when he isn’t doing something else with his face.

Julia served Martin and herself. There was no point in worrying over whether Valentina expected to eat dinner with her; Robert was there. Martin ate carefully, trying not to bite himself. After the meal Julia counted out his pills and he swallowed them and smiled his half-smile at her. “Thank you, Nurse.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, and began to clear the table. When she glanced at him a moment later he had lapsed back into his sad expression. “What’s wrong, Martin?”

“Oh-I know it’s silly, but I’m worrying because I can’t smoke. I know I ought to quit, but this doesn’t seem to be the right moment-that is, I’m always quitting, but I wasn’t planning to quit today.”

Julia smiled. “When our dad had his wisdom teeth out he couldn’t smoke so Mom smoked for him.”

“I fail to see how-”

Julia snapped her fingers. “Where are your cigarettes?”

“In the bedroom.”

She came back with the blue packet and the lighter, pulled her chair very close to Martin’s and lit a cigarette. “Okay, now, like this-” Julia took a drag, taking care not to inhale. Martin opened his mouth and she blew the smoke into it. “Yeah?” she said. Martin nodded and smoke came out of his nose. “Yeah.”

Julia put her hand on Martin’s shoulder. They leaned into each other. She turned her head and put her lips to the cigarette; the tip glowed. Martin’s eyes were half-closed, his mouth half-open. Julia tilted her face, and when she was inches away she blew the smoke very slowly; the sound Martin made as he inhaled reminded her of Valentina’s long asthmatic gasps. He exhaled, then chuckled.

“What?” she said.

“I’m awfully useless, aren’t I? Can’t even smoke for myself.”

“Don’t be silly,” Julia said. She touched his jaw. “Chipmunk cheek.” Martin raised his eyebrows. She took another drag on the cigarette. He leaned towards her eagerly.

When Robert went downstairs he found the door to the twins’ flat ajar. He knocked and went in. There was a window open somewhere in the flat and a cool damp breeze had found its way into the hall. Valentina was sitting on the sofa in the front room, surrounded by pieces of paper. The Ouija board and the plastic planchette were on the coffee table. The evening light made everything golden: all the faded rose and pink velvet brightened, Valentina’s pale green dress spread around her like a lily pad and her hair, electrified, encircled her face; everything merged in the golden light so that it seemed to Robert like a painting, one continuous surface. Valentina was sitting at the far end of the sofa with one foot tucked under her. She was facing the other end of the sofa as though someone were sitting there with her. Robert stood in the doorway and tried, wished and hoped to see this other. But he could not.

Valentina turned to him. He hadn’t noticed before how tired she looked; her eyes were bloodshot and had dark smudges underneath.

“Can you see her?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “Tell me…how does she look?”

Valentina smiled. “She changed when you came in…” Valentina shook her head slightly. “Why shouldn’t I say that? Anyway, she’s wearing a blue silk dress. It’s tight at the waist and has an A-line skirt; her hair is short, there’s just a little curl to it, it makes her eyes look huge; she’s incredibly pale, except her hands and the edges of her ears…She’s wearing dark lipstick…What else should I tell him?” “Can you hear her?”

“No, she’s pointing to things…”

Robert sank down until he was sitting on the floor at the edge of the scattered papers. He leaned his elbows on the coffee table. From this vantage point he thought he saw a disturbance in the air where Elspeth should be: perhaps it was like looking through perfectly clear glass; perhaps it was like trying to see music. He shook his head. “I want to, but I can’t.”

The planchette began to move. Valentina wrote down the message. MAYBE SOON.

“Yes,” said Robert. He was relieved to be back in Elspeth’s good graces. He glanced at the papers on the floor. “What have you been talking about?”

“Family stuff,” said Valentina. “Elspeth was telling me about when she and Mom were little, growing up in the house on Pilgrim’s Lane.”

“Didn’t your mother tell you all that?”

“Not much. Mom told us a lot of stories about Cheltenham. You know, like, all the weird social hierarchies and boring school uniforms. Julia always says they should have gone to Hogwarts instead.”

WE LIKED IT BETTER THAN HOME

“Why, Elspeth?” said Valentina. But Elspeth didn’t elaborate. Valentina watched her watching Robert. Elspeth had leaned back slightly so that she and Robert seemed to be gazing into each other’s eyes. Then Robert turned to Valentina and said, “Your grandparents were awfully strict. Apparently boarding school was a relief; Elspeth used to talk about the school plays, and they liked to play pranks on the other pupils-you know, twin sorts of pranks.”

Valentina asked Elspeth, “Did you and Mom dress the same?”

AT SCHOOL EVERYONE DRESSED THE SAME. OTHERWISE NO ONLY WHEN WE WERE TINY. Valentina found it disconcerting that Elspeth was so wholly focused on Robert; since he had come into the room Elspeth had hardly taken her eyes off him. She’s so used to being invisible, she forgets I can see her.

All afternoon, and for several days running now, whenever Julia was elsewhere Valentina and Elspeth had been sitting together, conversing in halting questions and answers. It amazed Valentina how different Elspeth’s stories were from what their mom had told them. In Elspeth’s childhood, events tended to take dark turnings: a picnic by a lake ended with the drowning of a schoolmate; she and Edie tried to befriend a boy from next door who was later sent to an insane asylum. In every story Elspeth and Edie were a team; there was no hint of discord, no foreshadowing of any rift; they were together always, cleverer and faster than their many adversaries. The stories made Valentina long for Julia-not the Julia of now, bossy and stifling, but the Julia of childhood, Valentina’s protector and second self. The suspense of each story was heightened by the laborious movements of the planchette. Out of necessity Elspeth’s stories were marvels of compression. They reminded Valentina of the blue-and-white plaques in Postman’s Park.

Robert picked up a few sheets of paper. “May I?” Valentina looked at Elspeth, who shrugged. YOUVE HEARD IT BEFORE, the planchette spelled.

Valentina had added some punctuation. WE WERE NINE. ONE DAY WALKING HOME WE SAW A SIGN THAT SAID “PUPPIES FOR SALE” IN FRONT OF A SHOP. VERY EXCITED, WE WENT IN AND SPOKE TO THE OLD MAN AT THE COUNTER. HE WAS A TOBACCONIST. HE BROUGHT US THROUGH THE SHOP TO A SHED IN THE YARD. THERE WERE BEAGLE PUPPIES. WE PLAYED WITH THE PUPPIES FOR A LONG TIME. THEN WE WANTED TO LEAVE AND WE FOUND HE HAD LOCKED US IN THE SHED. The page ended there. Robert remembered Elspeth telling him, years ago; they had been walking in Pond Street, where the tobacconist’s shop had been. Valentina found the next page and handed it to him. WE SHOUTED BUT NO ONE CAME. THE MOTHER DOG WAS BARKING WITH US. IT GOT DARK. THE MAN UNLOCKED THE DOOR. WE RUSHED AT HIM KNOCKED HIM OFF HIS FEET AND RAN HOME.

Valentina thought, It’s like a fairy tale. How much is true? She had been enjoying herself, but now she felt apprehensive.

Elspeth remembered the cold, ugly shed, the anxiety of the puppies when she and Edie had yelled; she looked at Valentina and thought, Why am I telling her this? She’s tired and I’ve confused her. Elspeth spelled TELL US A STORY V and smiled as kindly as she could.

“Me?” Valentina’s mind went blank. I’m so tired. She wanted Robert to go away so she and Elspeth could resume their confidences. Or, she wanted to go downstairs with Robert, be kissed and hide from Elspeth. Or I could just run away and leave them to each other.

“What’s Julia doing?” she asked Robert.

“Nursing Martin, I imagine,” he said, and told them about Martin’s toothache and Sebastian’s valiant dentistry. Valentina felt a twinge of jealousy; Julia was fussing over someone else. Then she thought, No, I don’t mind. Really. She leaned sideways, her shoulder against the sofa back and her head drooping. Robert said, “Have you eaten anything?”

“No.” She remembered having breakfast, but that seemed long ago. “We haven’t been shopping.” She looked up at him. Her eyes seemed enormous, her face pinched.

Robert said, “You look a bit peckish.” Starved, more like. How long have you been sitting here? He stood up. “Elspeth, I think Valentina needs some dinner.” He held out his hands. Valentina took them and he pulled her up. She felt dizzy.

Elspeth watched them go. At the door Valentina turned and said, “I’ll be right back, Elspeth. I just have to eat something.” The door shut behind them.

Elspeth left the sofa and went to the open window. She waited. In a little while Robert and Valentina walked up the path, disappeared through the gate. I ought to know better, Elspeth told herself. She’s so accustomed to being looked after. The light was going. I ought to be happy for them. Elspeth watched the sky deepen. The streetlights went on.It was a lovely day, though. Almost like old times.

It was quite dark when Julia came in. She went through the flat flipping light switches, calling “Mouse?” When she got to the front room she turned on the floor lamp by the piano and closed the window. She gathered up the papers and riffled through them, stopping to read. Elspeth watched her, feeling pensive. Funny having one’s conversation all written out this way. It’s as though anyone can overhear, like having my phone tapped. But why not? Why tell Valentina and not Julia? Mustn’t play favourites.

Julia looked up as though she had sensed Elspeth’s scrutiny. “Elspeth? Where’s Valentina?”

Elspeth leaned over the Ouija board. DINNER WITH R, she spelled.

“Oh.” Julia sat down on the sofa, forlorn.

HOWS MARTINS TOOTH

Julia brightened. “He’s much better. He wanted to go to bed, so I came downstairs.”

YOU TAKE GOOD CARE OF EVERYONE

“I try.” Julia shook her head. “I think Valentina hates me for it.”

GRATITUDE IS TEDIOUS

“I don’t think there’s any danger of her being grateful. It’s just how it is; she gets sick, I take care of her.”

IF YOU LET HER GO SHE WILL LOVE YOU BETTER

“I know. I can’t.”

Elspeth was startled to see tears brimming in Julia’s eyes. They sat together in motionless silence. After a few minutes Julia left the room. Elspeth could hear her blowing her nose. When Julia came back she said, “Why does it say ‘head trauma’ on this page?” She turned over the papers so Elspeth could see them.

SHE ASKED HOW OUR FATHER DIED

“Oh. We never met him, did we?”

NO ONLY YOUR GRANDMOTHER

“But we don’t remember her.”

SHE DIED WHEN YOU WERE SMALL

“What were they like? Mom never talks about them.”

HE WAS DIFFICULT SHE WAS MEEK

Julia hesitated. She drew a few spirals on the paper while she considered her next question. Elspeth watched her and thought, That’s amazing; is there a gene for spiral doodling?

“Elspeth? What happened to you and Mom?”

SECRET

“Oh, come on, Elspeth-”

SORRY CANT GOODNIGHT

“Elspeth-?”

But Elspeth had gone. Julia shrugged and went to bed, feeling frustrated but excited. By the time Valentina came home Julia was asleep, dreaming about numbers and teeth.

Martin lay in bed with the phone pressed against his nonswollen cheek, listening to the ring tone in the dark. Marijke picked up on the seventh ring and he felt gratified.

“Martin?”

“Hello, my love. Shall I tell you my toothy tale?”

“I’ve been so worried. You sound as though you’ve got a mouthful of chewing gum.”

“No, but I think my cheek has octupled in size. You’ll never guess who Robert brought to extract my tooth…”

Marijke leaned back in her own bed and listened. He must have been so frightened; I should have been there. Fancy Robert knowing an undertaker dentist… Each of them warmed to the sound of the other’s voice. They lay in the dark together, in distant cities, each of them thinking, We were lucky this time. And they pressed their phones closer to their ears, and both of them wondered how much longer this separation could go on.

Strays

THERE ARE several ways to react to being lost. One is to panic: this was usually Valentina’s first impulse. Another is to abandon yourself to lostness, to allow the fact that you’ve misplaced yourself to change the way you experience the world. Julia loved this feeling, and she began to court it. London was the perfect place to get lost. The curving streets changed their names every few blocks, converged and diverged, dead-ended into mews and suddenly opened into squares. Julia began to play a game that entailed travelling on the tube and randomly popping out at stations with interesting names: Tooting Broadway, Ruislip Gardens, Pudding Mill Lane. Usually the aboveground reality disappointed her. The names on the tube map evoked a Mother Goose cityscape, cosy and diminutive. The actual places tended to be grim: takeaway fried-chicken shops, off-licences and Ladbrokes crowded out whimsy.

Julia’s mental map of London began to fill up with oddities: the cattle and elephants of the Albert Memorial; the shop in Bloomsbury that sold only swords and canes; the restaurant in the crypt of St. Mary-le-Bow Church. She went to the Hunterian Museum and spent an afternoon looking at clouded jars full of organs, a display on antiseptics and the skeleton of a dodo.

She came home each day filled with London sights, scraps of conversation, ideas for the next day’s adventures. When she let herself into the flat she invariably found Valentina sitting on the sofa amidst drifts of paper, intently watching the planchette moving across the Ouija board. Julia would tell Valentina and Elspeth about her day. Valentina would share some of Elspeth’s stories. They were each pleasantly surprised to find that spending the day apart gave them things to talk about over dinner, though Robert often appeared and whisked Valentina off just when Julia hoped for a whole evening of her company.

Every morning Julia pleaded with Valentina to come out with her. Valentina would almost let herself be persuaded, but then find an excuse to stay in. “You go ahead,” Valentina would say. “I’m not really sick. I’m just tired.” And she did look tired. Each day a little vitality seemed to leave her. “You need some sunlight, Mouse,” Julia told her more than once. “Tomorrow,” Valentina always replied.

Martin stood at his front door. He reached out and put his gloved hand on the doorknob. His heart was pounding and he stood immobile, trying to calm himself. You’ve been in the hall countless times. It’s safe there. Nothing painful has ever happened in the hallway. No one is there, nothing at all except some old newspapers. He breathed deeply, exhaled slowly and pulled the door open.

It was late afternoon and sunlight filled the stairway. Radiant dust motes floated in the still air. Martin squinted. See, it’s quite benign. He considered the door sill, the newspapers, the floor. He imagined himself stepping forward, planting his feet on the carpet, standing outside his flat for the first time in more than a year.

Go ahead. It’s only a landing. Robert and Julia stand here all the time. Marijke was here. Marijke wants you to leave the flat. You’re a rational being; you know it’s safe. If you can leave the flat you can see Marijke. Martin thought of himself as a boy, standing for the first time on the high diving board, terrified. The other boys in the class had jeered when he turned and climbed down the ladder. No one is here. No one will know if you can’t do it. But if you do it you can tell Julia. He tried to picture Julia’s face, but instead remembered her lips, counting as his tooth was extracted.

He was sweating, and he took out his handkerchief and blotted his forehead. Just step over the sill. It was becoming difficult to breathe. Martin closed his eyes. This is simply idiotic. He began to tremble. He stepped backwards and closed the door, gasping.

Tomorrow. I’ll try again tomorrow.

Nine Lives

VALENTINA AND ELSPETH were playing a game with the Little Kitten of Death. It went like this: Valentina sat on the floor in the hall, near the front door of the flat. She had a bucket full of Ping-Pong balls she’d found in the pantry. (“Why, Elspeth?” she’d asked. Elspeth just shrugged.) Elspeth stood at the other end of the hall. The Kitten, as usual, had no clue that Elspeth was there, so when Valentina rolled a Ping-Pong ball across the floor the Kitten ran confidently after it, only to have Elspeth divert it at the last moment in an unexpected direction. Soon the Kitten was overexcited, pouncing madly at the little white balls that seemed to have their own ideas about where they might go, balls that might suddenly fly straight up in the air or simply reverse direction. Elspeth let the Kitten run right through her, enjoying the sensation of fur whisking through her phantom skin and bone. She lay down on the floor and let the balls roll through her, with the Kitten veering after them. Valentina saw her reach out with both hands as the Kitten approached, as though to grab her. Elspeth forgot that she was insubstantial. The Kitten ran through her hands; she felt something smooth and slippery hook around her little finger; she felt her hands fill up with something solid and she struggled with it as though she had caught a fish. The thing wriggled and tried to bite. Elspeth was holding the Kitten.

But at the same instant Valentina saw the Kitten drop to the floor and lie still. She came running. The Kitten was dead.

“Elspeth!” Valentina flung herself to the floor, seized the Kitten’s body. “What did you do? Put her back!”

Elspeth was still clutching the Kitten, who threw herself back and forth and clawed at Elspeth. Valentina couldn’t see the Kitten’s ghost, but she could see Elspeth grappling with something.

“Put her back! Now!”

Elspeth took the struggling Kitten and shoved her back into her limp body as best she could. It was like trying to put a live trout into a silk stocking: the Kitten Elspeth was holding was thrashing and terrified, and the Kitten Valentina was holding was inert and delicate. Elspeth was afraid she would injure the Kitten by trying to insert her back into her body. Then she realised that the Kitten was dead, and would continue to be dead if she was not firm about this. She decided to work on the head and let the rest follow. She felt as though she were using an old camera with a rangefinder, trying to align two images to make them one.

Elspeth motioned to Valentina to put the Kitten’s body on the floor. Elspeth found that the Kitten’s ghost was real in her hands; whatever the Kitten was made of, it was like Elspeth’s own ghostly self, it made sense to her in a physical way. The Kitten was the first thing Elspeth had touched since she’d died that seemed to exist with her, not in another realm. I’m so lonely, she thought as she tried to push the Kitten into her lifeless body. I wish I could keep her.

The Kitten stopped fighting and seemed to comprehend what Elspeth was trying to do. Elspeth made small pleating motions with her fingers, trying to seal the Kitten in; it reminded her of the way her mother pinched a piecrust all around the edges. Suddenly the Kitten’s ghost vanished. It absorbed itself into the body. The little white cat-body convulsed-the Kitten sat up, lurched sideways and then recovered herself. She looked around, like a child caught stealing a boiled sweet, and then began to lick herself all over.

Elspeth and Valentina sat on the floor, staring at the Kitten, and then at each other. Valentina left the room. She returned with the Ouija board and the planchette.

“What happened?” she asked Elspeth.

IT CAUGHT SHE CAME OUT

“What caught?”

HER SOUL

“Caught on what?”

Elspeth crooked her little finger like a lady drinking tea.

Valentina sat thinking. “Could you do it again?”

I WOULD RATHER NOT

“Yes, but if you wanted to, do you think you could do it on purpose?”

I HOPE NOT

“Yes, but Elspeth-”

Elspeth got up-or rather, she was suddenly walking out of the room without any intermediate motions of getting up. When Valentina followed her into the kitchen she vanished. The Kitten mewed loudly and bumped against Valentina’s leg.

“You don’t seem any the worse for wear. Do you want your dinner?” Valentina set out the dish, opened the can, plopped the food onto the dish and placed it in the usual spot on the floor. The Kitten waited for it as though she were a member of a cargo cult and began gobbling down the food with her usual enthusiasm. Valentina sat on the floor and watched her eat.

Elspeth stood in the middle of the kitchen, invisible, watching Valentina watch the Kitten.What are you thinking about, Valentina?

Valentina was thinking about miracles. The Kitten looked absolutely ordinary, eating her dinner: that was the miracle. You’d never know that ten minutes ago you were dead. You don’t seem like you even noticed. Did it hurt, Kitten? Was it hard to get back in your body? Were you scared?

She heard the front door open; Julia was home. “Mouse? Where are you?” Don’t tell Julia, thought Elspeth. She was ashamed of having killed the Kitten, even though it had been only temporary.

“Kitchen,” Valentina called out.

Julia came in bearing Sainsbury’s bags, which she slung onto the counter and began to unpack. “Wassup?” she asked.

“Not much. You?”

Julia launched into a long boring story about a woman in the checkout queue at the supermarket, a tiny old person who apparently subsisted entirely on fairy cakes and Lipton tea.

“Gross,” said Valentina, trying to remember what fairy cakes were.

“Cupcakes,” said Julia.

“Oh. Well, that’s not too terrible.” She got up off the floor and began to help put away the shopping. The twins worked in semi-amiable silence. The Kitten finished her dinner and wandered off. Elspeth stood in a corner, out of the twins’ way, with her arms folded across her chest, thinking. That was extraordinary. That was-a clue-to something…but what? She would have to think about it. Elspeth left the twins in the kitchen and found the Kitten settling down to nap in a pool of sunlight on the sofa. Elspeth curled up next to her and watched her eyelids droop, her breathing slow. It was a charming, ordinary sight, quite incongruous with Elspeth’s turbulent mood. Valentina came into the room and whispered, “Elspeth?” but Elspeth did not reply or make herself known. Valentina wandered off to peer into all the rooms as though they were playing hide-and-seek. Elspeth followed behind her, an invisible shadow.

Spring Fever

ROBERT SAT at his desk on a lovely May afternoon, trying to make himself write. He was working on the section of his thesis devoted to Mrs. Henry (Ellen) Wood, lady novelist. He found Mrs. Wood incredibly dull. He had ploughed his way through East Lynne, pored over the details of her life, and simply found himself unable to care about her at all.

When he was giving a tour, he always skipped Mrs. Wood. She would have fallen between George Wombwell and Adam Worth, not only alphabetically but geographically, and to Robert she seemed unworthy of their peculiar, almost dashing company. He sat gnawing his pen, trying to decide if he could omit her from the thesis. Perhaps not. He could try to make the most of her death, but that was also dull: she’d died of bronchitis. Damn the woman.

He was relieved when Valentina arrived to interrupt him. “Come outside,” she said. “It’s spring.”

Once they were outdoors their steps turned inevitably towards the cemetery. As they walked down Swains Lane they heard a lone tuba player practising scales in Waterlow Park. The notes had an elegiac quality. Swains Lane, being overshadowed by high walls on both sides, existed in a permanent dusk even as the sky above them was blue and cloudless. Valentina thought, We’re like a little two-person funeral procession. She was glad when they arrived at the cemetery’s gates and stood in the sunshine, waiting to be admitted.

Nigel opened the gate. “We weren’t expecting you today.”

Robert said, “No, but it’s such glorious weather, we thought we might go looking for wild-flowers.”

Jessica came out of the office and said, “If you’re going out, take some rakes. And no lollygagging, please.”

“Certainly not.” Robert equipped himself and Valentina with a walkie-talkie and two rakes as well as a large bag for litter, and they crossed the courtyard and went up into the cemetery. “Well,” said Robert, as they turned onto the Dickens Path, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put you to work.”

“That’s okay,” said Valentina. “I’m pretty useless most of the time. I don’t mind raking. Where do all these empty water bottles come from?”

“I think people must throw them over the wall,” said Robert.

They raked in companionable silence for some time, clearing the path and collecting an impressive bag of fast-food wrappers and coffee cups. Valentina liked raking. She had never done it before. She wondered what other kinds of work she might enjoy. Bagging groceries? Telemarketing? Who knows? Maybe I could try lots of different jobs for a week at a time. She was imagining herself checking coats at the British Museum when Robert beckoned her over to him.

“Look,” he whispered. She looked and saw two small foxes sleeping nose-to-tail on a pile of old leaves. Robert stood behind her and put his arm around her. Valentina tensed. He released her. They walked down the path to let the foxes sleep and went back to raking.

After some time Valentina said, “What’s lollygagging?”

“I think that’s an American word. Jessica and James picked up a certain amount of American slang during the war.”

“But what does it mean?”

“Oh. Well, it can mean being lazy, just fooling around. Or it can mean fooling around, in the other sense.”

Valentina blushed. “Did Jessica think-?”

“Ah-I’m sure we didn’t exactly look like two people who intended to spend the afternoon collecting garbage.” He peered into the bag. “I think we can stop now. Let’s have a walk-just leave the rakes here, we’ll come back for them.” He took her hand and led her towards the Meadow, an open, sun-dappled section full of well-tended graves.

Valentina said, “It’s nice to be out in the sun. I think it’s been grey every day since we arrived.”

“Surely not.”

“No-I guess it just feels that way. It’s like the greyness soaks into the buildings, or something.”

“Mmm.” Robert felt a bit depressed. You can’t make her love London. Or yourself, when it comes to that. They kept walking. A number of graves had flowers newly planted on them, each one a small dense garden.

“Valentina?” Robert said. “Tell me. Why is it, whenever I lay a hand on you, you seem to shrink away?”

“What do you mean?” she replied. “I don’t.”

“Not always. But you did, just then, when we saw the foxes.”

“I guess.” They left the Meadow and came back to the path. Valentina said, “It just seemed-weird. Disrespectful.”

“Because we’re in the cemetery?” asked Robert.

“I don’t know…when I’m dead I want people to make love on my grave on a regular basis. It will remind me of happier times.”

“But would you do it on someone else’s grave? Elspeth’s?”

“No-not unless I was with Elspeth. However that would work. Maybe if we were both dead,” he said.

“I wonder if dead people have sex.”

“Perhaps that would depend on whether you ended up in heaven or hell.”

Valentina laughed. “That still doesn’t answer my question.”

Robert pinched her bum and she shrieked. “All the boring Joy of Sex -type sex in hell and all the good naughty sex in heaven,” he offered.

“That seems upside down, somehow.”

“There’s your American Puritanism showing; why shouldn’t heaven consist of all the great pleasures? Eating, drinking, making love: if it’s all so wrong, why do we have to do it to stay alive and propagate the species? No, I think heaven will consist of nonstop bacchanalia. Down in hell they’ll be worrying about STDs and premature ejaculation. Anyway,” Robert continued with a sly sidewise look at Valentina’s cool profile, “if you don’t watch out you’ll have to go to a special, fenced-off area where they keep all the virgins.”

“In heaven or hell?”

He shook his head. “I’m really not sure. You ought not to chance it.”

“I’d better get busy.”

“I wish you would.” He halted in the path. They were near the little turning that led to the Rossettis. Valentina stopped a few feet away when she realised that Robert wasn’t walking with her. She held his gaze for a moment and then looked down in confusion.

“You don’t mean-here?” Valentina’s voice was hardly audible.

“No,” Robert said. “As you said earlier, that would be disrespectful. And I imagine Jessica would have me arrested if she ever found out. Lord, she doesn’t even like it when the visitors wear shorts.”

“I think she’d just fire you.”

“That would be worse. What on earth would I do with myself? I’d have to get a proper job.” He began to walk again, and she fell in beside him. “Valentina, do you like it when I talk to you that way?”

She said nothing.

“You invite it, and then you seem upset. I’m not…no one has dealt with me this way…at least not since I was in the sixth form. I guess the problem is the age difference.” He sighed. “Although most of the girls I knew then couldn’t wait to get shagged. It was a glorious era.”

Valentina shook her head. “It’s not about shagging.” She hesitated, both at the unfamiliar slang and at what she was trying to say. “It’s about Julia.”

Robert gave her a look of pure surprise. “What could this possibly have to do with Julia?”

Valentina said, “We’ve always done everything together, everything important…”

“But you’re constantly telling me how much you want to do things on your own.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just afraid.”

“Okay. That’s understandable.”

“No, it’s stupid,” said Valentina. “I wish I could leave her.”

“You’re not married to her. You can do what you like.”

“You don’t understand.”

“No, I don’t.” They walked on in silence and then Robert said, “Wait-I have to collect the rakes.” He ran back up the path, leaving Valentina standing in a patch of sun. It’s nice here, she thought. If I were Elspeth I’d rather be here than stuck in the flat. Robert reappeared, rakes and bag in hand. She watched him trotting toward her. Do I love him? I think so. Then why not…? But it was impossible. She sighed. I have to get away from Julia. Robert slowed as he came up to her. “Shall we have tea in the office?”

“Sure,” she said, and they walked back to the chapels together in mutual perplexity.

Julia wanted to frolic in the beautiful weather, but she didn’t feel like going out alone and Valentina had run off somewhere with Robert. So she took herself upstairs, determined to inflict her mood on Martin.

“Hello, my dear,” he said, when she appeared in his stuffy, darkened office. “Just give me a minute or two, I’m almost finished with this. Will you make us some tea?”

Julia marched into the kitchen and began making tea. Usually she enjoyed laying out the cups and saucers, boiling the water, all the soothing habitual motions that added up to tea, but today she had no patience. She piled everything onto the tray willy-nilly and brought it back to Martin’s office.

“Thank you, Julia. Let’s put it here on the desk, and pull up a chair for you. There, that’s cosy.”

She plopped onto the chair. “Don’t you ever get tired of sitting in the dark?”

“No,” he said pleasantly.

“Why do you have newspaper taped over the windows?”

“Our decorator recommended it.” Martin smiled.

“Yeah, right.”

Martin poured the tea. “You seem a bit put out, Miss Poole.”

“Oh-Valentina’s out somewhere with Robert.”

He handed her the teacup. “And why is that a problem?”

“Well, she’s dating him.”

Martin raised his eyebrows. “Is she? That’s interesting. He seems old for someone her age.”

Julia said, “If you weren’t married would you date me?”

Martin was so startled by the question that he didn’t answer.

Julia said, “I guess that’s a no, huh?”

“Julia-”

She put her teacup down, leaned over and kissed him. After she did this Martin sat quite still, deeply confused. “You shouldn’t do that,” he finally said. “I’m a married man.”

Julia got up and walked around one of Martin’s smaller piles of boxes. “Marijke’s in Amsterdam.”

“Nonetheless, I’m married to her.” He wiped his mouth with his handkerchief.

Julia circled the boxes again. “But she left you.”

Martin indicated the towers of boxes, the windows. “She didn’t like to live this way. And I don’t blame her.”

Julia nodded. She felt it wouldn’t be polite to agree too emphatically.

The words flew out of Martin’s mouth despite himself: “You’re very attractive, Julia.” She stood still and looked at him, dubious. “But I love Marijke, and no one else will do.”

Julia resumed circling. “What exactly-how does that feel?” Martin didn’t answer and she tried to clarify. “I’ve never been in love. With a boy.”

Martin stood up and ran his hands over his face. His eyes were tired and he had an urge to shave. It wasn’t a compulsion, just a feeling of untidiness and five o’clock shadow. He glanced at the computer; it was almost four. It was time, would have been time for him to shower if Marijke were coming home after work. He could wait a little while. Julia thought, He isn’t going to answer and felt relieved. Martin said, “It feels as though part of my self has detached and gone to Amsterdam, where it-she-is waiting for me. Do you know about phantom-limb syndrome?” Julia nodded. “There’s pain where she ought to be. It’s feeding the other pain, the thing that makes me wash and count and all that. So her absence is stopping me from going to find her. Do you see?”

“But wouldn’t you feel much better if you went and found her?”

“I’m sure I would. Yes. Of course, I would be very happy.” He looked anxious, as though Julia were about to propel him outdoors.

“So?”

“Julia, you don’t understand.”

“You didn’t answer my question. I asked you about being in love. You said what it was like when your wife went away.”

Martin sat down again. How young she is. When we were that young we invented the world, no one could tell us a thing. Julia stood with her hands clenched, as though she wanted to pound an answer out of him. “Being in love is…anxious,” he said. “Wanting to please, worrying that she will see me as I really am. But wanting to be known. That is…you’re naked, moaning in the dark, no dignity at all…I wanted her to see me and to love me even though she knew everything I am, and I knew her. Now she’s gone, and my knowledge is incomplete. So all day I imagine what she is doing, what she says and who she talks to, how she looks. I try to supply the missing hours, and it gets harder as they pile up, all the time she’s been gone. I have to imagine. I don’t know, really. I don’t know any more.” He sat with his head lowered into his chest, and his words became almost inaudible. Julia thought, He feels for his wife what I feel about Valentina. This frightened her. What she felt about Valentina was insane, broken, involuntary. Julia suddenly hated Marijke. Why did she leave him here, sitting in his chair with his shoulders shaking? She thought of her dad. Does he feel this way about Mom? She could not imagine her dad on his own. She walked over to where Martin sat, his eyes closed, head down. She stood behind him, leaned over him and put her arms around his shoulders, rested her cheek against the back of his head. Martin stiffened, then slowly crossed his arms and laid his hands over Julia’s. He thought of Theo, tried to remember the last time Theo had embraced him.

“Sorry,” Julia whispered.

“No, no,” Martin replied. Julia released him. Martin stood up, walked out of the office. Julia heard him blowing his nose several rooms away. He came back and did his odd sideways movement through the door, sat down in his chair again.

Julia smiled. “You left the room without doing that.”

“Did I? Oh dear.” Martin felt momentarily consternated, but the feeling faded. I should remedy that, he thought, but the underlying urge was not there.

Julia did a little shimmy, looked at him. “You seem better these days. Not as freaked out as usual.”

“Do I?”

“You do. I wouldn’t go so far as to say you seem normal, but you aren’t jumping up every ten seconds to wash something.”

“It must be the vitamins,” he said.

“You never know,” Julia replied. There was something in Martin’s voice that made her wonder.

“I’ve been working on standing on the landing,” he told her.

“Martin, that’s great! Will you show me?”

“Erm, I haven’t actually managed it yet. But I’ve been practising.”

“We’ll have to give you extra vitamins.”

“Yes, I think that might be a good idea.”

Julia sat down again. “So if you can go outside, will you go to Amsterdam?”

“Yes.”

“And then I won’t see you any more?”

“Then you can come to Amsterdam and visit us.” He began to tell her about Amsterdam. Julia listened and thought, It could happen. She was simultaneously excited and worried: if Martin got better, would he become boring?

She interrupted him. “Will you let me take the newspaper off your windows?”

Martin considered. No inner voice rose to forbid it, but he hesitated. “Perhaps just a few windows? Just-to try it.”

Julia jumped up and darted around the boxes that obstructed her access to the office windows. She began to rip down the newspaper and tape. Light flooded the room. Martin stood blinking, looking out at trees and sky. My goodness, it’s spring again. Julia coughed in the dust she had stirred up. When the coughing subsided she said, “Well?”

Martin nodded. “Very nice.”

“Can I do more?”

“More windows?” He wasn’t sure. “Let me adjust to-sunlight-first. Perhaps in a few days you can do some more.” Martin walked to within a few feet of the windows. “What glorious weather,” he said. His heart was pounding. The world seemed to press itself upon him. Julia said something but he did not hear.

“Martin?” Ohmigod. Julia grabbed him by the shoulders and propelled him towards his chair. He was covered in sweat; his breath was laboured. “Martin?” He held up one hand to forestall questions and sat down abruptly. A few minutes later he said, “It’s only a panic attack.” He continued to sit with his eyes closed and an inward expression on his face.

Julia said, “What can I do?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Sit with me.”

She sat and waited with him. Soon Martin sighed and said, “Well, that was exciting, wasn’t it?” He patted his face with a handkerchief.

“I’m sorry.” Nothing she did today was right.

“Please don’t be. Here, let’s move our chairs and sit in the sun.”

“But-?”

“It will be fine. We’ll stay away from the windows.” They moved their chairs.

Julia said, “I keep thinking I understand, but I don’t.”

“I don’t understand it myself, why should you?” Martin said. “That’s what madness is, isn’t it? All the wheels fly off the bus and things don’t make sense any more. Or rather, they do, but it’s not a kind of sense anyone else can understand.”

“But you were getting better,” she said, near tears.

“Oh, I’m much better. Trust me.” Martin stretched out his legs and let the sun cover him. Soon it will be summer. He thought of Amsterdam in summer, the narrow canal houses basking in their allotment of northern sun, Marijke tanned and agile, laughing at his Dutch accent; it was a long time ago, but summer was coming again. He reached out and offered Julia his hand. She took it, and they sat side by side in the light, looking out at the spring day from a safe distance.

Coming Apart at the Seams

VALENTINA HAD brought her sewing machine to London, but she hadn’t laid a finger on it since that first day when they’d arranged all their belongings in the flat. It sat in the guest room and reproached her whenever she happened to notice it. The sewing machine had started to feature in her dreams, needy and neglected, like a pet she’d forgotten to feed.

She stood in the guest bedroom, staring at the machine. If this is what I want to do, I ought to do it. She had researched fashion-design courses on the Internet; you needed a portfolio to be admitted. She had not spoken to Julia about college in weeks. I’ll apply, and if I get in, I’ll just go. Dad would pay for school. Julia can’t do a thing about it. Valentina took the cover off the machine. She brought in a chair from the dining room; she found her suitcase full of fabric and emptied it onto the bed. As she picked up each piece of fabric, unfolded and smoothed and refolded it, she thought of Edie. Julia had no patience for sewing and had never learned. Valentina untangled ribbon and sorted spools of thread. She found her box of bobbins and her good scissors. Now everything was neatly laid out on the bed and she stood wondering what to make with it.

There was a pair of half-finished blouses she’d begun before they left Chicago. She could work on those. No, she thought. I want to make something new. And not a pair; I’m going to make just one.

At home she had a dressmaker’s dummy, but it was too cumbersome to bring to London. She got out her measuring tape and took her own measurements. How weird. I’ve lost weight. She sorted the fabric into piles: yes, no, maybe. In the maybe pile was a swathe of black velvet. She had bought it in eighth grade, during a brief flirtation with Goth fashion; Julia hated to wear black, so the velvet had stayed unused in Valentina’s collection of yardage. She unfurled it. Four yards? That’s enough for a dress.

She was sketching the dress when Elspeth appeared. “Oh, hi,” Valentina said. You’d think she’d notice the door was closed and I want to be alone.

Elspeth mimed writing and Valentina opened the sketchbook to a fresh page. ARE YOU GOING TO MAKE SOMETHING?

“Yeah.” Valentina showed her the sketch. “It’s a minidress with a built-in shroud.”

YOU’RE SPENDING TOO MUCH TIME WITH ROBERT.

Valentina shrugged.

MAY I WATCH?

“Whatever.” Valentina rubbed her hands to warm them and went back to her drawing. Elspeth curled up on the bed and vanished.

Hours went by. Valentina was trying to make a pattern and feeling frustrated. Pattern-making was one of the things she wanted to learn in college. She sat on the floor with the paper in front of her, knowing it was wrong but unable to correct it. I’m so stupid. Maybe I should take one of Elspeth’s dresses apart, to see what I’m missing. She heard Julia’s footsteps in the hall. “Mouse?” Valentina sat barely breathing. “Mouse?” The door opened.

“Oh, there you are. Oh, cool. What are you making?” Julia had been outside all day, roaming Hackney. She was drenched. Valentina became aware that it had been raining; she hadn’t noticed.

“Why didn’t you take an umbrella?” Valentina asked.

“I did. It’s really coming down out there, I got wet anyway.” Julia disappeared and came back wearing pyjamas with a towel around her head. “What are you gonna make?”

“This.” Valentina handed over the sketch reluctantly.

Julia looked at it carefully. “Out of that black stuff?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that’s-different.”

Valentina didn’t reply. She held out her hand and Julia gave her back the sketchbook.

Julia said, “Where are we even going to wear that? It looks like a Halloween costume for Lolita.”

Valentina said, “It’s an experiment.” “You don’t have enough fabric, anyway. Maybe we could find a fabric store. You could do it in pink. That would be cool.”

“I have enough fabric to make one dress. And it wouldn’t look right in pink.” Valentina pretended to correct the pattern. She wouldn’t look at Julia.

“What’s the point of making one dress?”

“It’s for my portfolio,” Valentina said quietly.

“What portfolio?”

“For school. Design school.”

“But you’re not going to school. We agreed, you’re not.” Julia circled around the pattern and crouched down, trying to see Valentina’s face. “I mean, what’s the point? We have money.”

Valentina said, “We haven’t agreed on anything. You just keep trying to, you know, ram stuff down my throat.” She began to roll up the pattern, to put away her pencils and sketchbook.

“But you keep doing things without me. I hardly ever see you any more, you won’t go anywhere with me and you’re out every night with Robert. You spend all day talking to Elspeth. It’s like you hate me.”

Valentina finally looked at Julia. “I do. I do hate you.”

“No,” said Julia. “You can’t.”

“You’re, like, my jailer.” Valentina stood up. Julia remained kneeling on the floor. “Just let go of me, Julia. At the end of the year, we’ll ask Mr. Roche to split the estate. You can keep living here if you want to. I’ll just take some money, I won’t even take very much, just enough to live…You can do whatever you want. I’ll go to school, I’ll work, or whatever, I don’t even care. I just want to do something, have a life, grow up.”

“But you can’t,” Julia said. She stood up, the towel awkwardly unwrapping itself from her head as she did so. She tossed it onto the floor. She looked pathetically young, with her hair matted to her head, her baby-blue pyjamas. “Valentina, you can’t even take care of yourself! I mean, the first time you get really sick and I’m not there to take care of you, you’ll just die.”

“Fine,” Valentina said. “I’d rather be dead than spend my life with you.”

“Fine,” replied Julia. She walked to the door and paused, trying to think of something else to say. Nothing came to her. “Whatever.” Julia went through the door and slammed it behind her.

Valentina stood staring at the door. What now? She suddenly realised that Elspeth had reappeared and was still sitting on the bed, regarding her with a shocked expression. “Go away,” Valentina said to her. “Please just leave me alone.” Elspeth got up obediently and floated through the closed door. Valentina continued to stand there, her mind racing. Finally she pulled the black velvet off the bed. She climbed into the midst of the pile of fabric and pulled the velvet over herself. I’ll disappear, she thought. She could hear the rain falling in torrents. Valentina cried for a long while. It was warm and safe under the velvet; as she began to fall asleep she thought, I know. I know what to do… and her plan was formed completely in that space between consciousness and dreaming.

A Proposition

THE NEXT morning Valentina watched Elspeth reading. Valentina had laid half a dozen old paperbacks creased open on the carpet in the front room. Elspeth read each page spread, then moved to the next and the next. She was mixing old favourites (Middlemarch, Emma, A Prayer for Owen Meany) with some ghost stories (The Turn of the Screw, plus bits of M. R. James and Poe) in hope of finding a few tips on haunting. The effect was slightly disconcerting. When she had read all the open pages she would go back to the first book and laboriously turn the page. Then she would proceed to the others, going along the rows until all the pages were turned. Valentina could see only some of Elspeth; her head, shoulders and arms were visible, but the jumper she was wearing vanished somewhere around the bottom of her rib cage. She was floating inverted above the books; if her whole body had been there she would have appeared to be dangling from the ceiling. If she had had any blood it would all have gone to her head. As it was, she looked perfectly comfortable.

“Do you want me to turn pages for you?”

Elspeth looked up, shook her head. She made a muscleman gesture, cocking one arm: I need the exercise.

Valentina was lying on the pink sofa with a tattered Penguin edition of The Woman in White. She found it difficult to concentrate on Count Fosco and Marian with Elspeth fluttering pages only a few feet away. She put the book down and sat up. “Where’s Julia?”

Elspeth pointed at the ceiling. Valentina said, “Ah,” got up and left the room. She returned with the Ouija board and planchette. Valentina put her finger to her lips. Elspeth looked at her quizzically. You needn’t tell me to be quiet. She moved to Valentina’s side.

Valentina said, “You know what happened with the Kitten?”

Elspeth turned away. I don’t want to talk about that. To Valentina she said nothing. Valentina persisted. “Could you do that with me? Take out my-soul-and put it back?”

No, Elspeth spelled.

“Couldn’t, or won’t?”

NO NO NO. She sat shaking her head. What a bloody daft idea was what she wanted to say. Instead she wrote, WHY.

“Because. Why do you have to know why?”

Elspeth wondered if this was what it would have been like to have a teenaged daughter: unreasonable demands, tendered with unthinking entitlement. She wrote, WHAT IF I CANT PUT YOU BACK.

“You could practise with the Kitten.”

RATHER HARD ON KITTEN

Valentina blushed. “But the Kitten was fine. And there’s no reason it wouldn’t work with me, so you wouldn’t have to do the Kitten again anyway.”

CELL DEATH BRAIN DAMAGE HOW DO WE KNOW KITTEN IS FINE

“Come on, Elspeth. At least think about it.”

Elspeth stared at Valentina. Then she wrote, FORGET IT, and vanished. Valentina sat thinking. A breeze ruffled the pages of the books lying open on the carpet. Valentina wondered if it was Elspeth or just wind. To annoy Elspeth she flipped all the books facedown. She had not expected Elspeth to agree. But she had introduced the idea, and she knew she would figure out how to get her way.

Julia was restless. She sat on the landing with her back against Martin’s front door, one leg thrust straight ahead of her and the other angled down the stairs. It was another rainy morning, and the light seemed to coat everything on the landing with extra dust. Julia could hear Martin grumbling to himself inside his flat. She wanted to go in and bother him, but she would wait a while yet. She changed her position so that both of her feet pressed against the piles of newspapers Martin kept on the landing. The piles were a bit unstable. Julia imagined them toppling over and burying her. She’d be smothered. Martin would never find her-he wouldn’t be able to open his front door. No, that’s not right. The door opens inward. Valentina would think she had run away; she would be sorry. I’ll be a ghost, then she’ll love me again. She’ll sit here all day with the Ouija board and we’ll have a great time. Robert would come up to look for them and be caught in an avalanche of newspaper; he would crack his head and die. Julia gave one of the piles a shove. It collapsed sideways, onto another pile of newspapers. This was not very satisfying.

I’m bored, Julia decided. It was no fun to be bored alone. Julia looked around, but found nothing worth looking at or thinking about. There was no point in going downstairs; Valentina wouldn’t talk to her.

Martin began to sing. Julia could tell that he enjoyed singing. It was not a song she knew. She thought it might be an advertising jingle. She kicked at the papers again but they did not fall over. Maybe I should get a job, she thought. I would still be bored, but at least I’d have a reason to leave the house. She smelled toast, and felt suddenly, inordinately sad. She gave a sharp kick and this time the newspapers obliged her by falling into a heap, covering her legs and stomach. It was somewhat like being at the beach, buried in sand, but the papers were less soft; they poked her with their corners. She sat there for a few minutes, trying to enjoy the experience. Nope, she thought. Pointless. Julia climbed out of the pile of news, stepped over it and opened the door. She followed Martin’s voice to the kitchen, where he sat preparing to eat-yes-toast.

The following morning Valentina and Elspeth sat at the Ouija board together. Elspeth had been doing some thinking.

I DONT UNDERSTAND, Elspeth spelled.

“I want to leave Julia,” Valentina said. Her idea had been growing on her until she thought of little else.

SO LEAVE HER

“She won’t let me.”

NONSENSE

“When you and Mom split up-”

WE HAD NO CHOICE

“Why not?”

Elspeth twirled the planchette aimlessly, then stopped.

“If Julia thinks I’m dead, she’ll let me go.”

JULIA WOULD BE CRUSHED IF YOU DIED EDIE AND JACK TOO

Valentina had not thought of her parents. She frowned, but said, “Look, Elspeth, it’ll be perfect. I’ll die, Julia will be forced to go on without me, she’ll get over it. And you’ll put me back in my body and I’ll live happily ever after, or, you know, I’ll at least be able to live my own life. I’ll be free.”

Elspeth sat with her fingers on the planchette, looking at Valentina. To Valentina her expression seemed irritated, then thoughtful. LETS CONSIDER THIS LOGISTICALLY, Elspeth spelled. YOU WILL BE OUT OF BODY FOR DAYS-THERE WILL BE A FUNERAL-BODY WILL BEGIN TO ROT-THEN BODY IS IN CEMETERY-WE ARE HERE-MAYBE-WHAT IF YOUR GHOST ENDS UP ELSEWHERE-HOW WOULD BODY AND SOUL GET BACK TOGETHER-BODY WILL BE HORRIBLE-IN SHORT YOU ARE INSANE

“We’ll get Robert to help us.”

HE WONT DO IT

“He will if you ask him to.”

Elspeth felt deeply agitated. Disaster, that’s what this is. The snake, the apple, the woman: it’s pure bloody temptation. It can only end badly. Tell her no. She can’t do it without you. If you refuse she’ll find a more sensible way to cope with Julia. No, no, no. Elspeth became aware that Valentina was sitting very patiently, like a good schoolgirl, waiting for her answer. Tell her absolutely not.

Elspeth put her fingers on the planchette. LET ME THINK ABOUT IT, she spelled.

Counting

VALENTINA SAT in the back garden drinking tea. It was a damp grey May morning, even earlier than she was wont to rise. The stone bench Valentina sat on was covered in lichen and the damp was getting through her dressing gown, an old quilted thing of Elspeth’s. She slid her feet out of their slippers and tucked her legs up so that her chin rested on her knees.

Elspeth sat in the window seat, watching her.

Valentina could hear magpies calling in the cemetery. Two of them settled on top of the wall and looked at her. They shifted from foot to foot. Valentina looked back at them, trying to remember the rhyme Edie had taught them:

One for sadness,

Two for joy,

Three for a wedding,

Four for a child,

Five for sickness,

Six for death.

Two for joy, she thought. That’s good. But even as she smiled to herself, three more magpies plopped down beside the first two, and a moment later they were joined by an especially large, shrieking magpie that landed in their midst and sent the others walking back and forth on the wall uneasily. Valentina looked away, then up at their window. Is that Julia? A dark form stood framed in the window against the darkness of the room, like a hole in reality. Valentina stood up and shielded her eyes with her hand, trying to see. Elspeth? No, there’s nothing there. It had been a disquieting thought, the dark thing in the dark…No, it’s nothing. Elspeth wouldn’t be so…strange.

Valentina drank the last swallow of tea, gathered up her cup and saucer and spoon, and went back into the house.

Test

THE LITTLE Kitten of Death was sleeping on Valentina’s pillow. It was afternoon, and sunlight slanted through the bedroom window, across the rug, up the side of the bed, not quite reaching the Kitten. She was almost white enough to blend into the pillowcase, like a drawing of a polar bear in a snowstorm, Elspeth thought. Elspeth stood in the sun, letting it pour through her, watching the Kitten sleep. I want you. Elspeth felt depressed. She had never thought of herself as someone who would kill a beautiful white kitten while it napped. But apparently she was that sort of person. Don’t you worry, Kitten. I’ll put you right back. Elspeth extended one hand tentatively towards the Kitten; she did not stir. She poked her fingers through the soft fur of the Kitten’s belly. How did I do it, before? She slid her fingers inside the Kitten, who made a mew of protest and turned but did not wake. Elspeth trawled unimpeded through hot blood, organs, bones, muscles. She was groping for that snick of immateriality; her fingers would recognise the Kitten’s soul because it was made of the same stuff as Elspeth herself. Does it have a permanent location in the body? Or does it migrate? Last time it felt as though I’d hooked it with my finger. It was slippery like an avocado stone popping out. The Kitten moaned and curled up tighter. Sorry, Kitten. Sorry. Elspeth moved her hand higher, into the lungs, and the Kitten woke up.

Elspeth snatched her hand back. She can’t see you. But the Kitten was uneasy; she arched her back, looked around warily. She padded to the edge of the bed and listened. The flat was quiet; Julia and Valentina were out. Elspeth could hear Robert hoovering his kitchen. The Kitten circled and settled at the foot of the bed, front paws crossed, chin resting on them, eyes slitted. Elspeth sat beside her and waited.

A few minutes later the Kitten closed her eyes. Elspeth watched her sides rise and fall. The tip of her tail twitched. Gently. Elspeth stroked her head; she liked that when Valentina did it. Now it only made her flick her ears in annoyance.

The Kitten went back to sleep. Elspeth raked her fingers through the little white body in a quick swiping motion, the way the Kitten might bat at a toy. Something caught-the Kitten’s body slumped into itself like a cake collapsing-and Elspeth was holding a furious clawing, biting Kitten.

If she scratches me, can I heal? Elspeth imagined her ghost skin in tatters, and threw the Kitten onto the bed. They stared at each other. The Kitten hissed loudly. Elspeth was startled. If I can hear her..? She said, “It’s okay, Kitten,” and held out her hand. The Kitten backed away, hissing. She turned, jumped off the side of the bed and disappeared. Elspeth flew over the bed just in time to see a white haze dissipating by the bedside table.

What now? How can I put her back now? Elspeth thought of Valentina and despaired. She curled up next to the Kitten’s limp body. Come back, Kitten. I was only practising…Oh dear. The Kitten looked quite dead. Her eyes were half-open and the third eyelids had slid across. She looked like a feline alien. Her small pink tongue protruded, her head hung over her paws at an uncomfortable angle. I’m sorry, Kitten. I’m so, so sorry.

Where could she be? Was she even in the flat? Perhaps the Kitten had gone to prowl the back garden, or to be a little white cloud stalking the cemetery for the ghosts of sparrows and tiny frogs. Perhaps she would become a ghost kitten that haunted the dustbins of South Grove. Elspeth stroked the Kitten. Even her fur seemed to have lost its liveliness. She pushed her fingers into the Kitten’s side and was startled at the change: there was life in there, but it was the life of the things that break down the body. The micro-organisms that consume every dead thing had already been unleashed inside the Kitten.

Elspeth pulled her hand out and sat up. This isn’t going to work, Valentina. Not the way you think it should. By the time the body got through a funeral, the rot would be well under way. You’d die of putrefaction. You’d die of your own deadness.

Elspeth let herself thin and spread out into the air. She was ashamed that she’d killed the Kitten for the sake of a stupid idea. I should have known better. Poor Kitten. Elspeth went and curled up in her drawer. She stayed there feeling awful and monstrous, berating herself and wondering what everyone would think of her cruelty. The answer was nothing at all, because no one except Valentina would have any clue what Elspeth had done.

The Funeral of the Little Kitten of Death

IT WAS JULIA who found the Kitten. It was her first death; her only thought was for Valentina; she wished that this might not be, that somehow the Kitten might wake up, that Valentina would never find out. But Valentina was only subdued. “Oh,” was all she said when Julia told her.

Julia found a hinged wooden box in the servant’s room. It had once held silverware but now had only empty spaces for utensils lined with pale green velvet. The silver had been a wedding present for Elspeth and Edie’s parents. It had vanished in a burglary in 1996. Julia wondered briefly why anyone would keep an empty box which had so completely lost its purpose. She carried it into the bedroom and placed it next to the Kitten’s body.

Valentina opened the box. “I don’t think she’ll fit,” she said.

“Maybe if she was more fork-shaped. Wait, I think this lifts out,” Julia said. The old glue gave way as Julia ripped the insert away from the box. This released a fierce mouldy smell. Valentina made a face and pulled her shirt over her nose.

“We’ll put catnip in with her. And wrap her in something pretty.” Julia went into the dressing room and came out holding a blue silk scarf that had been Elspeth’s. Valentina nodded. Julia spread it out on the bed. Valentina gathered up the Kitten and placed her on the scarf. She kissed the top of the Kitten’s head. The Kitten’s body felt a little stiff. Valentina wrapped the scarf over her and put her in the box. The Kitten seemed more dead in the box than she had laying on the bed; the lump under the silk was utterly still and pathetic. Valentina closed the lid.

The twins went downstairs and stood in front of Robert’s door, not speaking. Valentina held the box. When Robert opened the door, he said, “I’ve been thinking and I think we should bury her in the back garden.”

“Why?” said Julia. “There’s a whole cemetery on the other side of the wall. It’s silly to have a family crypt and not be able to put her in it.” The twins walked into Robert’s flat but then stood in his front hall as though about to leave again. He shut the door.

“There are some quite good reasons why that won’t be happening. First, you don’t have a proper coffin for aboveground interment, so that would get ugly. Next, animals aren’t permitted to be buried in Highgate Cemetery, it’s a consecrated Christian burial ground.”

“Not even Christian animals?” asked Julia.

“What if we got the right kind of coffin?” asked Valentina.

Robert said, “We’ll bury her next to the garden wall and have George carve her a little gravestone. She’ll be two feet away from the cemetery and you can visit her any time you want to.”

“Okay,” said Valentina. She felt numb. She needed to talk to Elspeth, but Elspeth was nowhere to be found.

The three of them went out into the back garden. Robert fetched a spade and some gloves. After consulting with Valentina he began to dig a hole. Though the box was not large, he dug down three feet. When the hole was finally big enough he had a new appreciation for the burial team at the cemetery; Thomas and Matthew could have dugthat grave in ten minutes, and here I am getting blisters and covered with sweat. He laid the box carefully at the bottom of the hole.

Julia said, “Shouldn’t we…say something?”

“A prayer, do you mean?” asked Robert. He glanced from Julia to Valentina.

Valentina said, “Goodbye…Kitten…” I love you. I’m sorry… She began to cry. Robert and Julia looked at each other, uncertain, each trying to allow the other to comfort her. Julia made a gesture with her hands: Go for it. Robert stepped towards Valentina, gathered her to him; she was sobbing now. Julia turned away. She walked to the house and up the fire escape. As she opened the door she looked down and saw Valentina clinging to Robert. Robert was watching Julia. He looks uncomfortable. Like somebody gave him a present he didn’t want but has to pretend he likes. Julia went into the flat and left them to it.

For two days everyone avoided one another. Elspeth stayed in her drawer reproaching herself; Robert put in some time at the cemetery with the burial records; Julia rose early and went out without saying where she was going; Valentina hung around the flat and tried to work on her shroud dress. She found it difficult to concentrate, and the logic of the pattern continued to elude her. Robert had helped the twins order a new television, which arrived the day after the Kitten’s funeral. Valentina abandoned the dress for Antiques Roadshow and a documentary about Islam. Martin had no clue that anything was amiss, and happily worked on his crosswords and practised standing on the landing. He could stand there for ten minutes now without incident; he was considering actually walking down the stairs.

Valentina was eating her dinner and watching EastEnders when Elspeth finally emerged. She sat a few feet away from the television, invisible to Valentina, trying to think what to say. The programme ended. Valentina turned the TV off and began to clear away her dishes. Elspeth followed her to the kitchen and then to the bedroom, agonising.

Valentina said, “Elspeth? I know you’re there.”

Elspeth touched her fingers to the back of Valentina’s hand. Valentina went into the front room and sat down at the Ouija board. “What happened, Elspeth?”

HORRIBLE MISTAKE I AM VERY SORRY

“I didn’t want you to really kill her, you know?”

I KNOW I TRIED TO PUT HER BACK SHE WOULDNT SHE RAN AWAY

“Is she here now?”

I CANT SEE HER

“If you see her, will you please let me know?”

IT MAY TAKE TIME FIRST SHE WILL BE LIKE A CLOUD

“Okay.”

I AM SORRY

“Me too. It’s my fault, Elspeth, I shouldn’t have suggested it.”

BEST LAID PLANS OF MICE AND MEN

“Yeah, I guess.” Valentina stood up. “Elspeth, I’m tired. I have to go to bed now.”

GOODNIGHT

“Goodnight.” Valentina left the room. Then Elspeth heard her brushing her teeth. So much for that, Elspeth thought. Perhaps it’s just as well.

The following morning Julia found Valentina in the back garden. She was sitting on the bench in the sun, staring at the little mound of earth over the Kitten’s grave.

“Um, hi,” said Julia.

“Hi.”

“I was thinking of going to Liberty. Do you want to come with?”

Valentina was about to say no when she remembered that Julia doesn’t really like Liberty; she must be going to please me. Valentina thought of the fabric remnants on Liberty’s third floor; she could spend a couple of hours mindlessly looking at fabric. It would make a change from TV. “Okay,” she said. “Sure.”

They didn’t speak much on the way there. Valentina was dressed entirely in black; the clothes were Elspeth’s. Julia, unable to match her, had settled for a pale pink hoodie and a short skirt with tights. Pink and black look good together, she thought. We’ll match without matching. They sat side by side as the Northern line growled along, each acutely aware of the other but unable to begin a conversation. When they arrived at Liberty, Valentina went upstairs and plunged into the fabric department. Julia followed and hung back, turning over in her mind what she might say to Valentina when Valentina was willing to talk.

At lunchtime they left the store and went to a Pret; they split a bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich and a bag of potato chips. Julia drank a Coke and Valentina had tea. As lunch stretched on in silence, Julia grew more anxious. Finally she said, “What would you like to do next?”

Valentina shrugged. “I don’t know. Go home, I guess.”

“Oh, come on,” Julia wheedled. “It’s such a nice day. Don’t go home yet.”

“Okay.” Valentina’s tone made it clear that she didn’t much care what she did.

“Let’s go for a walk.”

“Okay.”

Back on the street, Julia headed south. She could navigate without consulting the A-Z now, Valentina noticed. Soon they were strolling in St James’s Park. “Let’s watch the ducks,” Valentina said, so they sat on a bench and stared at the ducks for a while.

Julia said, “Why are you so mad at me?”

“You know.”

“No…I don’t get it. We’ve always been together, and we were happy. I mean, we didn’t even think about it, you know? That was just how it was. We wanted the same thing, and we were never going to be apart…remember?”

Valentina shook her head. “That was your thing. Your idea about how we were. We always did what you wanted. You never even noticed, but you got your way all the time. The things I wanted to do, somehow we never got around to doing. Like school. We could have stayed at Cornell, or U of I. We could be done with school now. We could have actual jobs. But you didn’t like it when I tried to do stuff without you, so you left and you dragged me along. You don’t want to do anything with your life, as far as I can tell, so I’m not allowed to have a life either. So what’s the point, Julia? You can’t hang on to me forever.”

“But we’re supposed to be together. I mean, look at Mom and Elspeth. They didn’t want to be apart. Something really huge happened and they had to separate, but they wouldn’t have unless they had to, and they were unhappy about it.”

Valentina said, “They could have gotten back together, but they didn’t. Robert and Elspeth came to America on vacation and they never even went to Chicago because Elspeth didn’t want to. Robert thinks Mom told Elspeth not to be in touch with us.”

“But the point is, they didn’t want to be apart.”

“Who cares about them?” said Valentina. “ I want to go to school. I want to have a boyfriend, I want to get married and have kids. I want to be a designer, I want to live in my own flat by myself, I want to eat a whole sandwich by myself. Not necessarily in that order,” she added.

“You can have all the sandwiches you want,” Julia replied. She meant it as a joke, but Valentina stood up and walked off abruptly. Julia called after her. When Valentina kept walking Julia followed her. Where is she going? Julia worried. She doesn’t have a map, she’ll be totally lost in ten seconds. Valentina left the park, hesitated, turned right and began walking along the Mall. Julia ran to catch up. She saw Valentina glance backwards, then hurry on. When Valentina came to Trafalgar Square she stopped to talk with a Big Issue vendor, who pointed and gestured and seemed to be writing something down for her. She’s trying to find the tube, Julia thought. She waited for Valentina to figure it out. I’ll catch up with her on the train. She won’t be able toget away then. Valentina looked around, did not see Julia, and walked off in the wrong direction. Why aren’t you going to Charing Cross? Julia trailed her along Cockspur Street and up Haymarket. She’s kind of invisible, wearing black. Julia closed some of the distance between them and luckily happened to see Valentina disappear into the Piccadilly Circus tube station. Julia ran after her. She saw Valentina slap her Oyster card on the barrier, pass through and run for the stairs. Julia followed; she took the escalator and got to the bottom before Valentina did. Valentina walked by Julia without a word. Julia walked a few steps behind her, distraught.

Valentina ducked into the platform for the westbound Piccadilly line. Where the hell is she going? Julia stood a couple of feet away and said, “Valentina. This is the wrong train. It’s going to Heathrow Airport.” Valentina ignored her. Is she going to the airport? She doesn’t have her passport. She doesn’t even have much money on her. A train came. Valentina got on. Julia got on after her.

Just as the doors were closing Valentina squeezed through them and jumped off the train. Julia saw her standing on the platform, watching the train slide away with an expression of satisfaction.

Robert came home from the cemetery shortly after six. He made himself a drink and went out into the back garden, intending to sit just inside the cemetery wall and relax. He found Julia sitting on the bench. She had been crying.

“What’s wrong?” he said, against his better judgement.

“Valentina’s lost,” Julia replied. She told him some of the events of the day.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Just because she gave you the slip doesn’t mean she’s lost.”

Julia looked away. “Then where is she?”

“I don’t know, but surely she’ll come home tonight.”

Julia looked doubtful, but she said, “Yeah. I guess.”

Robert offered her his glass. “Would you like some?”

“No, thanks.”

“Can I do anything, then?”

“No. But thanks.” Julia went up to her flat, leaving Robert worrying in the garden.

At eleven o’clock Julia came downstairs and knocked on Robert’s door. “Any word?” he said.

“No.” Julia continued to stand in the hall. “What should we do? Should we call the police?”

“I don’t know,” he replied. “I’m not sure-”

The phone rang. Robert hurried to it. “Hello?…Thank God, we’ve been worried…Where are you?…West Dulwich? How did you get there?…Never mind, let me get a map…I’ll come in a minicab, just wait for me at the entrance, okay?…No, it’s fine, just stay there. Yes, no worries. See you soon.” He hung up and turned to Julia. “She’s at a railway station in south London.”

“Can I come?”

Robert said, “It might be better if you didn’t.” He found his wallet and his keys; he stepped into the hall. “I’m sorry, Julia. She sounded-overwrought.”

Julia said, “That’s okay.” She turned and went upstairs. Robert set out for the minicab office.

The journey from Highgate to West Dulwich was a long one, and Robert had time to reflect. Perhaps I should call their parents. I’m not equipped to deal with their issues, Elspeth is no help. I could call Edie and Jack, ask them to come over…and do what, exactly? Take them in hand…I’m not their guardian…What they need is a referee…

When the cab eventually pulled up to the station, Robert got out and stood on the pavement. Valentina seemed to materialise from the shadows; Robert saw her disembodied head floating towards him, then he realised she was wearing black clothing. Neither of them spoke. She got into the cab and he slid in beside her.

There was very little traffic. The driver was talking in Hindi to someone on his mobile. They rode for several miles in awkward silence. As the cab crossed the Thames Robert said, “Are you all right?”

“I’ve made a decision,” Valentina said calmly. “But I’m going to need your help.”

Robert experienced a qualm. Later, he thought that he should have stopped the cab, sent her home without him; he should have abandoned her then, and run through the streets of south London until his heart failed. Instead he said, “Oh?”

Very quietly, so the driver would not hear, Valentina began to tell him about Elspeth’s resurrection of the Kitten. Robert listened with increasing impatience. “I don’t understand,” he said. “The Kitten is dead.”

“That was another day-Elspeth was practising. The Kitten didn’t like it and ran away, and Elspeth couldn’t put her back in her body.”

“Why on earth was Elspeth practising? Practising for what?” “That’s what I wanted to tell you. We had a plan…” As she explained the plan, in her soft American voice, almost whispering in the back of the minicab, Robert had a sensation of horror. He drew away from Valentina. “You’re mad,” he said.

She laid her small hand on his knee. “That’s what Elspeth said, at first. But then she thought about it, and she worked out how we could do it. You should talk to Elspeth.”

“Yes, I certainly am going to have a chat with her.” He removed her hand from his leg, then relented and held it. “Erm, Valentina. You shouldn’t-it might not be good to let Elspeth call the shots.”

“Why not?”

“She’s-clever. Her ideas have other ideas hiding inside them.”

“She’s been really nice to me.”

Robert shook his head. “Elspeth isn’t nice. Even when she was alive she wasn’t very-she was witty and beautiful and fantastically original in-certain ways, but now that she’s dead she seems to have lost some essential quality-compassion, or empathy, some human thing-I don’t think you should trust her, Valentina.”

“But you trust her.”

“Only because I’m a fool.”

They rode the rest of the way home in silence.

Robert offered Valentina his own bed to sleep in, because she wouldn’t go upstairs. He waited for her to fall asleep, then went up and knocked on the twins’ door. Julia opened it immediately.

“Come in,” she said. He stood in the front hall; he didn’t want to sit down and risk a long conversation.

“She’s in my flat, sleeping,” he said.

“Okay.”

“Julia,” he said, “has Valentina ever seemed-suicidal-to you?”

Julia said quickly, “She doesn’t mean it.”

Robert turned to go. “I think she might. Just-be careful.” He went downstairs. As he reached his own door he heard Julia closing hers.

He let himself in and went to the phone. It would be almost seven o’clock in Lake Forest. He imagined the Pooles eating dinner together, pleasantly unaware that their daughter was plotting her own death and resurrection. He had picked up the receiver and was about to dial when he realised he didn’t have the phone number. Could he ask Julia? Better not; he would get the number from Roche in the morning.

Robert sat up most of the night, watching football highlights and a programme on American folk music with the sound turned off. At some point he fell asleep in his chair. When he woke Valentina was gone. He went upstairs and found the twins eating breakfast together, seemingly at peace. Valentina made him a cup of coffee.

“What are you doing today?” he asked them.

“Not much,” said Valentina.

“Perhaps you could go to the supermarket.”

“We’ve got plenty of food,” said Julia.

“Or sightseeing.”

“You want to talk to Elspeth?” Valentina said.

“How did you guess?” he said sweetly.

Valentina looked abashed but said nothing. After breakfast Julia went upstairs to see Martin, and Valentina took her tea to the back garden. Robert stood in the dining room and said, “Elspeth. Come here.”

He felt her cold touch against his cheek. He sat at the table with the pencil poised over the paper and said, “Elspeth, what are you up to?”

ME?

“You and Valentina. She was telling me about this plan of yours.”

IT’S ACTUALLY HER PLAN.

“Valentina couldn’t plan her way out of a wet paper bag. Elspeth, you know quite well that it won’t work. For one thing, dead bodies are full of chemicals.”

ASK SEBASTIAN NOT TO EMBALM HER.

“No, I mean natural chemicals. There’s all sorts of nasty stuff released by various glands to break down the body. There’s gases, and bacteria-”

KEEP THE BODY COLD. ALMOST FREEZING.

“Elspeth, all of that is beside the point. There’s no need for any of this. In six months Valentina can take her half of the estate and walk away. If she doesn’t want to see Julia, she won’t have to.”

WHAT IF SHE KILLS HERSELF BEFORE THEN?

“She’s not going to kill herself.” He said this with more conviction than he felt.

HAVE YOU REALLY LOOKED AT HER LATELY? SHE’S FANATICAL.

“I’m going to call her parents. They can take her home.”

I SUGGESTED THAT TO V. SHE WON’T GO.

“Why not? Anyway, should she be making these decisions for herself? Edie and Jack can take her to hospital if need be; I don’t have that authority.”

NEITHER DO THEY.

“Elspeth, I’m not going to help you do this, and you can’t make it work without me.”

IF WE DO IT YOU’D HAVE TO HELP, OR SHE WOULD STAY DEAD.

Robert was struck silent by that. He put down the pencil, got up and began pacing around the dining-room table. Elspeth sat on the table and watched him orbit. You never change, she thought fondly. At last he sat down again. “What’s in it for you?” he asked her. “Are you jealous of her?”

No.

“Are you going to really kill her?”

I COULD DO THAT NOW WITHOUT ANY FUSS AND NO ONE WOULD KNOW.

“True.” Robert knew there was a question he should ask, the question that would lay bare the underlying contradiction inherent in the whole ridiculous plan, but he couldn’t think of it. “It’s just-wrong, Elspeth.”

PERHAPS. BUT SHE IS VERY DETERMINED.

“She’s not going to kill herself.”

BUT WHAT IF SHE DOES?

He shook his head. Her logic was circular. Surely he could stand outside the circle and see another solution? “Let’s not do this,” he begged Elspeth. “Let’s both agree we won’t, and she’ll have to think again.”

AND IF SHE KILLS HERSELF?

He said nothing.

AT LEAST LET ME EXPLAIN HOW IT MIGHT WORK.

As Robert sat filling sheet after sheet with Elspeth’s careful handwriting, he was engulfed by despair. I won’t do it, he thought. But it was beginning to look as though he would.

He Comes Undone

ON SUNDAY afternoon, after they had closed the cemetery, Jessica and Robert sat with James on the terrace overlooking the Bateses’ back garden. It had been a frantic day-the magnificent June weather had brought the tourists in droves, and most of the guides were on holiday; Robert and Phil had been obliged to eject two extremely large and hostile filmmakers and their actors from the Eastern Cemetery; some grave owners had arrived from Manchester without the faintest idea of the location of their grandmother’s grave. Now the Bateses and Robert sat drinking whisky and decompressing.

“Perhaps we ought to make another sign to post at the gate,” said James. “All uncertain grave owners please present yourselves during office hours when the staff can attend to your very time-consuming requests.”

“We want to help them,” said Jessica. “But they must call ahead. These people who pitch up on the cemetery’s doorstep wanting us to do a grave search whilst they wait-it’s beyond anything.”

“They think the records are digitised,” Robert said.

Jessica laughed. “Ten years from now, perhaps. Evelyn and Paul are typing in the burial records as fast as their fingers can fly, but with one hundred and sixty-nine thousand entries-”

“I know.”

“Robert and Phil were quite valiant today,” Jessica told James. “In addition to vanquishing the unwanted movie people they each gave four tours.”

“My goodness. Where were the rest of the guides?”

“Brigitte is visiting her mother in Hamburg, Marion and Dean are on holiday in Romania, Sebastian is working overtime at the funeral parlour because of that terrible bus accident in Little Wapping, and Anika caught flu from her little girl.”

“It was just the three of us-Molly was on the Eastern Cemetery gate all day, poor girl.” Robert emptied his glass and Jessica topped it up.

“Well,” said James, “I suppose that’s the principal difficulty of running a cemetery with volunteers. You can’t exactly tell people they can’t go on holiday because you’ll be left short of guides.”

“No,” said Jessica. “But I do wish they would all make the cemetery a priority-”

“They do, you know,” said Robert. “They drive in from all over, week after week.”

“Yes, I know. I’m just exhausted, that’s all. It was a terribly long day.”

Robert stretched his legs. “On the upside, if I did four tours every day I might get a little fitter.”

“You do look as though you’ve been left indoors a bit too long.” Jessica scrutinised him. “You ought to get more vitamin D. You always seem tired.”

“Maybe I should buy a laptop. I could sit in the Meadow amid the graves and write in the sunshine.

‘Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn

Brushing with hasty steps the dews away

To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.’”

Jessica smiled. “How very Romantic. That would make a lovely advertisement for laptops.”

“How is the thesis coming along?” asked James.

“Reasonably well. I’ve been slightly distracted lately.”

“Don’t you have a deadline? I thought your thesis committee was getting restive,” James said.

“The problem is, the more I research, the more there is that ought to go into it. Sometimes I think my dissertation is going to be the size of Highgate Cemetery itself, grave by grave, year by year, every blade of grass, every fern-”

“But Robert, there’s no need for that!” Jessica startled him, she sounded so urgent. “We need you to write what happened, and why it is significant-you don’t have to completely re-create the place on paper. You’re a historian-history has to pick and choose.”

“I know. I will. But it’s hard to stop gathering material.”

Jessica pressed her lips together and looked away. James said, “Can we help in any way? How long is your manuscript?”

Robert hesitated before he replied. “One thousand, four hundred and thirty-two pages.”

James said, “That’s marvellous, then it’s merely a matter of winnowing it down.”

“No,” said Robert. “Because I’m only up to the First World War.”

“Oh,” said James. Robert looked at Jessica. She was gazing out at her garden, trying to restrain herself.

“The cemetery has many histories,” Robert told them, “not just one. There’s the social and religious and public-health aspects. There are the biographies of the people buried there-the rise and fall of the London Cemetery Company. There’s the vandalism and then the coming together of the Friends and all the work that has been done since then. All these things have to fit together. Then there are the supernatural things that people claim-”

“Surely you aren’t putting all that rubbish in!” Jessica sat up and turned to him.

“Not as fact. But it is a part of the modern historical record-”

“A very distasteful part.”

“A small part. But all that craziness was the catalyst for forming the Friends. And I don’t want to censor events just because we don’t approve of them.”

Jessica sighed. “But ‘history is written by the victors.’ And in the Battle for Highgate Cemetery the Friends are most certainly the victors. So we ought to have some say in our history.”

Robert had misplaced the reference; he thought that she was quoting Michel Foucault. He struggled for a moment with the cognitive dissonance of that, until James kindly said, “Winston Churchill.”

“Oh, right,” said Robert. But I’m a Marxist, he thought. He didn’t try to explain, as Jessica had always had a slightly rueful attitude towards Karl Marx (at least in terms of his presence in Highgate Cemetery). Robert wasn’t sure he was up to defending current trends in Marxist academic thinking at the moment. Instead he hurriedly set off on a tangent. “I was thinking about the nature of memory. Of memorials…”

The Bateses exchanged glances but didn’t say anything. Robert realised that he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say.

“The digitisation project,” he said finally. “And cleaning the graves so the inscriptions can be read. And George in his workshop, carving the names onto new gravestones…”

“Yes?” said James.

“Why do we do it?” asked Robert.

“For the families,” said Jessica. “The dead don’t know the difference.”

“And for the historians,” James added with a smile.

“But what if the dead did know?” Robert asked. “What if they’re all there, or somewhere…?”

“Well…” Jessica sat looking at him. Something is wrong with him. He’s all nervy. “Robert, are you all right? I don’t mean to be a fusspot, but I am worried about you.”

Robert looked at his lap. James said, “Is everything all right with the twins? Stop us if we’re prying, but we did rather think you had turned the corner…” Robert looked up to find both Bateses peering at him with worried frowns.

“The twins are coming undone. If I understand correctly, Valen-tina wants to leave Julia, and Julia wants Valentina to break things off with me. But that’s not actually the problem.”

He was aware of a resistance to telling them; he didn’t want them to think badly of him and he knew he would not be believed. My head is going to explode if I don’t tell somebody. Maybe they’ll understand, even if they don’t think it’s true. The air was still, there on the terrace. He could hear one crow, far off, cawing. Then it stopped, and the three of them sat in the stillness, waiting.

“I’ve come to believe that there is some sort of existence after death,” Robert said. “I think it’s possible for people to hang around…or to get stuck, somehow…” He took a breath. “I’ve been talking to Elspeth. She’s in her flat and can’t leave.”

“Oh, Robert.” Jessica sounded terribly sad. He knew it was sadness for him, sadness that he was losing his mind, not sadness at Elspeth’s plight.

Robert said, “The twins talk to her too.”

“Hmm,” said James. “Would she talk to us, do you think? How do you communicate with her?”

“Automatic writing, and Ouija board when we get tired. She’s very cold, so it’s hard to do the writing for very long.”

“Can you see her?”

“Valentina can see her. Julia and I can’t, I don’t know why.” I would give anything to see her.

Jessica said, “It doesn’t seem to be having a very salutary effect on you.” She looked as if she wanted to say a great deal more.

“No. It doesn’t.”

“Perhaps we should send you on holiday,” she said. “A change of scenery might help. And some vitamins. Perhaps the cemetery isn’t quite what you need just now.”

“More whisky?” asked James.

“Yes, please.” Later Robert wondered if they’d all had more whisky than they should have. He held out his glass. James added a little water and a generous pour from the bottle. “But Elspeth isn’t in the cemetery. I’ve never encountered anything in the cemetery except foxes and tourists and the occasional work party.”

“That’s good,” said James. “I’d hate to think of everyone stuck out there in all weathers. Though it seems to me that the afterlife might be a bit dull if it consists of lounging about the house for all eternity with nothing to do.”

“Apparently it started out that way. But lately she’s been quite-active. Yesterday I watched Valentina playing backgammon with Elspeth. Elspeth won.”

Jessica shook her head. “Granting that what you tell us is true, and understand, please, that I find it most unlikely-what good could come of it?”

Robert shrugged.

“It seems to put you in a difficult position,” James said. “This situation never works out very well for the man.” Robert thought, What precedent could you possibly be citing? and looked at James quizzically. “In literature. And myth. Eurydice, Blithe Spirit, that lovely story by Edith Wharton-”

“ ‘Pomegranate Seed,’” supplied Jessica.

“Thank you, yes. The lovers and husbands all end badly.”

“I asked her to kill me, so I could be with her. She refused.”

“I should hope so!” said Jessica, aghast.

“This won’t do,” said James. “Let us help you. We’ll take you on holiday.”

“Who will run the cemetery?” asked Robert, smiling.

“Who cares?” replied Jessica. How can he joke about this? “Nigel and Edward will sort it out between them. Where shall we go? Paris? Copenhagen? We’ve never been to Reykjavík, they say it’s marvellous this time of year.”

“Let’s go somewhere warm and sunny,” said James. The evening was becoming overcast. He felt tired, and the thought of travelling farther than Highgate High Street made his back ache. He held out his glass, and Jessica refilled it.

“Spain,” said Jessica. She and James smiled at each other. “Or perhaps the Amalfi coast?”

“That could happen,” said Robert. “Any of it. It sounds fantastic.” Why not? he thought. I could just walk away. Let the three of them sort it out. The twins would reconcile, and live happily ever after with Elspeth… He sighed. He knew he wasn’t going anywhere. Still, it sounded so simple. “Let’s talk about it.”

“We ought to eat something,” said Jessica. “I feel my tummy flapping at my spine.”

“I’ll order takeaway from the Lighthouse, shall I?” said Robert. “Scampi?” He stood up, unsteadily, and went inside to call.

Jessica and James sat quietly, listening to Robert walking through their house. They heard him pick up the phone in the hall, his low voice ordering food.

James said, “Ought we to tell anyone? We could call Anthony…”

Jessica put her hands over her eyes. I am so tired. “I don’t know. What does one do when one’s dear young friend is being haunted?”

“Don’t you think he told us so that we would do something?”

“Have him committed, do you mean?”

James hesitated. “He talked of killing himself.”

“No, I think he was trying to get Elspeth to kill him.” She snorted.

“I don’t like it at all.”

“No. Do you think he would come away with us?”

James sighed. “Do you think we could manage if he had a breakdown in some foreign hotel room?”

“We ought to do something.”

Robert reappeared. “I’m going to walk down the hill and pick up the food.” He sounded completely cheerful and normal. James offered him some money, and Robert said thanks, but it was on him. He walked off, almost sober-seeming. Paris. Rome. Saskatchewan. Robert hummed softly as he came out onto the street and began to walk over to the Archway Road. He walked faster; the evening was cooling off rapidly. Adelaide. Cairo. Beijing. It doesn’t matter where I go, she’ll still be stuck in that flat, plotting a resurrection. This made him laugh. This is brilliant; I’m walking down the street giggling like Peter Lorre. He had to stop and lean against the newsagent’s; he was bent over laughing. Cancún, Buenos Aires, Patagonia. I could get on the tube just across the street and be at Heathrow in an hour. No one would know. He stood up, gasping, closed his eyes. God, I feel ill. He stood that way, eyes closed, arms wrapped around his middle, for a few minutes. Robert opened his eyes. The world tilted, then righted itself. He began to walk down the hill, very slowly. This won’t do. I have to fetch the food. James and Jessica will worry. People stared at him as they passed by. The problem is…I’m too responsible. She knows I’ll do it because if I don’t…if I don’t… He nearly passed by the fish restaurant, but habit saved him and he managed to go in and pay for the food. As he trudged back up the hill a thought came to Robert: I ought to read those diaries. Elspeth gave them to me and I ought to read them. He began to repeat over and over again, “The diaries, the diaries.” When he got back to the Bateses’ house the food was cold and Jessica and James were in the kitchen eating soup. Jessica put him to bed in their guest room.

In the morning he crawled out of bed with a hangover and a feeling of having forgotten something. Jessica made him drink a foul-tasting concoction that included bananas, tomatoes, vodka, milk and Tabasco sauce. Then she fried some eggs and sat with him while he ate. James had already gone to the cemetery.

Jessica said, “James and I talked it over last night and we think you need looking after. Would you like to come and stay with us? We have loads of room.” She smiled.

Robert’s heart leapt. Here was the escape hatch he had been searching for; the words of acceptance were nearly on his tongue when he thought, Wait. If I’m staying here I won’t be able to go to the cemetery at night. He said, “May I think about it?”

“Of course,” Jessica said. “We’ll be here.”

He thanked her and left the house in the mood of a shipwrecked man who has allowed the rescue ship to pass him by.

Robert finally remembered his resolution to read the diaries the following morning. With trepidation he heaved the boxes onto the bed and began to go through them.

Just pretend it’s research, he told himself. It won’t bite. The diaries began in 1971: Elspeth and Edie were twelve. He was relieved to see that they ended, abruptly, in 1983, long before he himself entered the picture; Robert had not been looking forward to reading about himself. The diaries were a hodgepodge of school gossip, comments on books she was reading, musings about boys; some of the writing seemed to be in code. The author carried out long conversations and arguments with herself; suddenly Robert realised that Elspeth and her twin had written the diaries together. The effect was strangely seamless. It made Robert uneasy. There were symbols in the margins that appeared only during holidays and seemed to mean something about Elspeth and Edie’s parents; there was a plan to run away that came to nothing. But Robert knew her home life had been unhappy: there were no real surprises, only an ominous sadness that mixed with ordinary girl things, netball and the school play and such. The later volumes detailed university life, parties, the twins’ first apartment. Jack appeared on the scene, at first as one of many handsome, eligible young men, then as someone around whom everything suddenly revolved. As an only child, Robert had a certain curiosity about other people’s siblings. Elspeth and Edie seldom wrote in the first person singular; it was almost always “we” who went to the movies or sat an exam. Robert ploughed on, wondering what he was searching for in Elspeth’s juvenilia.

The bomb came in the last diary; Elspeth had tucked an envelope inside the cover. The envelope was labelled “Big, dark, horrible secrets.” It had a skull and crossbones inexpertly drawn under this inscription. The skull was smiling. Oh, Elspeth. I don’t want to know. Robert held the envelope and considered burning it. Then he slit it open.

Dear Robert,

I hope you won’t be too annoyed. You said you hoped you wouldn’t find any lurid secrets among my papers-I’m afraid there are a few. ‘Lurid’ isn’t quite the right word-‘awkward’ might be better. Anyway, darling, they are old surprises-this all happened long before I met you.

My name is Edwina Noblin.

I switched identities with my twin, Elspeth, in 1983. It was mostly her doing, but I couldn’t undo it without making her very unhappy. And I certainly was not blameless.

As you know, Elspeth was engaged to Jack Poole. During the time between their engagement and the wedding, Jack became more and more flirtatious towards me. Elspeth decided to put him to the test.

I’ve told you lots of stories about Elspeth and me impersonating each other. But you never saw us together-we were so alike, such a perfect pair. And we knew each other so intimately. When we were young we hardly differentiated between ourselves; if Elspeth got hurt, I would cry.

Elspeth began to be me when Jack was around. He couldn’t tell the difference, and he fell in love with “Edie.” He broke off his engagement with Elspeth and asked “Edie” to elope with him, to go back to America with him in Elspeth’s place.

What could she do? She was hurt, she was furious. But the situation was of her own making. She came to me. We decided that she would be Edie and I would be Elspeth, and life would go on.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t that simple. I had slept with Jack (only that once-we were drunk, at a party-it was just a stupid mistake, my love, just carelessness and alcohol) and I was pregnant. So in the end I was the one who went to America. I lived with Jack for almost a year, though it was Elspeth he had married. I had the twins, worked out like a maniac to lose the baby weight, cooked and kept house and almost went mad with boredom and rage and a sense ofhaving been trapped in a farce. When the twins were four months old, I brought them to London “to see their grandmother.” It was Elspeth (now Edie) who returned to Lake Forest a few months later with the twins. I haven’t seen them since. I dream about them often. According to Elspeth, they are very much like us.

By the time I returned to London I disliked Jack intensely, and I was disgusted with Elspeth for insisting that we go through with the pregnancy (I wanted to have an abortion). The whole situation was mad. It was the sort of thing you get yourself into when you’re young and stupid. I don’t know what would have happened if Jack had ever found out about it. How he managed to overlook all the little differences between my body and Elspeth’s I have never been able to fathom. Perhaps he knew and never said anything? We decided not to chance letting Jack see us together again. I still can’t believe we got away with it.

Elspeth occasionally sent me letters, and photographs of the twins. I never wrote back until last year, as I told you. I think her life with Jack has been disappointing. Her letters are full of longing for London, old friends, me. Before she married I urged her to chuck him, or to tell him everything. It’s been hard for her. If you meet her, perhaps you’ll know what I mean.

So that’s how I became Elspeth. I don’t think it altered the course of my life too much. I regret that I never got to know the twins. It was very hard to let her take them. I’ll never forget standing at Heathrow, watching her disappear with them through the gate. I cried for days. And I would have liked to have seen Elspeth one more time. It was just fear, and pride, that kept us apart at the end.

Robert, this was my only secret from you. I hope you won’t think too badly of me. I hope when you meet the twins you’ll find a bit of me in them, and that it will make you remember happy times.

Your loving Elspeth (Edie)

P.S. I really would have left you everything if you’d wanted it. But I knew you wouldn’t. I love you. e

The letter had been written a week before her death. Robert sat on the bed, holding it, trying to grasp what it meant. Everything was a lie, then? No, surely not. But he had not even known her name. Who was it that I loved?

He put everything back in the boxes and brought it all to the tiny servant’s bedroom at the back of the flat; then he shut the door and tried to put the letter out of his mind, but it intruded on him constantly, no matter what he was doing. Over the next few days Robert took to drinking more often, and stayed in his flat alone.

Anticipations

VALENTINA AND ELSPETH spent long hours conferring over the details of their plan. Everything had to be natural, casual. Elspeth worked out a way for Valentina to take some money from the account she shared with Julia; it would be enough for a year or two, if Valentina was frugal, and the money would not be missed until after the funeral. Valentina found a few anatomy books in the flat and spread them on the floor of the guest room for Elspeth. It was almost a game for them, to anticipate all the potential difficulties, to circumvent Robert’s objections, to avoid alarming Julia. What if…? one of them would begin, and they would converge on the problem like detectives until they had cracked it. They had private jokes, a secret language. It was all immensely satisfying, or would have been, if they had been planning a picnic, or a surprise party, anything other than Valentina’s death. Elspeth was amazed at Valentina’s relish for the details of the plan, and her ability to inflict grief thoughtlessly. But I’m no better. I’m helping her to do it. She wouldn’t do it if she knew…And what if it doesn’t work? What if it does? Elspeth watched Valentina and debated with herself. She thought, We mustn’t; it’s terribly wrong. But each night Robert would come and take Valentina away for dinner, for a walk. They always came back late, and whispered together in the hallway. Elspeth hardened her heart.

Resurrection Day

ROBERT DREAMT that it was Resurrection Day at Highgate Cemetery.

He stood at the top of the steps next to the grave of James Selby, the coachman. Selby sat on his grave, oblivious to the heavy chain running through his chest from grave post to grave post. He was smoking a pipe and tapping one booted foot nervously against the ground.

Trumpets brayed in the distance. Robert turned and saw that the path into the cemetery was covered with a long canopy of red fabric, and the dirt and gravel and mud of the path itself were draped in white silk. It was winter again, and the silk was almost the same white as the snow that lay over the graves. He saw through the trees that all the paths were swathed in red and white. Robert found himself walking. He looked down anxiously, afraid that his muddy boots would stain the silk, but he wasn’t leaving any tracks.

He came to Comfort’s Corners and found tables set out for a banquet. There was no food, only places laid with china and cutlery, empty wine glasses and empty chairs. The trumpets stopped, and Robert heard trees rattling in the wind. There were voices, but he couldn’t gauge where they were.

Sit down, someone said, but it wasn’t a voice, really, it was more like a thought that came from outside his head. He sat at a place near the edge of the cluster of tables and waited.

The ghosts arrived slowly, picking their way along the silk paths with unsure steps. They crowded around the tables, translucent, dressed in their grave clothes, winding sheets, their Sunday best. The air became dense with ghosts. More than one hundred and sixty-nine thousand people were buried in this cemetery. Robert wondered if all of them could fit around the tables. The ghosts shivered in the morning light. They look like jellyfish. There was a ripple of dissatisfaction: the ghosts were hungry; there was no food. He thought he saw Elizabeth Siddal and began to stand up with a thought of going to speak to her, but a hand on his shoulder kept him in his chair.

There were immense numbers of ghosts now. The tables had multiplied as well. A voice, well-known, long wished-for, spoke just behind him. “Robert,” said Elspeth, “what are you doing here?”

“I’m not sure. Looking for you?” He tried to turn, but again he was restrained.

“No-don’t. I don’t want-not here.” She was pressed close to him. He felt uneasy, confined. Suddenly he had the sense that something horrible, monstrous, was standing behind him, pressing its disgusting hands on him.

He shouted out her name, so loudly that he woke the twins in their bedroom; so loudly that Elspeth herself lay on the floor above his bed for hours in the slowly increasing grey light, waiting to hear him call her again.

Last Call

THE PHONE rang. Edie stretched out her hand and brought it to her ear, but did not immediately say anything. She was curled on her side, in bed; it was almost nine in the morning. Jack was at work.

“Mom?”

Edie sat up. She smoothed back her hair with her fingers as though Valentina could see her. “Hello?” She sounded as though she had been awake for hours. “Valentina?”

“Hi.”

“Are you all right? Where’s Julia?”

“She’s upstairs. Hanging out with Martin.”

Edie felt the adrenaline subside. She’s fine. They’re both fine. “We missed talking to you on Sunday. Where were you?”

“Oh…I’m sorry. We just…lost track of the days, you know?”

“Oh,” said Edie. She felt a pang of neglect. “So, what’s up?”

“Nothing…I just felt like calling you.”

“Mmm, you’re sweet. So what’s going on?”

“Not much. It’s kind of rainy and chilly here.”

“You sound a little down,” Edie said.

“Oh…I dunno. I’m fine.” Valentina was sitting in the back garden, shivering in the drizzle. She hadn’t wanted Elspeth listening in on this conversation, but it was suddenly awfully cold for June and she had to make an effort to keep her teeth from chattering. “What’s up with you and Dad?”

“The usual. Dad just got a promotion, so we were out last night celebrating.” Edie could hear birds through the phone. “Where are you?”

“In the backyard.”

“Oh. Have you and Julia been anywhere fun lately?”

“Julia’s got almost the whole city memorised now. She can walk around without the map.”

“That’s impressive…” Edie thought, There’s stuff she’s not telling me. But then she thought that was inevitable: They move away and soon you have no idea. They make their own world and you don’t belong any more. Valentina was asking a question about a dress she was trying to make; Edie told her to email the sketch and then remembered that the twins had no scanner.

“Yeah, oh well. Never mind,” said Valentina. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Edie said. She just sounds strange.

“Yeah. I’ve got to go now, Mom. I love you.” If I stay on the phone I’ll cry.

“Okay, sweetie. I love you too.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

Valentina dialled her dad’s work number and got his voicemail. I’ll call later, she thought, and didn’t leave a message.

Caught Out

IT WAS almost dawn. Jessica stood at the window in the cemetery’s Archives Room, looking out over the courtyard at the Colonnade. The room was dark. She had lain awake most of the night worrying over the letter she had written to one of the cemetery’s vice presidents. Finally she had left a note for James and walked down here to put it right, but even though her head was crowded with the phrases that would convince the vice president of the logic of her request, she had not been able to sort out the tangle of her argument. Jessica leaned against the window sill, her hands clasped together in front of her and her elbows jutting at right angles. The trees and graves above the Colonnade were dark and hazy in the indeterminate light. The courtyard reminded her of an empty stage. So much work, she thought. No one realises how we worked. Every sett in that courtyard laid by hand-

Suddenly the courtyard was filled with light. Foxes, she thought and swept her eyes left and right, to see them. They’ve set off the motion detectors. But then a man walked across the courtyard. He didn’t seem fussed by the lights, didn’t hurry or change his course. Jessica craned her head forward, trying to see him better. It was Robert.

Damn the boy. I’ve told him not to use that door! Jessica rapped on the window as hard as she could, not minding the pain of arthritic joints on cold glass-she was angry enough not to notice; later she would wonder why her hand was swollen and throbbing. Robert continued walking, unheeding. Jessica grabbed her keys and torch and got herself down the stairs and through the office, into the courtyard. She stood not quite under the chapel archway and shouted his name.

Robert stopped. I’m for it now. Jessica walked quickly towards him. He thought, She’ll fall, walking so fast. She had forgotten to switch on her torch and carried it as though she had brought it along as a weapon rather than a source of light. He roused himself and walked to her to shorten the distance between them. They met by the Colonnade steps, as if choreographed. Jessica paused to catch her breath. Robert waited.

“What on earth do you think you are doing?” she finally said. “You know better. We’ve discussed this, and yet here you are- flagrantly strutting about at the crack of dawn in the cemetery- where you have absolutely no right to be! I trusted you, Robert, and you have let me down.” She stood hatless and fuming, glaring up at him, her hair spiky; she was wearing her gardening clothes. Robert was startled to see the glint of a tear on her cheek. It undid him.

“We have rules! The rules are there for legal and safety reasons!” Jessica was yelling now. “Just because you have a key does not entitle you to come in at night! You might be attacked by intruders, or fall into a hole. You might trip on a root and concuss yourself-you don’t even have a radio! Anything could happen: a monument might fall on you, anything-think what the insurers would do to our rates-the publicity if you got yourself injured, or killed! You’re just bloody selfish, Robert!”

They stared at each other. Robert said gently, “Can we go into the office to talk? You’re going to wake the dead.”

Jessica lost whatever control she had had over her temper. Why can’t he take it seriously? I’ll make him see it’s no joke! “No! We are not going into the office to talk! I am going to have your key, please”-she held out her hand, in which she already held her own keys-“and you are going out the front gate.” Robert didn’t move. “Now!”

He dropped the key into her palm, turned towards the gate. She followed him as though escorting a prisoner. They reached the gate; she unlocked it; he pulled the massive thing open and slipped out, pulled it shut again. They faced each other through the bars. “What now?” he asked.

“Go,” she said quietly.

He bowed his head, walked away and up Swains Lane. Jessica stood watching him. What now? Her heart beat fast. No one saw him but me-they needn’t find out. She watched Robert until he vanished up the road. She had an urge to follow him, to say-what? I’m sorry? No, certainly not. He put us at risk, thoughtless, careless… She stood at the gate overcome with emotion, but unable to parse it-angry, hurt, anxious with affection, indignant. She could not sort herself out at all. I’ve got to talk to him immediately, she thought, and then: But I’ve sent him away. She turned the key in the lock and slowly walked back to her office. It was just after five o’clock. James might be awake. She picked up the telephone receiver, then put it down again.

Jessica sat in her chair, watching the room lighten. I was right, she thought. I was quite right. When it was day she got up and made tea. Preoccupied, tired, she spilled the milk and thought, That’s an omen. Or a metaphor. She shook her head. What shall we do now?

Vitamins

MARTIN WAS stumped. He had been working all afternoon on a cryptic crossword in celebration of Carl Linnaeus’ three hundredth birthday, but the clues wouldn’t come to him and the thing felt inelegant and lumpen. Martin stood up and stretched.

Someone knocked. He said, “Yes?” and turned towards the door. “Oh, Julia. Come in.”

“No,” she said, stepping into the room, “I’m Valentina. Julia’s sister.”

“Oh!” Martin was delighted. “At last! Such a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for coming-would you like some tea?”

“No, I-I can’t stay. I just came to tell you-you know the vitamins Julia’s been giving you?”

“Yes?”

She took a breath. “They-aren’t really vitamins. They’re a drug called Anafranil.”

Martin said gently, “I know, my dear. But thank you for coming to tell me.”

Valentina said, “You knew?”

“It’s printed on each capsule. And I’ve taken Anafranil before, so I know what it looks like.”

Valentina smiled. “Does Julia know you know?”

Martin smiled back at her. “I’m not entirely sure. I think perhaps we shouldn’t mention this conversation to her, just in case.”

“Oh, I wasn’t going to.”

“Then I won’t either.”

She turned to go and Martin said, “Are you sure you won’t stay?”

“No-I can’t.”

“Come back, then, any time you like.”

Valentina said, “Okay. Thank you.” He heard her steps receding as she walked through the maze of boxes, and then she was gone.

Pas de Trois

ROBERT THOUGHT afterwards that it had been like watching ballet.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

Elspeth did not want Valentina to say yes. She wanted to pause in this moment before, before whatever was about to happen, before temptation, before disaster, before Elspeth had to do the thing she did not want to do.

Robert watched Valentina. She stood quite still. He wondered if he should open a window; the weather was still unseasonably cold for June, but who knew how long her body would lie there until Julia returned? The light was waning rapidly; crows were calling to each other in the cemetery. Julia was upstairs. Valentina closed her eyes. She stood at the foot of the bed, one hand curled around the bedrail. Her other hand clenched and unclenched around her inhaler. She opened her eyes. Robert stood only a few feet away. Elspeth sat in the window seat, elbows on knees, head in hands, her face tilted at an angle that denoted contemplative sadness. Valentina watched Elspeth and felt a spasm of doubt.

Robert hesitated, then stepped towards her. Valentina put her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek against his shirt.

She wondered if the button of the shirt was imprinting itself on her cheek, and whether it would stay that way once she was dead. He did not kiss her. She thought it might be because Elspeth was there.

“I’m ready,” she said. She stepped back, into the middle of the bedroom rug, and took a puff from her inhaler. Elspeth thought, How insubstantial she already looks, just a shadow in this dim light.

Robert retreated to the doorway. He could not articulate his feelings at all: he waited for something to happen. He did not believe that it would happen; he did not want it to happen. Don’t, Elspeth-

Valentina closed her eyes, then opened them and looked at Robert, who seemed far away; Valentina thought of her parents watching her and Julia move through the security line at O’Hare the day they’d left Chicago. Intense cold permeated her body. Elspeth moved through her, simply stepped into her; it reminded Valentina of looking at old stereoscope pictures, trying to bring the images together. I will die of cold. She felt herself seized, detached, taken. “Oh!” An interval of nothing. Then she was hovering close over her body, which lay collapsed on the floor. Ah- Elspeth knelt beside the body, looking up at her. “Come here, sweet,” Elspeth said. She sounds kind of like Mom. That’s so weird. She tried to go to Elspeth, but found that she could not move. Elspeth understood and came up towards her, gathered her in her hands. Now Valentina was only a small thing, cupped in Elspeth’s hands like a mouse. The last thing she thought was: It’s like falling asleep…

Robert saw Valentina go slack. She fell: knees gave way, head lolled. She folded up and hit the floor with a thud and a crack. Then there was no sound in the room except his own breathing. He stood in the doorway and did not go to her because he did not know what was happening, unseen things must be happening, and he did not know what to do next. The girl, crumpled on the carpet, continued to be utterly still. Finally he walked the short distance across the room and knelt beside Valentina. She was not bleeding. He couldn’t tell if she was broken; she looked broken, but he could not touch her; she lay as she had fallen and he knew he must not touch her.

Elspeth looked down at him looking at Valentina. She could feel Valentina, heavy and smoke-like, caged in her hands. Put her back, now. Put her back while there’s some chance of it being all right… She wanted Robert to move Valentina, to straighten her limbs and compose her hands. Valentina’s head was arched back, she lay on her right side with her arms flailed out in front of her, legs tucked neatly together. Her eyes were rolled up, her mouth was open, her little teeth showed. The position of Valentina’s body seemed wrong, an insult. Elspeth wanted to touch her, but her hands were full. What now? If I let go, will she just disperse? I wish I had a little box- She thought of her drawer. Yes, I’ll put her in there. She would take Valentina with her into the drawer. They could stay there together, waiting.

Robert stood up. He left the room. He wanted to forget what he had seen, before he reached the front door. He stopped with his hand on the knob. “Elspeth?” he said. In answer there was a momentary cold touch against his cheek. “I won’t forgive you.” Silence. He imagined her behind him, resisted the urge to turn and look. He opened the door, went downstairs, stood in his kitchen drinking whisky as the light failed, waiting for Julia to come home and find the body, listening for her cry of distress.

Julia came downstairs an hour later. All the lights were off in the flat. She walked through the rooms flipping switches, calling “Mouse?” She must have gone out. “Mouse?” Maybe she’s downstairs. The flat was cold and seemed curiously empty, as though all the furniture had been replaced with optical illusions. As Julia wandered from room to room she trailed her fingers across the dining-room table, lightly touched the top of the sofa and the spines of the books, reassuring herself that everything was solid. “Elspeth?” Where is everybody?

She came to their bedroom and snapped on the light. She saw Valentina lying contorted on the floor, as though frozen in a painful dance. Julia moved slowly; she went to Valentina and sat beside her. She touched Valentina’s lips, her cheeks. She saw the inhaler clasped in Valentina’s hand and pressed her own hand to her own chest, unthinkingly.

Mouse? Valentina seemed to be trying to see above her; her eyes were rolled up and her head thrown back as though some event of extreme interest was happening right over her head. “Mouse?” Valentina did not respond.

Julia whimpered. She felt cold on her face and hit out at it wildly. “Fuck you, Elspeth! Fuck off! Where is she? Where is she?” Then she began to wail.

Elspeth sat on the floor with Julia. She watched as Julia clutched Valentina in her arms and keened over her body. I never wanted to do it, Julia. She thought about her own twin, about the phone call someone would have to make to her, soon. Elspeth knew, watching Julia, that nothing would ever be right again. It’s my fault, all of it. I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry.

Elspeth and Valentina stayed in the drawer together while Valentina’s body was confirmed dead by paramedics, then certified dead of natural causes by the doctor she had seen at the hospital, and removed from the flat by Sebastian, while Julia cried and Robert phoned Edie and Jack. There were hours of stillness, light, dark.

Robert had a long talk with Sebastian that resulted in mutual tension. “I can understand that you don’t want her embalmed,” Sebastian said. “I can understand why you don’t want me to set her features; that’s fine. But why on earth do you want me to shoot her up with heparin?”

“It’s an anticoagulant.”

“I know that. But you aren’t having her cryogenically preserved.”

“Not exactly. But we’d like the coffin packed with ice, please.” “Robert!” “Humour me, Sebastian. And please keep her in cold-storage as much as possible.”

“Why? Robert, I don’t like this.”

“It’s nothing like that…”

Sebastian regarded him sceptically. “I’m sorry, Robert. But either tell me exactly what you’ve got in mind, or find someone else to do it.”

Robert said, “You won’t believe me; it sounds crazy. It is crazy.” Sebastian said nothing. Robert took a deep breath and tried to organise his thoughts. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

“As it happens,” Sebastian said softly, “I do. I’ve had some-interesting experiences. But I seem to recall that you don’t-believe in ghosts.”

“I’ve been forced to reconsider.” Robert told Sebastian about Elspeth. He omitted any mention of a plan; he told Sebastian that Elspeth had caught Valentina’s spirit when she died, and now she was going to put it back into Valentina and bring her back to life.

Sebastian had a number of objections. (“Why didn’t Elspeth just revive her right away?” was the most formidable, and Robert could only say that he didn’t know.) In the end Sebastian agreed to do his best to keep Valentina cold; he also agreed to say nothing to the family, in case the attempt did not succeed. But even so, Robert went away wondering if Sebastian might be calling Jessica, or the police, the moment he was out of sight.

The next morning Edie and Jack arrived.

Standing at his window, Robert watched them walking up the front path. They disappeared into the building and he heard them treading the stairs. Elspeth’s ban on Jack and Edie entering her flat was inappropriate now. Robert wondered what Elspeth was doing; he wanted to drink himself to distraction, to die; anything would be preferable to meeting Valentina’s parents. He had agreed to go with them to the funeral parlour.

In the cab they hardly spoke. Robert could not look at Edie. She was unbearably like Elspeth; the only significant difference was her Americanised speech. Julia was dazed. She sat next to her father, leaning her head on his shoulder. Edie began to cry quietly. Jack put his arm around Edie and looked at Robert, stricken. Robert was sitting in the fold-down seat opposite the three of them. He kept his eyes on Jack’s shoes for the rest of the ride.

When they arrived at the funeral parlour Sebastian was waiting for them. He took Edie and Jack to view Valentina’s body. Robert and Julia sat in Sebastian’s office.

“How are you?” Robert asked her.

“Peachy,” Julia said, not looking at him.

Sebastian returned with Edie and Jack. He began to carefully lay out the procedures and options, the prices for interment and cremation, the various certificates and signatures that would be needed. Robert listened with what he hoped was an impassive expression. He had forgotten that Valentina’s parents might have their own ideas about her remains, and that Sebastian was required by law to explain all their choices. Robert’s heart was racing. What if they decide to cremate her?

Edie said, “We want to take her home-Jack’s family has a plot in the Lake Forest Cemetery. It’s right on Lake Michigan. We were thinking we’d like to bury her there.”

Sebastian nodded and began to explain how to go about shipping a body by air. Robert thought, Well, that’s it, then. I tried and I failed. It was out of his hands now.

Curiously, it was Julia who saved the situation. “No!” she said. Everyone looked at her. “I want her here.”

“But Julia-” said Edie.

“But it’s not your decision-” Jack said at the same time.

Julia shook her head. “She wanted to be buried in Highgate Cemetery.” Julia looked at Robert. “She said so.”

Robert said, “That’s true.”

“Please,” Julia said. And in the end it was decided that Valentina would be interred in the Noblin family mausoleum, just as she had requested.

In the drawer Elspeth encircled Valentina, pressed her into a soft shapelessness, kept her from diffusing, kept her close. Here we are, Valentina, like marsupials in a pouch, waiting for developments. She wondered what Valentina knew, what she would remember. It was like being with a baby, not knowing what this tiny being was thinking, whether it could think at all. Elspeth did not remember the first days of her afterlife. Things had come on gradually; there was no moment of awakening, of sudden consciousness. She held Valentina close, sang her little songs, chattered to her about nothing. Valentina was like a hum, a buzz of being, but no words or thoughts escaped from her to Elspeth. Elspeth thought about the twins as infants. They had never slept or fed at the same time, they had drained her of energy and milk; they had seemed even then inseparable but individual. Well, you’ve managed to separate yourself rather thoroughly now, Valentina. In the drawer nothing much happened. The days went by. Soon-though time meant little to the ghosts-soon it was the day of Valentina’s funeral. It was time for something to happen.

Resurrection Day

AT EIGHT o’clock on the morning of the funeral Robert stood at Martin’s door, engulfed by the spill of newspapers. He tried to straighten them into piles but gave up when Martin appeared.

“Come in.” They moved through the flat to the kitchen. Robert sat at the table and Martin put the electric kettle on. Robert thought he seemed refreshingly normal and domestic compared to what was going on downstairs. You know you’re in trouble when Martin is the most functional person in the place.

“The funeral is at one, today.”

“I know.”

“Would you like to come? It’s all right if you can’t, you know, but I think Julia would appreciate it.”

“I’m not sure. I’ll call down if I can do it.”

“So I’ll put you down as a ‘No’?”

Martin shrugged. He held up two boxes of tea. Robert pointed to the Earl Grey. Martin put a tea bag in each cup. “How is Julia?”

“Her parents have arrived. Listening to Elspeth, I’d imagined they’d have three heads apiece and shoot fire from their eyes, but they’ve taken Julia in hand and they’re all, I don’t know, subdued together. None of us really believe it-they keep walking around the flat like they’re going to run into Valentina in the hall. Julia’s practically catatonic.”

“Ah.” Martin poured out the water. Robert stared at the stream. “They are staying in the flat?”

“No, at a hotel.”

“So Julia’s by herself in the flat?” “Yes. Her parents tried to get her to come to the hotel with them, but she wanted to stay in her flat. I don’t know why.”

“She shouldn’t be alone.” “Well, that’s what I came up to talk to you about. I want you to ask Julia up here tonight, and keep her here until I tell you it’s okay to let her go.”

Martin regarded Robert sceptically. “Why?”

Robert maintained what he hoped was an innocent air. “Julia shouldn’t be alone.”

“No, she shouldn’t be. But surely she’d rather be with her parents?”

“If necessary you can ask them up too.”

“You’re joking. You expect me to have Edie and Jack here? Have you looked at this place properly?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t realise you had.” Robert switched tactics. “Look, Martin, it’s life and death: you’ve got to help me keep Julia out of her own flat for a few hours. I can’t depend on Edie and Jack.”

“What are you up to?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“It’s-a seance, of sorts.” “You’re trying to contact Valentina? Or Elspeth?”

“More or less.”

Martin shook his head, exasperated. “Surely this is not the moment? If you’re going to play about with that, can’t it wait?”

“It absolutely can’t wait.”

“Why can’t Julia be there?”

“I can’t explain. And you can’t tell her.”

“No. I won’t do it.”

“Why not?” Martin got up and paced around the kitchen. Robert instantly wished he had done this first, but they couldn’t both pace at the same time. That would be peculiar.

Robert said, “It won’t hurt Julia not to know. Here: I’ll make a bargain with you. If you’ll keep Julia here tonight, I’ll give you something you desperately want.”

Martin sat down again. “What’s that?” he said suspiciously.

“Marijke’s address in Amsterdam.”

Martin raised his eyebrows. He got up again and left the kitchen. Robert heard him walking across the hall into his office. He was gone for a while. When he reappeared he had a lit cigarette in one hand and a map of Amsterdam in the other.

“I thought you’d given up?” Robert said.

“I’ll quit again in half an hour.” Martin smoothed out the map on the table. Robert saw that it was covered with marks, notes, erasures. Martin pointed to a tiny red circle in the Jordaan. “There.”

Robert squinted, brought the minuscule words into focus. “Close, but no cigar.” They stared at each other. Robert smiled. “How did you happen to pick that spot?”

“I know her. She’s careful not to say much, but I remember things. We lived nearby, on the Tweede Leliedwarsstraat.”

“I’ll throw in her email address.”

“Marijke doesn’t do email.”

“She does. She’s had it for more than a year.”

“A year?”

“I’ll give you her address, email and a photograph of her apartment.”

“She sent you a picture of her place?”

“Several. Did she mention she’s got a cat now?”

Martin looked wistful. “Does she?”

“It’s a little grey cat named Yvette. It sleeps on Marijke’s pillow.” Martin sat quietly, smoking and staring at the map. “All right, you’re on. What do I have to do?”

Robert laid it out for him. It was simple, really; it was the only simple thing about that entire day.

When Jack woke up, Edie was standing in her nightgown at the French windows in the small hotel room, staring at the blue sky over the slate roofs of Covent Garden. He lay there watching her, reluctant to break into her thoughts. Finally he got up and went to the bathroom. Amazing how life goes on. Here I am pissing and showering and shaving like it’s any day, like we’re on vacation. Why didn’t we come and see them before? He wiped the last traces of lather from his neck and went back into the other room. Edie was still standing at the windows. Now her head was bowed. Jack walked to her and stood behind her, put his hands on her bare shoulders. She turned slightly.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“Eight fifteen.”

“We can call Julia.”

“I’m sure she’s been awake for hours.”

“Yes.”

They continued to stand that way, Jack’s hands weighing on her shoulders. Edie said, “I’ll call her.” Her cell phone didn’t work here, so she fumbled with the hotel phone, misdialled and redialled.

“Julia?” I just wanted to hear your voice.

“Hi, Mom.” Oh God. I don’t know what to do, Mom.

“We thought we might come earlier.” I can’t stand to be in this room.

“Can you come soon?” I’m alone and I don’t know what to do.

“Yes, yes, we’ll just get dressed and take a cab. We’ll be there as soon as we can.” Edie felt a surge of incongruous happiness. She needs me. Edie was smiling as she hung up the phone. She walked briskly to her suitcase and began to dress for the funeral. Jack went to the wardrobe, stood looking at his dark suit hanging by itself. He forgot, for a minute; he was lost in the dark wool hanging in the shadows of the wardrobe. Then he remembered and reached for the suit. I feel old. The suit was heavy, as though it were lined with some soft metal. He watched Edie bustling around, brushing her hair, putting on earrings. I don’t want to go outside. He sat on the bed holding a pair of socks. Edie saw him sitting motionless and said, “Come on, she’s waiting for us,” and it was that singular pronoun, pronounced impatiently, that finally bore down on him the fact of Valentina’s death.

Julia was waiting for them downstairs in the main hallway. She watched her parents through the narrow leaded window as they let themselves in the gate and walked along the path through the front garden. It was a bright June day, the sunlight made them seem extra-dimensional and distinct. They reminded Julia of a picture in one of the twins’ childhood books. A little girl leading a bear. Julia opened the door and wind rushed in, blowing Robert’s mail to the floor. She left it there.

Edie embraced Julia and said, “You aren’t dressed yet?”

Julia looked down at her sweats. “I didn’t want to wait for you upstairs. The flat is kind of creeping me out right now.”

“Stay with us at the hotel, then,” Edie said.

Julia shook her head. “I have to stay here.” Valentina’s here. She’s got to be.

Jack bent down to Julia and she clasped her arms around his neck. “Come on,” she said. They went upstairs, Julia leading the way.

Once inside the flat they hesitated. “Have you eaten?” Jack asked. He was ravenous, but felt guilty for thinking about breakfast.

“No,” said Julia, vaguely. “There’s probably some food. Have whatever you want. I’ll get dressed.”

Edie followed Julia. Yesterday, when they had arrived, Edie had been grief-numbed and jet-lagged. Julia had completely occupied her mind. This morning Edie began to notice the apartment itself. Elspeth suddenly seemed present to her in the furnishings, objects, in the paint on the walls and the angle of the light coming in the windows, in the very air. It was as though their childhood had been preserved in a museum. Edie shuddered. She stood in the doorway of the bedroom as Julia began stripping off her sweats. Julia had laid out her violet dress, white stockings and black patent-leather shoes. It was the same outfit she had chosen to bury Valentina in.

“Don’t,” said Edie.

“What?”

“Don’t wear what she’s wearing. I can’t-I want you to wear something else, please.”

“But-”

“Please, Julia. It’s too much.”

Julia looked at Edie and relented. She walked into the dressing room in her underwear and began taking things off their hangers, tossing them at the bed.

Elspeth heard Edie and Julia talking. She came out of her drawer and slowly made her way to the bedroom. She kept Valentina cupped in her hands. Yesterday Elspeth had stayed away from everyone. All night she had bargained with herself, confused and defensive. I’ll never see her again. She’ll be unhinged. I don’t want to see her. It’s my fault. She’s here and I should see her. If she knew she would never forgive me. Coward, coward. Murderer. Valentina had seemed to catch her mood and became subdued, a little sad apprehensive cloud wrapped in Elspeth’s dark musings. Now Elspeth crept towards the bedroom in a chastened state of mind.

Edie and Julia stood on opposite sides of the bed, flipping through a pile of clothing. Oh…there you are. Elspeth stood in the doorway, staring. Valentina became brighter, seemed to beat like a heart. Oh, you. What happened? How could this have happened to you? The last time she had seen her twin, it was 1984 and they were sobbing in each other’s arms at Heathrow, the babies in a double pram beside them. Twenty-one years later and here we are…You’re so different. Older, but there’s something else; harder. What is it? What happened? Elspeth stared and thought, He didn’t take care of you; you had to take care of yourself. No one loved you the way I did. If we’d been together…Oh, Elspeth.

She slunk around the edge of the room. Julia looked right at her and became still, watching. Can you see me, Julia? Or is it Valentina? Elspeth sat down on the window seat and tried to efface herself. Valentina twisted and throbbed in her hands. Julia walked over to where Elspeth sat and put a hand out, towards Valentina. Valentina stilled as Julia touched her. Julia closed her eyes. “Mouse?”

“What are you doing?” asked Edie. Julia stood at the window with one hand extended. “Julia?”

“She’s here!” Julia said, and burst into tears.

“What? No, Julia…here, come here.” Edie went to Julia and held her. Jack appeared in the doorway and Elspeth was shocked; he was so much older, softer; domesticated. Edie looked at Jack over Julia’s shoulder and shook her head slightly. He withdrew. Elspeth heard him walking through the flat and down the stairs. He’s gone to have a smoke, she thought. She watched Julia and Edie. Julia had stopped crying. They embraced, swaying back and forth slightly. Elspeth was envious. Then she was ashamed. She’s their mother. It doesn’t matter. It’s too late to fix anything. Things that had once seemed important now revealed themselves as idiotic. We thought we were so clever. We were stupid. We bollixed it all up. Elspeth wondered if she could put things right again. If Valentina came back; if the twins went home? She would make Valentina go with Julia. She would sacrifice everything. All this sadness for nothing. She got up and left the room. She felt a kind of yearning, then realised that it was Valentina’s; Valentina wanted to stay, wanted to be with Julia and Edie. Sorry. I can’t bear to watch them any more. You have to come with me. Elspeth went to the office windows and looked out without seeing, clasping her writhing daughter to her chest.

Robert answered the knock at his door, expecting to see Julia. Instead it was Jack.

“I hope you don’t mind. I’ve been shooed out and thought maybe…”

He doesn’t want to be alone, Robert realised. “Right, of course. Come in.” Robert had been sitting at his desk, staring at his enormous manuscript. Anything was better than being alone. He led Jack to the kitchen. “Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee? Jameson’s?”

“Yeah. The last.”

Robert put out two glasses, and the bottle. “Water? Ice?”

“Yes, and no, thanks.” Robert ran some water into a carafe and put it in front of Jack. They sat across from each other. The kitchen seemed strangely cheerful, sun-bleached and empty. Jack wondered if anyone in this building had any food. Robert saw him looking at the bare cupboards. “I haven’t felt much like eating. I could make toast, though, if you’d care for any?”

“Sure. There’s no food upstairs. Julia looks gaunt.”

Robert didn’t reply but got up and began to make the toast. He opened the fridge and set out a jar of marmalade and a jar of Marmite. Then he sat at the table. Jack leaned back in his chair. The chairs were of the small fifties metal and vinyl variety. Robert wondered if the chair would fold up under Jack’s bulk. He got up again and fetched cutlery.

Jack said, “I wonder if I could ask you a kind of personal question?”

Robert made a noncommittal sound and sat down.

“You were Elspeth’s…?” Boyfriend? Significant other? What do they call an unmarried lover here?

“Yes.” I was Elspeth’s. Creature is the word you’re groping for. The toast popped up violently and startled them both. Robert put three pieces on Jack’s plate and one on his own. He handed the plate to Jack. There was a pause while they each spread marmalade on toast. Neither of them spoke until Jack had finished his toast. Robert handed him the fourth, untouched piece. Jack thought, He seems very detached. Robert thought,I’m going to be sick.

Jack poured himself a few fingers of whisky and added water. He began again. “Did Elspeth ever tell you what happened between her and Edie?”

Robert shook his head. That’s not what I expected, mate. “Not while she was alive. She left me all her personal papers, and in the papers were her diaries. And a letter to me, explaining some things.”

“Ah. I don’t suppose you’d let me look at any of it? The letter, maybe?”

“Erm, you’ve seen Elspeth’s will. She most particularly did not want you or her sister to have access to any of her papers.”

“Uh-huh.” Jack ate the last piece of toast. Robert watched him. Jack said, “I really just need the answer to one question. I know everything else.”

“What’s that, then?”

“Why did they do it?”

Robert said nothing.

Jack said, “I would like to know the point of this whole-stupid game we’ve been playing all these years. Because, as far as I can tell, nobody was fooled, but for some reason we all have to go on pretending we don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

“Don’t you know about the switch?”

“I do, but according to Elspeth you don’t.”

“But she knew I knew. I mean, pregnancy really changed her body-apparently Edie was the only one who didn’t realise…Maybe this was all some weird thing Elspeth was doing to Edie? Look, I know you can’t tell me anything,” Jack said. “But what if I tell you the situation as I understand it? And you can just, you know, elevate your eyebrow a little when you hear something that makes sense. Could we do that?”

“All right.”

“Okay.” Jack sipped the whisky. “I don’t drink at this hour. Usually.”

“No. I don’t either.” Until recently. Robert poured some whisky for himself. He thought the smell might turn his stomach, but it didn’t. He drank, cautiously. I love the smell of napalm in the morning.

“So,” said Jack, “it’s 1983. Edie and Elspeth Noblin live together in a little flat in Hammersmith, in bohemian squalor and at great expense to their mother. The twins are recently down from Oxford, and I am working at the London branch of the bank I still work for. I am engaged to the woman we both know as Edie, but who back then was known as Elspeth. I’ll stick to calling them by their current names, to avoid confusion.”

“Okay.”

“Elspeth-your Elspeth-was not fond of me at all. She wasn’t actively hostile, she just did that British thing, you know, where somebody doesn’t want to know you so they freeze you out. I don’t think it was personal, but she knew where things were leading: I was going to take her twin to America. I don’t know how much the twins issue affected your relationship with Elspeth-?”

“Not much. Edie was gone. Elspeth very rarely mentioned her. But Julia and Valentina have been educational.” Robert wondered what Julia had told her parents about his dealings with Valentina.

“Well, the thing about twins: no one can ever replace the missing twin. I mean, Edie and I, we love Valentina-but Julia…I don’t know how she’ll…” Jack looked at his hands. Robert found it hard to breathe. “Anyway. The twins-Edie and Elspeth-started acting weird. You never saw them together. They were a lot alike, but not as much as they thought they were. When they were impersonating each other there was always this extra thing, the acting, going on. I mean, you don’t have to work at being yourself, but when one of the Noblin sisters was being the other there was a noticeable smell of effort.

“So Edie started to impersonate Elspeth-that is, my fiancée started pretending to be her sister-and she started coming on to me, which is something your Elspeth would never have done in a thousand years, because she genuinely disliked me, in that impersonal way she had.”

“Why did she do that?”

Jack shook his head. “My wife has always been pretty insecure about herself. She was the weaker of the two, but over the years she’s taken on some of her sister’s personality. I think she was testing me, to see what I would do.”

“So what did you do?”

“I got mad. Then I made a big mistake. I played along with it.”

“Ah.”

“Indeed. So, yadda, yadda…things got complicated. I’m ninety-nine percent sure the woman standing next to me at the wedding was Edie. My Edie, you know what I mean. The switch happened when we got on the plane to Chicago.”

Robert imagined Elspeth sitting next to Jack on a plane. “Elspeth was terribly afraid of flying.”

“They both were. That’s why Edie and I didn’t come over to visit the girls, though it seems crazy, now. That isn’t what tipped me off.” Robert waited for him to elaborate. Instead Jack said, “Please-the answer must be in Elspeth’s papers. Why else would she be so hellbent on keeping them away from us?”

Robert said, “But I don’t understand-what is it you’re hoping to find out? Elspeth was pregnant, you were the father-it seemed obvious to them, in their self-absorbed way, that they should just trade identities and everything would be fine.”

Jack said, “I never slept with Elspeth.”

Robert thought, My brain is going to explode. “Stay there,” he said. He got up and went to the servant’s room, found the last box of diaries with Elspeth’s letter and carried it all to the kitchen. He extracted a diary and paged through it until he located the entry. “April Fool’s Day, 1983,” he said, and handed the diary to Jack. “At a party, in Knightsbridge. You were drunk. I think the joke was supposed to be on Edie, somehow.”

Jack held the diary at arm’s length, reading. “She doesn’t mention my name.”

Robert replied, “They wrote the diaries together.” He leaned over Jack and pointed to the entry just below the first one. “That’s Edie’s reply.”

Damn you. Can’t I have anything of my own? Jack read. He looked up, confused.

Robert said, “They tried to make it right, but they didn’t understand what would be involved. I can’t imagine they wanted to hurt you.”

“No,” said Jack. “I just happened to be there.” He put the diary on the table and closed his eyes, pressed his lips together. Robert thought, He didn’t know he really was their dad. Oh God. He thought of Valentina, and felt helpless, furious. Robert was unable to speak. Finally he gestured at the other diaries and said, “You’re welcome to look through all that.”

Jack replied, “No, thank you. I found out what I needed to know.” Jack stood up, disorientated and a little buzzed. They looked at each other and then away, mutually unsure suddenly on how to proceed.

Robert said, “I’ll see you at Lauderdale House.”

“Yeah. Um-thanks.” Jack lumbered off. Robert heard him treading slowly up the stairs. A door opened and closed. Robert got his wallet and keys and went out to buy flowers.

Valentina’s funeral was held at Lauderdale House, a sixteenth-century manor where Nell Gwyn had once lived, which now functioned as an art gallery/wedding hall/café. Her funeral was in the big upstairs room where the figure drawing and yoga classes usually met. The room was half-timbered and half-unfinished, as though the carpenters’ elevenses had lasted several decades. The coffin stood at the front of the room on trestles, covered in white roses. Folding chairs filled the rest of the space. Julia sat between her parents in the front row, staring out of the window. She remembered a story someone had told them about Nell Gwyn dangling her baby out of one of the windows at Lauderdale House. Julia couldn’t remember why this had happened, or which window.

The coffin was white, with simple steel fittings. Sebastian moved around the room, placing a water pitcher and empty glasses at the podium, depositing a newly arrived wreath at the front of the coffin. Julia thought he was like a butler in his super-efficiency and preternatural tranquillity. I’ve never met a butler. Sebastian glanced at Julia as though he knew she was thinking about him and gave her a calm smile. I’m going to cry, and if I start I’m not going to stop. She wanted to disappear. Sebastian put a box of tissues next to the podium. He does this all the time, as a job. Julia had never thought of death as something that would happen to her, or to people she knew. All those people in the cemetery were just stones, names, dates. Loving Mother. Devoted Husband. Elspeth was a parlour trick; she had never been really real to Julia. Valentina is in that box. It couldn’t be true.

I want to be haunted, thought Julia. Haunt me, Mouse. Come and put your arms around me. We’ll sit together and write our secrets with the plan-chette. Or, if you can’t do that, just look at me. That’s all I need. Where are you? Not here. But I can’t feel you gone, either. You’re my phantom limb, Mouse. I keep looking for you. I forget. I feel stupid, Mouse. Haunt me, find me, come back from wherever you are. Be with me. I’m afraid.

Julia looked at her mother. Edie sat stiffly, white-knuckled hands gripping her small handbag. She’s afraid too. Her father sat over-spilling 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 nonreligious 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 nonreligious 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.

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 déjà 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; Julia 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. Jack had gone back to Vautravers with Edie 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 Café 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.

Come now, my darling.

Robert laid Valentina down carefully on his bed. At first he put her down crossways, so that she was parallel to the headboard and her feet stuck out over the side. He unwrapped her and threw his coat over the bedroom chair. Her little black shoes seemed to be levitating above the floor, as though Valentina’s legs had nothing to do with holding them up. Robert frowned. That’s no good. He gently gathered her into his arms and reapplied her to the bed, this time in the conventional position for sleeping. He smoothed out her dress, placed her arms comfortably beside her body, massaged her fingers. Valentina’s head lolled on his pillow as though her neck no longer had bones. Robert took her face in his hands and turned it until she looked content, not broken. He stroked her eyebrows.

The room was cold-every night that June had been cold. That morning he had filled the bedroom with flowers. He had hesitated in the shop: lilies or roses? He had decided on pink roses, because the smell of lilies always made him queasy, and because Valentina had once said something mildly approving about pink roses. Now the roses sat in vases, in old tins, in pots borrowed long ago from Elspeth. There were roses on both sides of the bed, on the window sills and radiator covers. The roses were the pink of ballet shoes, the pink of old ladies’ dressing gowns. In the chill of the bedroom they seemed to shiver, and remained furled, scentless. Robert had bought a shopping bag full of candles from a street vendor in Hackney. Each one had a picture of a saint on it. She had explained to him that the candles had to burn until they expired, and then the thing you had prayed for would be granted to you. Robert hoped it was true. The candles stood next to the roses, burning away.

Robert sat next to Valentina on the bed, watching her. He found it astonishing how perfect she was. He tried to remember what Valentina had said about the Kitten’s revival. There were dark circles under Valentina’s eyes, and though she was rather bluish in some places and too red in others, she was not like the medical-school and police-morgue corpses, which puffed up and oozed and discoloured and stank. The morgue corpses led active existences; they were trying to transform themselves as quickly as possible into unrecognisable beings, not to be mistaken for people any more. Valentina was still essentially Valentina, and he was thankful that this should be so.

He wondered if he should talk to her. It seemed unnatural to be in the room with her and not to say anything. Her hair was tangled. To distract himself, Robert began combing her hair. Very delicately, so as not to tug at her scalp, he began to work the tangles out. Her hair was like dental floss, slippery handfuls of white. The comb burrowed in, separating, smoothing. At first his hands shook, but then he became absorbed in the repetition and in the beauty of Valentina’s shining hair. This is almost all I want. To sit here forever and comb her hair. The slight resistance of the hair against the comb was like breath, and without knowing it Robert combed Valentina’s hair at the rate of his own breathing, as though this could communicate breath from his lungs to her hair, as though her hair were now going to take over the task of breathing for her.

He made himself stop, finally. Her hair was perfect and to do more would disturb it. Robert sat still and listened. Outside the wind was coming up. A dog barked nearby. But Valentina was silent. Robert looked at his watch. It was only 11:22.

The phone rang, once.

Julia was tired. Over dinner Edie and Jack talked about the funeral; about London as they had known it twenty-two years before; they offered to stay in London with Julia, to take her home to Lake Forest; they recognised that she was too overwhelmed to decide right now, then stared at her eagerly as though they might whisk her off before she had finished eating her steak frites. They spoke of Valentina carefully; it was difficult for each of them to refer to Valentina in the past tense, so they talked around and around her. By the time Julia had seen them into a cab and walked back to Vautravers she wanted to crawl up the stairs on all fours. But Martin asked me to come stay with him.

When she came into his office Martin was sitting at the computer, but the screen was dark; he sat with his hands folded and his head bowed, as though saying grace.

“Martin?”

He roused himself. “There you are. I was getting sleepy.”

“Me too. I just wanted to say goodnight. I’m going to bed.”

“Oh, don’t, yet.” Martin held out his hand. She relented and went to him. He said, “I was thinking-I might leave tomorrow.”

“Leave?” She couldn’t take it in. “How can you leave? I wish…Couldn’t you wait?”

Martin sighed. “I don’t know. If I wait, will I be able to do it at all? But perhaps tomorrow is too soon. I don’t want to upset you.”

Julia bent and clasped her arms around his neck. She did it impulsively and Martin reacted as he often had when Theo was small: he pulled Julia onto his lap. She rested her head on his shoulder. They sat this way for a long time. Martin thought she might have fallen asleep when she said, “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” he said. He stroked her hair. “But don’t be so tragic; I’m sure I won’t be gone long. Or, you can come and visit.”

“It will be different. Everything will be different now,” she said.

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. What do people do by themselves?”

“Come with me,” he said.

Julia smiled to herself. “That’s silly. You’re going to Marijke. You don’t need me.”

“Don’t I?”

She raised her face and he kissed her. The kiss progressed; he broke off, panting, and took her hand away from his belt buckle. “That’s no good,” he said.

“Sorry.”

“No-that is, I would if I could-Julia, the Anafranil-one of the side effects is-”

“Ohh-”

“That’s why I never liked to take it.”

“It’s like a chastity belt.” She began to giggle.

“Minx.”

“I guess Marijke doesn’t have to worry about me.”

Martin said quite seriously, “In the larger sense, no, she doesn’t. But Julia, you aren’t meant for an old man like me. Your lover should be what I was thirty years ago.”

“But, Martin…”

“You’ll see,” he said. He moved to stand up and she slid off his lap. “In the meantime, come along and let me sing you a lullaby.” He took her hand and led her to his bedroom. “Ah, wait; let me just check something.” He took out his mobile, pressed 2 on his speed dial, let it ring once and hung up. It was 11:22.

She watched him curiously. “What are you doing?”

“For luck,” he said. “Come along.”

Robert checked to make sure that the keys were still in his pocket. He laid two of them on his dresser and kept the key to the twins’ flat. He gathered up Valentina and lifted her off the bed. He caught sight of the two of them in the mirror, an image out of a horror film: the candlelight flickering from below, dark shadow cast across his face, Valentina’s head thrown back, her neck offered up, her arms and legs dangling. I am the monster. He felt the absurdity of the situation, and then deep, unspeakable shame.

He walked through the flat as quietly as possible. Valentina’s foot banged against a wall; Robert flinched, then wondered if she would feel it when she was back in her body. He opened his front door an inch and listened. He heard traffic, wind rattling the windows. He eased Valentina through the doorway and carried her upstairs. At the twins’ door he had to shift her; he stood with Valentina draped over his shoulder like a suit collected from the dry-cleaners’ while he fumbled with the key. He realised after messing about unsuccessfully that it hadn’t been locked in the first place.

He carried Valentina into the dark front room. His eyes adjusted, and he laid the body carefully on the sofa.

Softly: “Elspeth? Valentina?”

No response. He sat peering at Valentina’s body by the glow of his wristwatch and the moonlight, waiting.

Elspeth was there. She felt Valentina frantically squirming in her hands. Is she trying to escape? She was afraid to open her hands, afraid that Valentina would disperse, that she would fight or thrash around. Be still, darling. Let me think. She could not put off the decision any longer.

Robert watched Valentina’s chest. He waited for her to breathe.

Elspeth knelt by the body. It was cool, profoundly still, alluring. She felt Valentina go quiet. She felt Robert sitting close to her, eager, unhappy, frightened. She looked at the body, lax and waiting. Elspeth made her decision and opened her hands.

A white mist gathered over Valentina’s body. Elspeth watched it hover, waited to see what it would do. Robert saw nothing, but the air became suddenly cold. He knew the ghosts were there. Breathe, Valentina.

Nothing happened.

After a while he was aware of a change in the body. Something was present. There were faint sounds, gurgling, liquid; he had a sense of something far away coming closer.

The body opened its mouth and took a jagged, asthmatic breath, seemed to hold it for a long time, let it out and began sucking at the air again with horrible rasps. It lurched sideways and Robert caught it; it was convulsing and the breaths stopped. Then suddenly there was another agonised gasp. Robert held Valentina’s hands pinned on either side of her torso. He knelt next to her, braced her with his body. The sofa was slippery and he tried to keep her from falling onto the floor. Something like electricity wracked her body; her limbs contracted; her head swerved violently back and forth, once.

She cried out: “Uh-uh-uh!” and he said, “Hush, ssh,” as though she were an infant, but now she thrashed and her eyes opened. Robert recoiled at the blankness of her eyes. It was not even animal, it was the gaze of brain damage; it looked past him into nothing. Her eyes closed again. Her breath quietened. He put his hand on her chest. Her heart was beating.

He was afraid.

“Elspeth?” Robert whispered, to the room. There was no response. “Can I take her away now?” Nothing.

A harsh voice said his name in the dark.

“I’m here, Valentina.” She said nothing. He smoothed her hair. “I’m going to take you downstairs now.” She kept her eyes closed, nodded awkwardly like a child too drowsy to speak. He lifted her off the sofa; she tried to put her arms around his neck, but couldn’t. He carried her to the landing. She was live weight now, dense and mobile.

In his own flat he laid her back on the bed. She sighed and opened her eyes, looked at him. Robert stood over her. She seemed almost normal: exhausted, limp. Something about her expression was different, though. He couldn’t think what it was. She held out her hand, palm up, quivering with the strain of holding up her arm. He took it in his; her hand was quite cold. She pulled his hand slightly: Lie next to me.

“Wait a minute, Valentina.”

He took out his mobile, speed-dialled Martin’s number. He let the phone ring once and hung up. Then Robert placed the phone and his glasses on the bedside table. He took off his shoes, walked around the bed, sat down beside Valentina. She looked up at him and smiled, shyly, lopsidedly, a smile that happened at different rates of speed in various parts of her face. How ordinary she appeared: the violet dress, the white stockings. There were places where blood had pooled and made her skin deep red; these were becoming pink. Bluish white skin was beginning to flush. He touched his fingers to her cheek. It was pliable, soft.

“What was it like?”

Lonely. Cold. Insanely frustrating. “I-missed you.” Her voice cracked; she sounded like a ventriloquist’s dummy, off-kilter, high, raspy and stressed wrong.

“I missed you too.”

She held out her hand again. He lay down beside her and she turned her face towards him. Robert wrapped his arms around her. She was trembling. He realised then that she was crying. It was such a normal sound, the sobbing girl in his arms was so tangible, it was easy to forget the reason for the tears, it was natural to comfort her. He stopped thinking and let himself kiss Valentina’s ear. She cried for what seemed a long time. She hiccuped; he handed her a Kleenex. She fumbled at her nose, dabbed at her eyes. She tossed the tissue over the side of the bed.

“Okay, then?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

She tried to unbutton his shirt, but her fingers weren’t working properly. He closed his hand over hers. “You sure?”

She nodded.

“We should wait…”

“Please…”

“Valentina…?”

She made a little noise, a mewing sound.

He undid the buttons himself. Then he undressed her. She tried to help, but seemed too weak; she let him undo zips and strip the violet dress from her, let him peel off her knickers and carefully remove her white lace bra. Her body was marked by the lace and elastic and the folds of her clothing. She lay with eyes half-closed, waiting while he removed his clothes. One of the candles guttered.

“Are you cold?”

“Uh-huh.” He carefully peeled the blankets and sheets from under her, got into bed and pulled the bedding over the two of them. “Mmm,” she said, “warm.” He was startled at how cold she was. He ran his hands over her thighs; they were like meat from the refrigerated case at Sainsbury’s.

Robert wasn’t quite sure if he could bring himself to kiss her mouth. Her breath smelled wrong, like spoiled food, like the hedgehog he’d found dead in the heating system at the cemetery’s office. Instead he kissed her breasts. Some parts of her body seemed more alive than others, as though her soul had not quite spread all the way through her body yet. Valentina’s breasts seemed to Robert more present, less isolated from her self, than her hands; Valentina’s hands were like badly wired robots. He chafed them between his, hoping to warm them back to life, but it didn’t seem to help.

Something is wrong, he thought. He drew her close to him. She was so small and slight that Robert thought of Elspeth in the last days of her illness; she seemed barely there, as though she might slip back to wherever she’d been.

“How do you feel?” he tried again.

“So cold,” she said. “Tired.”

“Do you want to sleep for a while?”

“No…”

“I’ll sit and watch you, make sure you’re okay.” He stroked her neck, her face. Her eyes rested on his, questioning. Something is different. Her voice. Her eyes. She gave in, nodded. Robert got out of bed, blew out all the candles. So much for wishes. He turned on the light in the hall, left the door ajar so he could see her. Then he climbed into bed again. She was shivering. He lay pressed against her, watching the smoke of the extinguished candles disperse in the narrow band of light from the hall.

“I love you, Robert,” she whispered. In the corridors of his memory doors were flung open and he almost knew-

He said, “I love you too-”

She brought her clumsy hand to his face, watching him; stretched out her index finger, and with great concentration and gentleness touched the tip of her finger to the indentation above his nose, stroked it down and over his lips, over his chin.

“-Elspeth.”

She smiled, closed her eyes, relaxed.

Robert lay with her in the dark, in his bed, as the knowledge and horror of what they had done spread before him.

Martin sat propped against the pillows, smoking. Julia lay pressed against him. “Sing,” she commanded. Martin stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray on the bedside table. He sang, “Slaap kindje, slaap; Daar buiten loopt een schaap; Een schaap met witte voetjes; Die drinkt zijn melk zo zoetjes; Slaap kindje slaap.”

“What does it mean?” she asked.

“Mmm…‘Sleep, baby, sleep; there’s a little white sheep walking outside, it has little white feet and drinks sweet milk.’”

“Nice,” she said, and then she fell asleep.

Departures

JULIA WOKE before dawn. Martin was sleeping curled away from her. She got up quietly, went to the bathroom, dressed. She slipped out of the flat and went downstairs, shed her clothes and put on a nightgown. She got into her own bed and stared at the ceiling. After some time, she got up and took a shower.

In the morning Elspeth woke up in Robert’s bed. She put her hand out, but he wasn’t there. Instead there was a note: I’ve gone to get breakfast. Back soon. R

Elspeth lay in bed exulting in the smooth feel of the sheets, the smell of Robert on her pillow mingled with the scents of candles and roses, the twittering of little birds and the sheer corporality of herself.

Everything hurt but she did not mind. Her joints ached, her blood was sluggish. Breathing was an effort, as though her lungs were full of half-set blancmange. So what? I’m alive! She struggled to sit up, became tangled in the bedding. She had an idea of what her limbs ought to do but they did not respond as she expected. Elspeth started laughing. The sound was harsh and had an underwater quality and she stopped. She managed to stand and walk a few steps, clinging to the side of the bed. When she got to the footboard she stood swaying, regarded herself in the mirror. Oh. Oh… There was Valentina. What did you expect? She imagined Valentina upstairs, alone and cold. I’m sorry. I’m sorry… She was not sure what she felt. An indecipherable mixture of triumph and remorse. She stared at her reflection that was not herself; this was a consummately impressive costume which she would now wear as her body. This body was young, but the posture and movements were like an old woman’s: hunched, lurching, cautious. Can I live like this? She put her hand over her heart, where her heart should be, then remembered and moved her hand to the right, found its slow beat. Oh, Valentina.

Elspeth let go of the bed. She staggered to the bathroom, meaning to take a bath. When she got there she lowered herself slowly to the floor, reached for the taps and turned them on with effort. It’s like the first days of being a ghost. I will get stronger. I just have to practise. Water gushed into the bathtub. She was unable to reach the plug, so it swirled down the drain. Finally she turned off the taps and sat on the cold tile floor, waiting for Robert to return.

After breakfast, Martin packed his suitcase. He didn’t put very much in it; he reckoned that either Marijke would spurn him and he would be back quite soon, or he wouldn’t manage to get there at all, so why should he burden himself with extra clothing? Perhaps Marijke would let him stay and neither of them would ever come back. Maybe Marijke had found someone else, and in that case Martin knew that he would prefer throwing himself into the Prinsengracht over returning home, alone. He packed lightly.

He moved through the flat, turning out lights, turning off the computer. The flat was strange to him; Martin felt as though he had not seen it for years, as though he was dreaming this unknown flat, this lost twin which somehow housed clones of all his stuff. There were the patches of sunlight coming through the windows where Julia had ripped off the newspaper. Martin held his hands out and the sunlight filled his palms.

When it was time to leave he stood at the door, one hand on the doorknob, the other clutching the handle of the suitcase. It’s perfectly fine. It’s only the stairwell. You’ve been there before. Nothing hideous has ever happened there. It is not necessary to count. Martin thought it might be good to bring some gloves, though. He went back, found a wad of surgical gloves, put them in his jacket pocket. Then he opened the door and stepped out onto the landing.

There. I’m out of the flat. Martin took stock of himself. A bit tight in the chest, but okay. He locked the door. Still all right. He began to lumber down the stairs with the suitcase. When he arrived at the first-floor landing he stopped, kissed his fingers and touched the door just above Elspeth’s name card. Then he continued on.

On the ground floor he knocked on Robert’s door. He heard Robert walk to the door and stand there, breathing. “It’s me,” Martin said softly. The door opened about an inch, and Martin could see Robert’s eye regarding him. It made him more nervous. The door opened and Robert silently gestured at him to come in. He did, pulling the suitcase along. Robert shut the door.

Martin was startled by Robert’s appearance. The change was indefinable, but extreme, as though Robert had been ill for months: his eyes were undershadowed by dark circles; he stood hunched as though in pain. “Are you all right?” Martin asked.

“I’m fine,” Robert said. He smiled. The effect was grotesque. Robert cleared his throat. “I’ve seen a few miracles in the last day or two, but this is perhaps the most gobsmacking of them all. Where are you going?”

“Amsterdam,” said Martin. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Robert said, “Everything’s under control. Does Marijke know you’re coming?”

“No,” said Martin. “But if you think back, she did actually invite me.”

“I’d love to see her face when she realises you’ve braved cabs, trains and buses for her. She’ll just swoon.” He smiled again. Martin suddenly, urgently wanted to get away. But he needed to ask a question first. He said, “Robert, do you know of any reason why I shouldn’t go?-has she-is she…?”

“No,” said Robert firmly, “I don’t believe she has. Or is.”

“Well, then…” There was a pause.

“Deep subject.”

Martin held out his hand. Robert shook it, then recognised his mistake when he felt Martin recoil. “Her address?” Martin requested.

“Sorry. Here it is.” Robert gave Martin a large envelope.

Martin opened it, read the address. “I was close, wasn’t I?”

“Only two streets off. Amazing.”

Martin had the feeling that Robert was waiting for him to leave. “I’d better go. But-thanks.”

“Erm-not at all.”

Martin turned and then said, “Did it work out all right?”

“What’s that?”

“The seance. The matter of life or death.” Martin stood not quite touching the doorknob, thinking about Julia.

“Things derailed a bit, but the end result was-interesting,” Robert said. “By the way, how did you manage to keep Julia upstairs?”

“Duct tape and charisma.” Martin opened the door, stepped into the hallway.

Robert said, “Ring us up sometime. Tell us how it goes.” He smiled more naturally as he shut the door.

Martin glanced at his watch, saw that he should hurry. This propelled him across the hall and out the front door without too much hesitation. Halfway up the garden path he turned and looked back. Julia was watching him from her parlour window. He waved; she waved back. He glanced down at the ground-floor parlour and saw someone-Julia?-sitting in the dim room. Well, it can’t be Julia. How odd. He shook his head, looked up at Julia and smiled. She stood and watched as Martin turned away and walked through the gate, carrying his suitcase lightly. What did he see? Julia wondered.

Elspeth watched Martin disappear through the gate. Goodbye, my friend. She heard Robert come into the room. He stood behind her. “There he goes,” he said quietly.

“It’s quite inspiring, really. He must be terrified.”

“He seemed calm enough. Julia’s been slipping him pills.”

“Ah. I hope they linger in his system long enough to get him to Marijke’s doorstep.”

Robert said, “Martin came to your funeral.”

“Did he? How sweet. And brave.”

“Very brave.”

“Robert. Why only ‘interesting’?” she asked.

“Sorry?”

“You told Martin the end result was ‘interesting.’ Would you rather it was Valentina and not me?”

“I can’t seem to justify sacrificing Valentina to have you.”

With some effort Elspeth turned to face him. “What exactly do you think happened last night?” He was standing near her, but not touching. Robert looked down at her, hesitated before he answered. “I couldn’t see anything until you came into-Valentina’s body. All I know is that you’re here, and she isn’t. What am I supposed to think?”

“She couldn’t do it. She wasn’t strong enough. I could have put her back a few minutes after she died-or she would have had to be a very strong ghost like me, and it took me months to get to the point where I could move a toothbrush, let alone a body.” She put the palm of her hand on her chest. “At first you have to make everything go by pushing and willing it. You have to breathe with lungs that don’t know how to breathe. You have to make the blood move. You have to seal yourself in and become the body. Valentina was just a sort of mist. She hovered over the body and then-dispersed. And I thought, Right, I’ll take it then.”

“But do you think she knew? Do you think she decided not to come back?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember that phase very well.”

“But the whole thing was a deception, then. It would never have worked. She couldn’t have come back-why didn’t you tell her?”

“How was I supposed to know? It’s not as though we were scientists; we made it up as we went along. She would have killed herself anyway.”

“No…she might have run away. She just wanted to leave Julia-she didn’t want to die.”

“She was in love with you,” Elspeth said. “She was trying to be your ideal girl, and you were in love with a ghost. Now your ghost is alive and Valentina is a ghost.” She paused. “So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I can’t-Elspeth, right now I just despise myself for having any part in this.”

“Are you going to leave me for your new ghost?”

He turned away from her. They had been speaking very quietly, for fear of Julia’s overhearing them, and somehow this increased the horror he had of her; this whispered argument in the dim parlour suddenly became painfully absurd to him.

“You said you wished I could come back-you wanted me to come back…”

He could not answer.

Julia stood at Robert’s door. I know you’re in there. It was quiet behind the door. She didn’t knock. She stared at the little card that said FANSHAW. What was Martin looking at? She tried to come up with a plausible reason to be standing at Robert’s door. She couldn’t think of a thing. She knocked anyway.

In the parlour Elspeth and Robert were silent, listening. Finally Elspeth looked up at him. He bent to her and she spoke into his ear. “I’ll go out the back door. See what she wants.” Robert helped her to take off her shoes, helped her walk to the back door. She sat down on the fire escape, breathing strenuously with her shoes in her hands.

Robert walked very slowly. He stood at the door for a moment, then unlocked and opened it. Julia stood there. She looked tired and distraught, her dress hanging askew, misbuttoned, her hands clasped in front of her like a penitent.

“Hello, Julia.” I’m sorry, Julia. I’ve killed your sister.

“Hey.” You look really freaked out, Robert.

“Are you okay?” I didn’t mean to kill her. She insisted.

“Can I come in?” What are you hiding?

“Erm, yeah, sure.” It didn’t work out quite the way she thought it would.

Julia walked into Robert’s hallway. She took a few steps and turned back. “Can I look around?”

“Why?”

She didn’t reply, but ran into the front room, stood looking for a moment, raced into the parlour, through the dining room, across the hall and into his bedroom. She stood panting, taking in the candles and roses, spent matches, dishevelled bedclothes. She went into the bathroom and came out holding a comb. Silvery hairs wafted around it like the iridescent tendrils of a deep sea creature.

“This is Valentina’s.”

“Yes.”

“Where is she?”

“Julia…”

“I know, but…something is wrong.” Julia was turning, trying to see, looking for the thing that would explain what was wrong. “I don’t feel like she’s dead.”

Robert nodded. “I know.”

“She’s here.”

“No,” he said. “Julia…I know it’s impossible to believe, but she’s gone.”

“No,” she said. Julia began moving through the flat again. Robert followed her.

“Do you want some breakfast?” he asked. “I have eggs, and orange juice.” She ignored him, kept orbiting through the rooms as though velocity would answer her question. In the dining room she turned on him.

“It’s your fault. You killed her.” This was so much his own feeling that he could not answer. He stood with his hands at his side, ready to accept her verdict. “You…if you hadn’t…You killed Elspeth, and then you killed Valentina.” He saw that she was only trying to hurt him.

“Elspeth died of leukaemia. Valentina had asthma.” How delicately language skirts the issue. How meaningless it is.

“But…I don’t know. Why did she die?”

“I don’t know, Julia.” She stared at him, seemed to be waiting for him to say something more. Suddenly she ran out of the room. Robert heard her slam his front door and run up the stairs.

This is unbearable. He wanted to go to the cemetery, to walk off this sense of things being too real, too wrong. But Elspeth was sitting on the fire escape. He went to collect her. When he opened the door she was huddled on the bottom step looking miserable and boneless. He scooped her up and brought her in without a word. When he had settled her on his bed he sat next to her, facing away. “We have to leave here,” he said.

“Of course,” said Elspeth, relieved. “We’ll go anywhere you like.”

He left the room. She heard him dialling. Where are we going?

“James? May I come over? I’m bringing someone…I’ll explain when I get there…No, the situation is a bit unusual…Yes. Thanks, we’ll be there directly.”

Martin had imagined this journey countless times. In his head parts of it were quite tangible and specific and other things were left vague. There was no question of flying. He knew he could not bear to sit strapped in 30,000 feet up in the air; his heart would burst. He had decided to take the train.

First he had to convince himself to get into the minicab. The driver had waited patiently, had finally opened the door for him and let him insert and extract himself several times before he sat down and allowed the driver to shut the door. Martin sat with his eyes closed for a while, but eventually felt secure enough to look out the window. There’s the world. Look at all the new buildings, and the cars, there are so many strange cars. He had seen pictures of the cars in adverts: here they were. A black Prius cut off the minicab and there was a mutual exchange of hostility at the next light. Martin closed his eyes again.

Standing in Waterloo station he was immediately overwhelmed. It had been completely refurbished since he’d been there last. He was an hour early. He made his way very slowly across the open space of the station, looking straight ahead, counting his steps. People flowed around him. In the midst of his anxiety Martin was able to discern a kernel of excitement, pleasure in his reentry into the world. He thought of Marijke, of what she would say when she saw him, how proud she would be of him. Look, darling. I’ve come to you. Martin shivered in the cool dead air of the station. Unconsciously he closed his eyes and arced his head forward, as though expecting a kiss. A few people looked at him curiously. He stood still before the board that announced the trains, imagining Marijke’s embrace.

He had bought a first-class ticket on the Eurostar, one-way for luck. He waited in the lounge, standing apart from the other travellers. Finally he was able to step onto the train and walk to his seat at the end of the compartment. The train was quieter and cleaner than the trains he remembered. Martin bowed his head, clasped his hands and began counting silently. It was a five-hour journey. He was grateful not to have to take the ferry. The train would move straight ahead, on rails. It would not fly through the air; it would not sail the seas. He had only to sit still, change trains in Brussels, and take one more cab. It was doable.

Jessica opened her front door. Robert stood on the doorstep clutching what seemed to Jessica at first to be a wounded child; he held it under its arms as if it were about to slide to the ground. Though the day was temperate, the figure was shrouded in a scarf. Robert’s head was bowed over the small figure and he slowly raised his face and looked at Jessica with an expression of profound sorrow.

“Robert? What’s happened? Who is that?”

“I’m sorry, Jessica. I couldn’t think where else to go. I thought you might help us.”

The figure turned its head; Jessica saw its face. Julia? No. “Edie?”

“Jessica,” it said, and tried to straighten, tried to stand on its own. There was something about it that made Jessica think of a newborn foal, unsteady but ready to flee.

“It’s Elspeth, Jessica,” Robert said.

Jessica put out her hand and braced herself against the doorjamb. She experienced one of those rare moments when understanding of the world alters and a previously impossible thing is admitted, if not understood. “Robert,” she cried out, “what have you done?” From inside the house James called, “Jessica, are you all right?” She paused, then called back, “Yes, James.” She stared at them, uncertain and fearful.

“We’d better go,” said Robert. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

“But how is it possible?”

“I don’t know,” Robert said. He realised the enormity of his mistake. “Jessica, I’m sorry. I’ll come back and see you when I’ve thought it all through more carefully. Just-please don’t mention this to Julia or her parents. I think they would rather not know.” He picked up Elspeth and turned to leave.

Jessica said, “Wait, Robert-” But he was already walking away. Elspeth wrapped her arms around his neck. James came to the door as they reached the pavement and were hidden from view by the hedge. “What happened?” he said. “Come inside,” said Jessica. “I have to tell you something.”

Martin sat on the train and the world flowed. Everything is still out there: the rooftops and chimneys, the graffiti, the office towers and the cyclists; soon there will be sheep and that immense sky they keep out in the countryside…Once I thought there were two realities, inner and outer, but perhaps that’s a bit meagre; I’m not quite the same person I was last night, and when I get to Marijke’s I won’t be the same man she married or even the one she walked out on…How will we recognise each other, after all that’s happened? How will we manage to realign our realities, which are moving away from us even as we travel towards them? Martin wrapped his fingers around the vitamin bottle, which Julia had slipped into his pocket. Everything is so fragile, and so glorious. He closed his eyes. Here it comes…here’s the future…and here it is again…

At the railway station in Brussels he bought a ham sandwich and a pair of sunglasses; he was nervous and the extra protection soothed him. He peered at himself in the shop’s mirror. Bond…James Bond. The Thalys train was more crowded than the Eurostar had been, but no one sat next to him. Three more hours. He began to eat his sandwich.

The cab disgorged Martin at Marijke’s front door. He stood in the crooked narrow street and tried to remember if he had ever been there before. He decided he hadn’t. He stepped up to the door and rang Marijke’s bell. She wasn’t home.

Martin panicked. He had not considered what would happen if she didn’t answer. He had imagined the scene exactly as it must happen; he had not allowed for having to stay outdoors for any length of time. He tried the doorknob. He felt his heart racing. No. Don’t be silly-just breathe- He sat on his suitcase and breathed.

Marijke wheeled her bike into the street; preoccupied, fishing in her bag for her keys, at first she didn’t notice the man gasping on her doorstep. As she came closer he stood up and said, “Marijke.”

“Martin-oh, goh-je bent hier!” She was immobilised by the bike, then hurriedly propped it against the building and turned to him. “You’ve come to me,” she said.

“Yes,” he said, and held out his arms to her. “Yes.”

They kissed. There in the sun, under the kindly gaze of anyone who happened to walk along that street, Martin embraced Marijke, and the years fell away. He had found her again.

“Come inside,” she said.

“Of course,” said Martin. “But we’ll go out again later?”

“Yes,” Marijke said, smiling. “Of course.”

The End of the Diaries

EDIE AND Jack stayed in London for two weeks. Every day they showed up at Vautravers before breakfast, collected Julia and whisked her off to visit their old friends, to see London through the prism of Edie’s childhood, Jack’s first days of working at the bank, their courtship. Julia was grateful to be busy, though the pace seemed forced and there were moments when she caught her dad looking confusedly at her mom, as though the stories weren’t quite the same ones he remembered.

One day, when Edie and Jack arrived, Robert went out and intercepted them in the front garden. “Edie,” he said, “I need to talk to you. Just for a sec.”

“I’ll go upstairs,” Jack said.

Edie followed Robert into his flat. The flat had an abandoned feeling; there was little furniture and though it was tidy enough Edie sensed that things had been subtracted from it.

“Are you moving out?” she asked.

“Yes, slowly,” said Robert. “I can’t bear to be here alone, somehow.”

He led her through the flat to the servant’s room. It was almost bare except for a number of boxes filled with ledgers, photographs and other papers.

“Elspeth left me these,” he said. “Do you want them?”

Edie didn’t move. She stood with her arms crossed protectively, looking at the boxes. “Did you read them?” she asked.

“Some of them,” he said. “I thought they might mean more to you.”

“I don’t want them,” Edie said. She looked at him. “Will you burn them for me?”

“Burn them?”

“If it were up to me I’d have a big bonfire and burn the lot. All the furniture too. Elspeth even kept our bed, from when we were kids; I couldn’t believe it when I walked into her bedroom and saw it.”

Robert said, “It’s a pretty bed. I always liked it.”

Edie said, “Will you burn these for me?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. Robert had not seen her smile before; the effect was painfully Elspeth-like. She turned and he followed her back through the flat. At his door he said, “Is Julia going to stay here?”

“Yes,” said Edie. “We thought she might want to come home, but she won’t. She seems to feel that she’s somehow abandoning Valentina if she leaves the flat.” Edie frowned. “She’s become very superstitious.”

Robert said, “That’s understandable.”

Edie paused. “Thanks again; you’ve been very kind. I can see why Elspeth and Valentina both cared for you.”

Robert shook his head. “I’m sorry-”

“It’s all right,” Edie said. “It’s going to be all right.”

Later, after the Poole family had gone out, Robert lugged the boxes into the back garden and burned everything in them, piece by piece. Edie saw the scorched place on the moss the next morning and was glad.

On an overcast day in mid-July, Jack and Edie sat together on the plane to Chicago, waiting for take-off. She’d had two drinks before they boarded, but that hadn’t helped much. Sweat streamed down her back, armpits, forehead. Jack offered his hand and she gripped it. “Steady,” he said.

“I’m so daft.” She shook her head.

Jack took a calculated risk. “Not you, Elspeth love.”

The plane began to move. She was so surprised to hear her own name that she could only gape at him. She almost forgot to be afraid as they were lifted into the sky and London receded under them. “How long have you known?” she asked him once the plane had levelled itself.

“Years,” he said.

She said, “I thought you’d leave me…”

“Never,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I am so, so sorry.” She began to cry, the kind of messy, hiccuping, uncontrollable weeping that she had always refused to allow herself-a lifetime’s worth of crying. Jack watched her and wondered what would come of it. The flight attendant hurried over with a small packet of tissues. “Oh God, I’m making a spectacle of myself,” Edie said at last.

“That’s okay,” Jack said. “This is a plane full of Americans. No one will mind. They’re all watching the movie.” He raised the armrest between them and she leaned into him, feeling empty and strangely content.

Redux

JULIA WOKE UP late and confused after a night of bad dreams. Edie and Jack had reluctantly gone back to Lake Forest two days earlier. Julia had been relieved to see them go, but now the flat was too quiet; she seemed to be the only person left in Vautravers. Since it was Sunday she pulled on yesterday’s clothes (which were also the clothes of the day before and the day before that) and walked to the corner shop near the bus stop to buy the Observer. When she came back there was a large motorcycle blocking the path to Vautravers. Julia edged around it with annoyance. She walked back to the gate and into the house without realising that she was being watched.

She made tea and opened a packet of chocolate digestives. She poured milk into the tea and arranged everything on a tray along with her cigarettes and carried it into the dining room. The ghost of the Kitten was curled up on top of the newspaper, one eye open and the other closed. Julia set the tray down on the table and reached right through the Kitten, plucked the paper off the table and began to separate the sections. The Kitten looked reproachful and began to lick her nether parts with one leg stuck up in the air. She vaguely resembled a cello player, but Julia couldn’t see the Kitten, so she didn’t make her usual joke about it.

Julia spread out the newspaper and ate a biscuit. She idly wondered where Elspeth was and what she was doing; Julia hadn’t noticed any sign of her in weeks, beyond the occasional cold patch of air and quivering lightbulbs. As Julia read each section she did not bother to refold it: the Mouse was not here; the Mouse was not going to read the paper or be aggravated by Julia’s selfishness. Julia lit a cigarette. The Kitten made a face and jumped off the table.

Somewhat later Julia had finished the Observer and was smoking her fourth cigarette when she heard sounds. The sounds were so much like footsteps that she tilted her head back and stared at the ceiling, which was where the sounds came from. Martin? Was Martin back? Julia ground out her cigarette in the dregs of her tea and ran from the dining room onto the landing and up the stairs without thinking.

The door to Martin’s flat stood ajar. Julia’s heart accelerated. She walked into the flat.

She stood still, listening. The flat was silent. Julia heard birds singing outside. The boxes and plastic containers were still dusty in the dimness. Julia wondered if she should call out; then she thought that it might not be Martin after all. She stood undecided, remembering that first night, when Martin had woken them up with his deluge and she had found him scrubbing the bedroom floor. It was so long ago; it had been winter then. Now it was summer. Julia slowly, silently walked through Martin’s rooms. All was stillness. Most of the windows were still blacked out with newspaper. Some windows were clear and daylight streamed through them; the newspapers lay where she had thrown them. Julia crept through the parlour and the dining room. In the kitchen someone had left a beer cap and an opener on the counter. Julia couldn’t remember Martin drinking in the morning, but then she wondered if it was still morning; she’d gotten up so late.

She crossed the hall and looked into Martin’s office. There was a tall, angular young man standing at Martin’s desk, reading a piece of paper which he held to the light. The tableau reminded Julia of a Vermeer painting. The young man had his back to Julia. He was wearing jeans, a black T-shirt and motorcycle boots. His hair was longish and darkish. As he read he sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. If Julia had ever met Marijke, that sigh, that gesture, would have told her who she was looking at. As it was, she had no clue until he turned and she saw his face.

“Oh!” Julia said. The young man started. They stared at each other for a moment, then Julia said, “I’m sorry,” and the young man said, “Who are you?” at the same time.

“I’m Julia Poole. I live downstairs. I heard footsteps…” He was looking at her curiously. Julia realised what he must see: an unwashed, too-thin, stringy-haired girl in ratty clothes. “Who are you?”

“I’m Theo Wells. Martin and Marijke’s son. I haven’t heard from Dad in over two weeks. Or Mum. They’re usually so-communicative. They haven’t been answering their phones. And now I come here and he’s gone. Do you understand how peculiar that is, that he should be gone? I can’t-I don’t understand it.”

Julia smiled. “He went to Amsterdam to find your mom.”

Theo shook his head. “He walked out of the flat voluntarily? He got on a bus or a train? No. The last time I saw him I had trouble coaxing him out of the bathroom.”

“He got better. He took medicine and he gradually got better. He went to find Marijke.”

Theo sat down at Martin’s desk. Julia could not get over how much he resembled Martin: younger, less hunched, larger in his movements, but still so like Martin in his face and hands. Genes are strange. She had always thought so. She wondered if he was like Martin in other, less conventional ways.

Theo said, “He hated taking antidepressants. He was afraid of the side effects. We tried to talk him into it. He always refused.” Theo passed his hands over his face and Julia wondered if she and Valentina had affected people like this, if they were unable to see one without thinking of the other. This is what the Mouse hated so much. The layering, the intertwining. When someone looked at her and saw me. Julia looked at Theo and saw Martin. This excited her.

“He didn’t know. I tricked him.” She couldn’t tell if Theo approved of this or not. He seemed lost in thought. “Is that your motorcycle?” she asked.

“Hmm? Yes.”

“Can I have a ride?”

Theo smiled. “How old are you?”

“Old enough.” Julia blushed. He thinks I’m, like, twelve. “I’m your age.”

He raised both eyebrows. “I am,” she said.

“Prove it, then.”

“Stay here,” Julia ordered. “Do not leave without me.”

“No worries, I have to pick up a few things. If I can find them,” Theo said, glancing at the boxes.

Julia raced downstairs. She stripped off her clothes and showered, then stood in Elspeth’s closet, confused. What would Valentina wear? No, forget that. What would I wear? She emerged clad in jeans, Elspeth’s chocolate suede high-heeled boots and a pink T-shirt. She put on lipstick, blow-dried her hair and went back upstairs.

Theo was kneeling beside a pile of boxes. “This is pointless,” he said.

“Probably,” said Julia.

Theo turned to look at her. “Well,” he said. “Would you like a motorbike ride? I have an extra helmet.”

“Why yes,” said Julia. “I would.”

Visit

AT FIRST Valentina was almost nothing and she knew almost nothing. She was cold. She moved aimlessly through the flat, waiting with a sense of anticipation.

Time passed very slowly in the flat. Valentina paid no attention at first, but as the months went by and she began to understand that she was dead, that Elspeth had somehow gone away, that now she was stuck with Julia forever; when she started to grasp what might have happened to her, time slowed until Valentina felt as though the air in the flat had turned to glass.

The Kitten was her constant companion now. They spent days following pools of sunlight, lolling together on the carpets; they watched television with Julia in the evenings and sat in the window seat at night while Julia slept, staring out over the moonlit cemetery. It’s like an endless dream, where nothing ever happens and you can fly. Julia seemed to be watching for her, waiting; sometimes Julia would say her name uncertainly, or look in Valentina’s direction, and at those times Valentina would remove herself to another room: she did not want Julia to know she was there. Valentina was ashamed.

Summer ended and autumn arrived. On a cold rainy evening Valentina saw Robert come up the front walk. In the garden was a For Sale sign; Martin and Marijke had put their apartment on the market. Julia was upstairs helping Theo unpack and repack boxes for the move.

Robert let himself into the flat. The small typed card with Elspeth’s name on it was still tacked to the door, causing him a spasm of sadness. He had taken off his muddy shoes downstairs, and walked noiselessly through the hall into the front room. He turned on the light by the piano and looked around. “Valentina?”

She stood by the window. She waited to see what he would do.

“Valentina-I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

She had been longing to see him for months. Now he was here, and she was disappointed.

Robert stood in the middle of the room, his head tilted as though listening, his hands hanging empty at his sides. Nothing moved. There was no cold presence, only vacancy.

“Valentina?”

She wondered if he had loved her.

He waited. Finally, receiving no encouragement, he turned and padded out of the flat. She watched until she saw him walking up the path and through the gate, dark against the darkness. Where are you going, Robert? Who will be waiting for you when you get there?

Encounters, Evasions, Detections

JULIA WALKED down Long Acre, window-shopping. It was a sunny day in January, a Saturday, and she’d woken up that morning with an urge to go somewhere there would be people; she had gravitated to the shops thinking she might buy a present for Theo, or something cute to wear when she went to visit him at the weekend. Julia was dressed carelessly in yesterday’s jeans and a sweatshirt under one of Elspeth’s coats. She felt extra thin, as though she were barely occupying her clothes. She walked like an astronaut, swaggering in furry moon boots. She wandered into a tiny shop in Neal’s Yard that was full of pink things: hi-top sneakers, feather boas, vinyl miniskirts. Mouse would have been in love with all this, she thought. Julia imagined herself and Valentina in fluffy angora sweaters and Day-Glo green fishnet stockings. She held the sweater to her chest in front of the mirror, and was repelled by her own reflection; the girl that peered out of the mirror looked like Valentina with the flu. Julia turned away and returned the sweater to the rack without trying it on.

Back on the pavement she stood for a moment, thinking about a Pret she had passed a few streets back and trying to remember which direction she had come from. A girl brushed past her. There was something, perhaps, about the smell of the girl, which was compounded of lavender soap, sweat and baby powder, that made Julia notice her. The girl was walking fast, dodging tourists. She moved without hesitating, circumventing Big Issue vendors and buskers instinctively. The girl had dark chestnut hair that bounced in ringlets as she walked. She wore a bright red dress and a little fur capelet. Julia began to follow her.

As she followed the girl she became more and more agitated. Sherlock Holmes says you can’t disguise a back. Or maybe it’s Peter Wimsey. Anyway, from the back that girl sure looks just like the Mouse. She doesn’t walk like her, though. Valentina would never have moved with such forthright strides through a crowd. The girl ducked into Stanfords, the map shop, and Julia did too.

“Please, I’m looking for a map of East Sussex?” The girl’s voice was a rich alto, unmistakably Oxbridge.

“D’you want the road map or Ordnance Survey?” asked the shop assistant.

“Ordnance Survey, I think.”

Julia loitered at a table full of books about Australia while the girl followed the assistant downstairs. A few minutes later, the girl came up the stairs holding a shopping bag and Julia got a good look at her face.

She was like Valentina, and she wasn’t. There was an extraordinary resemblance, and none at all: the girl had Valentina’s features, and none of her expression. The girl was heavily made up, with dark lipstick and eyeliner. Her eyes were brown, and her face had an assurance that Valentina could never have matched. She radiated confidence.

The girl had her hand on the door; she was about to slip away, and Julia couldn’t bear to let her go.

“Excuse me,” said Julia. The girl stopped and turned, saw that it was herself that Julia meant to address. Julia saw that the girl was pregnant. Their eyes met: was the girl surprised? Afraid? Or just startled to find a stranger’s hand clutching her arm?

“Sorry?” the girl said. Julia stared so hard she felt as though she were eating the girl’s face. She wanted to scrub off the make-up, to undress the girl to see if all the familiar moles and vaccination scars would be there.

“You’re hurting me,” said the girl loudly. It wasn’t Valentina’s voice. Around them the shop went still. Julia heard heavy footsteps behind her. She let go of the girl’s arm. The girl flung open the door, stepped onto the street and hurried away. Julia followed her out and then stood watching as she disappeared into the crowd.

Elspeth forced herself not to run. She was panting, and she tried to slow down. She didn’t look back. Here was a Starbucks; she went inside and sat down at a table. When her heart stopped racing she went to the loo and splashed water on her face, fixed her make-up. She scrutinised her reflection. It had not passed the test. She was changed, but apparently not changed enough; Julia had seen her twin underneath the difference. Did Julia know? If she knew, why hadn’t she chased after her; why did she look so uncertain? Elspeth visualised Julia’s face: so thin, so tired. She leaned over the sink, braced her arms against it and hung her head. Her chin rested on her chest, and her belly swelled like a red balloon between her arms. Elspeth began to weep, and once she had begun she could not stop. The little fur capelet was wet with her tears.

When she finally emerged from the loo, three women were standing in the queue and they each gave her a dirty look as she passed. Elspeth decided to skip her remaining errands. She ducked into the tube and exited twenty minutes later at King’s Cross St Pancras. She was standing on the doorstep of the tiny flat fumbling for her key when Robert opened the door.

“Where have you been?” he said. “I was almost worried.”

“We have to leave London, Robert. I saw Julia.”

“Did she see you?”

Elspeth told him. “I don’t think she was sure. But she was confused, and she frightened me. We have to leave.”

They were sitting in their squalid kitchen. Elspeth sat at the table with her elbows on it and her head propped in her hands, and Robert paced. The kitchen was so small that he could only move a few steps in each direction. It made her nervous. It reminded her of Julia. “Please don’t do that.”

Robert sat down. “Where can we go?”

“America. Australia. Paris.”

“You don’t even have a valid passport, Elspeth. We can’t get on an international flight.”

“East Sussex.”

Robert said, “Why Sussex?”

“It’s pretty. We could live in Lewes and walk on the Downs every Sunday afternoon. Why not?”

“We don’t know anyone there.”

“Precisely.”

Robert got up and began pacing again, forgetting that Elspeth had just asked him not to do this. “Maybe we should confess. Then we could live in my flat, and eventually things would be normal again.”

Elspeth just looked at him. You are barking mad. After a moment Robert said, “I suppose not.”

“We could get a little cottage. You could finish your thesis.”

“How the hell am I supposed to finish my thesis when I can’t go to the cemetery?” he yelled.

“Why can’t you go to the cemetery?” Elspeth asked quietly. She felt the baby kick.

“Jessica saw you,” he said. “What am I supposed to tell her?”

Elspeth frowned. “Tell her as much of the truth as you can. And let her sort it out. There’s no reason to lie, just omit a few things.”

Robert stood looking down at her upturned face, her borrowed face. That’s how you do it, he thought. I never realised it before. “How long have you been plotting to move to Sussex?” he asked her.

She said, “Oh, since we were tiny. Our parents used to take us to Glyndebourne, and we’d get off the train at Lewes with all the other people in fancy dress. I always wanted to live out in the countryside, there. Actually, I wanted to live in the opera house, but I don’t imagine that’s practicable.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Robert, irritably. “It seems to me if you can come back from the dead you could probably live anywhere you like.”

“Well, we can’t live in your flat,” said Elspeth.

“No.”

“Right, then,” said Elspeth. “Can we at least go and look at East Sussex? With an estate agent?”

“Fine,” said Robert. He scooped his keys off the table and grabbed his jacket.

“Where are you going?”

“Out.” He turned to look at her as he put his jacket on; she had a chastened expression he could not remember ever seeing before. “To the library,” he said, softening. “I ordered some books.”

“See you later?” she said, as though she wasn’t quite sure.

“Yeah.”

As Robert walked along Euston Road in the sunshine he thought, I have to talk to Jessica. As he entered the library he thought, I can’t imagine leaving London. He put his things in a locker and went upstairs. What am I going to do? He was sitting and waiting for his desk light to activate when the answer came to him, and he laughed out loud at the obviousness of it.

Robert and Jessica sat in her office with the door closed. It was after hours; all the cemetery staff had gone home. He had told her everything, as best he could. He had tried to place all the evidence before her; he had not spared himself. Jessica listened impassively. She sat in the waning light with her fingers steepled, leaning forward, regarding him with serious eyes. Finally he was silent. Jessica reached out and pulled the little chain of her desk lamp, creating a small pool of yellow light that did not reach either of them. He waited for her to speak.

“Poor Robert,” she said. “It’s all very unfortunate. But I suppose you could say that you got what you wished for.”

“That’s the worst punishment,” Robert said. “I would undo everything, if I could.”

“Yes,” she said. “But you can’t.”

“No, I can’t.” He sighed. “I’d better go. We’re leaving tomorrow. There’s still packing to do.”

They stood up. She said, “Will you come back?”

“I hope so.” He turned on the overhead light and followed her slowly down the stairs. When they were standing at the cemetery gates she said, “Goodbye, Robert.” He kissed her on both cheeks, slipped through the gates and walked away. There he goes, she thought. Jessica watched until Robert disappeared from her sight. Then she locked the gate and stood in the dark courtyard, listening to the wind and marvelling at human folly.

The End

IT WAS the first day of spring. Valentina sat in the window seat, looking out over Highgate Cemetery. Morning sun slanted in, pouring through her onto the worn blue rug without pause. Birds wheeled over the trees, which were bursting with new leaves; Valentina could hear a car crunching the gravel in St. Michael’s car park. The outside world was shiny and clean and loud today. Valentina let the sun warm her. The Kitten jumped up onto her lap, and she stroked its white head as she watched pigeons building a nest in the top of Julius Beer’s mausoleum.

Julia was asleep. She slept sprawled out now, as though trying to cover as much of the bed as possible. Her mouth was open. Valentina got up, still holding the Kitten, and walked over to the bed. She stood watching Julia. Then she put her finger in Julia’s mouth. Julia didn’t wake. Valentina went back to the window seat and sat down again.

An hour later Julia woke up. Valentina was gone; Julia showered and dressed and drank her coffee alone. She found the silence of the building disturbing. Robert had moved away; the upstairs flat hadn’t sold yet (perhaps because it was still half full of boxes). Maybe I should get a dog. How do you get a dog in London? English people were so fanatical about animals; maybe you couldn’t just go to the pound and pick one out. Maybe they had to approve of you. She imagined what the dog adoption people would think when they saw her living like an orphan in huge silent Vautravers. Maybe I should be one of those women who have one hundred cats. They could swarm all over. I could let them into Martin’s flat and it would be a cat Disney World. They would go bonkers.

Julia sat with her mug of coffee at the dining-room table. It was littered with sheets of paper and pens; the paper was covered with Valentina’s writing. The dog-adoption people would see that she was insane. She began to gather up the papers. She strode into the kitchen and threw them in the bin. When Julia returned to the dining room, Valentina was standing by the French windows with the Kitten draped over her shoulder. Julia sighed.

“I can’t leave that stuff sitting around,” she said. “It looks weird.”

Valentina ignored this and made the gesture they’d always used to get waiters to bring the bill: she pretended to write on her upturned palm.

“Fine,” said Julia. “Okay.” She took a sip of her now-cold coffee, just to show the Mouse that she didn’t have to jump when told. Valentina stood patiently by her chair, and Julia sat down and drew a piece of paper to her, picked up a pen and poised it over the paper. “Go ahead,” she said.

Valentina leaned over and the Kitten jumped onto the table and stood on the paper. Valentina brushed her aside and put her hand into Julia’s.

I FIGURED IT OUT.

“Figured what out?”

How TO LEAVE.

“Oh.” Julia looked up at Valentina, resignedly. “Well. Okay. How?”

IT TAKES A BODY. OPEN YOUR MOUTH, GO OUTSIDE.

“Go outside and open my mouth?”

Valentina shook her head.

OPEN MOUTH, CLOSE MOUTH, THEN GO OUTSIDE.

Julia opened her mouth as though for the dentist, shut it and pressed her lips together, then pointed to the window. “Right?” Valentina nodded. “Now?” Valentina nodded again. “Let me get my shoes.”

Valentina gathered up the Little Kitten of Death and waited for Julia in their front hall. She thought she saw a hint of her reflection in the mirrors, but she wasn’t quite sure.

Julia reappeared wearing one of Elspeth’s favourite cardigans, baby-blue cashmere with mother-of-pearl buttons. Valentina stood looking at her for a long moment, and then leaned to Julia and kissed her on the lips. To Julia it felt like the ghost of all the kisses the Mouse had ever given her. She smiled; her eyes welled.

“Now?” Julia repeated, and Valentina nodded.

Julia opened her mouth wide and closed her eyes. She felt her mouth fill with something like dense smoke; she opened her eyes and tried not to gag. How will I breathe? The thing in her mouth was becoming more solid. Julia felt it in her throat, and she coughed and gasped. It was like a mouthful of fur, a big hairball. She closed her mouth. Julia struggled to draw breath, and then felt the thing become smaller and heavier, leaving space around itself, fitting itself between her tongue and the roof on her mouth. It tasted metallic and moved slightly but constantly, like an excited child trying to hold still. Julia looked around the hall. Valentina and the Kitten had disappeared.

Come on, you two, let’s go. Julia stepped across the threshold onto the landing. Valentina and the Kitten were still in her mouth. Julia raced down the stairs and out the front door of Vautravers; the strange bulk still quivered on her tongue. She ran along the side of the building into the back garden, to the door in the wall, and fumbled with the key. She got the door open, stepped into the cemetery and opened her mouth.

Valentina flew out into the air. She hung suspended for a moment, spread out in the morning breeze like a rainbow created by a garden hose. The Little Kitten of Death was intermingled with her, and as Julia stood watching they seemed to separate and resolve.

Valentina felt the breeze carry her, extend her, divide her from the Kitten. At first she could not see or hear, and then she could. Julia stood with her arms clutched against her chest and a desolate little smile on her face, looking up at Valentina.

“Goodbye, Valentina,” Julia said. Tears ran down her face. “Goodbye, Kitten.”

Goodbye, goodbye, Julia. The Kitten squirmed out of Valentina’s arms, jumped off the roof of the Catacombs and went racing into the cemetery. Valentina turned and followed.

Her senses were flung open like doors and windows. Everything was speaking, singing to her, the grass, trees, stones, insects, rabbits, foxes: all stopped what they were doing to watch the ghost fly past; all cried out to her, as though she had been long away from home and they were the spectators at her victory parade. She flew through gravestones and bushes, revelling in their density and coolness. The Kitten was waiting for her under the Cedar of Lebanon, and Valentina caught up with her. Together they flew above the Egyptian Avenue and streamed down the main path. If there were other ghosts, Valentina did not see them; it was nature that greeted her; the angels on the tombs were simply stones. Valentina could see through things and into things. She saw the deep grave shafts with the coffins stacked in them; she saw the bodies in the coffins, with their postures of yearning and gestures of supplication, bodies long turned to bone and dust. Valentina felt a hunger, a desire to find her own body that was visceral, almost ecstatic. They were flying faster now; things streamed by in a blur of stone and green, and now, at last, here: the little stone shelter that said NOBLIN, the little iron door that was no obstacle to Valentina, the quiet space inside, Elspeth’s coffin, Elspeth’s body, Elspeth’s parents’ and grandparents’ coffins and bodies. She saw her own coffin, and knew before she touched it that it was empty. So it’s true, then. She saw the Little Kitten of Death rub her face eagerly against the white box. Valentina laid her hands on the varnished wood of Elspeth’s coffin, just as Robert had once done. What now? She picked up the Kitten and went outside. She stood on the path, uncertain.

A little girl came walking up the path. She hummed to herself and swung her bonnet by its strings in time to her own footsteps. She wore a lavender dress in a style from the late nineteenth century.

“Hello,” she said to Valentina, politely. “Are you coming?”

“Coming where?” said Valentina.

“They’re mustering the crows,” said the girl. “We’re going flying.”

“Why do you need crows?” Valentina asked. “Can’t you fly on your own?”

“It’s different. Haven’t you done it before?”

“I’m new,” said Valentina.

“Oh.” The girl began walking and Valentina walked with her. “I say-are you an American? Where did you get your cat? No one has a cat here-when I was alive I had a cat named Maisie, but she’s not here…” Valentina followed her to the Dissenters’ section of the cemetery, where many ghosts stood around chatting in small groups. The trees in this section had recently been cut down; it was open to the sky, with stumps jutting between the graves. Ghosts glanced at Valentina, then looked away. She wondered if she should try to introduce herself. The little girl had wandered off. Now she returned, dragging an extraordinarily fat man who was dressed as though he were about to go fox hunting.

“This is my papa,” said the girl.

“Quite welcome, I’m sure,” said the man to Valentina. “Would you care to join us?”

Valentina hesitated; heights made her nervous. But why not? she thought. I’m dead. Nothing can hurt me now. I can do whatever I want. “Yes,” she said. “I’d like that.”

“Splendid,” said the man. He raised his arm and an enormous crow flew down and plopped in front of them, cawing and strutting. Valentina thought, It’s just like hailing a taxi. Soon there were hundreds of crows milling about. Each ghost seemed to shrink until it was a suitable size, then hopped aboard a crow. Valentina imitated them. She clasped one ethereal arm around her crow’s neck and held onto the Kitten with the other, hugging the crow’s body with her knees.

Now the vast throng of crows rose out of Highgate Cemetery in unison, and the ghosts with them, their dark dresses and winding sheets flapping wing-like in the sky. They flew over Waterlow Park, circled around to fly across the Heath, and on and on, until they came to the Thames and began to follow the river eastwards, past the Houses of Parliament and Westminster Bridge, past the Embankment, London Bridge, the Tower, and on, and on. Valentina held tightly to her crow. The Kitten purred in her ear. I’m so happy, she thought with surprise. The sun passed through the ghosts un-dimmed, and the shadows of the crows darkened the river.

After Valentina had vanished from her sight, Julia stood in the open doorway for a little while, listening to the birds. Then she shut the green door. She went back to her flat and made herself another cup of coffee. She sat in the window seat and watched trees swaying in the cemetery, with flashes of white gravestones peeking through the leaves. She listened to the quiet of the house, the hum of the refrigerator, the flick of the numbers on the old clock radio turning over. I am definitely going to get a dog, Julia thought. She spent the afternoon dusting and talked to Theo on the phone after dinner. Julia went to bed contented and alone, and slept without dreaming.

It had been one of those vivid days: the fields around the cottage were radiantly green, and the Sussex sky was so blue it hurt her eyes. Elspeth had gone for a walk with the baby in the early evening. He was a colicky baby, and the walking sometimes soothed him when nothing else could. Now he was breathing quietly, asleep in his little pouch pressed against her breast. Elspeth came to the long drive that led to their tiny home. It was dark now, but the moon was nearly full and she could see her shadow moving before her up the drive. The summer insect songs pressed at her from all sides, a shimmering choir that lay like a blanket of sound over the fields.

For weeks she had been watching Robert carefully. There had been a long bad patch after they’d moved here. Robert could not adjust to the spaciousness, the quiet; he missed the cemetery and would take the train into London on the least pretext to visit it. He seldom spoke to Elspeth; it was as though he had withdrawn into his own invisible London and was living in it without her. His manuscript sat vast and untouched on his desk. Then the baby was born, and Elspeth had found herself in a purely physical world: sleep was an elusive prize, breastfeeding more complicated than she remembered. The baby cried; she cried, but at last Robert seemed to wake up and notice her. He seemed almost surprised by the baby, as though he’d thought she was joking about being pregnant. And to Elspeth’s surprise, the arrival of the baby did what she could not: it brought Robert back to writing his thesis.

For months now he’d worked with perfect concentration in the midst of baby-wrought chaos. She tiptoed around him, afraid to break the charm, but he told her there was no need. He said he found the din oddly helpful. “It’s as though it wants to be finished,” he said, and the printer whirred each night, emitting increasingly pristine pages.

Tonight she felt a pause, suspense: the world was adjusting itself into a new pattern. Something was going to happen; the manuscript was almost finished. Elspeth walked with the baby in the dark between sweet-smelling fields and rejoiced. I’m here. I’m alive. She placed her hands on the baby, felt his soft head against her cool palms. The ever-present regret lapped at her, and she thought of Valentina broken on the bedroom floor. Elspeth had no answer and no defence against this image. It flared in her mind vividly, then faded. She kept walking.

The cottage reminded her of a jack-o’-lantern, its windows blazing orange. All the lights were on. Elspeth walked through the garden and came in the back door, into the kitchen. The insect sounds diminished. The house was very still.

“Robert?” she called, careful to keep her voice low. She went into the front room. No one there. On Robert’s desk was a neat pile of paper. A History of Highgate Cemetery. All the files and notes had been cleared away. There was a look of finality about the scene. Elspeth smiled. “Robert?”

He was not in the house. He did not come back that night. Days went by, and at last she understood that he would not return at all.