When pressed by newcomers to the crowd to reveal what Eva had said that was so impressive, Sandy would wipe her eyes and say, ‘Sorry, I always mist up when speaking of Eva…’ Then, after what her audience found to be an infuriatingly extended pause, she would say, ‘Eva spake unto me and the words she did say were for my ears alone. But when I was backing out of her room, I saw her rise from the bed and hover there for a few seconds. She was giving me a sign! It was Eva’s way of telling me that I have been chosen.’
When cynics questioned Sandy and asked, ‘Chosen for what?’ the chosen one would reply, in sanctimonious tones, ‘I’m waiting for another sign, it will come from the sky.’
Sandy needed Eva to address the world and tell all the countries that were at war to stop. And to help all the kiddies who had no water or food. She was sure that the world would listen to Eva, and then there would be joy in angel heaven, and there would be no more fighting, no floods or famines or earthquakes. There would be peace and joy and love throughout the world, so it was imperative that she talk to Eva.
What could be more important?
She looked up at Eva’s lighted window, said a prayer and climbed inside her tent, where William Wainwright was sleeping like a baby on barbiturates.
It seemed to Eva that every time she looked out of the window, she saw Sandy Lake looking up at her with a beatific smile. The woman had ruined her view of the world outside.
Earlier that evening, Eva had cursed and said to Alexander, ‘Does that crazy woman never sleep?’
Alexander said, ‘Even when she does sleep, she keeps her eyes open. But don’t worry, I’m next door. Just knock on the wall if you need me.’
56
In late February, after the twins had returned to Leeds, they settled back into Sentinel Towers with relief- it was impossible to do any serious work in Bowling Green Road. According to Brian Junior, the doorbell rang on a mean average of 9.05 times per hour.
They decided that they would work together from now on. Each would help the other with their essays and assignments, leaving them more time to spend on their Special Projects.
They started with their finances and sold their mother’s gift of jewellery in a Cash Generator in the city centre. They agreed that in future they would not allow sentiment to influence their plans.
In the second week of their second term, they had successfully hacked into the university’s accommodation records and changed the status of their accounts from ‘Rent Arrears’ to ‘Rent Paid in Full until 2013’. The day after this triumph, which brought each of them an extra ?400 a month, they went shopping for clothes.
They sat down on a sofa opposite the changing rooms in Debenhams and talked for a long time about their lives and what they wanted in the future.
Brianne confessed that if she couldn’t have Alexander, she wouldn’t have any man.
Brian Junior told Brianne that he would never marry. ‘I’m not sexually attracted to women or to men,’ he said.
Brianne smiled and said, ‘So, we stick together for life?’
Brian Junior agreed. ‘You’re the only person I can stand to be with for more than four minutes.’
When they had tried their new clothes on, they came out of their respective changing rooms and were astonished at how similar they could look. They were both wearing black and, after a few negotiations, and going back and forth to the rails, they ended up with a uniform. It was all black apart from a leopard-skin belt and the silver accessories on their black cowboy boots.
Mindful of their new and certain future wealth, they left their old clothes in the changing room. As they walked arm in arm through the shopping centre, they began to work on synchronising their steps.
A colourist at Toni & Guy obeyed their instructions and dyed their hair magenta red. After a stylist had given them both a severe geometric cut, they left the salon and headed to the best tattoo parlour in South Yorkshire.
When the operative asked them if they were related to the woman in the bed called Beaver, they responded, ‘No.’
He was disappointed. ‘She’s cool,’ he said.
They were given a rudimentary test for allergies and, while they waited for the results, they sat outside a coffee bar so they could smoke. Nihilists like them felt it was their duty to smoke.
They lit their cigarettes and smoked contentedly before Brian Junior said, ‘Will we ever go back to Bowling Green Road, Brianne?’
What, and have to interface with those awful people we used to call Mum and Dad? Or, as we now know them, The Great Adulterer and his wife, The False Prophet.’
Brian Junior said, ‘I used to love them when I was little – and you did too, Brianne, you can’t deny it!’
‘Little kids are idiots, they believe in the fucking Tooth Fairy, Santa, God!’
‘I believed in them,’ lamented Brian Junior. ‘I believed they’d always do the right thing. Tell the truth. Control their animal desires.’
Brianne laughed. ‘Animal desires? You’ve either been reading the Old Testament or D. H. Lawrence.’
Brian Junior said, ‘Disneyland hurts me. The thought that while we were queuing with Mum for the It’s a Small World ride, Dad was back at the hotel paying for a prostitute with his credit card.’
Brianne said, ‘We’ll say a final farewell to them, shall we?’
Neither of them had a piece of paper. Who used the stuff these days? Together they erased every parental reference from their laptops. Then, Brianne put a virtual fire on screen, and typed in ‘Eva Beaver’ and ‘Brian Beaver’. Brian Junior put his index finger on top of Brianne’s, and together they pressed the key that would cause their parents’ names to burn, and eradicate their memory for all time.
They discussed the tattoo they would each have.
It would be two halves of an equation that together made one perfect sum.
After they left the tattoo studio, they attracted a great deal of attention – but nobody, not even the lowlife who hung around town in the middle of the day, dared to comment.
Brian Junior drew strength and confidence from his sister. In the past, he had walked down the street with his gaze on the pavement. Now he stared straight ahead and people moved away, out of his path.
57
Eva had watched the leaves of the sycamore unfurl. For the first time, it was possible to have the window open. She was on her back doing exercises on her bed, slowly raising two legs until she could feel her abdomen tightening. She could tell that Alexander was on the door from the wisps of cigarette smoke drifting up through the open window.
She had heard him arguing with Venus and Thomas earlier that morning. Neither of them knew where their school shoes were. Eva had laughed when she heard Alexander ask, ‘Where did you put them last?’
He was following the unofficial parents’ script, she thought.
For how many thousands of years had children been asked the same question? When did children start to wear shoes, and what were they made of? Animal skin, or woven vegetation?
There were so many things she didn’t know.
She had also heard Alexander say, ‘Finish your food, there are children starving in Africa.’
It had been Chinese children starving when she was a girl, thought Eva.
He had answered Thomas’s question, ‘Why do children have to go to school?’ with the terse reply, ‘Because they do.’
If it hadn’t been for the crowd opposite, she would have liked to watch them leaving the house, Alexander dreadlocked and elegant in his navy overcoat, the children in their red and grey uniforms.
Her mother had complained to her that the children’s paintings and drawings were ‘taking over the bleddy
