Her Fearful Symmetry

clustered at the gates, wielding cameras and protesting at the rules about proper attire and no water bottles. They would be whingeing about the ?5 charge for the tour and pointlessly insisting on bringing in prams and children under eight. But for some reason today there had been extra guides, and he and Jessica had been sent off with orders from Edward to “amuse yourselves, we’ll be fine here, don’t even think about us.” So now Jessica, who was eighty-four and incapable of leisure, was in her kitchen putting together lunch for twelve, and Robert (who had offered to help and been firmly escorted outside) lay idly watching as the children pounded the hoops and stake into the ground.

The grass was too long for croquet, but no one seemed to mind. “I wanted to get some sheep to crop the grass, but Jessica overruled me,” said James Bates. Jessica’s husband sat tucked into his lawn chair with a thin blanket; it made Robert hotter just to look at him. He was a tall man who had shrunk with age, and his gentle voice trembled a bit. He had large glasses that magnified his eyes, frail bones and a decisive manner. He had been a headmaster and now served as the cemetery’s archivist.

James gazed at his grandchildren fondly. They were bickering over the rules and trying to choose teams. He longed to get out of his chair, to walk across the lawn and play with them. He sighed and looked down at the book of crosswords in his lap. “This is quite ingenious,” he said, turning the page towards Robert. “All the clues are mathematical equations, then you translate the answers into letters and fill it in.”

“Ugh. Is that one of Martin’s?”

“Yes, he gave it to me for Christmas.”

“Sadistic devil.”

The children had arranged themselves around the first hoop and began to knock the coloured balls through it. The bigger children waited patiently for the smallest child to make her shot. “Well played, Nell,” said the tallest boy. James pointed his pen at Robert. “How are you getting on with Elspeth’s estate?”

A small feud erupted between two cousins over a ball hit out of bounds. Robert’s mind returned to Elspeth, who was never far from his thoughts. “Roche is corresponding with the twins. Elspeth’s sister was threatening to contest the will, but I think Roche has convinced her she’d lose. It must be something about America, this urge to litigate.”

“I still find it curious that Elspeth never mentioned having a twin.” James smiled. “It’s hard to imagine another one like her.”

“Yes…” Robert watched the children decorously tapping the balls across the lawn. “Elspeth said she and Edie weren’t very much alike in their personalities. She used to just hate being mistaken for her. Once we were in Marks & Spencer and this woman walked up to Elspeth and started chatting away, and it turned out that she was the mother of some boy Edie had gone out with. Elspeth was quite awful to her. The woman went off in a huff, and Elspeth had this rather puffed-up look about her, like one of those Brazilian frogs that get very large and spit at things that want to eat them.”

James laughed. “She was very large for such a small woman.”

“I used to carry her around. I carried her across Hampstead Heath once-she’d broken a heel.”

“Such high heels she used to wear.”

Robert sighed and thought about Elspeth’s dressing room, which doubled as an impromptu shoe museum. He had spent part of an afternoon there recently lying on the floor, petting her shoes and wanking off. He flushed. “I don’t know what to do with all her stuff.”

“Surely you needn’t do anything; when the twins come they’ll have to sort it out.”

“But they might throw things away,” said Robert.

“That’s true; they might.” James eased himself into a different position in his chair. His back hurt. He wondered why Elspeth had left all her worldly possessions to these girls, who might come and heave everything she’d loved into a skip. “Have you ever met them?”

“No. Actually, Elspeth never met them. She and Edie hadn’t spoken to each other since Edie ran off with Elspeth’s fiance.” Robert frowned. “It’s a very odd will, really. The twins inherit most of the estate, but not until they’re twenty-one, at the end of this year. And they only inherit the flat if their parents never set foot in the place.”

“That’s a bit vengeful, don’t you think? How did she expect you to enforce that?”

“She just threw that in because she couldn’t stand the idea of Edie or Jack getting their hands on anything of hers. She knew it wasn’t practical.”

James smiled. “Such Elspethness. Why leave it to their daughters, then? Why not to you?”

“She left me the things that mattered to me.” Robert stared across the lawn, not seeing. “She was rather secretive about the twins. I think she had a sort of soft spot for them because they were twins; she imagined herself as Auntie Elspeth, even though she never even sent them birthday cards. It’s the extravagance of the thing that appealed to her, you know. It will completely alter their lives, and scoop them right out of their parents’ laps and into Elspeth World. What they will do with it is anyone’s guess.”

“Pity she won’t be able to meet them.”

“Yes.” Robert felt disinclined to discuss the will any further. The croquet game was degenerating into a free-for-all. Some of the younger boys were using their mallets as swords, and the girls were throwing Nell’s ball over her head as she leapt between them trying to rescue it. Only the two oldest boys were still doggedly hitting the balls through the hoops. At this moment Jessica happened to walk into the garden, noticed the mayhem, and stood with her arms akimbo, the very image of indignation. “Ahem,” she said. “What are you doing?” Jessica had a voice that rose and fell like a swooping kite. The children instantly stopped what they were doing and looked self-conscious, like cats that have fallen off something ungracefully and now sit licking themselves, pretending nothing has happened. Jessica walked carefully to where Robert and James sat. Two of her friends had broken their hips recently, so she had temporarily modified her habit of striding boldly wherever she went. She pulled up a chair and sat down next to James.

“How’s the lunch?” he asked her.

“Oh, it’ll be a while, the chicken’s roasting.” Jessica blotted her forehead with her handkerchief. Robert realised that he was not going to be able to eat roast chicken in this heat. He pressed his glass full of almost-melted ice to his cheek. Jessica looked him over. “You don’t look well,” she told him.

“No sleep,” he replied.

“Mmm,” Jessica and James said together. They exchanged glances. “Why’s that?” Jessica asked.

Robert looked away. The children had reverted to their game. Most of them were clustered around the stake in the middle, though Nell was flailing at a ball that was stuck in a clump of iris. She whacked and some irises came flying out of the dirt. He looked at Jessica and James, who were watching him uneasily. “Do you believe in ghosts?” Robert asked.

“Certainly not,” said Jessica. “That’s a lot of claptrap.” James smiled and looked down at Martin’s crossword puzzle in his lap.

“Well, right, I know you don’t believe in ghosts.” Highgate Cemetery had suffered from the attentions of paranormalists and Satanists in the past. Jessica spent a great deal of time discouraging Japanese television programmes and enthusiasts of the supernatural from promoting Highgate as a sort of haunted cemetery Disneyland. “I just…I’ve been going into Elspeth’s flat, and I have this feeling that she’s…there.” Jessica’s mouth turned down at the corners as though he’d made an off-colour joke. James looked up, curious. “What sort of feeling do you mean?” he asked Robert.

Robert considered. “It’s rather intangible. But, for example, there’s something very odd about the temperature in her flat. I’ll be sitting at her desk, sorting papers, and I’ll suddenly be very cold in one specific part of my body. My hand will be freezing cold and then it will go up my arm. Or the back of my neck…” Robert paused, staring at his drink. “Things move, in her flat. Tiny, tiny movements: curtains, pencils. Movement at the edge of my peripheral vision. Things aren’t where I put them when I come back. A book fell from the desk onto the floor…” He looked up and caught James shaking his head slightly at Jessica, who put her hand over her mouth. “Yeah, okay. Never mind.”

Jessica said, “Robert. We’re listening.”

“I’m losing it.”

“Well, perhaps. But if it makes you feel better…”

“It doesn’t.”

“Ah.” The three of them sat quietly.

James said, “I saw a ghost once.”

Robert glanced at Jessica. She had a rather resigned expression, her smile one-sided, her eyes half-closed. Robert said, “You saw a ghost?”

“Yes.” James shifted in his chair, and Jessica leaned over and adjusted the pillow that supported his lower back. “I was quite small, only a lad of six. So let me see, that would have been in 1917. I grew up just outside of Cambridge, and the house my family lived in at that time had once been an inn. It was built around 1750. It was very large and draughty and stood by itself at a crossroads. We didn’t use the second floor, all of our bedrooms were on the first floor. Even the maid slept on the first floor.

“My father was a don at St. John’s, and we used to have a great many visitors come to stay with us. Ordinarily there were enough rooms to accommodate everyone, but on this occasion there must have been more visitors than usual, because my younger brother, Samuel, was put to sleep in one of the unused bedrooms on the top floor.” James smiled to himself. “Sam was generally a pretty cool customer, as the Americans say, but he howled all night, until my mother went up and took him to sleep in her room.”

Robert said, “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“Sam died in the war.”

“Oh.”

“So, the next night, I was to sleep in the second-floor room-”

“Wait. Did Sam tell you why he’d cried?”

James said, “Sam was only four, and of course I teased him, so he wouldn’t say. At least that’s what I remember. So, I was put to bed upstairs. I remember lying there with the blanket pulled up to my chin, my mother kissing me goodnight, and there I was in the dark, not knowing what terrible thing might be ready to slink out from the wardrobe and smother me…”

Jessica smiled. Robert thought it might be a smile for the morbidly fantastical imaginations of children.