Her Fearful Symmetry

“Well, Valentina likes clothes. She likes to take clothes and make new things out of them, you know, like she might take your suit and slit open the back and make a corset or a bustle or that kind of thing. She’s, like, a slave to Alexander McQueen.” Julia glanced at the place setting meant for Valentina and wondered what her twin was doing; Martin pictured himself wearing a bustle and smiled.

“And you?”

“Um. I don’t know. I like to find out about things. I guess.” Julia looked at her plate as she said this. The rim of the plate was painted with blue morning glories. Why do I feel like I’m at the edge of a hole?

Martin said, “More tea?” Julia nodded. He poured. “You’re quite young, aren’t you? My son doesn’t know what he wants to do yet either. He’s studying maths, but he doesn’t have the passion for it. I imagine he’ll end up in finance and spend all his time planning exotic holidays. Everything he enjoys is somewhat dangerous.”

“Like what?”

“Oh-motorcycling. I think he goes mountain climbing, but no one will confirm or deny that. It’s just as well I don’t know.”

“You worry about him?”

Martin laughed. He hadn’t felt so lighthearted in months. “Dear child, I worry about everything. But yes, I worry about Theo in particular. That’s just the nature of parents. The moment Theo was conceived, I started to worry about him. I don’t think it’s done him a whit of good, but I can’t help it.”

Julia thought of Martin washing the floor. You’re like a dog licking the same spot over and over. “So you wash things?”

Martin leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “That’s very perceptive. Yes, that’s right.” He looked at Julia and she looked back at him. They each experienced a little jolt of recognition. She thought, He’s insane and I understand him. But maybe he isn’t completely crazy. Like a sort of lucid craziness, like a dream. Martin said, “You like to find out about things. What sort of things?”

Julia tried to put it into words. “Just-everything. I’m curious about things that people aren’t supposed to see-so, for example, I liked going to the British Museum, but I would like it better if I could go into all the offices and storage rooms, I want to look in all the drawers and-discover stuff. And I want to know about people. I mean, I know it’s probably kind of rude but I want to know why you have all these boxes and what’s in them and why all your windows are papered over and how long it’s been that way and how do you feel when you wash things and why don’t you do something about it?” Julia looked at Martin and thought, Now he’s going to ask me to leave. They sat in uncomfortable silence for what seemed a long time. Then Martin smiled.

“You’re very-American, aren’t you?”

“Is that a euphemism for ‘very rude’? Yes, I am very rude. Sorry.”

“No, no, don’t apologise. That’s my job. More tea?”

“No thank you. If you give me too much caffeine I totally lose all restraint. Maybe that already happened,” Julia said.

Martin poured himself another cup of tea. “Do you actually want to know all those things?” he said. “Because if I answer all your questions I might lose my air of mystery, and you won’t come and visit me again.”

“I would visit you.” You’re the oddest person I’ve ever met. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.

Martin opened his mouth, hesitated, and said, “Do you smoke?”

“Yes,” Julia replied. Martin brightened. He left the table and came back with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He shook a cigarette out of the pack and offered it to Julia. She took it and put it to her lips, let him light it for her and immediately had a severe coughing fit. Martin jumped up and fetched her a glass of water. When she could speak she said, “What the hell was that?”

“Gauloises. They’re unfiltered-I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to kill you.”

She handed him the lit cigarette. “Here, I’ll just inhale your second-hand smoke.”

Martin took a deep drag and let the smoke trickle from his mouth. Julia thought she had never seen such an expression of raw pleasure on anyone’s face. She understood then how he had managed to woo and marry a girl: He just looked at her like that. Julia wished someone would look at her that way. Then she felt confused.

Martin said, “Curiosity killed the cat.” He took another drag on his cigarette.

“I know. But I just feel like my head’s going to explode if I don’t find out-whatever it is.”

“You would make a good scholar.”

Julia was fascinated to see that smoke came out of his mouth in little gusts as he spoke. I thought Dad was a hard-core smoker, but this guy is definitely in another league. “I can’t sit still that long. I want to find out now, and then find out the next thing.”

“A journalist, then.”

Julia looked dubious. “Maybe. But what about Valentina?” She noticed that Martin had removed his surgical gloves in order to smoke the cigarette. They lay crumpled beside his cup and saucer.

“Don’t you think that each of you might be happier pursuing your own interests?”

“But we’re together-we’ve always done things together.”

“Hmm.”

Julia had the uncomfortable feeling that someone had snuck upstairs before she’d arrived and told Martin the Mouse’s point of view on things. “What?” she said, resentfully.

“It’s a pity you won’t meet Elspeth. She had some interesting things to say about being a twin.”

Julia was all attention. “Like what?”

Martin asked, “Would you like some cake?” Julia shook her head. “I think I will have a small piece,” he said. He delicately cut a sliver of cake and laid it on a plate, then ignored it as he continued to smoke. “Elspeth thought that there was a limit to how far the twin relationship should go, in terms of each person giving up their own individuality. She felt that she and your mother had exceeded that boundary.”

“How?”

Martin shook his head. “She didn’t tell me. You ought to ask Robert; if she told anyone it would have been him.”

“Robert Fanshaw? We haven’t met him yet.”

“Hmm. I’d have thought he’d’ve been round to introduce himself first thing. How odd.”

“We’ve knocked on his door, but he’s never home. Maybe he’s out of town,” Julia said.

“I just saw him this morning. He arranged for your ceiling to be repaired.” Martin smiled. “He ticked me off properly for annoying you.” Martin stubbed out his cigarette and then carefully put on his gloves.

“Huh. I wonder how come-I mean, what’s he like?”

Martin ate a bite of cake and Julia waited while he chewed and swallowed. “Well, he was very devoted to Elspeth. I think perhaps her death has unhinged him a bit. But he’s a good fellow, he’s very patient with all my mishaps.”

“Do you have a lot of-um, should we expect the ceiling to cave in all the time?”

Martin looked embarrassed. “That’s only happened once before. I’ll try very hard not to do that again.”

“Do you have a choice about it?”

“There’s a little bit of leeway. Usually.”

Julia felt dizzy from all the cigarette smoke. “Can I use your washroom?”

Martin said, “Of course.” He pointed towards the servant’s room. “There’s one in there.” Julia rose unsteadily and made her way through the box-filled room into the tiny bathroom. There were more boxes stacked in the bathtub. It must be like living in a self-storage unit. She used the toilet and splashed water on her face and felt better. When she got back to the kitchen she said, “So what’s in the boxes? I mean, it looks like you just moved in.”

Martin regarded her tolerantly. “All right, Miss Pandora Poole. As a special treat you may open a box.”

“Any box?”

“Maybe. I can’t always remember what’s in them, so it doesn’t much matter which box.”

They both stood up. It’s like Easter. Or Christmas. “Any hints?”

“No,” he said. “Most of them aren’t too exciting.” They moved into the dining room. Julia stood staring at the towering piles of boxes. Martin said, “Perhaps you could pick one from the top? So we don’t have to shift them all?”

Julia pointed at a box and Martin carefully took it off the pile and handed it to her. It was embalmed in tape, so he went and got a Stanley knife. She put the box on the floor and sliced into it, kneeling beside it. When she opened the box Martin stood back as though it might explode.

It was full of plastic. At first Julia thought plastic was the only thing in the box, but as she delved into it she realised that there were a number of items, each wrapped in plastic and taped. She looked up at Martin. He stood in the doorway, nervously tugging at his gloved fingers. “Should I stop?” she asked.

“No. Unwrap something.”

She groped in the box and pulled out a small plastic package. She unwrapped it slowly. It was an earring, a single pearl in an elaborate silver setting. She offered it up to Martin. He leaned forward to look. “Ah,” he said. “That’s Marijke’s. She’ll want that back.” He did not take it from Julia.

She said, “Do you think the other earring is in here?” He nodded. She went through the box until she found a similar package. When she had both earrings Julia stood up. She went to Martin and held out her hand. He cupped his gloved hands together and she put the earrings into them. Then she put all the plastic back in the box, and placed it back on the pile. She didn’t want to know what else was in there. They went back to the kitchen and stood awkwardly next to their chairs. Martin put the earrings carefully into Valentina’s teacup. He said, “Sometimes a thing is-too much-and it has to be isolated and put away.” Martin shrugged. “So what’s in the boxes is-emotion. In the form of objects.” He looked at Julia. “Is that what you wanted to know?”

“Yes.” It seemed like a completely sensible system. “Thank you.”