Her Fearful Symmetry

walnut.

The train stopped at Monument and quite a few people got off. Now he could see across the aisle. Two young women sat together. They wore scuffed white trainers and medical scrubs, and each had a shopping bag resting on her lap. Both women had protruding eyes and pronounced overbites. They wore wary expressions, as though prepared to defend their bags against thieves. Both women delved into the bags with shovel-like hands, scooping out walnuts and ripping them open with their huge teeth.

“Wotchalookin’ at?” said one to Martin. He could hear walnuts rolling all over the floor. No one else seemed to notice. Martin shook his head, unable to speak. To his horror, the women got up and seated themselves on either side of him. The one who had spoken before leaned over and put her mouth to his ear.

“We’re squirrels in human form,” she whispered. “And so are you.”

Breathe

WE’VE GOT to get you to a doctor,” said Julia. Valentina nodded and wheezed.

But this was easier said than done. The twins were blissfully unaware of the intricacies of the NHS. Robert tried not to sound exasperated as he filled them in.

“You can’t just show up and expect them to attend to your problem,” he told Valentina when the twins accosted him outside his door. He stood holding a sheaf of letters and waved them about for emphasis as he talked. “You have to find out which GPs are accepting new patients and ring them to make an appointment to register. And then you fill out a pile of forms and give them your history. And then, and only then, are you allowed to make an appointment.” Valentina started to say something and coughed instead.

Julia shook her finger at Robert as though he had personally invented the National Health Service. “No way,” she said. “The Mouse needs a doctor right now.”

“Go over to Whittington Hospital, then, to A & E.” And that was what they ended up doing. Robert came with them.

Whittington Hospital was a sprawling thing located just down Highgate Hill, on the other side of Waterlow Park. They walked there. The spring wind was damp and stiff, and by the time they arrived Valentina was breathing in deep, stomach-clenching gasps.

After some questions and some waiting, Valentina was whisked away by a young Pakistani nurse. Julia and Robert could hear the nurse making low-pitched sounds of reassurance as she hustled Valentina through the double doors that separated the waiting room from the A & E department proper. They settled down to do the forms with the middle-aged, basset-jowled white man who sat at the intake desk.

“Allergies?”

“Tetracycline, mould, soy,” said Julia.

“Existing conditions?”

“Well,” said Julia, “she has situs inversus.” The intake man, who had seemed utterly bored with them, now looked up at Julia and raised his eyebrows inquisitively. “We are mirror twins, and she’s mostly reversed inside. Her heart’s over here,” Julia laid her hand on her chest, just to the right of her sternum, “and her liver and kidneys and whatnot are all backwards of mine.” The man considered this, and then began typing rapidly.

“I didn’t know that,” said Robert.

“Well, now you do,” said Julia irritably. “It’s not like it matters or anything, unless you’re Valentina’s doctor.”

“I meant the bit about you being mirror-image twins. I thought you were identical twins. That is, wouldn’t mirror twins be more… opposite?”

Julia shrugged. “We’re pretty symmetrical, so it doesn’t show that much in our faces. You can notice it better if you look at the way our hair parts, or our moles, or if you saw a pair of X-rays, then you could really see it, because she’s so opposite. She has an asymmetric non-flail mitral-valve prolapse,” she added, to the intake man.

“What does that mean?” asked Robert.

“There’s a valve that isn’t formed right,” replied Julia. “That’s why I’m so worried about her breathing like that. It might put a strain on her heart, and then we’d be in big trouble.”

“I can’t believe you’ve been in London for almost three months without getting her a doctor!” Robert was feeling extremely anxious, suddenly, and he spoke sharply.

She retorted, “We were going to do it and we’ve just been putting it off ’cause we weren’t sure how to find one. It’s not like we haven’t been thinking about it.” Julia knew that this was an inadequate reason, and it made her cross. She finished the paperwork and they went back to their seats in the waiting room.

The diagnosis was bronchitis. They took a cab up the hill, Valentina huddling in Julia’s arms, coughing. In the front hall, back at Vautravers, the twins began to walk upstairs, and Robert tried to follow them. “No,” said Julia. “We’re all right. Thanks.” She turned away brusquely.

Robert said, “But she needs-”

“I take care of her. That’s my job.” Julia watched Valentina slowly ascending the stairs, pausing on each step.

“I could get the prescription,” Robert offered.

Julia considered. It would be helpful; Boots was a bus ride away. “Okay. Here.” She handed over the prescription as though she were doing Robert a favour, not the reverse. He went out the front door, a man on a mission. I take care of her. Not you, Julia thought. She followed Valentina into their flat. She filled the hot-water bottle before she took off her coat, and went to the bedroom, where Valentina was slowly undressing.

“Where’s Robert?” Valentina asked, as though she hadn’t heard their conversation.

“He went to Boots,” Julia said.

Valentina got into bed without comment. Julia gave her the hot-water bottle, set up the vapourizer, fetched the book Valentina had been reading, made tea; she did all these things purposefully and quite happily, humming to herself as she accomplished all the little comforting tasks. She came into the bedroom with the tea to find the Kitten curled up near Valentina’s head and Valentina herself asleep. The Kitten stretched out a paw and placed it protectively on Valentina’s shoulder, eyeing Julia with suspicion. You too? Julia thought. We all want to be her only one. She set the tea tray on the bedside table. It occurred to Julia to wonder, If I got sick, would everyone rush to my bedside? The thought made her irritable. She never got sick, what was the point of wondering that? Valentina’s breath rattled in her throat. Julia settled herself in the window seat with her own cup of tea, causing Elspeth, who had been there all along, to get up and stand next to the bed, biting her thumb, worrying. It was an anxious day for everyone: humans, cats, and ghosts.

Edie sat at her dining-room table drinking coffee with the telephone at her elbow; she was not actually looking at the phone, just having it near because it was going to ring in a few minutes. Jack wandered over, carrying the Sunday Times. He began to separate it into his and hers piles. Edie put her hand out and he placed the business section in it. She flipped it open and ran her finger down the stock tables, making little tsking sounds as she did so. The phone rang. Edie took a sip of her coffee as though she were in no hurry and let it ring three times. Jack went down the hall to pick up in their bedroom.

“Mom?”

“Hi, Julia,” said Edie.

“Valentina?” said Jack.

“Hi, Dad,” said Valentina. She tried to make her voice sound normal but the effort sent her into a coughing fit.

“Oh my God,” said Edie. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s just bronchitis,” said Julia. “We went to the doctor.”

“I’m better today,” Valentina said. She put her phone down and went into the bathroom to cough. Julia watched her standing bent over, elbows on the sink, hand over her mouth to suppress the sound of the coughing.

“Did they give you antibiotics? Are you taking that mucus-reducing stuff Dr. Brooks gave you?” Edie and Julia embarked on a leisurely and detailed discussion of everything they could and should do for Valentina’s bronchitis. Eventually Valentina came back to the phone.

“We met Robert Fanshaw,” she said, mostly in order to change the subject.

“Finally,” said Jack. “Where’s he been all this time?”

“He’s helping us get signed up for the NHS,” Julia said.

“Oh,” said Edie. “Huh. What’s he like?”

“Mopey,” said Julia. “Kind of freaky and weird. If he was our age he’d probably be a Goth, you know, all pierced and tattooed.”

“No,” said Valentina. “He’s nice. He’s kind of shy, and you can tell he misses Elspeth. He has little glasses like John Lennon.” She wanted to say more, but had to put the phone down and cough.

“Valentina has a crush on him,” Julia informed them. Valentina drew her finger across her throat. Don’t, Julia.

“Surely he’s a bit old for her. He must be our age?” Jack said.