Her Fearful Symmetry

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.