Her Fearful Symmetry

“East Sussex.”

Robert said, “Why Sussex?”

“It’s pretty. We could live in Lewes and walk on the Downs every Sunday afternoon. Why not?”

“We don’t know anyone there.”

“Precisely.”

Robert got up and began pacing again, forgetting that Elspeth had just asked him not to do this. “Maybe we should confess. Then we could live in my flat, and eventually things would be normal again.”

Elspeth just looked at him. You are barking mad. After a moment Robert said, “I suppose not.”

“We could get a little cottage. You could finish your thesis.”

“How the hell am I supposed to finish my thesis when I can’t go to the cemetery?” he yelled.

“Why can’t you go to the cemetery?” Elspeth asked quietly. She felt the baby kick.

“Jessica saw you,” he said. “What am I supposed to tell her?”

Elspeth frowned. “Tell her as much of the truth as you can. And let her sort it out. There’s no reason to lie, just omit a few things.”

Robert stood looking down at her upturned face, her borrowed face. That’s how you do it, he thought. I never realised it before. “How long have you been plotting to move to Sussex?” he asked her.

She said, “Oh, since we were tiny. Our parents used to take us to Glyndebourne, and we’d get off the train at Lewes with all the other people in fancy dress. I always wanted to live out in the countryside, there. Actually, I wanted to live in the opera house, but I don’t imagine that’s practicable.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Robert, irritably. “It seems to me if you can come back from the dead you could probably live anywhere you like.”

“Well, we can’t live in your flat,” said Elspeth.

“No.”

“Right, then,” said Elspeth. “Can we at least go and look at East Sussex? With an estate agent?”

“Fine,” said Robert. He scooped his keys off the table and grabbed his jacket.

“Where are you going?”

“Out.” He turned to look at her as he put his jacket on; she had a chastened expression he could not remember ever seeing before. “To the library,” he said, softening. “I ordered some books.”

“See you later?” she said, as though she wasn’t quite sure.

“Yeah.”

As Robert walked along Euston Road in the sunshine he thought, I have to talk to Jessica. As he entered the library he thought, I can’t imagine leaving London. He put his things in a locker and went upstairs. What am I going to do? He was sitting and waiting for his desk light to activate when the answer came to him, and he laughed out loud at the obviousness of it.

Robert and Jessica sat in her office with the door closed. It was after hours; all the cemetery staff had gone home. He had told her everything, as best he could. He had tried to place all the evidence before her; he had not spared himself. Jessica listened impassively. She sat in the waning light with her fingers steepled, leaning forward, regarding him with serious eyes. Finally he was silent. Jessica reached out and pulled the little chain of her desk lamp, creating a small pool of yellow light that did not reach either of them. He waited for her to speak.

“Poor Robert,” she said. “It’s all very unfortunate. But I suppose you could say that you got what you wished for.”

“That’s the worst punishment,” Robert said. “I would undo everything, if I could.”

“Yes,” she said. “But you can’t.”

“No, I can’t.” He sighed. “I’d better go. We’re leaving tomorrow. There’s still packing to do.”

They stood up. She said, “Will you come back?”

“I hope so.” He turned on the overhead light and followed her slowly down the stairs. When they were standing at the cemetery gates she said, “Goodbye, Robert.” He kissed her on both cheeks, slipped through the gates and walked away. There he goes, she thought. Jessica watched until Robert disappeared from her sight. Then she locked the gate and stood in the dark courtyard, listening to the wind and marvelling at human folly.

The End

IT WAS the first day of spring. Valentina sat in the window seat, looking out over Highgate Cemetery. Morning sun slanted in, pouring through her onto the worn blue rug without pause. Birds wheeled over the trees, which were bursting with new leaves; Valentina could hear a car crunching the gravel in St. Michael’s car park. The outside world was shiny and clean and loud today. Valentina let the sun warm her. The Kitten jumped up onto her lap, and she stroked its white head as she watched pigeons building a nest in the top of Julius Beer’s mausoleum.

Julia was asleep. She slept sprawled out now, as though trying to cover as much of the bed as possible. Her mouth was open. Valentina got up, still holding the Kitten, and walked over to the bed. She stood watching Julia. Then she put her finger in Julia’s mouth. Julia didn’t wake. Valentina went back to the window seat and sat down again.

An hour later Julia woke up. Valentina was gone; Julia showered and dressed and drank her coffee alone. She found the silence of the building disturbing. Robert had moved away; the upstairs flat hadn’t sold yet (perhaps because it was still half full of boxes). Maybe I should get a dog. How do you get a dog in London? English people were so fanatical about animals; maybe you couldn’t just go to the pound and pick one out. Maybe they had to approve of you. She imagined what the dog adoption people would think when they saw her living like an orphan in huge silent Vautravers. Maybe I should be one of those women who have one hundred cats. They could swarm all over. I could let them into Martin’s flat and it would be a cat Disney World. They would go bonkers.

Julia sat with her mug of coffee at the dining-room table. It was littered with sheets of paper and pens; the paper was covered with Valentina’s writing. The dog-adoption people would see that she was insane. She began to gather up the papers. She strode into the kitchen and threw them in the bin. When Julia returned to the dining room, Valentina was standing by the French windows with the Kitten draped over her shoulder. Julia sighed.

“I can’t leave that stuff sitting around,” she said. “It looks weird.”

Valentina ignored this and made the gesture they’d always used to get waiters to bring the bill: she pretended to write on her upturned palm.

“Fine,” said Julia. “Okay.” She took a sip of her now-cold coffee, just to show the Mouse that she didn’t have to jump when told. Valentina stood patiently by her chair, and Julia sat down and drew a piece of paper to her, picked up a pen and poised it over the paper. “Go ahead,” she said.

Valentina leaned over and the Kitten jumped onto the table and stood on the paper. Valentina brushed her aside and put her hand into Julia’s.

I FIGURED IT OUT.

“Figured what out?”

How TO LEAVE.

“Oh.” Julia looked up at Valentina, resignedly. “Well. Okay. How?”

IT TAKES A BODY. OPEN YOUR MOUTH, GO OUTSIDE.

“Go outside and open my mouth?”

Valentina shook her head.

OPEN MOUTH, CLOSE MOUTH, THEN GO OUTSIDE.

Julia opened her mouth as though for the dentist, shut it and pressed her lips together, then pointed to the window. “Right?” Valentina nodded. “Now?” Valentina nodded again. “Let me get my shoes.”

Valentina gathered up the Little Kitten of Death and waited for Julia in their front hall. She thought she saw a hint of her reflection in the mirrors, but she wasn’t quite sure.

Julia reappeared wearing one of Elspeth’s favourite cardigans, baby-blue cashmere with mother-of-pearl buttons. Valentina stood looking at her for a long moment, and then leaned to Julia and kissed her on the lips. To Julia it felt like the ghost of all the kisses the Mouse had ever given her. She smiled; her eyes welled.

“Now?” Julia repeated, and Valentina nodded.

Julia opened her mouth wide and closed her eyes. She felt her mouth fill with something like dense smoke; she opened her eyes and tried not to gag. How will I breathe? The thing in her mouth was becoming more solid. Julia felt it in her throat, and she coughed and gasped. It