Pirouette (5 page)

ten

“
One thousand, four hundred and sixty dollars?”
Simone let out a little shriek.
“You've got to be kidding me.”

“Nope, see for yourself.”

Simone whipped off her hat and sunglasses and shoved them into her enormous tote bag, then took the iPhone from Hannah and read the email. “It's a fortune,” she said. “We can't possibly keep it. It's your parents' money. And you've got no idea how hard my mum works to pay for—”

“For what? A course you didn't want to do in the first place?”

Simone shook her head. “Don't you get it? I feel like a thief.”

“Well, you shouldn't feel that way. It's right that the program refund the money if only one of us is doing the course. And you're not stealing anything by living in the dorm because that part's fully paid and non-refundable. You'll need at least some of this money to pay for all the meals you won't be having on campus. Like this one,” she added. “Besides, you can always pay your mother back. And my parents are still getting their money's worth!” She stopped talking as the pot-bellied waiter approached their table with a basket of sliced Italian bread.

“Ah, I see your friend has arrived,” he said to Hannah. He glanced at Simone, then did a double-take. His head swiveled from one to the other and back again. “Identical twins,” he declared, his eyes growing wider.

“Shhhh,” said Hannah in a stage whisper. “We're trying to be incognito.”

The waiter laughed. “What can I get you?”

“I'll have the spaghetti marinara, please,” said Simone.

“And I'll have the vegetarian penne.” Hannah waited till he was out of earshot, then leaned closer to Simone. “Are you sure you won't be missed in the communal dining room?”

Simone shook her head. “I told you, it's cafeteria style. No one ever bothers checking who's there and who's not.”

A drinks waiter arrived with two glasses of something cold and pale yellow.

“Lemon squash. It's on the house.”

“Really?”

“
Si.
For some reason, the boss liked the look of you.” He paused and turned from one to the other, then grinned in delight.

The girls burst out laughing when he left.

“Here's to three weeks of swapping identities,” Hannah said.

“And getting to know each other,” said Simone.

They clinked glasses, and drank.

The twins talked nonstop all through dinner. It didn't take them long to find out that although they'd both been raised in Melbourne, their lives were completely different. Simone had been raised a Catholic. Hannah had been raised a Jew. Simone had always gone to public schools. Hannah attended Carmel College, a private Jewish one. Simone lived in a tiny house. Hannah lived in a fairly large one.

“I can't imagine living with just one other person,” Hannah was saying. “It must be quiet at your place.”

“It must be noisy at yours.”

Back at the dorm, the girls logged onto Facebook and showed each other their photos. Hannah's were a mix of family and friends, while Simone's were mainly of her classmates at the VSD. The conversation continued long after they had gone to bed; Simone lay on her left side, facing Hannah in across the room, and Hannah lay on her right side, facing Simone.

“So you
never
had a dad?” Hannah was saying.

“Never,” said Simone.

“That's sad.”

“Is it? I'm not sure if you can miss what you never had …
and there's something romantic about being so in love … ”

“But it must have been awful for your mum when her fiancé died.”

“Yeah … I guess that's why she adopted me. To fill the gap.”

“But that was over fifteen and a half years ago. And she's been single all that time?”

“At least she's got me.”

“What does she do?” asked Hannah.

“She works for an insurance company. What about your parents?”

“My mum's a doctor and my dad's a publisher. Ever heard of Seagull Press?”

“Of course.”

“Well, that's us. Segal—Seagull.”

“Oh, that is
so
cool … ”

“My dad's always trying to get me to read. Every time he publishes a new book, he brings me a copy. I've got this huge pile of unread novels in my room.”

“Oh, lucky lucky you. I wish someone brought
me
books. I mean, not that I'd have time to read them, but I wish I did. I love reading.”

“Do you? Ha! My dad would love you.” Hannah was quiet for a moment. “Maybe he got the wrong twin.” She said it lightly, but suddenly it seemed like a real possibility. “I must be a disappointment to him,” she added softly.

“You couldn't be,” Simone assured her. “If anyone's a disappointment, it's me.”

“You? Why you?”

“The only thing my mum wants is for me to be a dancer. Imagine how disappointed she'll be when she finds out I won't be.”

“Hmm … my parents see dance as just a hobby.” Hannah yawned and closed her eyes.

“It's weird,” said Simone. “I got the mother who wants me to dance. You got the father who wants you to read.”

Hannah said nothing. She had slipped into sleep.

Hannah lay in a fetal position, her right hand making a loose fist as if she'd been grasping something and had lost her grip. Lying with her left hand curled up by her face, Simone was the mirror image of her sister.

But while Hannah slept on undisturbed, Simone began to toss and turn in the midst of an unpleasant dream.

“Mum, I told you. She's my sister. We're identical twins.”

“Oh, Simone! What next?”

“But can't you see the resemblance?
LOOK at her.” Simone's voice was becoming desperate.

“Look at who, Simone?”

“At Hannah.” By now Simone was close to tears. “Please, Mum. She's standing right … ” But when Simone turned to the spot where Hannah had stood just a moment before, there was no one there.

Simone stirred restlessly. “She
was
there,” she muttered out loud. Woken by the sound of her own voice, Simone sighed and opened her eyes.

Silvery moonlight seeped through the skimpy curtains and the looming shadows became more distinct as Simone's night vision slowly returned. What had she been dreaming? For a second, she couldn't remember. Then she glanced over at Hannah and it all came back—it was a variation of a dream she'd already had three times that night, and each time she'd woken up deeply disturbed.

Once again she glanced at Hannah, who was fast asleep and breathing deeply. Simone wondered if she too was having bad dreams, but Hannah looked peaceful.

Simone closed her eyes. Despite the unsettling thoughts in her mind, tiredness overwhelmed her, and at last she slept.

eleven

Hannah looked around the busy Caff. Some of the dancers were sitting at tables, taking their time over breakfast. Others grabbed a piece of toast or fruit and ate on the run, while there were those who downed a glass of juice and left carrying a container of yogurt or a hardboiled egg still in its shell.

What would Simone like for breakfast? Hannah had left her fast asleep, even though she was dying to wake her. It had been so amazing waking up in the same room as her very own sister.

Simone had said that breakfast at Candance was the best meal of the day, and judging by the generous buffet, Hannah guessed that must be true. There were different kinds of cereal, bowls of fruit, two sorts of toast, hard- or soft-boiled eggs, hot porridge, baked beans, containers of flavored yogurt, and miniature packets of butter, Vegemite, and assorted jam.

Hannah wrapped two slices of toast in a napkin and popped some butter and Vegemite into her bag, along with two hard-boiled eggs, an apple, a pear, and a container of yogurt. She picked up two teaspoons and two knives, glanced quickly around to make sure no one was watching, and then slid them into the bag as well. It was probably against the rules, but she had every intention of returning them when Candance ended.

Sam and Liam were sitting at a table by the window, engrossed in conversation. Luckily they hadn't seen her yet, and she was careful not to catch their eye as she slipped outside.

Simone was still asleep when Hannah returned, and Hannah tiptoed quietly across the room. As she silently unpacked their breakfast onto the desk, a knife fell clattering onto the floor. Simone woke with a start.

“Shhh … sorry. Go back to sleep.”

Simone sat up, rubbing her eyes. “It's okay. I'm awake.” She looked a little disoriented and her voice was croaky as she said, “What's that?”

“I brought us some breakfast.”

“I don't think I'm entitled to any, and
you're
supposed to eat in the Caff.”

“Hang on a minute,” said Hannah. “Why aren't you entitled to any?”

“We're getting a refund, remember?” said Simone. “The cost of full-board catering is being returned. So if I eat here, I'm stealing from Candance.”

“Wrong,” said Hannah. “Full board means three meals a day, remember? And since I'll be eating dinner out, with you … two breakfasts plus one lunch equals three meals total, right?”

“Right,” said Simone.

“Well, there you go.”

Simone got up, brushed her teeth, and slowly buttered a piece of toast. “Actually, it's probably a good thing you brought me food, because my mum didn't give me much spending money.”

“Why not?”

“She paid for full board, remember? So why would I need it?”

“Well, take my bankcard,” said Hannah. “Here's my PIN.” She scribbled a four-digit number on a scrap of paper and handed the card and the number to Simone. “There's enough in there for food even before the refund gets deposited.”

“I can't take your money,” said Simone.

“Yes you can,” Hannah said, through a mouthful of egg on toast. “And it's not really
my
money, is it? If it were you my parents had adopted, it could just as easily be yours.”

Simone looked uncomfortable but took the card. “Thanks,” she said. “How come you've got your own bank account, anyway?”

Hannah shrugged. “Pocket money, birthday money, Hanukkah money … ” She glanced at the clock. “Anyway, gotta go, or I'll be late for warm-up!”

Miss Roth's voice rose and fell in a steady rhythm as she marked out the exercise. “
Demi
plié
and stretch,
demi
plié
and stretch,
grand
plié
and stretch, and rise and turn.” Hannah stood at the barre watching, her hands sketching the prescribed movements of the legs and feet. She was nervous, but in a good way. This was her first ballet lesson at Candance, and it was what she'd been waiting for. It was why she'd spent months trying to convince her parents to let her enroll. It was her best chance to improve as a dancer, because training in classical ballet with the top teachers in the country was the most wonderful training a dancer could get.

Hannah had been learning ballet for nearly ten years. She was good, but coming from Armadale Dance, she just wasn't sure she was good enough. Could she really fool Miss Roth into thinking she was Simone, who'd trained at the prestigious, entry-by-audition-only VSD?

She placed one hand lightly on the barre, the music began, and Miss Roth strode up and down the length of the studio, watching the dancers. “Don't race the music. Fill it. Stretch the movement. That's it. Lovely.”

The class moved on to another exercise, and another. “Peel the foot off the floor and into
retiré
,” Miss Roth was saying. “Bring the leg into an
attitude derrière
, stretch it out into an
arabesque
and carry it to the side … Don't drop the knee.” She passed from one end of the barre to the other, making minor adjustments to the dancers' positions. She stopped beside Hannah, looked her up and down, and moved on to the girl in front.

I've done it,
thought Hannah.
She hasn't noticed a thing.

Just then Miss Roth turned back and caught Hannah's eye. “Square hips, please, Simone. And pull in that rib cage. What happened to the impeccable technique I saw yesterday?” Luckily it was a rhetorical question, and before Hannah could think of an answer, Miss Roth had moved on.

Despite the close call, for the rest of the lesson it seemed that Simone's shoes were working like a lucky charm—
Hannah found herself dancing better than she ever had before. Simone had been right; Hannah
could
cope with the highest level. When she began the
port de bras
in the center, she lost herself inside the music, and when she'd finished, Miss Roth was smiling at her. “Well, Simone, your technique might need work, but I have to say, you're lovely to watch. You dance from the heart.”

twelve

Bag slung over her shoulder, sunhat and dark glasses on her head, Simone trotted along the footpath. She was planning to spend the day at the local pool and was on her way to the bus stop, but swimming was the last thing on her mind. Instead, she was thinking about Hannah's dad and the fascinating fact that he was a publisher. She imagined meeting him. They'd talk about books and writing, and he'd tell her all about publishing and the famous authors he'd met and worked with. Maybe she'd have a chance to meet them too …

In the photos Hannah had shown her the night before, the whole Segal family looked warm and good-humored. Brown-skinned Adam seemed cheeky and funny and had a wiry, athletic build. Hannah's mom Vanessa was small and neat, and often had a kind of half-smile on her face. And Manfred … Manfred looked like the kind of dad you'd want to have. He was a large man, his smile open and friendly, and he appeared to have an insatiable appetite not only for food but for life.

What would her life have been like if she'd had Manfred for a dad? Or if she'd even
had
a dad? It wasn't something Simone had ever really thought about, but since meeting Hannah her mind was all over the place, filled with questions she couldn't even begin to answer.

She tried to imagine herself and Hannah as tiny infants—two identical baby girls in a Brazilian orphanage.

Was there even any proof that she and Hannah were identical twins? Or was it possible that their history and identical looks were just coincidence?

It would be so much easier to tell their parents, when the time came, if they could prove it was true. Well, perhaps they could …

She'd once seen a program on TV about DNA testing. It was mostly used to resolve paternity issues, or to determine whether a certain person had committed a crime. And it could identify people who'd died over a hundred years ago. Maybe it could also confirm whether she and Hannah were identical twins.

The bus stop was still a little farther down the street, but Simone retraced her steps and headed to the public library instead.

Once inside, she looked around. A sign on the information desk said
Wi-Fi Internet Available
. Soon, sitting at a designated computer, she opened a search engine and entered the words
DNA Testing Identical Twins.

Within fifteen minutes, Simone knew the following facts:

• •
  Identical twins have identical DNA.
  
• •
  Identical twins, formed when a fertilized egg splits, are the
  only
  people in the world with identical DNA.
  
• •
  Although identical twins have the same genotype (DNA), they have different phenotypes.
  
• •
  Phenotype determines traits such as fingerprints and certain aspects of physical appearance, and are a product of the way the individual's genes interact with the environment both within the uterus and throughout the individual's life.
  
• •
  Dogs can't distinguish between identical twins.
  
• •
  DNA testing cannot distinguish between identical twins, but a simple fingerprint can.
  

Simone returned to the search engine and typed in the words
DNA Testing Canberra Australia.

This time a list of businesses appeared and Simone clicked on the first link:
fastcheckDNA.com.au
. In large print at the top of the site were the words
DNA Testing Australia Wide
, and in a smaller font below, the heading
Paternity Testing: For peace of mind, be sure who is the father of your child
.

Checking some other links, Simone found websites for DNA Australia, Gene Track, and DNA Identity. All seemed to offer similar services at comparable prices. All advertised paternity testing and none mentioned testing for identical twins.

She returned to the Fast Check website and sent an email to the contact address:

To Whom It May Concern,

Could you tell me whether you test for identical twins?

Thanks,
Simone

The reply from Fast Check was almost immediate:

Hello Simone,

Yes, we can do testing that will determine if you are identical twins. The cost is $360 and the DNA is collected from a mouth swab. I have attached the application form and as soon as you have returned it to us, we will send you a mouth swab collection kit. Alternatively, you can phone the office and we will take your application over the phone.

Payment is due with the return of the collection kit.

Yours sincerely,
Julianne Barnes MSC (Hons)
Director Fast Check DNA

With a surge of excitement, Simone rang the number provided at the bottom of the email and gave the office her name, birth date, and Candance address. Then she switched off the computer, left the library, and wandered down the street to a nearby café.

As she sipped hot chocolate with a dash of cream—a treat her mother would never approve of—Simone remembered the disturbing dreams she'd had the night before.

If I have proof that we're identical twins
, she thought,
no one will ever be able to tell me that Hannah's not real
.

“Why waste money on a DNA test?” Hannah asked, when Simone suggested using Hannah's credit card to make the payment. “I mean, isn't it obvious we're identical twins?” She watched as Simone slid easily into the splits, her hips square, her posture perfect.

“To us,” said Simone, raising one arm and bending over her outstretched leg with enviable elegance. “It's obvious to us. But don't you think it will be easier to tell our parents if we've got the proo
f
?”

“I guess,” said Hannah. “Yeah, okay.”

Simone's torso swept the floor as she changed direction, reminding Hannah of what had inspired her to dance in the first place. Simone really did move beautifully. Even a simple thing, like lifting an arm into fifth position, was transformed into an act of grace when Simone did it.
She doesn't know,
thought Hannah.
She doesn't how amazing she looks, what a gift she has.

Simone flipped onto her stomach and pulled one foot up over her head, her back strong and superbly arched.

“You won't really give up dancing, will you?” Hannah asked. “I mean, look at you.”

“This isn't dancing, it's stretching,” said Simone. “To me, stretching's like breathing.”

“Isn't dancing like breathing?” Hannah asked.

“Not anymore.” Simone stood up and came to sit beside Hannah on her bed.

Hannah couldn't let it go. “I get that dancing's tiring. I get that you really need a break. And it's your right not to dance, and I fully respect that … but Sim, if I could dance as well as you, I'd want to show the world … ”

“I used to feel like that,” Simone agreed. “It's not that I don't like dancing. If I could do it just for myself … if I could dance alone in a studio, that might be different. I'd be dancing for me. When you're on your own, there's a purity about dance. It becomes a kind of … meditation. But as soon as someone else is watching, there's this weight of expectation. It ruins everything.”

The girls were quiet for a while, each wrapped up in private thoughts.

“You didn't tell me what else you did today,” said Hannah at last, “besides finding out about DNA. You weren't bored, were you?”

“Bored?” Simone almost laughed at the question. “I felt free. For the first time in years.”