Poison Heart (29 page)

‘What is it you want, Genevieve?’ I asked loftily.

‘We have unfinished business.’

‘Do we?’

‘You know we do. You should invite me inside.’

The door was open now and I could see her breath rising in the cold air.

‘It’s late … we can talk tomorrow.’

Genevieve gave a hollow laugh. ‘Haven’t you ever heard … tomorrow never comes.’ She consulted her watch. ‘Anyway it’s half past midnight, which means it’s already tomorrow.’

I had an absolute horror of her making a scene and getting Mum out of bed so I let her push past me into our porch. I followed and shut the door, nodding in the direction of our living room. I folded my arms and watched her survey the room as if she was a prospective buyer. She even ran one hand across the sideboard as if checking its quality.

‘It’s not what I expected,’ she drawled.

I was exhausted but tried to match her laid-back sarcasm. ‘What
did
you expect?’

She sighed heavily. ‘I don’t know … something
different … original and special, to make it all worthwhile. But to risk everything just for this … this suburban hell.’

‘I don’t find it hell. It’s home.’

She grimaced with distaste. ‘You don’t know any different, Katy.’

‘Genevieve … I’m tired … too tired to play games.’

‘Maybe you’d like me to shout a bit louder. We could use some extra company.’

She knew exactly which buttons to press to make me edgy. ‘No … don’t do that. I’m OK, and we can talk. Come into the kitchen and I’ll make us both a drink.’

Her contempt continued into here. ‘What a nice pine kitchen with cute little flowers on the walls, a cupboard for your cereal and a shelf to stack your plates. I bet you have a dinner set for best and a few china cups stashed away in case guests call.’

She was right. Mum had both these things, but I carried on boiling a pan of milk and didn’t take the bait. I handed the steaming cup to her and she sniffed, detected it was cocoa and raised her eyes to heaven.

‘It’s all so utterly boring. Is this what you want for yourself?’

‘I don’t know what I want for myself,’ I came back with. ‘Does anyone at our age?’

‘Maybe not,’ she agreed coolly, ‘but you should know you don’t want this. You must want something better.’

‘I never expected anything better,’ I told her, taking a sip from my cup.

She looked me up and down critically. ‘So the dress didn’t work your magic then?’

‘In what way?’

She smiled the cat smile. ‘You and Merlin?’

‘I told you before, Genevieve, I don’t want him.’

‘He’s just a mirage, anyway, Katy. I discovered that really quickly.

‘You only wanted him when I wanted him,’ I retaliated. ‘It’s obvious.’

She shrugged and made a noise that could have meant anything. ‘I’m leaving … but you know that already.’

‘Yes, I heard.’

She yawned and raised her arms above her head. ‘It’s really sad that your life isn’t worth stealing. If this had been me – if this life had been mine, with your crazy
mother
, boring friends and cardboard boyfriend – I don’t know what I’d have done.’

‘Is that why you’re going?’ I asked evenly.

She nodded. ‘I’ve had a lot of time to think, and things might have happened for the best.’

It was a cheap shot I knew, but I couldn’t help it. ‘I definitely
won’t
miss you …’

She got to her feet and began studying our family photographs. ‘I did you a favour, Katy. You were such a mess when I arrived – frumpy and a complete mouse. Now you’re quite … attractive and you’re learning to stand up for yourself.’

I felt at a disadvantage, sitting down with her towering
over me. I stood up, awkward in the dress, the one we had both wanted, and glad that I’d kept my coat on. I pulled it tightly around me. Our house was freezing; the wind whistled through gaps and holes in the roof, windows, even skirting boards. It was shabby and neglected and it was horrible suddenly seeing things through Genevieve’s eyes. It felt as if she was a thief, rifling through our personal possessions.

I tried to make my voice firm with a note of finality. ‘So … we’re happy to go our own separate ways.’

‘Yeah. Your crazy mother is off the hook.’

It was the second time she’d called Mum crazy in as many minutes. ‘She never harmed anyone in her life,’ I retorted.

Her face darkened. ‘So you still don’t know …’

I faced her squarely, trying to sound more confident than I felt. ‘I do know. Mum told me the truth.’

The green eyes glowed dangerously. ‘And what truth is that?’

‘That your mother was a drug addict. My mum lived in the same house and had to phone the police the day that she …’ I couldn’t bring myself to say the word
died
, but Genevieve closed her eyes as if in pain. ‘So she actually rescued you, Genevieve. You were only a few days old and crying inconsolably.’

Her lips moved silently as she digested my words. Then she spoke. ‘That’s what she told you … and you believe that?’

‘Of course.’

‘But that doesn’t explain the most important thing.’

‘Which is?’

‘Us.’

‘That’s all in your head,’ I insisted, but my stomach began to lurch again.

Genevieve studied her nails with apparent nonchalance as she spoke. ‘Your favourite colour is indigo, you like to study clouds and often see faces in them, the smell of meat makes you sick, you always feel like an outsider, you have a fear of the water and hate your toes because they’re bumpy … oh, and you prefer winter to summer but you worry this is unnatural …’

She stopped and I sat down again. ‘Anyone could have told you those things.’

‘Why won’t you just face up to it?’ she yawned.

‘You’re mistaken … deluded …’

Genevieve faced me across the table. ‘Do you have the dream?’ She smiled again, showing all her teeth. ‘When I was little I dreamed of you all the time, sitting in front of the mirror watching me. I figured it was like Narnia, except there was only a piece of glass separating us.’

Her words cut through me like a blade. I’d never told anyone about that dream.

‘Is it just too much to handle, Katy, the knowledge that we’re the same?’ She leaned across and took hold of my right hand. Our fingers mapped together perfectly just like on that day on the bus. ‘Your …
mum’s
still in denial,’
she said softly. ‘She’s rewritten the past until she believes it herself … convinced that her version of events actually happened because what she did is too painful to face.’

Every part of my body had turned to ice. I trembled uncontrollably and my voice quivered. ‘I don’t want to know any more … you should go as you promised.’

She shook her head slowly and deliberately. ‘I can’t leave yet. That woman has made it impossible for me. She’s still telling lies, still hiding from what she did. I have to set you free. Are you ready, Katy? Are you ready for the truth?

It was the longest night of my life. Every minute seemed to last a year. Mum found me the next morning sitting in her armchair. I’d been in the same spot since Genevieve had left. My face must have looked awful because she rushed over, crouched down and touched me, but I couldn’t feel anything. I think I’d turned to stone. She felt my cheek, then placed one hand on the dress and seemed to crumple.

‘Whatever’s wrong, Katy? You’re frozen and you haven’t been to bed. Oh my goodness, has someone hurt you? Have you been attacked?’

I turned to her with difficulty, my eyes bloodshot and my voice hoarse. ‘Genevieve was here last night. She was waiting for me when I arrived home.’

Mum flinched as though she’d been struck. ‘What did she want?’

I didn’t reply. Mum took a step backwards and then another. She carried on this way, as if she wanted to escape from me, until she reached the door and muttered something
about going to the kitchen. A few minutes later she returned with a drink, the steam rising. She even took my hands and wrapped them around the cup in case I spilled it. I didn’t protest because my fingers were numb.

I gulped a mouthful and immediately choked on scalding tea. ‘She was going to leave,’ I coughed. ‘She’d made up her mind because it was so boring around here and my life wasn’t even worth stealing, but then something changed.’

‘What?’

I studied Mum as if I hadn’t seen her for a long time. ‘You. We talked about you, and that changed everything.’

‘You should have let her go, Katy … out of our lives.’

‘I had to defend you,’ I answered hotly. ‘She had to know that you were only protecting her.’

Mum grabbed hold of a chair to support herself. ‘And what did she say?’

The trembling began again and my teeth knocked against the side of the cup. ‘She said … there was a reason we had so much in common …’

Mum’s eyes darted about crazily, her pupils enlarged. I wasn’t sure I could go on with this. The overwhelming urge was to stop, pretend last night never happened and everything would be as before. Except that it couldn’t be – not with what I knew. The only way I could do this was to close my eyes tightly and spew out the terrible truth.

‘Genevieve told me we were related … not just sisters, but … twins … non-identical twins.’

‘And you believe her?’ Mum whispered.

I put my drink on the side table and cupped my face with my hands. ‘It’s so stupid and so unbelievable and horrific and sick but …’

‘But?’

‘There’s no other explanation. Why we think alike and copy each other without knowing, and we’ve been having the same dream ever since we were small.’

I thought Mum was going to collapse, but she sat down, instantly appearing twenty years older. I saw different emotions cross her face as the minutes ticked by and the silence of the room magnified until it sounded like thunder.

At last she said, almost in defeat, ‘It is true.’

‘You split us up!’ I accused her, my teeth clenched so tight they hurt. ‘No wonder Genevieve despises you.’

‘She has every reason to,’ Mum answered with strange calm.

My voice grew louder and more incredulous. ‘Did you toss a coin? Give away the one that cried the least? How could any mother do that?’

‘What I did was for the best.’

‘Don’t say that any more …’

‘I thought it was for the best,’ she repeated.

She sat inert, her head bowed and hands joined limply together. I had an urge to go over and shake her. ‘You can’t just hope she’ll go away. She’s part of our lives whether we like it or not.’

‘It’s too late to change things, Katy. You know what she is. She’ll destroy us.’

‘You’re only thinking about yourself.’

‘No … I’m thinking about you and the things she’s done.’

It seemed unbelievable that I was defending Genevieve. ‘Maybe she can’t help herself. You never gave her a chance …’

Mum didn’t protest. ‘You’re right, Katy. It was you or her and it was a terrible choice to make.’

‘Don’t expect me to thank you for choosing
me
,’ I answered contemptuously.

She stared at me for just a second and then dropped her gaze. ‘I don’t expect any thanks, but … when you know all the facts—’

‘I don’t want to know,’ I ranted.

Mum clammed up completely, but the urge to punish her was overpowering.

‘And you made up that story about a drug addict living in the room below. That was wicked.’

Her face was a terrible colour – whitish grey with what looked like a mixture of shock, humiliation and shame, but my heart stayed well and truly hardened.

‘I didn’t lie,’ she managed to say.

‘Of course you lied, you’re lying even now. My whole life’s a lie.’ I rose to my feet, desperate to get away from her.

‘Don’t go. It isn’t what you think,’ she pleaded. ‘I’ll tell you the truth, Katy. The complete truth.’

I slammed the living-room door and stormed out of the house. I thought she might follow and looked over my shoulder several times, but she didn’t. It was barely seven in the morning and the only car on the main road was our milkman, driving his float. He did an about-take when he spotted me in my evening dress but simply smiled and trundled on his way. There was only one place I could go. I knew that straight away. The converted barn was on the edge of our town and sat in about half an acre of land. I climbed a stile and took a short cut across a field which was thick with snow. The bottom of my dress was soon wet and torn. The delicate satin shoes were ruined, and my feet slid dangerously in them as they filled with water and one of the heels came loose. Soon I was walking with jerky up and down steps which were tiring and I was glad when the house came into view. The original barn doors were now huge floor-to-ceiling panes of glass, and as I approached I could see Genevieve sitting at a table. She looked up and waved.

‘I knew you’d come,’ she said simply.

‘And I knew that you knew I’d come.’

We both laughed, and for the first time it seemed genuine between us, not as if we were trying to score points off each other.

‘Come on in,’ she beckoned. ‘You can change into some of my clothes.’

The downstairs was completely open plan, with a living area dominated by a squashy L-shaped sofa, a modern
dining table which seated eight, and a study area tucked away behind a screen. Even the funky red kitchen was on display, although it was so clean and shiny I wondered if anyone actually cooked in it. Everywhere was a strange mixture of old and new, but they complemented each other. There was a minstrel’s gallery, stained in light oak, accessed by a matching staircase with four half-turns.

I followed Genevieve as she climbed, all the time gazing upwards and hearing our footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. Her bedroom wasn’t huge, but it had views over the countryside. Today everywhere looked perfect – white frosted roofs, a snow-topped church spire, trees and shrubs with their snowy branches extended. She handed me some jeans and a sweater from her wardrobe and I stripped off, without embarrassment, not missing the irony that Genevieve felt like an extension of me now. Her clothes and even her trainers fitted like a glove.