Double Act Read online

  No, that’s me. You’re the baby with Dad. I drew it so I should know.

  Well, I can’t help that. The baby with Mum is the biggest baby, you just look and see. And I was the biggest, we both know that. That’s baby Ruby. I’ll show you.

  It doesn’t matter anyway. OK, you’re the baby with Mum.

  Right. Well. Mum held you too, of course. She held me and then she held you and Dad held me and then

  And then we grew up a bit and we could toddle around and we didn’t need to be held. Though we still had cuddles with Mum. We sat on her lap. Both of us together. I can remember.

  You’re just remembering that photograph. Hey, let’s stick it in the accounts book.

  It’s not just the photo. I can remember. She felt so soft and yet her arms could hold you so tight you felt safe. And there was her flowery smell, and her curly hair tickled. She tickled us too, remember? Round and round the garden and then she’d tickle us under our arms and we’d go all squirmy. Remember that, Ruby?

  (She’s gone all quiet. She can’t stand remembering because it makes her so sad and she can’t ever stand being unhappy. She won’t ever cry. That’s one of the few ways people tell us apart. If one of us has gone all red and watery-eyed then it’s me.

  I think I might cry a bit when I write this next part. I’ll go back to doing it like a story. And I’ll scribble it down ever so quickly.)

  The twins started school, and Opal and Richard went to work and at the weekend they did fun things like going swimming and shopping and they had days at the seaside. All the normal nice family things. But then everything stopped being normal and nice. Opal got a bit sick. Then she had to go into hospital. She was all right for a bit after that. But then she got sick again. She couldn’t work any more. She lay on the sofa at home. Gran had to meet the twins from school. Richard stopped working and looked after Opal. But she couldn’t get better. She died. So they stopped being a family.

  There. I’ve written it. Do you want to read what I put, Ruby? No, she doesn’t. It was three years ago. When we were seven. But we’re ten now and it’s all right again. We can’t ever be our old family but we’re a new family now. Gran lives with us and she’s not like a mother, but then no-one can ever be like a mother to us. NO-ONE. NO-ONE AT ALL. ESPECIALLY NOT STUPID FRIZZY DIZZY ROSE.

  This is Rose.

  No, THIS is Rose.

  Yes, that’s Rose. Only she’s even worse than that. What does Dad see in her? He’s the only one that likes her. Gran doesn’t like her one little bit.

  Gran’s face when Dad turned up with Rose that Sunday! We all just stared at her. And Dad came out with all this guff about how she’d helped him when his bag of books broke, and then surprise surprise her car wouldn’t start so he’d given her a lift and they’d popped into a pub for a quick drink on the way home and she was all set to have a sandwich for her lunch and Dad said he’d got a proper roast-beef-and-Yorkshire job cooking for him at home and she went Oooh it’s ages since I had a proper Sunday dinner like that so guess what, folks. He brought her back. To share our Sunday lunch.

  ‘There’s no problem, is there, Gran?’ Dad said.

  ‘No, of course not. Do come and sit down at the table, Rose. There’s plenty of food. I’m afraid the beef will be a bit overdone and I can’t take pride in my Yorkshire today. It was lovely and light and fluffy, but . . .’

  ‘But I waylaid your son-in-law and kept him down the pub and mucked up your meal,’ said Rose, and she actually laughed. ‘Sorry about that,’ she said, though she didn’t look the slightest bit sorry.

  Gran had to smile back at her through gritted teeth like it was funny.

  We didn’t smile though, did we, Garnet?

  She couldn’t take the hint though. She chatted away to us, nattering on about telly programmes and pop records and stuff, as if she’d known us years and years. And she kept trying to remember which of us was which.

  ‘Now, you’re Garnet, right?’ she said to me. ‘And you’re Ruby,’ she said to Garnet.

  ‘Yes,’ we said. ‘Right.’

  ‘Wrong,’ said Dad, laughing uneasily. ‘That’s Ruby. And that’s Garnet. They’re a pair of jokers. Even Gran and I get confused at times.’

  ‘Speak for yourself,’ Gran said huffily. ‘I’m sorry the beef was so dry. Though it would have been just cooked through a treat an hour or so ago. Anyway. Apple pie and cream? Help me clear the plates, girls.’

  We helped her clear and when we came back with the pudding plates I sat in Garnet’s chair and she sat in mine. Rose was none the wiser. She nattered away to me, calling me Garnet, and she jabbered stuff to Garnet, calling her Ruby.

  ‘Yes, I’m beginning to be able to tell you apart,’ she said. ‘You’re Ruby. And you’re Garnet. Yes. Right.’

  ‘Well. Not quite right,’ said Dad. He came out with this false ho-ho-ho as if it was a great joke. ‘Stop teasing poor Rose, twins. I’m afraid they’ve swopped seats. They’re always doing it. I’d just call each girl “Twin” and be done with it, Rose.’

  ‘Oh, I think that’s awful,’ said Rose. ‘I couldn’t stand that if I were a twin.’

  Well, certainly twin Roses would be AWFUL.

  ‘You’re two separate people who just happen to be sisters, aren’t you, Garnet and Ruby. Or Ruby and Garnet. Whichever. I’ve got muddled.’

  ‘We like being called Twin,’ I told her.

  ‘That’s what they call us at school,’ said Garnet.

  ‘We are twins . . .’ I said.

  ‘So we like . . .’ said Garnet.

  ‘Being called . . .’ I said.

  ‘Twins,’ we said simultaneously.

  Rose raised one eyebrow and gave a little nod.

  ‘OK OK,’ she said. ‘Got it.’

  She stopped trying to be so matey with us then. She tried complimenting Gran on her apple pie but Gran stayed as dried up as the dinner and barely said a word. So Dad did all the talking, on and on, saying all this silly stuff and pulling faces and telling stupid stories.

  He didn’t sound like Dad at all.

  It was as if he’d swopped with a new twin dad.

  He didn’t go back to being our dad even when we’d got rid of Rose at last.

  ‘Well, what did you think of her?’ he asked eagerly.

  I looked at Garnet. She looked at me. I raised one eyebrow. She raised one too. Then we both turned sideways and pretended to be sick.

  ‘All right, all right. You’ve done enough clowning around for one day,’ Dad said crossly.

  ‘Yes, don’t be so rude, Ruby and Garnet,’ said Gran – but she didn’t sound a bit cross.

  ‘Did you like Rose, Gran?’ Dad asked.

  ‘Well. She seems nice enough. I suppose. A bit . . . pushy, inviting herself to lunch like that.’

  ‘No, I invited her,’ said Dad. ‘I didn’t think you’d make such a big deal about it, actually. You’ve always said you wished I’d socialize a bit more, bring a few friends home, not stay so wrapped up in the past.’

  ‘Yes, dear. And I mean that. I’m only too pleased that you want to bring people back. Though if you could have just phoned to give me a bit of warning . . . And you do want to go a bit carefully with that type of woman.’

  ‘What do you mean, type?’ said Dad, really angry now.

  ‘Now, Richard, don’t get in such a silly state,’ said Gran, as if he was our age. ‘It’s just that she seems a bit eager. She’s never set eyes on you before today and yet she’s all over you, even trying to act like one of the family.’

  ‘I’ve known Rose for months, if you must know,’ said Dad. ‘She’s got her own bric-a-brac stall in the arcade – we’re forever bumping into each other at boot fairs. I’ve always wanted to get to know her better, she’s so bubbly and warm and friendly. I don’t know how you can talk about her like that – she’s a lovely girl.’

  ‘Girl!’ said Gran. ‘She’ll never see thirty again.’

  ‘Well, neither will I,’ Dad shouted. ‘And it�