Secrets Between Us Page 4

  There was silence for a few minutes, broken only by the sputtering of the fire. Ellie reached out and dropped another log on the embers and then sat back. ‘When I went to boarding school after Daddy died, it was a revelation. I was just me. A whole person, not half of a couple.’ She turned to meet his eyes. ‘I never told the friends I made there that I had a sister, let alone a twin, and it helped.’

  ‘An identical twin,’ Will said.

  Ellie bit her lip. ‘Can you hear,’ she said, and her voice was sad, ‘the way you said that? You’re fascinated. People are fascinated by the idea of identical twins, they stare as if they can’t believe their eyes.’ She waited for him to contradict her but the silence stretched on. Picking up the poker, she pushed the log causing flames to shoot up again and then just held it in her hand bouncing it up and down.

  ‘What am I going to do with her now?’ she muttered.

  ‘Could she live in an apartment with someone dropping in to make sure she was okay?’ Will suggested. ‘Maybe the apartment downstairs? We could give Mr Dempsey a month’s notice. Would that suit?’

  Taking a sip of the wine, Ellie thought a moment before shaking her head. ‘No, she wouldn’t be able to live on her own. It wouldn’t be safe, she’s too vulnerable, Will, too easily taken advantage of. It might even be frightening for her to live alone.’ She sighed heavily. ‘I’ll have to start looking. Maybe there are more sheltered housing places available since Adam had a look. It’s been fifteen years after all.’

  The conversation might have stopped there but alcohol had softened their minds offering solutions they wouldn’t have considered had they both been stone-cold sober.

  ‘Why don’t we let her live here with us?’ Will said, when neither of them had spoken for several minutes.

  Ellie turned to look at him over the rim of her glass. Let her live here. Had he not heard what she’d said? Had he not understood how difficult she had found it to be a twin?

  She met her husband’s eyes. He was such a good and generous man and he was looking at her with that gentle look on his face that she loved. Let her live here? If she said no, his face would change, the same way Adam’s had when she hesitated about taking on the guardianship, the same way her father’s used to when Tia was upset and he blamed Ellie for not watching out for her properly. If she said no, if she said she wouldn’t even consider the idea, he’d be disappointed in her. Once again, and for the second time that day, she wouldn’t be good enough.

  ‘She might find it difficult being here,’ she said vaguely, hoping he’d say yes, it was a crazy idea, ignore me.

  But he didn’t, he looked at her with that same expression on his face and said, ‘Isn’t it worth a try?’

  Her mouth was suddenly dry. Taking a sip of her wine, she nodded slowly and said, ‘I suppose we could have her here for a few days and see how it goes?’

  He slipped to the floor beside her and took her in his arms. ‘I think we’re doing the right thing, darling. You’ll see, I bet she fits right in and you’ll wonder why we didn’t have her here years ago.’

  Ellie felt his arms around her, holding her tightly. But despite his arms, despite the fire that still blazed behind her, she suddenly felt very cold.

  8

  In the sober light of the following morning, Ellie hoped Will would say that maybe inviting Tia to stay wasn’t such a good idea. She’d lain awake most of the night worrying about it and felt tired and irritable.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t mind Tia coming to live here?’ she asked over her breakfast of liquidised spinach, cucumber and lemon, the resulting green drink making her stomach churn. It had better be good for her because it tasted bloody awful. She waited for an answer to her carefully neutral question. She didn’t want him to see her doubts. If, on the other hand, he had a rethink, she’d jump right in.

  He drained a pint glass of water, leaned against the sink and considered her question. ‘It was easier last night,’ he admitted. ‘Maybe too much wine.’ He shrugged and then winced. Reaching into a cupboard, he took out a packet of paracetamol, pushed two from their foil and popped them into his mouth. ‘Why don’t we give it a go?’ he said, filling the pint glass again and draining half before he continued. ‘If it doesn’t work out, we can look for sheltered accommodation. Perhaps somewhere nearby so you can see her more often.’

  Ellie looked for criticism in the words, on his face, knowing he’d been surprised, even a little shocked, when she’d admitted she’d never once visited Tia. She sipped more of the foul drink, wishing she could tip it out but aware of his eyes on her. He’d told her she was crazy for drinking these smoothies on more than one occasion and she’d defended them. Maybe next time she’d halve the amount of spinach and see what it was like. It couldn’t be worse. She was aware she was putting off answering his question.

  Putting the glass down slowly, she nodded. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I suppose there’d be no harm trying for a couple of weeks. Meanwhile, I can have a look at what alternatives are available.’ If she got a moment, she’d start looking that day. Maybe if she found somewhere exceptional, she could argue for Tia going straight there.

  ‘I suppose you’ll have to go and collect her,’ Will said, ‘where did you say the place was?’

  ‘Peebles,’ Ellie said, picking up her drink again and taking a sip, allowing Will to see her suddenly closed eyes as a reaction to that, rather than the enormity of what they were taking on, of the stupidity of her agreeing. She’d told him how she’d felt as a child, but she hadn’t told him she was afraid it wouldn’t have changed, that she’d once again be a twin; a half, not a whole. He’d think she was being silly. It was fifteen years ago, she’d been a child. Now she was an adult, a corporate high-flyer. Things would be different.

  But a bit of the child remains in us always. She heard it now, saying quietly, what if things are exactly the same, and she felt a quiver of fear.

  It was too late to back down now, anyway. Focusing on the details would help put things into perspective. ‘And yes, of course, I’ll have to go and fetch her. She wouldn’t be safe to travel alone. I can fly to Edinburgh,’ she said. ‘She’ll need some form of photographic identification, I’ll check with them that she has something when I ring. It’s only about an hour’s drive from the airport. I’ll hire a car at the airport and pick her up.’

  It could be done in a day; she wouldn’t need to take precious time off work. She’d pick Tia up on a Saturday and would have the Sunday then to help her settle in.

  Later, sitting at her desk, coffee in hand, she rang the number written in small print on the bottom of the letter she’d received and waited, tapping a carefully manicured nail on the desk until it was answered. When it was, and she started to explain why she was ringing, she was stopped mid-sentence and asked to wait. For five minutes she listened to irritating music that had her gritting her teeth. ‘This is a bad idea,’ she muttered and was just about to hang up when a cheerful voice shouted hello down the line.

  If Ellie had hoped for the plans to be cast aside for any of a hundred reasons, she was destined to be let down. The owner of the cheerful voice turned out to be the manager. ‘Thank you so much for getting back to us so quickly, Mrs Armstrong,’ he all but gushed down the line. ‘We’re keen to make the transition as smooth and painless as possible and the sooner families become involved, the easier that will be.’

  Ellie explained that they’d decided to have Tia stay with them for a while. ‘Just until we can find something suitable nearer to London,’ she added hurriedly. ‘I am slightly concerned, however, that we may be expecting too much from her. She’s been with you for fifteen years, there’s bound to be an element of institutionalisation. Will she cope with being at home alone all day while we’re at work? I suppose what I’m asking is,’ she gave a nervous laugh, ‘can I be sure she’ll be safe?’

  The manager’s voice was cooler when he replied, perhaps she shouldn’t have used the word institutionalisation. ‘I would imagine s
he would be as safe in your home as she is here, Mrs Armstrong,’ he said. ‘Tia is used to spending afternoons on her own. We’ve never had any worries, nor has she shown any desire to leave the campus. In fact,’ he added, his voice thawing slightly, ‘the only slight concern I would have, is that, despite continued encouragement to do so, she has always refused to leave the school and has no knowledge of life in the real world.’

  ‘She has never left the school?’ Ellie was appalled.

  ‘Her previous guardian, Mr Dawson, was aware of the situation. We had a number of discussions about it, all of which,’ he added, ‘have been documented. I assume when you took over guardianship of your sister, our concerns were discussed.’

  Were they? Ellie didn’t remember Adam raising any problems. He always said Tia appeared content. But never to have left the school. In fifteen years? Unable to imagine such a restricted life, she didn’t try and brushed away a twinge of guilt.

  ‘I’ll pick her up in a week,’ she said firmly. ‘We’ll be flying so will you arrange to have the bulk of her belongings sent to my address? I’ll settle her account with you when I arrive. And she’ll need some form of ID, can you make sure she has that?’

  He assured her he’d have everything organised. They decided on a date, discussed essential paperwork, and that was that. Ellie hung up and sat back in her chair. ‘Dear God,’ she murmured. ‘What have I done?’

  She sat for a long time before shaking her head and getting back to work, but she couldn’t get the numbers on her screen to make sense. With a hiss, she turned off the programme she was using and went on the internet. No harm in looking for her get-out-of-jail card, was there?

  Forty minutes later, despite an extensive search for suitable accommodation for Tia, moving further and further from London in desperation, she had two numbers to ring. Two. Taking a deep breath, she rang the first. The conversation was brief. There were no vacancies and their waiting list for places was long. Finding the same situation at the second sheltered accommodation, she hung up in disbelief. Nothing!

  Nothing, and next week Tia was coming to live with them.

  She rested her forehead on her hand, there had to be something she could do, but right at that moment, apart from screaming in frustration, she couldn’t think what.

  9

  On the appointed day, earlier than even she’d been out of her bed in years, Ellie dressed in her standard weekend wardrobe of jeans, white cotton shirt and navy jacket. She wouldn’t bother with a coat; she’d be inside, one way or another, the entire day.

  ‘Are you excited?’ Will asked, watching as she buttoned her shirt.

  She looked at him, surprised, and then looked back at her reflection in the mirror. She had a fleeting memory of looking at her sister and seeing her own face looking back. They’d been so alike. Surely that would have changed.

  ‘Of course, I am,’ she lied. Apprehensive was the word she’d have used. Actually, if she were being honest, she’d have used the word terrified. But he wouldn’t understand and she wasn’t sure she could explain.

  He’d wanted to go with her, but she’d insisted it would be better if she went alone. Better for her, she meant, but she could see by the sudden softness in Will’s eyes that he thought she was being protective of her twin and she hadn’t the heart to enlighten him, hadn’t the heart to tell him that this first encounter was likely to be difficult for her, traumatic even. What if nothing had changed?

  She enjoyed flying and the flight from London Stansted was no exception. She’d paid extra and got a window seat, lying her jacket across the middle seat when it was obvious nobody was going to sit in it before sitting back to look out the window and watch airport personnel doing whatever it was they were supposed to be doing.

  Normally, she’d have had a glass of wine, but not this time, she was driving. Maybe she should have organised a taxi to take her to Peebles, as Adam always did, but when she’d thought about the hour’s drive, the two of them sitting in the back making small talk, she’d immediately booked a rental car.

  On the return journey, she would have some wine. Probably more than one glass.

  The car hire had been arranged through the airline when she’d booked her flights. The airport was busy but she was in luck and there was no queue at the car-hire desk.

  She handed her confirmation paperwork to the smartly dressed man behind the desk and, a few minutes later, having signed her name in numerous places, she was handed the car keys. ‘You’ve driven a Suzuki before?’ he asked.

  She took the keys and nodded. ‘It has a sat-nav?’ she asked, nodding at his quick yes before following the directions he’d given her to the rental car section. ‘Row five, bay thirty-six,’ she muttered to herself walking up and down until she found the correct bay. She gave the small Suzuki a quick once-over and pressed the fob to open it.

  St Germaine’s School for the Differently Abled was a mile outside the town of Peebles. She followed the sat-nav directions and found it with little problem, just once having to reverse on the road to make a turn she’d missed. There was a tight turn-around time to catch the flight back to London, she didn’t have time to waste, and so she heaved a sigh of relief as she saw a large, ornate sign hanging above an imposing gateway.

  She turned in and slowly drove down a long winding drive, the school building looming into view as she turned a corner. It was a strikingly large and grim building. Victorian, she guessed, pulling into a parking space in front of it. She’d have taken a bet it was built as an asylum, it had that sorrowful air that lingered on some old buildings with a less-than-happy history.

  Shivering, she went up the five stone steps that led to the large front door. Looking around for a bell, or maybe even a knocker, she frowned to see neither. Frustrated, she risked a gentle push on the door, and was surprised when it immediately opened. Thankfully, it didn’t squeak; she might have run away if it had.

  Inside, in stark contrast to the forbidding exterior, the entrance hall was bright and decidedly cheerful. ‘Overcompensating,’ she muttered, seeing the garishly bright colours, the childish decals, the whimsical furniture.

  Wooden double doors with clear glass panes led from the entrance hall and here, on the wall beside the door, Ellie found the doorbells she had sought outside. She stooped slightly to read the small print beside each bell, choosing the one that said Reception, and pressed it firmly.

  If it rang somewhere within, it wasn’t audible outside. Ellie, feeling a bubble of anxiety that had nothing to do with worrying about missing the flight, pressed her nose to the glass just as the door was opened. She stepped back, a slight flush to her cheeks, a distinctly guilty look on her face.

  The man who opened the door grinned. ‘You’d never believe how often that happens,’ he said, standing back and waving her inside. His grin faded and he stared at her, a strange look crossing his rather pleasant features.

  She recognised the look of disbelief. Biting her lip, she ignored him and looked around. Whoever had decorated the entrance hall hadn’t been given the same lee-way here. It was stuck fast in the Victorian era but, unlike the exterior, this was Victorian at its best. The tiled floor was stunning, the hues muted, the design intricate. A huge cantilevered oak stairway curved upward, its steps carpeted in deep red, brass stair rods on each step gleaming. Under it sat a huge mahogany desk. It wasn’t Victorian, but it looked the part.

  ‘This is very nice,’ she said.

  ‘Unlike the entrance hall,’ he said, smiling. He led her to the desk, waving a hand toward a chair while he took the one behind the desk.

  The manager had apologised and said he’d be unavailable on the day, which Ellie rightly read as meaning he didn’t work weekends. ‘I was told to ask for the deputy, Felix Porter,’ she said.

  ‘That’s me,’ he said. ‘I don’t have to ask who you are. Tia’s sister. Forgive me if you’ve heard it a million times, but you look so alike.’

  Ellie kept the slight smile fixed on her face as
she felt her heart plummet. She wanted to quiz him, wanted to ask how alike but she was afraid to. Surely fifteen years of different experiences would have left some mark, wouldn’t they?

  He stood abruptly. ‘Jim said you wouldn’t have time to spare, so I won’t bother offering you refreshments and take you straight to Tia’s room. She’s been told, several times, about your arrival. She was understandably a little upset, at first, when she was told she’d be leaving. Refused to go, actually. Jim had to be quite firm with her, said she didn’t have a choice, not this time.’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t know if she understood, or not, but anyway, she has packed her things. I think she’s just finishing with the last few bits and pieces.’

  He indicated a door behind. ‘I’ll take you over,’ he said, and led the way from the reception across a courtyard into another building, opening a door onto a long corridor. Ellie’s heels click-clacked on the cheaper modern floor tiles as she followed him, her nose crinkling in defence as unidentifiable smells assaulted from every direction.

  ‘The main kitchen is one floor down,’ Porter explained.

  But it wasn’t just food – although there was an overpowering smell of cabbage – it was the distinct odour of decay. Looking up, she noted damp patches on the ceiling, mould on the walls, wallpaper peeling off, and here and there fungal growths hinting at an underlying problem. No wonder it was closing.

  Porter stopped at a door and, with a reassuring smile in her direction, he knocked, waiting only a second before turning the handle to push the door open. ‘Tia,’ he said, ‘your sister is here.’

  He moved back into the corridor to allow Ellie to enter the small room where Tia sat on the narrow bed, her hair unbound, falling forward over her face. She was folding a jumper, her whole concentration fixed on the task.