If only.
“Is that why you’re so upset with me? Because you’re missing your sister?”
“You’re the one who is upset with me. But it’s true it does feel weird without Becky around all the time. She has been the main person in my life for—well—my whole life.”
She didn’t expect Declan to understand. An only child, he had no idea what it was like to be close to a sibling, let alone have a twin. And some twins probably couldn’t stand the sightof each other, but that wasn’t the case for her and Becky. From the moment they were born—twelve minutes apart—their lives had been intertwined. They’d shared a cot for the first few months of their lives and then a bedroom. They were identical on the outside but inside they couldn’t have been more different. Rosie loved ballet and dresses. Becky refused to ever wear a dress and at eight years old her idea of fun was jumping into muddy puddles and creating the biggest mess possible. Rosie made clothes for her dolls—elaborate ballgowns and tutus covered in glittery sequins. Becky was addicted to puzzles and was moved up two classes in maths. Rosie had to have extra help. Despite these differences (or perhaps because of them because they were never in competition), they were best friends.
They’d both gone to college in London—Becky to study computer engineering, and Rosie to study costume production. They’d shared a small apartment and laughed over each other’s dating exploits (mostly Rosie’s). When they graduated, Becky had landed a job in a large tech company and Rosie had been offered her dream role working for a ballet company. Neither of them had expected to stay in the same place for long, but that was what had happened and for almost five years they’d shared almost every aspect of their lives. They’d joked that they’d still be living together in their nineties, and then Becky had introduced Rosie to her longtime work colleague Declan.
Rosie hadn’t believed in love at first sight until Declan, and maybe that first evening hadn’t been love exactly, but it had been a strong connection. A connection powerful enough to propel them towards a date, and then another date. Within weeks they were sayingI love youand a few weeks after that she’d packed up her things and moved out of the apartment she’d shared with her sister since college and moved in with Declan.
He lived in a small apartment north of the river in London that had views of rooftops. If you stood on tiptoe you could see the local park. It was sparsely decorated when she arrived butshe’d added bookshelves, upgraded his ancient frayed sofa by covering it in ruby velvet and added piles of bright cushions. She’d hidden his scratched wooden floor under a large rug and filled the place with plants.
They’d offered the spare room to Becky, and Rosie had been disappointed when she’d refused. Instead Becky had rented out Rosie’s old room in the flat they’d shared.
You have Declan now, Becky had said.
Rosie had told herself it was fine because it meant she could use the spare room for all her creative projects, but deep down she’d been hurt and more than a little confused.
She hadn’t understood it. It wasn’t as if Becky didn’t like Declan. They’d worked together for years and were good friends. As far as Rosie was concerned nothing needed to change, but Becky seemed to want to give them space.
Rosie hadn’t anticipated that being with Declan would change her relationship with her sister.
You two need to build a life together, Becky had said when Rosie had pointed out that they rarely saw each other.You don’t need me hanging around.
Rosie would have been more than happy to have her twin hanging around, but had decided maybe Becky was right, so she’d put her mind to building a life where, for the first time, she was closer to someone than she was to her sister.
But so far it wasn’t working out that way. For the first time in her life she felt lonely.
How could you feel lonely when you were married?
She wanted to tell Declan how she was feeling, but she sensed that every emotional sentence she uttered was driving him deeper into his shell so she said nothing, her stress levels soaring in the tense silence. She wasn’t good with atmospheres. They disturbed her equilibrium. She preferred to solve any problems instantly rather than let them simmer.
The family who lived in the apartment below theirs appearedon the street ahead, dragging a Christmas tree, the youngest child holding out her hands to catch the snowflakes that swirled in front of her.
Spotting Rosie and Declan in the car, the parents waved and mouthed Merry Christmas, and Rosie waved back, her smile an automatic response to their friendly greeting.
She watched them maneuver the tree through the front door, laughing together as the branches got stuck on the frame. They were probably going to make hot chocolate and sing Christmas songs. It was all so enviably cheery. It was how a family Christmas was supposed to be.
And then the front door closed behind them, cocooning them in their own private world of fairy lights and fantasy.
In the meantime, Rose was in her own private world, which was a lot chillier and nothing like Christmas was supposed to be.
Declan was her family now, and it didn’t feel the way she’d imagined it would.
He peered through the swirling snow. “We should leave. It’s going to take us forever to get up north in this weather. Have you set the SatNav?”
She felt a rush of relief. She’d been terrified he might actually say he didn’t want to spend Christmas with her family.
She’d often wondered about marriages that went wrong. Were they always wrong or did they start out right and then gradually unravel? But now, for the first time, she could see how a rift might happen. It was like a tear in a dress. If you didn’t mend it right away, it grew bigger and bigger, until it was too big to fix and the dress was ruined.
Or maybe the problem was that the dress hadn’t fitted in the first place.
She felt a lurch of panic and pushed that thought away. She wasn’t going there.
He stared at the door their neighbours had just closed and she wondered if he was feeling the same sense of envy that shefelt. Maybe not. His family was nothing like hers. His parents had divorced when he was very young and Declan had stayed with his father. He’d told her that in a matter-of-fact way when they were exchanging facts about their families. When she’d asked him about the emotional impact of such a major life upheaval he’d simply shrugged and said he’d been too young to remember much about it.
His mother lived in France, but Rosie had never met her because she hadn’t come to the wedding (a decision that had shocked Rosie but appeared not to disturb Declan at all). His father lived in Scotland with his stepmother. Declan saw them once a year. It was a very different picture from her family, who were in constant contact. Rosie couldn’t imagine only seeing her family once a year. The thought appalled her. She rarely went two days without speaking to her mother, and all three siblings messaged each other regularly on their group chat (although Becky hadn’t been doing much of that lately). Rosie had felt sad that Declan had never experienced that same closeness and support, and she’d nurtured a fantasy that her family would become his family. That they’d all blend perfectly.
