But Savannah stood firm on not including Clary. It was just Calum and herself for publicity, therefore she needed otherhooks. So she went with her ethical ring, the story of the Four Sisters photos which Steve had been taking since she and Eden were seventeen, and tales of how they all grew up in the beautiful Sorrento Hotel just off Killiney Beach. The Sorrento was famous because of all the parties rich and famous local people had there.
What she said was actually minuscule compared to what she didn’t say. She never said to interviewers that she didn’t know how tobe. That other people, like her sisters, understood the world and that she didn’t. She had a layer of skin missing or a flaw,somethingthat meant she didn’t know the rules, how to behave, anything: everything.
People, Savannah figured, didn’t want to know that. They didn’t want to know about her life, her constant anxiety, herfear.
Such utter truth made her sound a little unhinged or else totally self-involved and neither was right. The truth was far more complicated.
So she told the stories people wanted to hear: the Four Sisters photos always worked to pique interest. She also told people about her sisters, the women behind the photos.
‘Rory’s so creative, she works in advertising and she’s writing a novel. Indy’s the kindest woman on the planet – she’s a midwife. Eden, my identical twin sister – no, we never had a shared language and I don’t know what she thinks all the time! – she’s our political star. Very passionate about climate change, a wonderful speaker. I want her to do a TED Talk.’
‘I juggle,’ Savannah would add, in the penultimate bit of her ‘the real me’ fantasy story. ‘Like all working mothers. Defrosting dinner, school runs … the usual!’
She told them about the now-famous Italian singer who was a waiter in the hotel for one sultry summer.
Honestly, he never noticed her: he was totally into Indy, who was with Steve by then and she barely glanced at poor Maurizio.
Eden, who had two boys on the hook that summer, was enraged that she couldn’t get Maurizio to so much as look at her.
Savannah didn’t mention that, naturally. Her twin sister had been so much better with boys than she had. Eden could flirt with anyone and, sometimes, awareness of that made Calum freak out.
‘But you’re twins – you can do the same things,’ he’d point out, biting his big bottom lip.
‘I never flirt,’ Savannah would say, which was utterly true. She never did. Ever. It wouldn’t be worth it.
So, in case it set Calum off, she was always careful not to imply that she, personally, had ever fancied Maurizio, though she did, quietly. He was so handsome, utterly charming and kind.
There hadn’t been a woman in a fifty-mile radius who didn’t fancy Maurizio but Savannah was far too wise to say that. Instead, she stuck with praising his singing. ‘Maurizio was always humming, always singing, such a beautiful voice,’ she’d say to the reporters.
That was her other hook – being lovely. It was hard work, though. Because sometimes she wanted to scream.
Except she couldn’t. Nobody would believe her if she told them the truth, would they? They’d look at her in disgust and wonder how could the woman who had everything want to sob or scream?
Eden arrived at The Beach Hut at exactly the same time as Savannah.
‘Oh fabulous, you’re here,’ said Eden, getting out of her electric car and putting a beady eye on the mileage to see when she’d need to charge it next. She loved her car, but keeping it charged was a full-time job.
‘I’m great. How are you?’ said Savannah.
Eden looked carefully at her twin. On the surface Savannah did look marvellous, spectacularly slim in a way that looked good when she was dressed, but Eden reckoned she’d be far too thin with her clothes off. Eden was always drawn between wanting to be as thin as Savannah and knowing that somehow it wasn’t a good thing. Because Eden was pretty sure that Savannah had an eating disorder. Not that anyone in the family ever discussed it anymore because Savannah blithely waved off ‘you’re a bit thin …’ comments.
‘You’re a bit on the skinny side these days, you know,’ Eden said, deciding that she’d say something again. She was wary of accusing her sister of anything in case Savannah fell apart.
‘I just forget to eat,’ replied Savannah.
And Eden, who was Savannah’s identical twin, and had been close to her since they’d been in their mother’s womb, although the gap had widened hugely in the past ten years, gave her a blank stare.
‘You forget to eat?’ she said. ‘You’re a stone lighter than me and we are the same height. Nobody just forgets to eat. I don’t forget to eat.’
Savannah shrugged. ‘I’m busy and I have lots of coffee. It’s just the way I turned out. We’re all different, you know. Just because we’re identical on the outside doesn’t mean we’re the same on the inside. And I do have the running machine at home—’
As soon as Savannah began to bring up the ‘just because we’re identical, we’re not the same’ argument, Eden knew there was no point in continuing. Savannah’s defences were up. Maybe she was just naturally thinner? Maybe she exercised herself to the bone – could that be it? What did you say or do when someone was thin in a world where thinness was such a distorted sign of success?
‘Fine,’ Eden said, backing down because she had no proof. Just a feeling. ‘I worry about you, skinny malink. Plus,’ she added, to calm her twin down, ‘you’re going to look totally amazing on Saturday and I’m going to look like I’ve eaten all the pies.’
‘No, you’re not.’ Savannah giggled and Eden felt pleased. She’d defused things. One day she had to talk seriously to Savannah about her food/exercise issues but not today, not in this super-charged week where emotions were already heightened.
Eden marked it down in her mental diary: Talk to Savannah. A proper talk. She didn’t know why everyone thought Indy kept the family running – she did, it was just that nobody noticed.
