He whistled and shook his head as he put his arms into his blazer and straightened his tie, the one with the little gold logo on it. And she hated it. Hated how impressed he was with the overt displays of wealth, the way her mum grabbed his hand and held it fast, trying to look confident, doing her best to fade into the background. Although that was never going to be easy. Her dress and matching overcoat with their bold floral pattern of pink and orange were beacons, bright, bright things among the clipped hedges, the ivy-covered flint walls, the raked gravel and pretty litter bins. In another mood, on another day, she’d have given thanks that with her mother dressed like that, no one was going to give her kilt and clumpy shoes a second glance.
But not today.
A thought struck her then, an unpleasant one: was part of her reticence to attend because she had known it would be like this? Her mum and dad bending over backwards to fit in, while sticking out like sore thumbs – and how would Ashleigh react to the lot of them being on her turf, in her world, if only for a day?
‘Isn’t this beautiful?’ She spoke with false joy, arms wide and strength to her tone, doing her best to make the day the best it could be, for them all. This was what she did, fixed things, for Ashleigh; for her parents too.
Ruthie Brett beamed at her, clearly relieved, happy she was on board, yet with an underlying sadness to her tone as she spoke. ‘It really is, my love. Quite something.’
Remy trotted beside them towards the main school building and the quadrangle beyond, filling in the blanks of her mother’s sentence,and it could have been yours too ...
‘Good morning!’ A random master with his gown flapping behind him in the breeze walked past and greeted them.
‘Hello.’
‘Hello!’
Her parents held on tightly to each other and responded in tandem.
As the three walked forward, she looked through the stone arch towards the quadrangle in all its Gothic glory, and there in the middle of it was Ashleigh, standing with a boy and a girl in the St. Jude’s dark-green uniform with the gold braided edging. The school crest was visible on their blazer pockets. They were laughing and talking to a woman who looked very Jackie O, reed thin and head to toe in navy. It was curious and fascinating to observe this snapshot of her sister in a setting that was unfamiliar, with people Remy had never seen before.
Ashleigh: her identical twin, two halves of one egg, yet never had she felt more separate, further away than she did in that moment. This was the time when the penny dropped. Not when they had trawled around the school outfitters’ buying the long list of uniform that was compulsory for her sister’s first term at St. Jude’s. Not when Ashleigh announced a boy in her class was having a birthday party and she was invited, and his parents were taking the whole class to see the movieJawsin London, where they were to travel by luxury coach, followed by a slap-up meal in a swanky restaurant – thewholeclass! And not when Ashleigh started to add the words, ‘Okay, so ...’ at the beginning of her sentences with a slight drawl. Not when the summer break arrived and Ashleigh told her about the trips her classmates would take to Provence and Tuscany, while the Bretts set off on a camping trip to North Wales with the Swingball safely secured on the roof of their dad’s car. Not when her sister called on the phone and sounded more like Princess Anne than her sister. Not even on that day when Ashleigh had announced that she would like to move into the small room,the box room, the room that had lain in wait for one of them to make the break.
No, it wasnow, as her sister stood in the quadrangle with strangers who were not strange to her: this was the moment when Remy realised they had indeed taken different paths, were on different tracks and were heading to very different destinations.
One to Sardinia, one to Southend ... One in a Granada, one on a bus ... One running her own business, the other emptying bins ...
She would have laughed had she not been forced to swallow her tears, as the realisation struck her in the chest like an ice pick and hurt just about as much. The hardest thing to fathom was that she had done this – she had put her sister in this uniform, set her on this path! Remy might think her sister was an arsehole a lot of the time, but how shemissedher.
‘Look at her, Dennis!’ Her mum put her free hand at her throat and spoke with thinly disguised emotion as they stared at her twin, framed by the view.
‘I know, Ruthie, I know ...’ He patted her arm, and she watched the two grow inches in height and stature.
Ashleigh
Ashleigh smiled and nodded, as polite chit-chat was swapped between Harry, Jacinta, and Jacinta’s mother. She spied her family through the arch and watched as they stopped and stared. Her mum was dressed so brightly she felt the flicker of embarrassment, followed by a sharp jab of guilt at having momentarily wished her mother were more like the other mothers, demure and calm, before remembering that Jacinta had doubted her own mother would come at all, and Harry’s mum was more interested in money and property than her kids.Hermum, she knew, would put her and Remy first in every situation, and always had. She lifted her handin a small wave. It felt a lot like giving them permission to proceed. They walked slowly forward, as if wary of interrupting, and her heart ached for them, wanting them not to feel so self-conscious and to enjoy the day they had been talking about ever since the gold-rimmed, stiff-card, crested invitation had arrived and been propped on the sideboard in pride of place.
Remy, she noticed, was unusually ill at ease, her hands clasped awkwardly in front of her. No doubt because she was wearing the awful kilt they’d both been kitted out in for Cousin Sian’s wedding. It had been bad enough to be both wearing it when they could take solace from the other’s discomfort, revelling in a kind of mutual despair that had been almost comical, but to wear it alone! It was like turning up to a fancy-dress party to find yourself the only one in costume.
‘Goodness!’ Mrs Wentworth gasped as she turned and spied Ruthie and Dennis Brett walking towards them. Ashleigh didn’t have time to fully interpret the one word, but instinct told her it was unkind, mean, and for that reason alone she felt nothing but hatred for the woman in blue. No wonder Mr Wentworth liked to jet off to Hong Kong.
‘Hello, darlin’!’ Ruthie trotted the last few feet and wrapped her in the kind of hug that was more appropriate for long-awaited reunions and gave no indication that she had seen her daughter only hours before at the breakfast table.
‘Hi, Mum! Dad! Rem!’
‘Well, this really is something. Bit different from my old school, I can tell you.’ Her dad put his head back and surveyed the architecture of the quad, taking in the walled recesses which held statues of Greek and Roman gods, all in a state of undress.
‘I’m Jacinta’s mother, Tuppence Wentworth.’
Tuppence?She exchanged a brief but meaningful glance with Remy, knowing without a doubt that like her she wanted to burstout laughing and holler,Tuppence? What kind of a name is that?It was the way with twins, the understanding, the closeness, and she was glad of the reminder. It warmed her. Everything always felt a little bit better when Remy was close by. The earlier feeling of being in freefall faded and, in its place, a small rise of confidence.
‘Oh, yes, how rude of me, sorry!’ Her dad stuck out his hand and shook Tuppence Wentworth’s with enthusiasm. ‘I’m Dennis, and this is my wife, Ruthie.’
‘Hello!’ Her mum waved rather than shake hands, and Ashleigh felt her heart flex with love for her mother.
‘I so enjoy speech day. Our eldest son was here. He’s now at Brasenose, studying law.’
‘How clever. You must be very proud.’ Ruthie spoke with genuine awe, and Ashleigh wondered how often Tuppence said the wordsBrasenoseandlawon an average day. ‘This is our other daughter, Remy.’
