He held her tightly and she looked over his shoulder as her mum pulled off her apron and shoved it in the broom cupboard. It was an odd thing to witness, her mum behaving as she did when a guest arrived, someone she might want to impress. Ashleigh would have found it hard to express her sadness at it.
‘You look so lovely!’
‘How was your journey?’
‘Shame Archie had that work thing ...’
‘How’s the house going?’
It was a bombardment no less, and she didn’t know what to respond to first.
‘Hey.’ Remy came out of the kitchen with a tea towel in her hand. It was a shock to see her complexion; almost grey, with dark, dark circles under her eyes. She looked exhausted.
‘Hey.’ She smiled at her sister and wished she hadn’t taken so much care over her appearance – her straightened blonde hair, her ditsy-print Laura Ashley frock with the dropped waist and mutton-leg sleeves, her black patent pumps – knowing there would be the inevitable comparison drawn between the two of them, when only ten years ago it had almost been impossible to tell them apart.
‘You do, you look lovely.’ Remy spoke sincerely, and ran her hand over her own short, tight curls.
‘You chopped it off.’
‘Observant as ever.’ Her sister pulled a face and returned to the kitchen.
Ashleigh exchanged a brief look with her parents, who stood like scared mice, hands clasped by their chests, stock still, unusually quiet, waiting for what, she wasn’t sure, but they now looked at her like she just might be the cavalry.
‘Cup of tea?’ Remy called.
‘Yep. I’ll give you a hand.’
Her parents shuffled into the lounge, in an obvious display of leaving the two to talk. The atmosphere was tense, as Ashleigh folded her arms across her chest, feeling a wave of pity for her parents, who had to live in the ripples of this negative, soul-sapping energy that emanated from her twin.
‘You’ve lost weight, Rem.’ The observation made as her sister reached up to the top shelf of the cupboard by the kettle to get the big mugs, her 501s gaping at the waist, revealing her ribs and back, without an ounce of spare flesh on them.
‘Haven’t really got much of an appetite.’
‘Half your luck, I’m eating like a horse!’ She laughed, trying to lighten the mood.
‘That’s me. So very very lucky.’ Remy clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth.
This wasn’t like her sister at all – the snarkiness, the hurt, the lack of interest in her appearance. Ashleigh felt a little afraid for her, more than a little. They hadn’t spoken much since Remy had taken up with Jamie, and when they did their chats had been perfunctory, brief. The formal and awkward nature of their conversations meant she preferred not to call. It was that simple, although the sight of her sister right now made her feel guilty and awash with intentions to do it differently from here on in.
‘Where’s Sophie? I’m dying to see her!’ Her enthusiasm was genuine, the thought of holding her niece! It thrilled her.
‘Sleeping.’ Remy pointed at a baby monitor from which came the faintest sound of snuffly breath that was at once cute and hypnotic.
It had been a huge shock to find out her sister was pregnant, an even bigger one to hear that she had – one lunchtime, her manner almost furtive, the news spilled from her narrowed mouth, eyes downcast – married the absolute dipstick that was Jamie Aller. Ashleigh recalled the first time she’d met him, right here in this kitchen. He was good-looking, if short men with big muscles, deeptans, floppy hair, and white teeth that were constantly masticating gum, was your thing. It certainly wasn’t her thing, and she would, up until that point, have sworn that it wasn’t Remy’s either.
‘Two of you!’ He’d pointed at them with his index fingers, his expression one of perplexity.
‘Yup!’ Her grin had been deliberately brief and insincere; she wanted him to know she thought he was a dipstick, could never entertain ending up with someone who wasn’t her intellectual equal.
‘How does that happen then?’
‘Well, essentially there are monozygotic and dizygotic twins. One known asidentical,the other asfraternal; we are of the monozygotic variety. One egg, one sperm that split in two ...’ Ashleigh had looked at Archie, showing off, which she knew was mean, but who the hell was this meathead her sister had hooked up with? It was infuriating and frustrating to see her stoop to this level, and it was nothing to do with money or class or status, nothing like that, but rather the fact that he was clearly a dunce. A handsome dunce, but a dunce nonetheless. And Remy was smart!Sosmart! But, like anyone else, would only properly thrive, only grow, with the right mental sparring partner. She couldn’t stand the thought of it, Remy settling forthis,as if he had trapped her when she was low ... She wanted more for her sister, so much more.
‘I suppose Mum called you.’ Remy lobbed teabags into the old brown earthenware teapot that had been hanging around the kitchen for donkey’s years.
‘She did, yes. She’s worried about you.’
‘I’m worried about me.’ Remy gave a wry smile.
