‘I will.’ She took a deep breath. ‘But even when we sat our final exams and I got better grades than Ashleigh, I swear they somehow believed that my exams had been easier and weren’t theexactsame A levels, set by the exact same exam board that Ash had sat! I could have gone to university had I not got pregnant, I could have done lots of things, but I didn’t want to. For a million reasons I didn’t want to. I was so scared, I needed to stay home, to be still, quiet.’
‘I understand, my love. Please don’t let it bother you.’
‘What bothers me is the way my mum won’t let it drop. As if they can’t understand that I’m happy, satisfied with my lot.’ She closed her eyes, readying for sleep. This wasn’t strictly true. What bothered her most was being reminded of her part in the whole debacle and the deceit that had dogged her more and more in recent years. They were angry that she’d deliberately let them down, and she was unable to explain that she hadn’t meant to, not at all. And worse still was the fact that if she came clean now, they’d be let down anyway, because she’d lied to them, made Ashleigh lie too! She wished it would all go away.
‘Anyway, I don’t think you need to worry. I doubt your sister will make it to your dad’s birthday. She hasn’t for the last two and missed Mother’s Day last year.’
‘Ah, well, you’d be wrong! She’s coming, apparently.’
‘Wow!’ Midge tsked. ‘I expect your mum will be thinking about redecorating or getting the carpets cleaned, buying a new sofa or putting up a banner across the street.’
‘Probably.’ She smiled, no matter how much his assessment irked her.
‘Aren’t you looking forward to seeing her? It’s been a while.’
She thought how best to phrase it. ‘I am, of course I am. But it’s complicated.’
It was hard to accurately explain the relationship with her twin, the inseverable, deep connection that bound them. It meant she would fight for her, protect her, and often knew if something was wrong, how she might be feeling, if Ashleigh was going to call before she did. There was an inexplicable thread of comprehension that was beyond the material, and always had been. But that didn’t mean she always liked her. ‘I love it when she comes home, but I love it just as much when she leaves! And I hate how she says the wordLondon, as if it’s a special pronunciation for people who live there, like people who put a “th” into chorizo because they spent a wet weekend in Bar-th-elona, or people who say sked-yule instead of shed-yule because they watch too much American TV! Things like that. It annoys me.’
‘I can tell, and if it’s any consolation, I feel the same about Archie the chinless wonder sharing second-hand tales of all his pals who went to Sandhurst – it really gets my goat! “Do you know Gerry Buntingford McAllister? He was with the Household Cav?”as if I bloody would! He has no clue about life in the military, but because he’s heard a couple of stories and one of his distant relatives fought at Waterloo, he thinks he knows it all. He wouldn’t last a week.’
‘You have to be patient. You have to be kind.’
‘I will. I am.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Do we know for a fact that Master Archie of Fitchington is coming too?’
It was funny, the names he came up with for the man that were always spot on.
‘Not sure.’
‘I think the only person who will be praying more than me that he doesn’t have to attend is Lord Farquaad himself.’
‘Lord Farquaad?’ Her laughter cackled from her. ‘You have to stop it, or one day you might inadvertently call him one of these names and it would be terrible!’
‘It would. You’re right. Especially if it was one of my less favourable ones like The Right Honourable Chicken Pox, because he’s about as welcome and makes my skin itch!’
‘Honestly, Midge, no more!’
‘Okay, it seems that we can strike a deal.’ He twisted towards her.
‘What kind of a deal?’ She stifled a yawn.
Midge kissed her firmly on the mouth and she felt her body respond, yielding to the escape he promised, this man that she so loved.
‘Mu-um!’ Bertie called as he entered their room.
She sat up, as Midge leapt to his side of the bed and was almost instantly re-engrossed in the remote control.
‘What is it, love? You should be asleep.’
‘I was asleep, but Harper woke me up. She’s crying. I can hear her through the wall.’
‘Oh no! I’ll go and sit with her. She probably had a bad dream.’
It wasn’t unheard of: bad dreams, tummy aches, feeling sick, being too cold, too hot, the room being too dark, too light, needing a drink of water, or questions about the universe that meant her babies couldn’t sleep – things like, dideveryonedie? And what would happen ifshedied? The sudden remembering that they needed to take in a hamper for the harvest festival, a robot made of tinfoil, a hat for a parade, a project about otters, a knight’s costume, or a raffle prize. The reasons they had been pulled from slumber over the years were numerous and varied.
‘She didn’t have a bad dream, she’s crying because Casey’s been mean to her today.’
‘Yes, she told me. Don’t you worry about it, Bert. I’ll deal with it.’
