Her Fearful Symmetry (47 page)

“Sorry. Here it is.” Robert gave Martin a large envelope.

Martin opened it, read the address. “I
was
close, wasn’t I?”

“Only two streets off. Amazing.”

Martin had the feeling that Robert was waiting for him to leave. “I’d better go. But-thanks.”

“Erm-not at all.”

Martin turned and then said, “Did it work out all right?”

“What’s that?”

“The seance. The matter of life or death.” Martin stood not quite touching the doorknob, thinking about Julia.

“Things derailed a bit, but the end result was-interesting,” Robert said. “By the way, how
did
you manage to keep Julia upstairs?”

“Duct tape and charisma.” Martin opened the door, stepped into the hallway.

Robert said, “Ring us up sometime. Tell us how it goes.” He smiled more naturally as he shut the door.

Martin glanced at his watch, saw that he should hurry. This propelled him across the hall and out the front door without too much hesitation. Halfway up the garden path he turned and looked back. Julia was watching him from her parlour window. He waved; she waved back. He glanced down at the ground-floor parlour and saw someone-
Julia?
-sitting in the dim room.
Well, it can’t be Julia. How odd.
He shook his head, looked up at Julia and smiled. She stood and watched as Martin turned away and walked through the gate, carrying his suitcase lightly.
What did he see?
Julia wondered.

Elspeth watched Martin disappear through the gate.
Goodbye, my friend.
She heard Robert come into the room. He stood behind her. “There he goes,” he said quietly.

“It’s quite inspiring, really. He must be terrified.”

“He seemed calm enough. Julia’s been slipping him pills.”

“Ah. I hope they linger in his system long enough to get him to Marijke’s doorstep.”

Robert said, “Martin came to your funeral.”

“Did he? How sweet. And brave.”

“Very brave.”

“Robert. Why only ‘interesting’?” she asked.

“Sorry?”

“You told Martin the end result was ‘interesting.’ Would you rather it was Valentina and not me?”

“I can’t seem to justify sacrificing Valentina to have you.”

With some effort Elspeth turned to face him. “What exactly do you think happened last night?” He was standing near her, but not touching. Robert looked down at her, hesitated before he answered. “I couldn’t see anything until you came into-Valentina’s body. All I know is that you’re here, and she isn’t. What am I supposed to think?”

“She couldn’t do it. She wasn’t strong enough. I could have put her back a few minutes after she died-or she would have had to be a very strong ghost like me, and it took me months to get to the point where I could move a toothbrush, let alone a body.” She put the palm of her hand on her chest. “At first you have to make everything go by pushing and willing it. You have to breathe with lungs that don’t know how to breathe. You have to make the blood move. You have to seal yourself in and become the body. Valentina was just a sort of mist. She hovered over the body and then-dispersed. And I thought,
Right, I’ll take it then
.”

“But do you think she knew? Do you think she decided not to come back?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember that phase very well.”

“But the whole thing was a deception, then. It would never have worked. She couldn’t have come back-why didn’t you tell her?”

“How was I supposed to know? It’s not as though we were scientists; we made it up as we went along. She would have killed herself anyway.”

“No…she might have run away. She just wanted to leave Julia-she didn’t want to die.”

“She was in love with you,” Elspeth said. “She was trying to be your ideal girl, and you were in love with a ghost. Now your ghost is alive and Valentina is a ghost.” She paused. “So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I can’t-Elspeth, right now I just despise myself for having any part in this.”

“Are you going to leave me for your new ghost?”

He turned away from her. They had been speaking very quietly, for fear of Julia’s overhearing them, and somehow this increased the horror he had of her; this whispered argument in the dim parlour suddenly became painfully absurd to him.

“You said you wished I could come back-you wanted me to come back…”

He could not answer.

Julia stood at Robert’s door.
I know you’re in there.
It was quiet behind the door. She didn’t knock. She stared at the little card that said FANSHAW.
What was Martin looking at?
She tried to come up with a plausible reason to be standing at Robert’s door. She couldn’t think of a thing. She knocked anyway.

In the parlour Elspeth and Robert were silent, listening. Finally Elspeth looked up at him. He bent to her and she spoke into his ear. “I’ll go out the back door. See what she wants.” Robert helped her to take off her shoes, helped her walk to the back door. She sat down on the fire escape, breathing strenuously with her shoes in her hands.

Robert walked very slowly. He stood at the door for a moment, then unlocked and opened it. Julia stood there. She looked tired and distraught, her dress hanging askew, misbuttoned, her hands clasped in front of her like a penitent.

“Hello, Julia.”
I’m sorry, Julia. I’ve killed your sister.

“Hey.”
You look really freaked out, Robert.

“Are you okay?”
I didn’t mean to kill her. She insisted.

“Can I come in?”
What are you hiding?

“Erm, yeah, sure.”
It didn’t work out quite the way she thought it would.

Julia walked into Robert’s hallway. She took a few steps and turned back. “Can I look around?”

“Why?”

She didn’t reply, but ran into the front room, stood looking for a moment, raced into the parlour, through the dining room, across the hall and into his bedroom. She stood panting, taking in the candles and roses, spent matches, dishevelled bedclothes. She went into the bathroom and came out holding a comb. Silvery hairs wafted around it like the iridescent tendrils of a deep sea creature.

“This is Valentina’s.”

“Yes.”

“Where is she?”

“Julia…”

“I know, but…something is wrong.” Julia was turning, trying to see, looking for the thing that would explain what was wrong. “I don’t feel like she’s dead.”

Robert nodded. “I know.”

“She’s here.”

“No,” he said. “Julia…I know it’s impossible to believe, but she’s gone.”

“No,” she said. Julia began moving through the flat again. Robert followed her.

“Do you want some breakfast?” he asked. “I have eggs, and orange juice.” She ignored him, kept orbiting through the rooms as though velocity would answer her question. In the dining room she turned on him.

“It’s your fault. You killed her.” This was so much his own feeling that he could not answer. He stood with his hands at his side, ready to accept her verdict. “You…if you hadn’t…You killed Elspeth, and then you killed Valentina.” He saw that she was only trying to hurt him.

“Elspeth died of leukaemia. Valentina had asthma.”
How delicately language skirts the issue. How meaningless it is.

“But…I don’t know. Why did she die?”

“I don’t know, Julia.” She stared at him, seemed to be waiting for him to say something more. Suddenly she ran out of the room. Robert heard her slam his front door and run up the stairs.

This is unbearable.
He wanted to go to the cemetery, to walk off this sense of things being too real, too wrong. But Elspeth was sitting on the fire escape. He went to collect her. When he opened the door she was huddled on the bottom step looking miserable and boneless. He scooped her up and brought her in without a word. When he had settled her on his bed he sat next to her, facing away. “We have to leave here,” he said.

“Of course,” said Elspeth, relieved. “We’ll go anywhere you like.”

He left the room. She heard him dialling.
Where are we going?

“James? May I come over? I’m bringing someone…I’ll explain when I get there…No, the situation is a bit unusual…Yes. Thanks, we’ll be there directly.”

Martin had imagined this journey countless times. In his head parts of it were quite tangible and specific and other things were left vague. There was no question of flying. He knew he could not bear to sit strapped in 30,000 feet up in the air; his heart would burst. He had decided to take the train.

First he had to convince himself to get into the minicab. The driver had waited patiently, had finally opened the door for him and let him insert and extract himself several times before he sat down and allowed the driver to shut the door. Martin sat with his eyes closed for a while, but eventually felt secure enough to look out the window.
There’s the world. Look at all the new buildings, and the cars, there are so many strange cars.
He had seen pictures of the cars in adverts: here they were. A black Prius cut off the minicab and there was a mutual exchange of hostility at the next light. Martin closed his eyes again.

Standing in Waterloo station he was immediately overwhelmed. It had been completely refurbished since he’d been there last. He was an hour early. He made his way very slowly across the open space of the station, looking straight ahead, counting his steps. People flowed around him. In the midst of his anxiety Martin was able to discern a kernel of excitement, pleasure in his reentry into the world. He thought of Marijke, of what she would say when she saw him, how proud she would be of him.
Look, darling. I’ve come to you.
Martin shivered in the cool dead air of the station. Unconsciously he closed his eyes and arced his head forward, as though expecting a kiss. A few people looked at him curiously. He stood still before the board that announced the trains, imagining Marijke’s embrace.

He had bought a first-class ticket on the Eurostar, one-way for luck. He waited in the lounge, standing apart from the other travellers. Finally he was able to step onto the train and walk to his seat at the end of the compartment. The train was quieter and cleaner than the trains he remembered. Martin bowed his head, clasped his hands and began counting silently. It was a five-hour journey. He was grateful not to have to take the ferry. The train would move straight ahead, on rails. It would not fly through the air; it would not sail the seas. He had only to sit still, change trains in Brussels, and take one more cab. It was doable.

Jessica opened her front door. Robert stood on the doorstep clutching what seemed to Jessica at first to be a wounded child; he held it under its arms as if it were about to slide to the ground. Though the day was temperate, the figure was shrouded in a scarf. Robert’s head was bowed over the small figure and he slowly raised his face and looked at Jessica with an expression of profound sorrow.

“Robert? What’s happened? Who is that?”

“I’m sorry, Jessica. I couldn’t think where else to go. I thought you might help us.”

The figure turned its head; Jessica saw its face.
Julia? No.
“Edie?”

“Jessica,” it said, and tried to straighten, tried to stand on its own. There was something about it that made Jessica think of a newborn foal, unsteady but ready to flee.

“It’s Elspeth, Jessica,” Robert said.

Jessica put out her hand and braced herself against the doorjamb. She experienced one of those rare moments when understanding of the world alters and a previously impossible thing is admitted, if not understood. “Robert,” she cried out, “what have you done?” From inside the house James called, “Jessica, are you all right?” She paused, then called back, “Yes, James.” She stared at them, uncertain and fearful.

“We’d better go,” said Robert. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

“But how is it possible?”

“I don’t know,” Robert said. He realised the enormity of his mistake. “Jessica, I’m sorry. I’ll come back and see you when I’ve thought it all through more carefully. Just-please don’t mention this to Julia or her parents. I think they would rather not know.” He picked up Elspeth and turned to leave.

Jessica said, “Wait, Robert-” But he was already walking away. Elspeth wrapped her arms around his neck. James came to the door as they reached the pavement and were hidden from view by the hedge. “What happened?” he said. “Come inside,” said Jessica. “I have to tell you something.”

Martin sat on the train and the world flowed.
Everything is still out there: the rooftops and chimneys, the graffiti, the office towers and the cyclists; soon there will be sheep and that immense sky they keep out in the countryside…Once I thought there were two realities, inner and outer, but perhaps that’s a bit meagre; I’m not quite the same person I was last night, and when I get to Marijke’s I won’t be the same man she married or even the one she walked out on…How will we recognise each other, after all that’s happened? How will we manage to realign our realities, which are moving away from us even as we travel towards them?
Martin wrapped his fingers around the vitamin bottle, which Julia had slipped into his pocket.
Everything is so fragile, and so glorious.
He closed his eyes.
Here it comes…here’s the future…and here it is again…

At the railway station in Brussels he bought a ham sandwich and a pair of sunglasses; he was nervous and the extra protection soothed him. He peered at himself in the shop’s mirror.
Bond…James Bond.
The Thalys train was more crowded than the Eurostar had been, but no one sat next to him.
Three more hours.
He began to eat his sandwich.

The cab disgorged Martin at Marijke’s front door. He stood in the crooked narrow street and tried to remember if he had ever been there before. He decided he hadn’t. He stepped up to the door and rang Marijke’s bell. She wasn’t home.