Her Fearful Symmetry (17 page)

It was a delicate thing, their private world. It required absolute fidelity, and so they remained virgins, and waited.

J
ULIA PRESENTED herself at Martin’s door at exactly four o’clock the next afternoon; Valentina had had an attack of shyness and refused to come. A man had arrived that morning and had begun to repair their bedroom ceiling, so Julia felt she ought to keep her promise.

Julia wore jeans and a white blouse. When Martin answered the door she was startled to see that he wore a suit and tie. He was also wearing latex surgical gloves, which made him look like a TV butler.

“Do come in,” he said. He led her through the flat to the kitchen, which was surprisingly cosy, though the windows were covered in newspaper and tape. “We always eat in here,” Martin said. “The dining room has been taken over by boxes.” He said this as though he had no idea how it had come to pass.

“You have a family?” It had not occurred to Julia that anyone might be married to this crazy person.

“Yes, I have a wife and a son. My wife is in Amsterdam and my son is up at Oxford.”

“Oh. Is she on vacation?”

“I suppose you could put it that way. I’m not really sure when she’s coming back, so I’ve been making shift for myself. Things are a little improvisational here at the moment.” Martin had set out three places at the kitchen table. Julia sat down at the one that faced the back door,
in case I need to escape.

“Valentina couldn’t come. She isn’t feeling too well,” Julia said; it was sort of true.

“That’s unfortunate. Another time,” said Martin. He felt pleased with himself; he had contrived, at short notice, a very passable afternoon tea. There were fish-paste sandwiches, as well as cucumber and cress; there was a Victoria sponge cake. He had set out Marijke’s mother’s china, and there was a little jug of milk and a bowl of sugar cubes. He thought it looked quite as nice as what Marijke would have done. “What kind of tea would you like?” he asked.

“Earl Grey?”

He pressed the button on the electric kettle and plopped a tea bag into the teapot. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to be done, but one gets lazy.”

“How are you supposed to do it?”

“Oh, you warm the pot, you use loose tea…but I can’t taste the difference, and I drink a lot of tea, so the ritual has devolved somewhat.”

“Our mom uses tea bags,” Julia assured him.

“Then that must be correct,” said Martin gravely. The water boiled (he had actually boiled it a few times before Julia arrived, just to make sure the kettle was working) and Martin made tea. Soon they were both seated, drinking tea and eating sandwiches. Well-being pervaded Martin. He had not realised how much he’d missed sharing a meal with another human. Julia looked up and saw him beaming at her.
He might be insane, but he’s very cheerful.

“So, um, how long have you lived here?” she asked him.

“Twenty-some years. We lived in Amsterdam when we were first married, and then we lived in St. John’s Wood. We bought this flat just before Theo was born.”

“Have you always…stayed in?”

Martin shook his head. “That’s a recent development. I used to work at the British Museum, translating ancient and classical languages. But now I work from home.”

Julia smiled. “So they bring the Rosetta Stone and all that here to you?” The twins had been to the British Museum the previous week. Julia thought of Valentina bending over Lindow Man, nearly in tears.

“No, no. I don’t often need the actual objects. They take photographs and make drawings-I use those. It’s all become so much easier now everything is digital. I suppose someday they’ll just wave the objects over the computer and it will sing the translation in Gregorian chant. But in the meantime they still need someone like me to work it out.” Martin paused, then said, rather shyly, “Do you like crossword puzzles?”

“We aren’t very good at them. Mom does the
New York Times
ones. She tried to teach us, but we can only do Mondays.”

“Your Aunt Elspeth was a whiz at them. I used to set special cryptics for her birthday.”

Julia wanted to ask about Elspeth, but she understood that Martin was actually inviting her to ask him about his puzzles, so to be polite she said, “You make crosswords?”

“I do. I set them for the
Guardian
.” Martin said this as though he were confessing to a secret identity as a superhero.

Julia arranged her face into what she hoped was an expression of appropriate awe. “Wow. We never thought of anybody making them. They just kind of appear in the paper, you know?”

“It is an underappreciated art form.”
Ask her about herself; you’re monopolising the conversation.
“What do you do?”

“We don’t know yet. We haven’t decided.”

Martin sipped his tea and looked at Julia quizzically. “Do you often refer to yourself in the first person plural?”

Julia frowned. “No-I mean me and Valentina. We haven’t found anything we both want to do as a profession.”

“Do you both have to do the same thing?”

“Yes!” Julia paused and reminded herself that she was talking to a stranger, not the Mouse. “I mean, we want something we can do together. So maybe we could do two slightly different jobs that fit together somehow.”

“What sorts of things do you each like to do?”

“Well, Valentina likes clothes. She likes to take clothes and make new things out of them, you know, like she might take your suit and slit open the back and make a corset or a bustle or that kind of thing. She’s, like, a slave to Alexander McQueen.” Julia glanced at the place setting meant for Valentina and wondered what her twin was doing; Martin pictured himself wearing a bustle and smiled.

“And you?”

“Um. I don’t know. I like to find out about things. I guess.” Julia looked at her plate as she said this. The rim of the plate was painted with blue morning glories.
Why do I feel like I’m at the edge of a hole?

Martin said, “More tea?” Julia nodded. He poured. “You’re quite young, aren’t you? My son doesn’t know what he wants to do yet either. He’s studying maths, but he doesn’t have the passion for it. I imagine he’ll end up in finance and spend all his time planning exotic holidays. Everything he enjoys is somewhat dangerous.”

“Like what?”

“Oh-motorcycling. I think he goes mountain climbing, but no one will confirm or deny that. It’s just as well I don’t know.”

“You worry about him?”

Martin laughed. He hadn’t felt so lighthearted in months. “Dear child, I worry about
everything
. But yes, I worry about Theo in particular. That’s just the nature of parents. The moment Theo was conceived, I started to worry about him. I don’t think it’s done him a whit of good, but I can’t help it.”

Julia thought of Martin washing the floor.
You’re like a dog licking the same spot over and over.
“So you wash things?”

Martin leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “That’s very perceptive. Yes, that’s right.” He looked at Julia and she looked back at him. They each experienced a little jolt of recognition. She thought,
He’s insane and I understand him. But maybe he isn’t completely crazy. Like a sort of lucid craziness, like a dream.
Martin said, “You like to find out about things. What sort of things?”

Julia tried to put it into words. “Just-everything. I’m curious about things that people aren’t supposed to see-so, for example, I liked going to the British Museum, but I would like it better if I could go into all the offices and storage rooms, I want to look in all the drawers and-discover stuff. And I want to know about people. I mean, I know it’s probably kind of rude but I want to know why you have all these boxes and what’s in them and why all your windows are papered over and how long it’s been that way and how do you feel when you wash things and why don’t you do something about it?” Julia looked at Martin and thought,
Now he’s going to ask me to leave.
They sat in uncomfortable silence for what seemed a long time. Then Martin smiled.

“You’re very-American, aren’t you?”

“Is that a euphemism for ‘very rude’? Yes, I am very rude. Sorry.”

“No, no, don’t apologise. That’s
my
job. More tea?”

“No thank you. If you give me too much caffeine I totally lose all restraint. Maybe that already happened,” Julia said.

Martin poured himself another cup of tea. “Do you actually want to know all those things?” he said. “Because if I answer all your questions I might lose my air of mystery, and you won’t come and visit me again.”

“I would visit you.”
You’re the oddest person I’ve ever met. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.

Martin opened his mouth, hesitated, and said, “Do you smoke?”

“Yes,” Julia replied. Martin brightened. He left the table and came back with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He shook a cigarette out of the pack and offered it to Julia. She took it and put it to her lips, let him light it for her and immediately had a severe coughing fit. Martin jumped up and fetched her a glass of water. When she could speak she said, “What the hell was that?”

“Gauloises. They’re unfiltered-I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to kill you.”

She handed him the lit cigarette. “Here, I’ll just inhale your second-hand smoke.”

Martin took a deep drag and let the smoke trickle from his mouth. Julia thought she had never seen such an expression of raw pleasure on anyone’s face. She understood then how he had managed to woo and marry a girl:
He just looked at her like that.
Julia wished someone would look at her that way. Then she felt confused.

Martin said, “Curiosity killed the cat.” He took another drag on his cigarette.

“I know. But I just feel like my head’s going to explode if I don’t find out-whatever it is.”

“You would make a good scholar.”

Julia was fascinated to see that smoke came out of his mouth in little gusts as he spoke.
I thought Dad was a hard-core smoker, but this guy is definitely in another league.
“I can’t sit still that long. I want to find out
now,
and then find out the next thing.”

“A journalist, then.”

Julia looked dubious. “Maybe. But what about Valentina?” She noticed that Martin had removed his surgical gloves in order to smoke the cigarette. They lay crumpled beside his cup and saucer.

“Don’t you think that each of you might be happier pursuing your own interests?”

“But we’re
together
-we’ve always done things together.”

“Hmm.”

Julia had the uncomfortable feeling that someone had snuck upstairs before she’d arrived and told Martin the Mouse’s point of view on things. “What?” she said, resentfully.

“It’s a pity you won’t meet Elspeth. She had some interesting things to say about being a twin.”

Julia was all attention. “Like what?”

Martin asked, “Would you like some cake?” Julia shook her head. “I think I will have a small piece,” he said. He delicately cut a sliver of cake and laid it on a plate, then ignored it as he continued to smoke. “Elspeth thought that there was a limit to how far the twin relationship should go, in terms of each person giving up their own individuality. She felt that she and your mother had exceeded that boundary.”

“How?”

Martin shook his head. “She didn’t tell me. You ought to ask Robert; if she told anyone it would have been him.”

“Robert Fanshaw? We haven’t met him yet.”

“Hmm. I’d have thought he’d’ve been round to introduce himself first thing. How odd.”

“We’ve knocked on his door, but he’s never home. Maybe he’s out of town,” Julia said.

“I just saw him this morning. He arranged for your ceiling to be repaired.” Martin smiled. “He ticked me off properly for annoying you.” Martin stubbed out his cigarette and then carefully put on his gloves.

“Huh. I wonder how come-I mean, what’s he like?”

Martin ate a bite of cake and Julia waited while he chewed and swallowed. “Well, he was very devoted to Elspeth. I think perhaps her death has unhinged him a bit. But he’s a good fellow, he’s very patient with all my mishaps.”

“Do you have a lot of-um, should we expect the ceiling to cave in all the time?”

Martin looked embarrassed. “That’s only happened once before. I’ll try very hard not to do that again.”

“Do you have a choice about it?”

“There’s a little bit of leeway. Usually.”

Julia felt dizzy from all the cigarette smoke. “Can I use your washroom?”

Martin said, “Of course.” He pointed towards the servant’s room. “There’s one in there.” Julia rose unsteadily and made her way through the box-filled room into the tiny bathroom. There were more boxes stacked in the bathtub.
It must be like living in a self-storage unit.
She used the toilet and splashed water on her face and felt better. When she got back to the kitchen she said, “So what’s in the boxes? I mean, it looks like you just moved in.”

Martin regarded her tolerantly. “All right, Miss Pandora Poole. As a special treat you may open a box.”

“Any box?”

“Maybe. I can’t always remember what’s in them, so it doesn’t much matter which box.”

They both stood up.
It’s like Easter. Or Christmas.
“Any hints?”

“No,” he said. “Most of them aren’t too exciting.” They moved into the dining room. Julia stood staring at the towering piles of boxes. Martin said, “Perhaps you could pick one from the top? So we don’t have to shift them all?”

Julia pointed at a box and Martin carefully took it off the pile and handed it to her. It was embalmed in tape, so he went and got a Stanley knife. She put the box on the floor and sliced into it, kneeling beside it. When she opened the box Martin stood back as though it might explode.