by Polly Hall
Rhett looked about the room and gasped, then looked at me with something resembling awe, disgust and puzzlement.
“What is this? Some kind of fucking freaky zoo? Oh my god! What is that?” he moved toward the crabbit as Andreea stayed frozen to the spot, just staring. Her face looked as if she’d seen a turd come to life and wink at her from the carpet.
“They’re not real,” I said. “I mean they’re dead but real. What I mean is . . .”
“I can see that,” he moved toward the cowstrich, his hands held stiffly by his sides, but he leaned forward so he could examine it close up. “But are you sure they’re actually dead?”
I didn’t reply.
“When you said your boyfriend was a taxidermist, I thought you meant stag’s heads and stuffed foxes in glass cases biting off a chicken’s head?” This made me laugh, not least because he called you my boyfriend but it made me think back to the days when you happily recreated the trophies brought to you—ducks, geese, deer—all perfectly represented and restored as they would have been in life. But now, as I looked at what Rhett was seeing for the very first time, I felt a bit sick. Had I made you do this? I wanted to defend you.
“It’s actually very sought-after artwork.”
“It’s mad, fucking mad, that’s what it is.” He looked back at Andreea, “Babe, have you ever seen anything like this before?”
“It’s cutting edge,” I continued. “We’re going to have some exhibits in a gallery in New York.”
“God, sis. You really think people will buy this stuff?”
“They already have. We’ve had orders—well, Henry’s had orders. He’s got a huge backlog. He’ll join us after he’s tidied up. I didn’t think you’d arrive until tomorrow.”
Rhett put his arm heavily around Andreea’s shoulders and whispered something in her ear. I couldn’t hear what he said but she shook her head and hugged her skinny arms about her loose cotton dress. I think she was shivering. I looked out the window at the sky. It was going to rain again. June was not a very warm month, was it? I made some tea and I sat in the kitchen with our guests, nursing our mugs and catching up.
“Henry exhibited in this big show last month—it was quite exciting really.” I don’t know why I said this, but something compelled me to show how proud of you I was.
“What? A circus freak show?” Rhett was only teasing but the anger welled up inside me.
“You always have to put others down, don’t you?” I stormed off and left him open-mouthed. It was like the old days when we used to fight like weasels. He got up quickly and followed me.
“Sis, I didn’t mean it was crap—that’s not what I meant—it’s just a bit weird,” he tried to console me, but all I could focus on was Andreea’s expression as she stared out the window, trying to avoid the glass eyes of the stuffed animals. She reminded me of the crabbit and the swoodle, the way she sat really still, almost uncomfortably so; I thought of frozen wings and tails.
I was so glad you put aside your usual contempt for strangers and made my brother feel welcome. I watched Andreea prod a mushroom around her plate with her fork and began to doubt my ability to rustle up a meal. I’d fried up some venison sausages and black pudding accompanied by some left-over potatoes and asparagus. Rhett and Andreea arrived so suddenly I’d not had time to prepare. We were so used to picking at whatever we fancied—a venison fillet, a bowl of peas, bread and cheese or some broad beans from the garden. It was nice to actually sit down and eat at the table, even if it was prompted by their arrival. It made me feel like we were a family, like the time when my parents and Rhett were all together.
“So where did you two meet?” You looked directly at Andreea as you bit noisily into a sausage, but Rhett answered for her.
“Andreea’s a singer. Totally awesome, aren’t you babe? We met on the Camino.”
“The Camino?” you said.
“Well, it was at the party in Santiago. We didn’t actually meet walking the route.”
“That’s quite some way, isn’t it?”
Rhett started spouting anecdotes about the people he’d met on his pilgrimage who were totally awesome and had these awesome lives and awesome transformations. You squeezed my thigh under the table as he preached on about how vital he felt, how his body felt more opened up. I know you were wondering how this person could be my brother, my twin brother. He was so loud and rolled his words together. I didn’t see the point in speaking half the time. I sensed what most people were thinking, so I found speaking a waste of energy. People were more interested in talking about themselves anyway, so I just let them. Rhett had not inherited the same damned psychic gifts I had and seemed totally unaffected by any sensitive shifts in the atmosphere. He liked to say he was in alignment with the gurus, but he loved the blatant physicality of life. He loved the excesses of smoking, eating, drinking and shagging. At least you knew where you stood with him.
“What’s your style of music, Andreea?” I felt protective of my brother even though we were the same age.
“I play balls and chanting.”
“Balls?”
“She means bowls, Scarlett,” Rhett scowled at me, but I saw a little smirk form at the corners of his mouth.
“Sausage anyone?” I thrust the frying pan toward the table, and Andreea flinched.
“Actually, Andreea’s a vegan,” Rhett looked sheepishly at her. “Sorry honey—forgot to mention.”
I wondered why she hadn’t said anything. Perhaps she was being polite, or maybe she felt a little uncomfortable being around her lover’s twin sister. That was if he’d actually told her we were twins; no one would make the assumption unless they knew.
“God, I’m so sorry.” I actually meant it. Poor girl looked like she needed more than a few meaty sausages to build up her iron content. I could see you eyeing her up. She was a bit younger than me I guessed, and when you stood next to her in the kitchen while she washed up and you dried the dishes, it was like looking at a bear towering over a flamingo. You could have snapped her like a twig. I wondered if that was how people viewed us, too. I wasn’t much bigger than her, but about a head shorter. Did people wonder how we fit together, how we made our bodies merge so seamlessly when we made love? I could sense them measuring up our torsos as we stood side by side and wondering how it all worked. Perhaps they saw us as bear and flamingo, an unlikely duo. A bemingo or a flabear? Thankfully that was a hybrid you hadn’t considered.
“Henry seems quite . . . mature,” Rhett whispered to me while you finished in the kitchen and we sat on the sofa nursing glasses of wine. “I mean that in a good way. He’s very earthy—and looks like he’s not short of a bit of money, sis.”
His eyes swept around the room, taking in the antique dresser housing some heirlooms, porcelain dating back to the seventeenth century and those ugly Staffordshire figurines of King Charles spaniels. There were a few modern additions of sculpture, some black Labradors cast in bronze and a painting by an artist I couldn’t recall at the time but came back to me later as I lay in bed thinking about the colors and texture and what made a piece of artwork come alive.
“Yeah, he is good for me.” I meant it. You and I, we complemented each other, didn’t we? But with that thought I couldn’t help letting Felix penetrate my mind. What had he said—I could be your Rhett? He was nothing like my brother to look at, but there was a similar sort of energy I felt in his presence. Like we were two charged particles bouncing off one another, unsure how to react.
Of course, Felix couldn’t have known about my brother, about this Rhett to my Scarlett. And yet, I couldn’t help merging you all. In no time I was blurting out to Rhett how you and Felix made similar things.
“Felix De Souza? That’s actually his name?” Rhett spluttered.
“You can talk, Rhett.”
“Yes, thank you, Scarlett—no need to remind me of that particular legacy.” Then he launched into one of his Rhett Butler impressions. “Tell me, Scarlett, do you never shrink from loving me
n you do not love?” He fell to the floor in front of me and held his arms up pleading, “Would you be more convinced if I fell to my knees?” We used to do this as kids, play-act the parts of Rhett Butler and Scarlett O’Hara—the two tempestuous lovers—which is a bit odd for a brother and sister, now I think of it.
“Turn me loose, you varmint, and get out of here.” He clung to my legs; his arms wrapped around the back of my knees so I nearly toppled over. I slapped him across his head, but he buried his face into my crotch and growled like a dog. Sometimes I think he never really grew up, that he was still the ten-year-old that lost his mother and father.
The therapist used to get us to talk to each other about the happy times before it happened, but I didn’t see the point. It wasn’t going to bring them back, was it?
“Rhett, get off me,” I hit him repeatedly with the palm of my hand, but he made me lose my balance and tackled me to the floor. Before I could scramble free, he squeezed me tight in his arms and whispered in my ear. “I’d do anything for you Scarlett, never forget that.” It was an awkward moment, as if he were confessing a secret. He was deadly serious. I shook him free and stood up just as you and Andreea appeared through the doorway with four glasses of brandy. Was there anyone in that room that didn’t feel uncomfortable, I wonder? Even the stuffed creatures seemed to shrink back in embarrassment. If they’d had eyelids, they would’ve squeezed them shut over their glassy eyes.
On Midsummers Day, Rhett thought it was a good idea to climb Glastonbury Tor with the masses and watch the sunrise. We could’ve gone to Stonehenge, but when I told him we’d probably just get stuck in traffic, he settled on going to the Tor.
“We could give Andreea a taste of the local traditions,” he said, although I felt like I was the odd one out, dressed in my tweed jacket and riding boots. Most people looked too summery, all floaty scarves and flip-flops as we tramped up the rain-moistened steps to the top of the hill. The sun had yet to rise but it was still quite light.
There was an expectant stillness among the crowds. I wish you could’ve been there with us. I can’t remember why you weren’t now.
When we got to the top, Rhett lit a cigarette and blew a smoke ring into the air. He always did that when he was nervous, letting his mouth form an “o” and his tongue pierce the middle so the smoke quivered upwards like an imbalanced flimsy hoop.
A boy with a rainbow-colored ribbon tied to a stick ran around the legs of a woman who was talking to a man who held a dog, a mixed breed with wiry short brown hair and spindly legs. There was a smooching couple leaning against the tower holding hands and tasting each other in noisy slurps. The dog raised its head and sniffed the air. We all faced east, waiting for the sun to rise behind the clouds. The sun crept quickly up over the horizon. Its rays were soon glinting on the metallic fence that surrounded the festival site in the distance. The clouds parted to offer a warmer day than we had experienced for some time. After such a cold winter I don’t think we quite believed it could ever be warm again.
A grey-haired woman lifted her arms to the sky and revealed hairy armpits. I felt quite uncomfortable being among all these strangers and realized I had been used to my own company, or just the two of us, for some time now. I looked at my brother and felt a pang of regret that I had not tried harder to stay in touch with him. He hugged Andreea from behind, drawing her close, and I felt an emptiness seep into me as I listened to the murmurs of others around us. He used to hold me like that when we were growing up. We’d moved to a few foster homes after our parents died, but Rhett was always close, even when he wasn’t physically near me. I know he meant what he said, that he’d do anything for me. His words pressed against me like he was pressed against her and what should have been a celebration of light and perfect balance, the Summer Solstice, became clouded by my memories.
“Rhett, we never get a chance to talk properly.” I sounded whiny and hated myself for it as I offered him a drink in the kitchen.
“What is there to talk about?” he said.
“Just things—family things.”
“What sort of family things?”
“About the day—you know—it happened.”
“Are you talking about . . .”
I nodded.
“You have to put it behind you, Scarlett.” He stroked my arm and I felt a tingle of excitement. I loved having him close to me.
“Don’t you ever feel—well, like it wasn’t an accident?”
“What are you saying? Of course it was an accident. Why are you getting like this?”
Andreea sauntered in the room with wet hair and no make-up, her face creased with anxiety. She stood beside Rhett and offered one of her half-faced smiles toward me.
“Thank you for letting us stay,” Rhett said sincerely, once again swerving off subject and leaving me floundering.
“Where else would you have stayed?” I snapped, and walked out to feed the dogs.
That night I felt ravenously hungry and crept down to get a snack from the fridge. I heard music in the lounge so thought I wouldn’t be disturbing them if they were still up, but as I opened the door, I was met by Rhett’s bobbing ass on top of Andreea’s contorted frame. They looked like a pair of insects locked together. He was holding her right leg up by her ear, her left leg was entwined around his back. Rhett’s scars were shiny on his backside and down his right hamstrings like polished pink marble. They were so enraptured in their coitus that they didn’t hear me. I reached forward to touch Rhett’s scars, marveling at how, even after all this time, they still marked him so clearly. My fingers were millimeters from his skin when Andreea’s eyes sprung open and spotted me leaning over them. She shrieked.
“What? What?” Rhett turned to see what had startled her and didn’t notice me at first, then relaxed as he saw me standing behind him.
“Christ, Scarlett! Don’t you bloody knock?” Rhett sat back on his haunches, cupping his genitals with both hands.
“It’s my house. I don’t have to knock.” I noticed Andreea’s feet were exceptionally large, like smooth hobbit’s feet. She pulled her long flimsy dress back down over her naked lower half, tucking her feet underneath. I glimpsed her toenails, painted alternate black and red.
They started mumbling while I was in the kitchen. I nibbled a few pieces of cheese from the fridge and found a pack of cashew nuts and tipped them into my mouth, then I ran the tap and lapped from the stream of water like a thirsty cat. You normally would make my bedtime drink but must have forgotten with the disruption of visitors. I had to walk back past Rhett and Andreea to go upstairs.
“Don’t mark the upholstery,” I snapped at them and closed the door behind me, wondering how long it would be before he got bored of her and passed her up for another. He was a man addicted to variety. As far as I knew, he’d gone through women from at least three continents and seventeen countries. God knows how he hadn’t contracted something deadly. Maybe he had. However, he seemed to have inherited a strong constitution. It was just as well one of us had.
The next morning Rhett was still laid out on our sofa as if it had become some extension of him. I’m not even sure they ever used the bed in the guest room.
He was eating olives out of a jar with his fingers and leaving the stones in a pile on the coffee table, like a neatly arranged pyramid of rabbit droppings. I noticed all the taxidermied creatures were rotated so their eyes faced the wall or out the window. With their backs to the center of the room, they looked even more real to me.
“You’ve sold out, sis,” he put the olives down and pressed the recline button on the sofa so the footrest lifted with his outstretched legs on it.
“What do you mean?”
“Look at it—middle-class sofa, middle-class log burner, a lawn.”
“A lawn?”
“If you were proper bohemian, you’d dig up the lawn and plant parsnips or beetroot. Use your green fingers.” He waggled his long, oily fingers at me.
“You don’t seem to mind eating my f
ood sourced from the supermarket, or shagging on my comfortable middle-class sofa.”
“Scarlett, I’ll be out of your hair in a few days.” He was never out of my hair. We had the same thin, flat hair, mine darker but only because I’d started dyeing it. Flecks of grey had appeared at my temples and even in my eyebrows and after initially extracting the culprits with some tweezers, I decided the most effective way of tackling the effects of age was to paint over the cracks, so I colored it nutmeg brown.
You, my darling Peppercorn, on the other hand, liked to let the ravages of time greet you as an old buddy, positively welcoming any changes to your physique as if you’d discovered a new element, “My word! A silver hair.” Your splayed fingers parted the mat of dark chest hair as if examining the pelt of one of your specimens. I loved how your body resembled my fantasy of Neolithic man, a kind of capable brutishness combined with intelligent passion. It pleased me how you rarely felt pain; it seemed to bounce off you. My protector. My King Kong. Your strength seemed to come from within, an untouchable force residing like a latent volcano. You radiated power. Beneath that craggy surface was molten lava, and I was the recipient of your pyroclastic surges. Even if I wanted to, I could never leave you.
Rhett and Andreea stayed for a few more days, then set off to the festival. That was one good thing about Rhett—he never outstayed his welcome. It was just that he never really announced he was coming. But I was grateful for your flexibility and you were quite absorbed with your work anyway, so maybe you didn’t even notice them come and go or lounge about the house and garden.
I didn’t want a tense goodbye with my brother, but I ended up sabotaging it with my flippancy and swings of mood. Rhett was my twin. How could he not sense things as I did? Was he affected by those creatures as I was? However, I think it was Andreea, and not him, who had turned the crabbit and swoodle to face the wall, along with the other creatures that seemed to stare at anyone entering the room. He seemed to be able to accept change much better than I.