‘Yes, that’s what he told Roselle, but I’m not so sure. It was just after she told me they’d been in Belfast before they came here. That’s why he got her away from me.’
‘Ach no, you’re imagining things.’
‘I’m telling you. He’s got something to hide, and I’m telling you, he was scared I was trying to make her remember things.’
‘So you were, but what was wrong with that?’
‘He doesn’t want her to remember, that’s what. He must have done something wrong, committed some kind of crime or …’
‘Oh, for any sake! Listen to yourself, lass. Who d’you think you are? Miss Marple? The doctors told him not to force her, and her memory would likely come back by itself.’
‘Well, it never did, did it?’ Helen looked triumphant. ‘I wish I knew where they were. We could have driven up to see them.’
‘They don’t want to see us.’ Frank lifted his newspaper. ‘Now that’s it. I’m not going to discuss it again.’
Knowing that she had no way of finding out where the Lewises had gone, Helen closed her mouth, but she was still convinced that Brian was hiding something. Maybe he wasn’t a criminal, he didn’t look like a criminal, but he had something to hide. Something he didn’t want her, especially, to find out. She heaved a sigh. And she never would find out, not when Frank wouldn’t listen to her.
Chapter Five
Both now attending Peterhead Academy, a ten-minute run in the bus from their home, Roddy and Dilly had both stretched, although the girl was not as tall as the boy’s almost six foot. They were still very close, and although their classmates were at the age of trying to attract the attention of the opposite sex, they were only interested in each other. This did not escape notice, and Roddy especially was the butt of many barbed remarks, but he didn’t respond, even when another boy accused him of being a ‘poofter’. He knew that wasn’t true, he did have feelings for a girl, although, unfortunately, that girl was his sister.
It was not until they were both almost sixteen that Dyllis tumbled to this fact. She was teased by the other girls because she didn’t have a boyfriend, but not one of them had had the nerve to say it wasn’t healthy for any girl to be so attached to her brother.
Dilly had been flattered by the attention paid to her by the tallest boy in her year. Malcolm Finnie was even taller than Roddy, broader and more athletic, and a big hit with the other girls. One after the other, they did their best to hook him, but after a couple of ‘dates’ he moved on to someone else. When he picked on Dyllis, she did not have the experience to recognise him for the philanderer he was, so she believed every word of his sweet talk. Of course, she was aware that he’d taken a few of her friends out, but assumed that they had greatly exaggerated what they said had happened. He would never have told any of them that they were the prettiest girl in school, nor that their eyes were deeper than the blue of the sky, nor that their mouths were the cutest, their lips the sweetest -which he whispered in her ear.
She was completely swept out of her senses by him, not knowing that he had slowed down his usual rapid methods of getting to the ‘nitty-gritty’, which was all that really interested him. He had recognised that she was different from the other girls, that his usual tactics would scare her off, and he found that it was even more fun prolonging the build-up than the actual seduction itself.
Roddy couldn’t understand his feelings when he saw Dilly with Malcolm Finnie. It felt as if he was jealous, but he wasn’t. He couldn’t be jealous of somebody getting friendly with his sister? Could he? No, it couldn’t be that. Maybe it was because Finnie was the most popular boy in their year.
Even having more or less convinced himself of this, Roddy couldn’t stop himself from keeping a close eye on them, so much so that the other boys started teasing him.
‘What’s up with you, Lewis? You can’t keep your eyes off your sister when Finnie’s anywhere near her - are you in love with her, or something?’
‘D’you wish it was you she was smooching with?’
When he was in bed at nights, he found himself imagining that he was the one with his arms around Dilly, was pressed against her, had her looking at him with that soppy look. What was wrong with him? He must be going off his head, thinking of his sister like that, even though there was no doubt that she was the prettiest girl in the whole school. There was only one girl who came anywhere near her for looks, Tracy Little. She was a tiny doll-like thing, blonde hair done up in two plaits, quite nice blue eyes and quite a cute little nose. Yes, the more he thought about Tracy, the more he could see her good features. As for other good points about her, her figure was blossoming, her waist was so small he would surely be able to span it … if he tried; if he wanted to. Which he didn’t.
Dyllis was quite sure that what she felt for Malcolm Finnie was love; the speeding up of her heart when he looked at her, the misery that swamped her if he so much as looked at another girl. It was stupid really … unless it was love. Love excused everything, even this ever-growing need for him to kiss her properly, instead of the peck he gave her on the cheek when they parted. Probably he didn’t want anyone to see. His pals would likely tease him if he showed how much he loved her. Of course, that was it. That was why he actually stopped his lips from coming in contact with hers. If she could only bring herself to move her head a little at the crucial moment, and put her mouth in the firing line, so to speak. Once the first time was past, everything else would fall into place.
The lovesick girl had no idea of what could follow the passionate kisses that she longed for. Her mind did not touch on the sexual complications that would arise, the arousal of a boy who was well experienced in the art of seduction. She believed that she was aware of all aspects of the making of another life and was confident that she could stop any boy from going that far, but she was, in fact, quite ignorant of the dangers of allowing passions to have their full rein.
Thus assured, she let Malcolm persuade her to skip school one afternoon, each hiding in the appropriate toilet block until all the other pupils were gone. When she heard his soft call that it was safe to come out, she opened the cubicle door to be violently shoved back inside.
His hands were everywhere, and no matter how she tried to stop him when he lifted her skirt, he had touched her most intimate parts. He stopped her screams by covering her mouth with his, and had almost succeeded in pushing himself inside her when, in sheer desperation, she bit his tongue.
He jumped back in agony. ‘You little bitch!’
Whipping out his handkerchief and holding it with his left hand to staunch the blood running down his chin, he gave her a hard slap across the face. ‘You stupid, ignorant bitch! You must’ve known what I was going to do. You were kissing me hard enough. You were wanting it just as much as me.’
He turned on his heel, yanked up his zip and stamped out angrily, leaving her to sink down on the toilet seat with a hand to her hot cheek. He was wrong! She hadn’t known what he was going to do. She would have stopped him long before this if she had. He hadn’t loved her at all. He had only wanted sex with her. He would likely tell everybody what a baby she was, frightened to go ‘all the way’, as they euphemistically called it. The searing tears came then, as she realised what a trusting fool she had been. All the other girls would laugh at her - they already knew what kind of boy he was; just out for one thing.
Having cried herself calmer, she decided that she couldn’t go back inside, where everyone would see how upset she was. She had better sit here until lessons came to an end, and then walk out as if she had just been to the toilet. She would make straight for Roddy. He’d see that she was upset and would take care of her. He wouldn’t let Malcolm Finnie touch her.
Just over an hour later, the noise of the exodus began and Dilly walked as steadily as she could on her still trembling legs out into the playground, keeping her eyes straight ahead while
she turned towards the gates. When the hand touched her shoulder, she knew it was Roddy, but kept on walking.
‘Hey, Dill, what’s up?’ he asked, stepping alongside her. Her silence told him more than she knew, and he said no more, guessing that she wouldn’t want to talk about it. The only thing was, he really wanted to know what Finnie had done to her.
Not a word was said while they waited for the bus, and they were practically home before he asked, ‘Finnie, I suppose?’ Her nod made him go on, ‘What did he do to you? You’d better tell me the truth. Did you let him … ?’
‘He tried, but … I bit his tongue.’ Quite put out when Roddy burst out laughing, she snapped, ‘It wasn’t funny.’
‘I’m sorry, it was just picturing the great Romeo not getting his own way.’
What he was picturing made her smile herself, recalling the utter shock on the injured face. ‘I suppose he wasn’t expecting that.’
‘I bet he wasn’t. I can’t wait to tell the boys.’
‘No, no, you mustn’t tell anybody,’ she pleaded. ‘I’d be too ashamed.’
‘You’ve nothing to be ashamed of.’
‘Promise you won’t say anything.’
‘OK, I promise … but I’d really have enjoyed it.’
Nearing their stop, they both stood up, and by silent consent the matter was not brought up again, but the incident had also made Roddy realise something. It was far too painful for him to think of what could have happened in that school toilet, and shuddered at where it had almost taken place. If he hadn’t promised not to say anything to anybody, he’d have sought out Finnie next day and battered the living daylights out of him, but then everyone would have wanted to know why -although most of their classmates would have a good idea.
The thing was, would he have felt so badly about it if it had been anyone other than Finnie? Or anyone other than Dilly? That was the worrying point. He felt almost as if she had betrayed him, when it wasn’t her fault. It was the simple fact that she had felt safe enough and even wanted the sod enough to go with him into the toilets. There was only one explanation for his own aching heart, and he had to admit it. He did love her, but it was clear that she didn’t feel the same way about him, and his only consolation was that she didn’t love Malcolm Finnie now, either.
Dyllis was very self-conscious when she went to school the following morning. If word of what had happened had got round, she wouldn’t know what to do with herself. But not a word was said, not a knowing glance was shot her way, not a hint that anything was different today from any other day. It was well into the forenoon before it came to her that Finnie himself would have said nothing. He wouldn’t want a soul to know how she had rejected him. He had probably got his eye on one of the other girls already, and was planning her seduction.
Roddy had been doing some really serious considering about his innermost feelings, and had come to the conclusion that he should get to know Tracy Little. Concentrating on her should take his mind off what he felt for his twin; perhaps even banish it altogether. His mind made up, he hung around the school gate one morning until he saw her coming, and made a bee-line for her before any one else spotted her. Unfortunately, Malcolm Finnie, of all people, must have had the same idea, stepping close to her and pipping Roddy at the post. He, however, was goaded into action by the Lothario and, determined not to give him the chance to speak, he grabbed Tracy’s arm and pulled her aside.
‘Are you doing anything after school?’ he asked, diffidently.
Being something of a flirt, and accustomed to boys demanding her for a date, his shyness intrigued her, plus the fact that Finnie was listening with a sneer on his face, she switched on her sweetest smile. ‘No, I’m not. Why?’
‘I thought maybe you’d like to come for a walk with me.’
‘We’d likely miss the bus home,’ she pointed out softly, ‘and my mum’d be worried.’
Finnie’s curled top lip gave Roddy courage to give an instant solution to this. ‘I’ll ask Dilly to go and tell your mum you’ll be on the next bus. Would that be OK?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘So I’ll see you here at the gate at twenty to four?’
‘OK.’ She pulled away, but tossed her head defiantly as she passed Malcolm Finnie.
Roddy carefully turned the other way. There was no need to raise friction by crowing about his little victory, and he still had to ask his sister to tell Mrs Little.
His mind was not on his lessons that day. The very act of making an actual date had made him feel better about it, and Tracy was a lovely girl. He certainly wouldn’t try to do anything he shouldn’t; maybe on some future date, though.
The more Roselle thought about it, the stronger grew her conviction that an unhealthy relationship had grown between the twins. It had just been on Roddy’s side at first, but it had developed more noticeably on Dilly’s side during the last week or two. She couldn’t let it go on, perhaps even now it was too late to stop it, and what could she do anyway?
Hopefully, once they left school, the jobs they found would keep them apart during the day - although Brian was trying to talk them into carrying on their schooling and following on to a university, or some kind of further education. She came to a sudden decision. Let fate take its way. If there was going to be trouble - incest or whatever they called it - well, hers couldn’t be the first family it had happened to, but she needed to talk about it. She’d been putting off mentioning anything to her husband, but it had reached the point where she was almost sick with worry over what she suspected. As soon as the twins had gone up to their rooms one night to study for their exams, she tackled him. ‘Brian, I know you won’t like what I’m going to say, but I’ve got to say it.’
‘Say what? It sounds really serious.’
‘It is, and I’m surprised you haven’t noticed for yourself.’
Her husband frowned slightly. ‘Noticed what, for goodness’ sake?’
‘Haven’t you seen how Roddy and Dilly look at each other? I’m sure they’re in love.’
His scowl deepened. ‘Are you off your trolley, woman? They’re twins - off course they love each other.’
‘No, I don’t mean that kind of love. I mean proper love - between an ordinary boy and girl who aren’t related.’
She had his full attention now. ‘But they’re …’ He hesitated for a moment before saying, decisively, ‘You’re talking rubbish, Ros. They do love each other, the same way we love them, but it’s not the same kind of love as a man feels for a woman - not like I feel for you.’
He could see that even this made no impression on her and went on, ‘There’s always a special bond between twins; what one thinks, the other one thinks as well, and so on. I’ve heard of twins living in different places - one takes ill, the other one feels the same pains.’
‘You honestly think that’s what it is?’
‘Of course it is. I’ve even read of twins buying the same clothes although they’re living hundreds of miles apart. It’s a kind of built-in bond between them that nobody understands, that they don’t really understand themselves.’
‘You’re sure that’s all it is?’
‘One hundred per cent. Now can we watch this programme in peace?’
She lay obediently back in her armchair, but she couldn’t concentrate on the events in Coronation Street. Maybe Brian was right, but she couldn’t believe him - not one hundred per cent.
‘You know, Frank, I’ve been thinking a lot about Roselle and the twins lately. I’m sure something’s not right with them.’ Helen Milne had ample time to think these days, still unable to get around, except to the hospital for check-ups, where her husband took her every two weeks in the people-carrier he’d bought to accommodate the wheelchair.
He was regarding her now with the expression he always wore when she mentioned the Lewises. ‘I
’d forget about that family if I were you,’ he told her, firmly. ‘If Roselle had wanted to keep in touch, she’d have given you their new address.’
‘I’m sure Brian must have told her not to.’
‘She’s not scared of him. She’s got more spunk than that. No, make up your mind that she wasn’t as fond of us as we were of her.’
‘I loved them all, and I’m positive that she and the kids were fond of us.’
‘They can’t be kids now, they must be wearing on for thirteen or fourteen.’
Helen gave a loud sniff. ‘Shows how much you notice. They’ll be seventeen on the twenty-fourth.’
His eyes opening in disbelief, her husband shook his head. ‘No, they can’t be.’
‘They will, I tell you, and it’s them I’m really worried about, though I suppose Roselle will be even more worried. There’s something far wrong, I know it.’
‘Look, lass, even if that’s true, there’s nothing you can do about it.’ His tone was much more sympathetic, however. ‘Concentrate on getting your legs strong, and forget about everything else.’
She told herself that she was a stupid old woman for worrying. There was nothing she could do for the Lewis family anyway, and Frank was right - they had made it clear that they didn’t want to stay friends.
Dilly was amazed at how much she minded seeing Roddy setting off for walks with Tracy Little. They looked so right for each other, but they weren’t really, were they? Everybody knew that the girl went out with any boy who asked her, and he deserved better than that. She tried to pick out a girl who might be more acceptable, but gave up in disgust after five minutes. Not one of the girls she knew fitted the bill. They were either not pretty enough, or too pretty; either too smart for their own good, or so dumb they didn’t know right from left; either too rowdy and laddish or quiet wee mice. Roddy wouldn’t be happy with any of them.
Her wandering thoughts turned to picking a suitable boy for herself. Not Malcolm Finnie, that was sure. This search proved as useless as her first. She didn’t fancy any of them. Some were bullies, some were really good-looking but knew it; the ones who had no claim to good looks knew that, and were too self-conscious to be any fun. The only one she would feel comfortable with was … her own brother, and that was taboo.
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