Duplicity

by Doris Davidson

  Determined to banish her jealousy of Tracy Little -she had to admit that it was jealousy - she started to ask Roddy where they went on their walks and what they talked about. His bored expression soon told her that he wasn’t as smitten as she’d feared, that he was actually rather bored with the girl.

  ‘You know, Dill,’ he said at last, ‘All she thinks about is how she looks. “Does my hair look all right, does it suit me? Is my lipstick smudged?” Yeuch!’ He dropped the affected high imitation. ‘I’m beginning to hate the sight of her.’

  ‘Why don’t you dump her, then?’

  ‘I don’t like to be nasty. How can I say I don’t fancy her any longer?’

  ‘Break a few dates, then. That should tell her.’

  As it happened, it was Tracy who did the dumping, by doing exactly what Roddy had been told to do - not turning up for a couple of dates.

  ‘I don’t care,’ he declared to his sister, but she knew his pride had been hurt.

  The next few weeks were taken up by revising their various subjects, then came the exams themselves, so it was not until all the stress was off them that they had time to relax and think of other things. On the first day of their freedom, it was unfortunate that their parents had been invited out for the evening, leaving them at a loose end in the empty house. For the first hour, they sat on the settee together as they always did when watching television. Roddy had opened a large packet of crisps which they were sharing until she twitched them away from him. He didn’t know how it happened, but he leaned across her to retrieve them, she laughed up at him, and before they realised it, they were kissing - like lovers.

  It was a long kiss that neither of them wanted to end, but at last Roddy pulled himself away. ‘Oh, Lord, Dill, I’m sorry,’ he muttered, shamefacedly. ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’

  ‘It was my fault as much as yours,’ she whispered, ‘and to be honest … I liked it.’

  ‘Did you? Really?’ He could scarcely believe it.

  She gave a naughty little giggle. ‘Would you mind doing it again, so I can be sure?’

  It was half an hour later, if not longer, before the kissing stopped, and they looked at each other in dismay. ‘We shouldn’t.’ His whisper was throbbing with emotion. ‘I’m sorry.’

  Taking in a deep breath to help her to answer, she murmured, ‘I’m not sorry.’

  ‘Aren’t you?’ He looked at her face, flushed with passion, and at long last admitted what he should have known some time ago. ‘I love you, Dilly. D’you know that? I really and truly love you with all my heart.’

  ‘Oh, I’m glad. I thought it was only me.’

  ‘You mean …’

  ‘Yes, I love you, too, really and truly with all my heart.’

  About to kiss her again, Roddy drew back. ‘We can’t, though. We can’t love each other. It’s against the law for a brother and sister to …’

  They regarded each other silently, sadly, shaken by the force of their passion, yet knowing that it could not go on. After a few moments, he stood up. ‘I’m going to bed. So should you.’

  Her eyes shot open. ‘To your bed?’

  ‘My God, no! That would be asking for trouble. If Mum and Dad came in and even saw us like this, they’d know what was going on, but in bed together, God! They’d go ballistic.’

  Her gaze held his. ‘I wish we could, though.’

  He wisely said nothing else and went out, while Dilly gathered up all the scattered crisps and put them in the kitchen bin before she, too, went upstairs.

  Both youngsters got little sleep that night, each thinking of what might have been, but knowing only too well that it could never be.

  Chapter Six

  Although, like most men, Brian had never been quick to pick up the signs of increasing attraction between two people of the opposite sex - the meaningful glances exchanged, the accidentally-on-purpose touching of hands in the passing -it had not taken long for him to become aware of what was blossoming between his children. The realisation clobbered him like a kick in the gut from a mule as they were getting into his car one morning to go to work. They weren’t even sitting together, Roddy in front with him, Dilly in the back seat, but it was almost as if there was a banner attached to them announcing, ‘We are in love.’

  He had tried telling himself that it was pure imagination, but it was even more noticeable on the return journey. His stomach doing all sorts of impossible gymnastics, he did little justice to his meal, and excused his lack of appetite by pleading an excruciating headache.

  ‘I’ll be better if I get some fresh air,’ he told Roselle rather sharply when she fussed.

  His favourite walk was down to the sea, where he often sat and watched the young lads with their little motor boats, but tonight he wanted to be alone to think, so he walked out of the village altogether until he came to the ruins of Slains Castle, practically on the edge of the cliff, an eerie spot even in broad daylight, but ringed at this time of evening by shadowy shapes. Sitting down on a large stone, he wondered what he should do.

  Maybe he’d been imagining it; maybe he’d been seeing things - but it wasn’t that. He was sure it wasn’t. The point was, should he tell Roselle or not? It would likely upset her as much as it had upset him, and that was something he didn’t want to do. Should he have a word with Roddy? Sort of warn him about the dangers of getting too fond of his twin? Or would that make things worse? Teenagers didn’t like to be told, and it might make him more determined than ever.

  Bending over, holding his head in his hands, Brian knew that something had to be done, but he couldn’t face being the one to do it. Surely, though, the boy must know without being told that it was against the law for a brother and sister to marry, and twins were even more closely related than that … weren’t they?

  If only he had noticed before, but it was too late now. If they ran away together, the resulting scandal in the village would be too much for Roselle - she had gone through so much before. It would turn her brain altogether and he couldn’t bear to think of her being hurt any more. He couldn’t take this himself, come to think of it. His carefully planned family, the lovely house, he would lose everything He tinkered now with the idea of jumping off the cliff, ending it. His wouldn’t be the first suicide in this place, and after all, it was his fault, wasn’t it?

  Roddy had been working with an internationally important oil firm in Aberdeen for almost a year before a solution to his problem occurred to him. With Dilly also travelling in the car every morning and evening, it was getting more and more difficult for them to keep their feelings for each other in check, and it was growing more obvious that their father was regarding them in a curious way. Their mother, too, seemed to be in a constant state of apprehension, and he decided that it would be better if he moved away from home altogether - pushed temptation well out of his reach. He put out a few feelers in the office to the effect that he wouldn’t mind a transfer to another branch, but said nothing to anyone else, not even his sister.

  The daily routine went on as usual for the next few months, and he was thinking of just answering adverts in the press when he was called into the Under Manager’s office - the holy-of-holies, the inside of which was a mystery to most of the staff. At the barked ‘Enter’ to his timid knock, he turned the handle and walked in, trying to recall the opening words he meant to say. He need not have worried about it.

  The VIP looked up from the papers before him and said, quite kindly, ‘You’ll be the young fella who wants some promotion?’

  ‘It’s not that, sir,’ Roddy answered. ‘It’s because I’d like to see a bit more of … Britain.’

  ‘So it’s not because you hoped to see the world at our expense?’

  ‘Oh, no, Mr Petersen. I want to learn a bit more about the company and how it’s run.’

  ‘You’re anxious to take over the r
unning of it, are you?’

  But the twinkle in the man’s eyes let the youth know that he was joking. ‘I don’t seem to be doing much here except running errands, sir, and I know I’m capable of more than that.’

  ‘You think that it’s beneath you?’

  ‘No, sir …’

  Petersen took pity on him at this point. ‘It’s all right. I admire someone with the guts to get on. I grant you that being an office boy is the lowest form of life here and that you must wonder how a firm of this size works. I take it that you feel rather young to go overseas - maybe some time in the future? - but as it happens a vacancy has arisen in our Liverpool office for an assistant in their financial department. You will be given training in all aspects of the job - and will have to satisfy the Head Cashier before you are given the position permanently - so you will have a lot to learn. I trust you are not afraid of hard work?’

  ‘No, sir, I’ll be glad of the challenge.’

  ‘That’s what I like to hear. The only other thing which needs to be tackled is - I see that you are not quite eighteen, so what will your parents say about you leaving home so young?’

  About to assure him that his parents would not object, Roddy decided to tell the truth. ‘I don’t suppose my mother’ll be very happy about it, but at eighteen I won’t be a minor any more. I’m able to look after myself .’

  ‘Lodgings will be arranged for you. Apparently, there is a very decent widow woman who has looked after several of their younger employees. No one has ever complained about her, and she has never complained about any of our staff.’

  He rubbed his forefinger reflectively against his nose. ‘It would probably be best if you ask your mother to come to see me, so that I can set her mind at ease about your welfare.’

  ‘Yes, sir. She could come in Dad’s car with my sister and me in the morning.’ It dawned on the boy that the man may not start work so early, so he added, apologetically, ‘If that would suit you?’

  Mr Petersen laughed heartily at this. ‘You think that I start work in the middle of the day? No, my boy, a sluggard gets nowhere in this world. I keep the same hours as all the staff - with, perhaps, a little leeway where lunch is concerned. I do, however, make up for any time lost by working late on many occasions. I do not take advantage of my position.’

  ‘I’m s-sorry, I didn’t m-mean …’ Roddy stuttered, acutely embarrassed by his faux pas.

  ‘No, I am well aware of that. It was a natural assumption to make. Well, you had better get back to work, and I will expect to see your mother tomorrow morning, so that I may set the transfer in motion.’

  Once again, the boy’s mind was not on his work that day, but he got through without making any further gaffes, and he decided to keep his excitement to himself until he went home and the whole family was together.

  It had been Roselle’s day for playing hostess at the Coffee Morning. The Mothers’ Club met fortnightly, organised some two years ago by three other mothers in the street. They took it in turn to supply the venue and the refreshments, and used the rest of their two hours together by knitting and sewing articles to despatch in boxes to various charities at home and abroad. Brian had not been very keen on the idea at first, saying that it was only a way of gathering gossip, but she had stuck to her guns. Of course, a lot of gossiping did take place while their fingers were busy, but nothing really out of place - none of them had malicious tongues, just a healthy interest in what was going on in the village, with events in the rest of the world coming a trailing second.

  That afternoon had produced two unexpected pregnancies, with much discussion on looking out infants’ clothes and other items that were offered to the women concerned, both nearing forty and having passed on years ago all the baby clothes they had had for their older children. As she prepared supper for her own brood, Roselle recalled Laura’s and Cheryl’s differing reactions and hoped that she wouldn’t fall victim to the ‘Baby Boom’. She had had enough bringing up twins, and now that they were more or less grown up, she didn’t want to be lumbered again. That was exactly Laura’s attitude, but Cheryl, with only one child, a boy of seven, was delighted to be expecting another.

  ‘I can hardly believe it,’ she had crowed. ‘I love the smell of babies, the talcum power, the fresh nappies …’

  ‘The shitty nappies,’ Laura had corrected, to nods of agreement, ‘and sick all over your T-shirts and jeans.’

  Cheryl had shaken her head in pity at this outlook. ‘The thrill of tiny fingers gripping yours, and the look of love in the tiny eyes.’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ Judy had sneered, ‘but don’t forget the months you can’t get into any decent clothes, and folk smirk when they see you in the street with your belly sticking a mile out in front of you. I used to get really embarrassed by that. What about you, Roselle? What was it like having two at once? Your stomach must have been ginormous.’

  Knowing that her husband would be angry if she admitted that she couldn’t even remember giving birth to the twins, she said, ‘It was awful. I was like the side of a house, and waddled about like a misshapen duck.’ She had read about, and seen several programmes on television about twins, their births, their similarities, their differences, and this was what had intrigued her about the mothers.

  The others laughed at this, and the conversation moved on, but now her visitors had gone she tried to remember at least a tiny something, but no matter how hard she tried, nothing would come to her. Could their birth have been the trauma responsible? She shook her head at her stupidity; her memory only went back to when they were almost a year old. That was when it had happened, that terrible event that had robbed her of all the memories she should be able to treasure - the highs and lows of the first few months of her babies’ lives. Well, she wasn’t going to take Brian’s refusals any more. She would make him tell her everything this very night, even if it took until tomorrow morning. She had let him bully her into acceptance of something she couldn’t possibly accept until she found out every last detail of it. Her mind made up, she checked the progress of the steak pie she had put into the oven almost an hour ago and, satisfied that it would not be overcooked, she poured herself a small glass of sherry to give her added strength. The gang shouldn’t be home for half an hour yet, so she might even have a second one.

  They were ten minutes later than usual - ‘Another snarl-up on the A90,’ Brian moaned - and Roselle was kept busy dishing up and making sure that they all had enough. She could see that Roddy seemed to be a bit excited about something, but her own mind was churning with the dread of what she meant to do when she and her husband went to bed. She did not mean to say anything in front of the twins. They knew nothing of what had happened.

  Mother and daughter were gathering the dirty dessert plates when Roddy said, rather hesitantly, ‘Sit down, you two. I’ve something to tell you.’

  Dilly clapped her hands. ‘Oh good, you’ve got a promotion?’

  ‘Not exactly, but I think it is good news. I’m being sent to Liverpool, to be in the finance department of the office there. I’ll have to serve a kind of apprenticeship, I suppose, but—’

  ‘Liverpool?’ His mother was horrified. ‘They can’t send a young boy like you away from home like that. Brian, you’ll have to tell them.’

  To hide his relief, her husband pulled a face. ‘If they think he’s fit for this job …’

  ‘Oh, you! He can’t be fit for a job like that at his age.’

  ‘Mum,’ Roddy said, quietly. ‘Mr Petersen wants to speak to you, and I said you’d come to Aberdeen with us tomorrow morning. He’ll tell you all about it.’

  ‘You see?’ Brian said, triumphantly. ‘They’ll make sure he’ll be all right.’

  Her son’s news devastated her, however, so her own planned confrontation with her husband went completely out of her head. All she could think of was poor Roddy, torn out of the b
osom of his family and having to fend for himself in an alien world. He had no idea of the kind of people he could meet, the rogues, the velvet-tongued villains, the predators who might … Oh, it was too horrible even to think about.

  ‘There’s no need to worry, Ros.’ It seemed her husband knew how worried she was. ‘He’s got his head screwed on the right way.’

  ‘He’s still just a kid.’ She couldn’t chance admitting what she had been thinking. He would only laugh at her.

  ‘He has to learn to stand on his own two feet, dear. We all had to.’

  It would have been an ideal opening for her to remind him of her ignorance of her own early life, to demand that he told her everything, but she couldn’t face any more revelations at this moment. She was about to lose the son she loved; her family was soon to be halved.

  Brian slid his arms round her. ‘Stop worrying, darling. He’s looking forward to it, and his boss must think he’s capable enough, otherwise he wouldn’t have suggested it.

  Besides, he’s not going to the other side of the world. He’ll be able to have weekends at home sometimes.’

  ‘I suppose so.’ About to point out that Roddy wouldn’t be able to afford the fare from Liverpool very often, she decided to make sure that he always had enough money to come home. She accepted her husband’s kiss, and was glad that he turned away to sleep. He didn’t understand how she felt and if she kept on about it, he’d soon get annoyed. Men were all the same, and she didn’t suppose that this Mr Petersen would be any different when she saw him in the morning. He’d likely regard her as a neurotic mother who was scared of letting her son off her apron strings.

  Neither Roselle nor Brian noticed that Dilly had fallen silent since Roddy had dropped his bombshell - which is how the girl considered his news. She couldn’t speak, he had wounded her to her very core. It was as if she had been turned to stone; only her heart was still beating, beating out a series of agonising pains in a fluctuating rhythm that threatened to overcome her altogether.