The Evil Twin

by Sam King

  “Anyway, it’ll be great to see you,” Beck went on. “I’m determined to get everyone there.”

  Susan remained silent.

  A few minutes later, the telephone call ended.

  Chapter 21

  She wandered back into the lounge room feeling dazed. Some smoke was escaping from the woodstove. She released the dampener on the flue and then walked back through to the cupboard under the stairs to add a couple more logs. The iPad was black and twisted now, the screen barely visible. She shivered, thinking of what was on it. But the information must have been destroyed by now, or she supposed so. At any rate, she would leave the fire burning all day.

  She left the house via the front door and headed for the supermarket. In the bright fluorescent aisles she wandered, feeling dazed, unable to concentrate on what it was she wanted. She had forgotten to bring a cardigan, as she almost always did, and in the freezer aisle she was shivering.

  She approached the checkout, looked askance, and saw Martin Lockheed’s mother two aisles over. Her first thought was that she might say hello, but then she remembered the boys and what had happened. Karen Lockheed turned, saw her and frowned. She stared for what seemed minutes, a cold expression on her face. Susan felt terribly ashamed. Then she recalled the pictures on Luke’s iPad, the photos of Martin Lockheed, who was surely a very attractive boy, and her mind turned, thinking over the possibilities. Why did Luke have photos of him?

  She dropped in to see Ellen on the way home, with the few provisions she had bought for her. It took Ellen minutes to answer the door, and then there she was, sticks and all, looking incredibly awkward and frail. Her own mother had died only last year, her father a few years before, and she had found in Ellen a surrogate mother. But now, as she looked Ellen up and down, she felt a sinking certainty that the relationship must now change. Ellen had been supporting her, but now, with this hip, it was Ellen who needed support.

  “Come in.”

  Susan followed her down the hall to the kitchen. The house smelt antiseptic, the aftermath of a hospital visit. Ellen stood in the doorway. Susan unpacked the groceries and put them away. Then she put her hands on her hips and sighed.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, nothing,” Susan said, but it was impossible not to tell Ellen something. She would hear of it anyway. And so she began telling her about yesterday, about Jude and how he had choked.

  “Come into the lounge room,” Ellen said.

  There was a new chair in here, a rented hospital chair with a straight back, and Ellen sat on that, hooking her sticks carefully over the arm.

  “Are you in any pain?”

  “No. Not so much. It’s just awkward.” She winced. They stared at one another for a few moments. Then Ellen said, “Tell me more.”

  Susan began awkwardly. All she had said so far was that Jude had choked, but now she began describing the scene and her fear, how she had given him mouth to mouth, and how the paramedics had pronounced him dead.

  “But what did he choke on?”

  “A toy.”

  “A toy?”

  Susan nodded.

  “There’s more to it than that. Something you’re not telling me.”

  Susan raised her hand to her throat and swallowed. She closed her eyes and wished she could tell Ellen. That would be a load off her mind. Even so, it wasn’t possible. Ellen might not tell anyone. With her practical nature and experience of life she might very well support Susan. But Susan couldn’t risk it. She mentioned Tom’s name, babbling almost, and Ellen said,

  “Was Luke there?”

  “No. He was with me. Tom was down in the play room, but Luke was with me.”

  “So Tom was with him when he choked?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were they fooling around?”

  “I’m not sure.” But this sounded like a lie.

  Ellen narrowed her eyes. “There’s something you’re not telling me, Susan.”

  She nodded, her lips tight together, but said nothing.

  Ellen sighed. “Is it Tom again?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Is he causing you problems again?”

  “No. No. He’s been good.”

  “Well, of course. I’m sure he didn’t make the boy choke.”

  “No.”

  “He’s always been a good boy.”

  Susan nodded.

  “You’re too hard on him.”

  Ellen had said this before. She had been Tom’s advocate in many a fight, yet she had never seen him at his worst. And even if she did, Susan doubted she would see Tom’s behaviour for what it was. He had always been a favourite.

  “If you need support, Susan, you know I’m always here.”

  “Of course.”

  “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

  “No.”

  “Well?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing. Nothing.” But in her imagination she looked distraught.

  “The garden’s looking a bit ratty,” Ellen said a few moments later.

  Susan agreed. She suggested paying someone. But Ellen wanted to know if the boys would come over and do some weeding for her. They might have done this when they were younger for some extra pocket money, but she couldn’t imagine them agreeing to it now.

  She made a face.

  “You don’t think so?”

  “They’re too involved with school.” She hesitated. “I’ll find someone for you.”

  “Someone local?”

  “Of course — and I’ll pay.”

  Ellen brightened up a little. She began speaking of Michael, asked how he was and so on, and related a funny story about him dressing up as a girl when he was a child.

  “I couldn’t imagine him doing that now.”

  “No,” Ellen said, and they began to laugh.

  Chapter 22

  At home, Susan made herself lunch and put on the next episode of Foyle’s War. It was about his son this time, who was now flying with the RAF. It was interesting enough, but a little slow, and all the while she had to put up with the heat from the woodstove on one side and the cool of the air conditioner on the other.

  It ended, finally, and she took her plate and mug through to the kitchen. In the backyard, a kookaburra was bathing in the bird pond — bathing, she thought for a moment, but then realised it had a lizard it was bashing to death with its beak against the stone. She turned away. Life could be so harsh.

  The boys arrived home just before five, followed soon after by the police. They’d barely raced upstairs when the doorbell rang. Susan thought it would be Jean, come to speak to Tom, but it was the officers, and again she was surprised to come face to face with them.

  “We’ve come back with the boys’ statements,” Grainger said.

  Susan nodded, swallowed awkwardly, and let them in.

  “Tom! Luke!”

  The boys appeared a few moments later, trailing down the stairs, their eyes wide.

  “We have your statements,” Adamson said.

  Luke read his over on the hall table while Tom stood by her side, a serious expression on his face. He was pouting a little, acting, looking as though butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, and as the two-faced nature of it struck her, she felt her heart start up, feeling it must be very obvious to the officers. Grainger eyed Tom for a moment, and she felt ill. Then he smiled, and she felt everything would be okay, but his smile faltered and he frowned, staring at Tom.

  Luke pulled away from the table and handed the pen to Tom. Susan watched on from behind as he made a big show of reading over what he had written. But eventually it was over. He stood back. She released a breath.

  “That’s everything, then,” Adamson said. “We shouldn’t be troubling you again.”

  She felt a little lighter as she led them to the door, but Tom was determined to stay by her side. As they turned to leave, he waved facetiously. She slapped his arm and closed the door.

  “Grandma Ellen has some gardening she wan
ts the two of you to do.”

  “What?”

  “Oh, Mum.”

  “No, I’m serious. She isn’t able to get into the garden and she really needs some help. Perhaps on Sunday we could go over there for a few hours.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “No. Definitely.”

  Luke groaned.

  “Is there any money in it?” Tom said.

  “I’m sure she’ll give you a few dollars.”

  “Right.”

  “I want fifty at least.” Luke reached for her shoulder and pulled her into a hug. “She’ll give us fifty, won’t she, Mum?”

  “I’d say so.”

  Chapter 23

  The boys trailed upstairs again, and she was left alone in the hall. She turned to the mail and opened it. Nothing but bills, and the electricity bill was more than five hundred dollars, which struck her as absurd. She carried the paperwork through to the kitchen and put it into the drawer she kept for this sort of thing. She would deal with it all tomorrow morning. Now she had to do what she’d been putting off all afternoon — phoning the insurance people about the car.

  She searched for the number among the paperwork, but when she’d found it, hesitated for a moment and took a breath. She dialled, put her phone on speaker and set it on the table. Then she made a cup of tea, listening to the inane muzak they were playing for her on hold.

  She’d managed to pour the tea and was just about to drink it when someone came on the line. It was a woman. She wanted to know everything about the accident, whose fault it was, if there was another car involved, what speed she was travelling and so on. She had to assure them that she hadn’t been convicted of a crime in the last ten years, and as the question surfaced she wondered if she was committing a crime by protecting Tom. Most likely she was. Withholding information from the police or something like that. Yet it was hardly something she could worry about. Her boy wasn’t going to prison.

  “Are you there, ma’am?”

  “Yes,” she said, and the woman went on. She had to take the car to an authorised repairer where it would be assessed. She agreed to do this, and chose the place in Lane Cove. They would give her a courtesy car to drive, the woman said, while the Volvo was being repaired. This was part and parcel of the policy.

  She nodded her head and looped her hair behind her ears. It all sounded remarkably simple, though she wondered what they would do with the car when they saw it. Perhaps it was a write-off.

  The call ended, and she looked up to find Tom standing in the doorway.

  “Where’s my iPad?”

  “Your iPad?”

  He nodded, a grim expression on his face.

  “Luke had it this morning. He took it out of your room.”

  He blinked at her, his expression unreadable. “Right.”

  “There’s no point questioning me in that tone of voice, you know?”

  He shrugged and then walked further into the kitchen. “How come the fire’s on?”

  “The fire?”

  “Yes. The fire. There’s an iPad in there.”

  “That’s Luke’s.”

  “Right.” He smiled, and then stretched his arms up over his head. He locked his hands together and stretched.

  “That solves a problem, doesn’t it?”

  “I suppose so, Mum.”

  “You won’t be going to prison.”

  “No.” He mouthed the word but didn’t make a sound.

  Luke appeared in the doorway.

  “Your iPad’s kaput. It’s in the fire.”

  “What?”

  “Mum melted it.”

  “I had to, Luke. I couldn’t let anyone see that film.”

  He glanced from Tom to her and back again, seeking some further explanation it seemed.

  “He wants another one,” Tom said.

  “Perhaps you ought to buy it for him.”

  “I doubt I’ll be doing that. You and Dad are loaded. Just buy him one.”

  “What? So you can go and … Why don’t you give him yours?”

  “No way. It’s mine. You understand that, don’t you, Luke?”

  Luke closed his eyes for a moment and shrugged. Now he looked on the verge of tears.

  “I’ll buy you another one,” she said without even thinking.

  He nodded, but he didn’t look any happier.

  Chapter 24

  The following day, Tom’s iPad was in his room again, sitting on his desk. Beside it was the copy of How to Win Friends and Influence People. She was more troubled by the book than the iPad, but it occurred to her to check the pad, just to see what was on it. She keyed in the first six digits of Tom’s phone number, but the iPad failed to open. She wondered what he had to hide, and guessed she’d be speaking to him again this afternoon.

  His room was surprisingly tidy. There were some clothes on the floor, but it was much better than usual. Luke’s room was a mess. She sighed as she turned into it and set to work.

  Yesterday, when Michael came home, he had immediately asked if there wasn’t something burning, and she’d had to admit she’d had the fire on. She didn’t have any good explanation for doing this, not at first, but he said the house was full of smoke. She’d been in it for so long she’d failed to notice.

  He walked into the lounge room and opened the wood stove. The iPad was lost in the ashes, but even now there was a red glow. He frowned at her.

  “I wanted to clean it out,” she said.

  “Clean it out?”

  It made no sense and she knew that. “Just check that everything was working.”

  He nodded at her, a grim expression on his face. “Well, we’ll have to open some windows. I can barely breathe in here.”

  He hated the winter because he hated the house being heated. He liked the cold, and her and the boys had to argue to get the wood stove burning. Now it was summer — the height of summer — and she’d had the wood stove on.

  It was a lot hotter with the windows open than it had been with the woodstove on and the air conditioner on seventeen. But eventually the house aired and she was able to cool it down again.

  At around five, the boys crashed into the house with Martin Lockheed in tow. She was standing in the kitchen when she heard his voice, and her first thought was that it was Jude, come back from the dead. She stepped into the hall, saw Martin, and drew her head back.

  “Martin’s here for the afternoon,” Luke announced. He had a bright smile on his face, but Tom was scowling. “We met him on the corner.”

  This seemed unlikely, but she knew the boy didn’t live far away. It wasn’t the first time he’d been over. He’d been a friend of Luke’s for a few years now, but as it dawned on her that this was the very boy Luke had been accused of … She couldn’t finish the thought.

  “Hello, Mrs Hope.”

  He was unfailingly polite, and reminded her of a European prince, with brown silken hair and wide dark eyes. His skin was like milk, his expression innocent, his mouth a bright red rose.

  “Hello, Martin. How are you?”

  “Good, thanks.”

  She nodded, and then the four of them stood in the hall, at a loss for words. On everyone’s mind but Martin’s seemed to be the incident at school, though she supposed he could be a little empty-headed. Maybe he didn’t understand that she knew.

  “We’re going downstairs,” Luke said. He gripped Martin’s elbow and led him toward the stairs.

  Tom held back. “He shouldn’t be here,” he said the moment the two of them had disappeared. “Martin’s mum and dad would be furious.”

  She took this statement calmly, but then it occurred to her that she’d have to phone Karen Lockheed. The expression on the woman’s face recurred to her from the supermarket checkout and she winced.

  “Luke’s probably doing it again,” Tom said.

  “What?”

  “I’d better go down and keep an eye on them.”

  He turned to leave but she stopped him. “Tom, I tried to have a look
at your iPad today, but you’ve changed the code.”

  “The code? Oh, right.”

  “You need to change it back.”

  He nodded and disappeared.

  Chapter 25

  Martin ended up staying for dinner. Susan was unable to reach his parents, either of them, though she tried several times. At around six, she gave up, and began to cook the evening meal, a beef stroganoff.

  Over dinner, the boys began talking of their excursion to the art gallery, and she remembered it had been today. A painting had fallen off the wall, it seemed, a Van Gough, but as the story went on, Susan began to understand that it was Luke who had been responsible. He’d bumped it or something.

  “More like you tried to steal it,” Martin said.