The story that was whispered throughout the halls was that in the middle of a dark Friday night, this person, or persons, as it may have been, sneaked out of quarters and placed this object, which was just slightly larger than the door frame, over the entrance to Josh McGuigan’s room. They then used some sort of sealant to cement it into place against the wall. This left Josh and his unfortunate dorm mate unable to open their door the next morning no matter how hard they pushed and slammed themselves against it. Nobody bothered to notify staff right away, as I suppose it was more entertaining to watch them struggle to escape their papier-mâché prison. When a prefect finally happened by and saw the monstrosity over the door and heard the boys pounding against it from the other side, help was finally hailed. It took another hour to get one of the groundskeepers, as it was then Saturday, to come to finally free the boys. It was said, too, that later, after swearing to Madame Pennyweather he had no idea who’d sealed him in, Josh McGuigan walked over to Oliver Dickinson’s room, knocked on the door, and shook his hand.
But long before that happened, I got over my ailment and was returned to the student population. It became appallingly obvious that I had fallen behind in my studies. I couldn’t deal with that. I was used to being the know-it-all at the head of almost every subject and the idea that I didn’t know every detail of every topic that had been covered made me wonky. Oliver and I only shared one class together, which was Physics. It was quite ironic because I needed to study up on what I had missed and poor Oliver was not getting the class through his head in the slightest. We had special permission from the professor one Thursday night to stay in the common room after curfew to work together on an essay. “Help each other out,” She had said. So there we were sitting in the common room alone on a couch in front of the fireplace with our books and papers laid out on a table before us and if you think we were actually working on that essay you are out of you bloody mind.
“Two days until Spring break,” Oliver grinned at me. The firelight caught in his eyes. He really did have beautiful eyes, so dark they were nearly black in that light, but still bright at the same time, as if they were able to absorb every bit of light around him and send it back.
“I know! I’m so excited! But what if your parents hate me?”
“Oh, they won’t hate you, take my word. My dad’s a bit of a nag. He’ll ask you a ton of questions and make you feel like you’re on trial, but he’s more or less harmless. He just thinks he has to know everything. Oh, and he’ll yell at Alexander and me as soon as he gets through the door. ‘Get down here and put away your daps!’ He’ll shout, but it’s OK. It makes him feel like he’s done something important for Mum.” He paused, as if considering this, “Plus, he likes yelling at us, so sometimes we do things to give him a reason. You can just ignore him. And as far as Mum, she’s got a sense of humour. You can get her going with a good joke, but she’s a high strung sort, so don’t mention any catastrophic bits of news, do not discuss politics and leave religion as far from the conversation as possible. She loves to serve tea, so have tea with her and make sure you eat whatever she puts on your plate. Keep telling her everything she cooks is wonderful, which it generally is, and you’ll be fine. Alexander and I have talked about you. I know she’ll love you to bits.”
I leaned forward and kissed him quickly, “Thank you for putting in the kind word. You know I’m scared to death, don’t you?”
Oliver looked at me thoughtfully and took my hand into his own. “Don’t be scared, Sil. Not of my parents. They're all right. There’s not a thing about you that they wouldn’t like and even if they did find something, I wouldn’t care. I would never change my mind about you.”
He kissed me again. We sat for a long moment with our foreheads together and our fingers intertwined. “We should probably work on the essay,” I finally said. “What will we tell the professor if we come in tomorrow and have nothing done?”
He sighed, “Aye, we maybe should.”
But of course we didn’t. We were too distracted by each other to even turn a page and by the time we got serious enough to try our time was up and Professor Wilson swept us out of the common room and in opposite directions to our dormitories.
I spent the first week of break at my house, teetering between melancholies and ringing Oliver. My father had to work the day I was supposed to arrive at the Dickinson’s, so I took the train by myself. It was a long, boring ride. I had a book, but I couldn't concentrate on reading it. I was too excited about seeing him and too nervous about meeting his parents. What would they look like? What would they think of me? What if they absolutely hated me? I wasn't rich like the girls Alexander dated. I wasn't the prettiest girl at school. I checked my reflection in the window and tried to smooth down my curly hair, wishing I'd put my comb into my purse where I could get to it easily and not packed it into my bag. The train rocked and rumbled and I stared out the window at the passing fields and hills, marvelling at how true it was that Wales was overwhelmed with sheep.
When the train stopped at Welshpool Station, I was shaking. It was my need to be close to Oliver that kept me from feeling sick to my stomach and my legs sturdy under me. As I stepped off, I saw Oliver and his family waiting for me down the platform.
“There she is!” Oliver exclaimed, holding out his arms, “There's my Sil!”
We rushed to each other, but stopped just in time before we did something inappropriate like press together and exchange tongues right in front of his parents. Instead, we gave each other a respectable hug and kiss on the cheek.
“Hello, Sil!” He gave me a look that said he would not disappoint me later. That right eyebrow shot straight up, the grin went sideways and the dimple in his cheek appeared. I immediately began to giggle like a fool.
Alexander rolled his eyes, “Hello, Silvia,” He said idly. He leaned down and pecked me square on the lips. Keeping his face still close to mine, he looked deep into my eyes and said, “Good to see you.”
God, he was a serious player. Even though I knew he was toying with the situation, it was not difficult to recognize the power he held over just about any heterosexual woman alive.
“It’s OK if you do it!” Oliver mumbled, referring to the peck, “If I kissed her on the mouth they’d put her straight back on the train, wouldn’t they?”
“Works in my favour for once, doesn’t it?” He looked at his brother from the corner of his eye, “Ha-ha, Oliver! I get to kiss Silvia! I get to snog your girlfriend! Ha-ha!”
“Shut up.”
Oliver’s mother appeared beside them. She hugged me as if I was the child of an old friend she hadn't seen since birth. She didn't look like I'd imagined her. She was smaller and plumper than I expected her to be, standing only about to my nose with middle almost as big around as her chest. She had cute, round face, though, gorgeous skin, and big hazel-blue eyes which she fixed on me interestedly. “It’s so nice to finally put a face to the voice on the telephone!” She held me at arm’s length, looking me up and down. Her short blonde hair shimmered silver in the sun, “My goodness, the boys were right about you being pretty! Beautiful eyes, lovely smile…and where did you get that gorgeous red hair? Is that colour real?” I nodded. She gave me another quick squeeze. “Welcome, Silvia! We’re so glad to have you!”
Oliver’s father smiled pleasantly and took my hand. He was heavier than I expected him to be as well, but tall and broad shouldered like his sons. There was no doubt who the twins took after in looks; dark hair, dark eyes, but a much larger nose and more Middle Eastern appearance than Alex or Ollie. Still the same charming smile. I bet when he was a young man he was quite smart, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Silvia. May I help you with your bag?”
“If you’d like, Sir.”
“I’ve got it,” Oliver hoisted the bag on to his shoulder.
“Come on! Come on!” Missus Dickinson began to usher us along the platform with a smile, “Let’s go home!”
I sat in the back seat of the car between Oli
ver and Alexander. Each of them took one of my hands and held it. Alexander laid his head on my shoulder. Missus Dickinson chatted about how excited she was that Oliver, who was always shy with women, finally had a steady girl.
“Xander’s had plenty of girlfriends,” She carried on, “He’s quite popular with the girls, but Oliver’s so fussy we didn’t think he’d ever find anybody good enough for him, did we, Edmond?” Their father grunted. She continued, I think, without hearing him, “So when Xan said Ollie had a girlfriend at Bennington we were right curious. Usually when we mention dating to Oliver he shrugs at us, so when he kept on about you, we knew you must be someone special.”
“Oh, yeah, Mum,” Alexander told her, “’Cause all my girlfriends have been slovenly trollops not worthy of any notice at all!”
“That’s not what I meant, Xan.”
“Oh, aye! Yes, you did! I’ll date anything! Won’t I, Mum?”
“Alexander, you know that’s not what I meant!”
“Well, it’s not all wrong,” Oliver noted, grinning widely, “You did date Vivian.”
Alexander laughed. “Oh, aye! Vivian! She was a right slut!”
“ALEXANDER!” Both of his parents shouted at the same time.
Alex’s face turned bright red, “Well, she was! And it doesn’t matter now anyway because I’m in love with Silvia!”
Oliver was sniggering. “She was a right slut, Vivian was!”
“OLIVER!” Both the parents shouted again.
The boys seemed to think this was very funny.
“It’s all right, Mum,” Oliver assured her as he squeezed my hand, “Alex is in love with my Sil now anyway.”
“Yeah and Sil’s definitely not a slut,” Alexander grinned, giving be a quick nudge.
“Yeah!” Oliver agreed. “Not like that filthy Vivian! I’d never bring some outrageous tramp into your home the way your Xander did! Put her right under your nose, he did!”
Alexander laughed again, but louder, “You have no idea what that girl wanted to do to your sons under your own roof, Mother!”
“To both of us at the same time, Mum!” Oliver interjected, “She was a deranged slut!”
“STOP IT!” Their mother turned and glared at her twins, “NOW!”
“THE NEXT PERSON TO USE THE WORD SLUT IS GOING TO BE PUNISHED!” Their father barked. I could see him eyeing the boys in the mirror, “AM I UNDERSTOOD?”
“Yes, Sir,” They answered in unison. Both of them quieted and slumped in their seats.
They were both silent for a moment before Alexander innocently asked, “Well, can we say she was a whore then?”
“ALEXANDER!”
“Just checking! Settle down!”
I caught on quickly to the fact that the boys took great pleasure in bringing their parents to the brink of insanity.
Everything was quiet again for a few moments.
“So if Oliver were to agree to share Silvia with me,” Alexander began casually as he snuggled against me and caressed my hand. Although it seemed innocent enough, it was actually quite a sexy manoeuvre that made me involuntarily lean in his direction, “And both of us married her, let’s say, and turned mum’s house into a polygamist commune, would all of us being madly in love with each other be considered twincest?”
“No, twincest would be if I fell in love with you and you with me,” Oliver leaned forward to look at his brother. “And that’s wrong on so many levels I can’t even begin.”
“But wait! Think about it, Ol. If Sil loved us both passionately and we both loved her with equal passion, wouldn’t we all be guilty of twincest? I mean, if we were both married to her, we’d all be related. The children would be cousins and half-siblings both, plus they’d be their own step-siblings as well! We’d be twin brothers in law!”
“Silvia is mine,” There was a certain warning to Oliver’s voice, “But, yes, I suppose that might be twincest, considering the children. I’m not sure. Still, she’s not interested in that sort of thing.” Oliver moved nearer to me on the other side, drew me close and eyed his brother carefully. It was a protective gesture, “It was Vivian who was the one so keen on twincest, remember?”
“She was! She was all about twincest! Did she show you…”
“Yes! But don’t say it!” Oliver held up a hand, “Mum won’t want to know! That Vivian was an immense slut! Gifted, though!”
“In bloody abundance!”
“THAT’S IT!” Edmond roared, “I’LL HAVE NO MORE OF THIS CONVERSATION! WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU TWO?”
I could feel my cheeks burning. Oliver and Alexander chuckled from either side of me.
“Just having a laugh, Dad.” Alex replied calmly.
“Jeez, Old Man, calm down!” Oliver added.
“Yeah, honestly! We’re planning on getting jobs and our own place before we indulge in any of that!” Alexander said seriously, “We’d need to be able to afford a whole lot of plastic, you see! Twincest can get right good and messy! Noisy, too, and you need a lot of space for it…”
“ALEXANDER!”
“Leave him alone!” Oliver objected, “At least he didn’t say slut!”
“OLIVER!”
Both the boys kissed me on either cheek. They were obviously quite pleased with themselves.
I was so embarrassed I thought I’d die.
If their home were any reflection of their riches, I would have said they were well contented. The building was a newer three story brick and wood dwelling with five bedrooms and had every modern amenity known to man. The rooms were all comfortably furnished, tastefully decorated and covered with plush carpeting. Missus Dickinson had a large, lovely garden, complete with a huge ornamental birdbath, and Mister Dickinson kept his car in a well-organized garage. It was difficult to believe that Alexander and Oliver came from such deliberate parents. Their home was beautiful, but not spontaneous or unreserved, as I would have expected it or their parents to be, considering how free spirited the twins were.
Powys, Wales, is a gorgeous area of the United Kingdom. Most of Wales is gorgeous, in fact. It offers everything from waterfalls to caves to rolling hills, meadows, beaches and mountains. After being locked away at Bennington since my arrival to the country, the only place I'd seen was Brecon Beacons, where Ollie had taken me one Saturday to go hiking. That set aside, there were endless things that I had not had the opportunity to see and Oliver was determined to show them to me. Borrowing Missus Dickinson’s car did not seem to be any sort of issue, so the boys and I spent most of our days outside the house exploring the countryside. We’d arrive back home just in time for supper.
I quite liked their mum. She was kind and funny, a bit stiff, but surprisingly saucy once you got to know her. She enjoyed her bitters as much as she did her tea, but you never saw her drinking it until after eight when she'd finished her bath and slipped into her yellow dressing gown and pink slippers and sank on to the sofa beside her husband. They were so cute, the two of them, as they leaned against each other and watched their nightly television shows. I'd never seen a married couple who acted like them, who seemed to be so happy and content together. Edmond would put his arm around her and say, “How's my girl?” and she'd smile and reply, “Ready for a cwtch, Darling.” There they'd stay on the sofa until he nodded off and she woke him up long enough to lead him to bed.
It was beautiful. I was amazed at how Oliver and Alexander didn't even seem to notice. I dreamed of having a set of parents like that and it bothered me how much the boys took them for granted. I suppose when you're raised with it it's nothing you'd even consider, but I considered it. I considered it a lot.
The boys had gotten much of their sense of humour from their mother, especially the off handed, light hearted teasing Oliver was famous for. Their devotion to the woman was obvious. All she had to do was mention that something needed to be done and one or both of them were on it.
“Oh, shit,” She'd muttered one afternoon from the kitchen, “I forgot jam.”
“What kind, Mum?” Alex popped up, “I'll walk by and get it.”
It was always like that. They adored her. It was obvious as well that she was mad about her boys. She catered to most of their whims without hesitation.
“Mum, I was wondering if you might make those chocky biscuits with the nuts in them?” Oliver asked one afternoon as he popped an entire scone into his mouth.
Ana gave him a look to remind him of his manners, then smiled when she saw he couldn't chew it whole and handed him her coffee cup, “Soften it up, Piggy, there's no rush. Always in such a hurry to eat. You'll weigh a ton one day,” She patted his shoulder, “I'll get right to them then, Love. Chocky with nuts.”
Ollie put his hand on the top of her head as he brought the cup to his lips, a non-verbal expression that said, “Thank you,” and “I love you” all at once, loud as anything.
That sort of thing was extremely normal for them and entirely alien to me, all that love and attention.
“What are you three going to do today?” Ana asked pleasantly one morning after Edmond had gone to work. “Have you taken Silvia to Powys Castle yet, Boys?”
“Yes, Mum,” Alexander took the milk bottle from the counter. “We went to all the must sees and terrorized all the tourists. Had her in Gwent as well. We could head by Swansea, but if it's all the same can we take your car to London?”
“I imagine you did. Swansea is lovely,” She responded softly without looking at him, “And absolutely no to London.”
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