by Anita Notaro
‘Mind yourself, you’re lethal with that weapon.’ He picked up a plastic bag that had lodged in the doorway, just in case she got caught – and as he stood up he came face to face with Alison, except he knew that wasn’t possible.
‘Sorry, excuse me.’ She glanced at him and stood back until the granny was safely on her way.
‘Thanks, love, mind your feet there. Richard’s lost a few toenails with me trolley over the years.’ The pensioner cackled her way down the street.
Richard stared at the new arrival until she’d walked past and then realized he was holding the door for nobody.
When he turned round, the girl was seated in one of the booths facing the counter. He went behind the coffee machine and tried to get a good look at her. If he hadn’t read the papers himself he’d have sworn it was Alison. He picked up a menu and strolled over to her table.
‘Hello.’ He hoped he sounded laid-back. ‘Would you like to see a menu?’ His heart was thumping like a school-boy’s on a first date.
‘I think I’ll just have a skinny latte.’ She smiled and looked directly at him but made no effort to take the laminated card which he’d thrust in her direction.
‘Regular or large?’
‘Large please, I need the caffeine.’ Her smile was different – sort of lopsided – and he felt slightly relieved. ‘Actually, on second thoughts I’ll have a look.’ She held out her hand and Richard was confused all over again. If this wasn’t Ali it was her double. Her eyes were exactly the same and so was the way she looked at him under her lashes. Her voice wasn’t as gravelly though.
‘Why don’t I bring your coffee and give you a chance to decide?’ He needed to escape and get another look at her from a safe distance.
‘Thank you.’ She was fishing in her handbag. ‘I always come into places just for coffee and end up ordering half the menu.’
‘Well, take your time and let me know if you’d like me to check what specials are left.’
‘Sure.’
Richard watched her as he worked. Everything about her screamed Alison. The colour of her hair – although he couldn’t see that much of it – and the long legs he’d caught a glimpse of earlier. The likeness was uncanny. He knew he had to find out.
‘One latte.’ He was at her table before he knew it and hadn’t a clue what to say to find out more about her.
‘Thanks.’ She looked unsure, nervous even, and he was under her spell immediately.
‘I made it extra strong.’ She didn’t react so he continued, ‘You said you needed the hit . . .’
‘That’s great, cheers.’
Richard made to walk away then turned abruptly. ‘Excuse me, forgive me please for interrupting your break but . . . have we met before? It’s just that you’re awfully like a . . . girl . . . I used to know.’
‘I don’t think so, no.’ She paused for a split second. ‘Unless you knew my sister?’ Another hesitation. ‘People always mix us up.’
‘Alison?’ He felt his eyebrow up around his hairline. Damn, he’d meant to work up to it.
‘Yes,’ she said quietly.
‘You’re Alison’s’ – his voice was as high as a Welsh choirboy’s – ‘sister?’ He coughed and tried again. ‘God, you’re the image of her. I knew you had to be related.’
‘I’m her twin.’
‘Alison has a twin?’
‘Had.’ She lowered her eyes and stirred her coffee, then quickly looked up at him again as if checking something. ‘I presume you heard . . . or read about her death?’
‘Christ, yes, I’m so sorry.’ He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘It’s just that this is so surreal . . .’ He hadn’t a clue how to handle this. ‘I did hear, I read about it in the papers. I’m very sorry.’ He knew he was repeating himself. ‘It was such a shock.’
‘Yes, it was very sudden.’ She looked around. ‘Have you time to sit down for a moment? Or perhaps you’re busy.’
‘No. I mean yes, I’ve time.’ He slid into the seat opposite and stood up again immediately, almost dislocating his knee under the table. ‘Actually, I’ll just grab a coffee myself, if that’s all right?’ He suddenly thought she might be waiting for someone. ‘I’m not interrupting or anything, am I?’
‘Not at all.’
‘And can I get you anything else while I’m up?’ Richard felt at a serious disadvantage here.
‘No, thanks, I’m fine for now. My appetite’s pretty much gone at the moment anyway, to tell you the truth.’
‘Yes.’ He could only imagine.
‘This will do the trick nicely.’ She unbuttoned her coat and stood up to slip it off her shoulders. ‘Unless you have a minimum charge?’
‘No, no.’ He noticed now that her hair was in a thick plait. Also, she wasn’t wearing much make-up, he realized as he grabbed a double espresso. Alison had always been impeccably groomed; part of the business she was in, she’d once told him. This girl seemed more relaxed about herself.
Richard smiled at her as he returned to the booth. ‘I’m sorry . . . again. I never introduced myself, I’m Richard Kearney.’ He held out his hand.
‘I’m Lily.’ Her grip was firm but cold. Ali’s hands had always been warm, a result of the constant massage and use of warming oils, she’d told him once. This was one of the oddest experiences of his life, Richard thought as he sat down.
‘I hope I didn’t give you too much of a shock then? Was this one of Alison’s regular haunts?’
‘No, no, she was only here once, as far as I remember.’ Richard took a gulp of his coffee and burned his mouth. ‘Sorry.’ He tried not to splutter.
‘I hope you don’t mind me asking, but how did you know my sister?’
‘Gosh, how did we first meet? Let me think.’ It sounded incredibly false as he tried to buy time. ‘It was a good few years ago.’ He pretended to search his memory. ‘Oh yes, through a workmate . . . I used to be in the corporate sector.’ He glanced around him. ‘I wasn’t always a sloppy waiter.’ He grinned as he wiped coffee splashes from his chin. ‘He, my colleague – ex – introduced us.’ Richard decided to keep talking, in case she asked too many questions. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t at the funeral.’ The lie came easily. ‘I only heard about it afterwards.’ He took a more leisurely sip. ‘It must have been a huge shock to your family?’
‘It was.’
‘And how’s . . . the baby?’ He couldn’t remember what the little fella was called, although he’d read the name more than once in the paper.
‘Charlie’s fine, he’s so young still. You’ve met him?’
‘Only once or twice.’ Shit, he didn’t know why he’d said that. He wouldn’t recognize the child if he parachuted into the café right now. He’d never even known of his existence. ‘Is he . . . with you?’ Keep talking, you idiot, he chided himself.
‘He’s with my aunt in Cork for the moment.’ She cradled the warm mug. ‘There’s been so much to sort out . . .’
‘I can imagine. I know she had her business and all that.’
‘Yeah. It’s doing well, which is something, although I have no idea about the beauty industry.’ Lily smiled at him and he felt awkward about deceiving her like this. He tried to think of a way out.
‘Did you ever visit the salon?’ she asked.
The question jolted him back to normal. ‘No, I kept meaning to.’ He wasn’t sure why he was lying like this but he just had a feeling she knew nothing about Alison’s ‘clients’. ‘God knows, I could do with a facial or whatever you call it. And all those dishes are murder on the hands.’ It was a feeble joke.
‘So how come you switched career?’ She looked around her, interested. ‘This must be quite a change from being a businessman?’
‘Got fired.’ He grinned at her. ‘Only joking. I’d had enough, I guess.’ He thought about it for a second. ‘I was always moaning to Alison about it. In fact’ – he drained his cup – ‘she helped me make up my mind to buy this place. She was a very good listener.’
‘That’s what
everyone says.’ Lily looked sad. ‘I miss her so much.’ She didn’t seem embarrassed to be telling this to a stranger. ‘Even though we were the same age, she was like a mother to me.’
Richard looked at her and saw a very young girl. ‘I’m so sorry.’ He started to stretch out his hand to her in a gesture of comfort. It was the oddest thing, but he really wanted to touch her.
‘Richard, Daisy’s on the phone.’ Lucy was beside him so he rubbed an imaginary fly off his nose instead. ‘Tell her I’ll ring her back, Lucy, thanks.’
Lily said nothing for a moment. ‘Everyone’s been so kind,’ she told him eventually. ‘I’ve met lots of people I never knew existed . . . Friends of hers. It’s odd really because we were very close.’
‘Sorry again, she says it’s urgent and your mobile is off.’ Lucy was back.
‘Actually, I have to go.’ Lily stood up as the waitress wandered off. ‘It was nice to meet you . . .’
‘Please, wait, let me get you another coffee.’ Richard jumped up. ‘I’ll just get rid of this, don’t go . . . I’ll only be a minute.’ He backed into a customer. ‘Sorry, sorry.’ He smiled at the woman and as he turned back to Lily he saw she’d sat down again. She seemed to him to be in a bit of a daze. ‘Stay, please,’ he urged. ‘I won’t be a mo . . . really.’
He headed for the phone, not quite sure why talking to Lily was so important. It was unnerving, having her here, even though he’d nothing to hide. It wasn’t as if he was married or anything, although he wryly supposed that going to a prostitute wasn’t the sort of thing your average middle-class guy in the street did on a regular basis. Still, he knew he wasn’t going to tell her about his relationship with Alison unless he was absolutely sure she already had an inkling.
He got rid of Daisy in double-quick time and fidgeted about for a few moments, watching Lily studying the menu. He was excited by her. She was the same as her sister yet completely different, he felt, even from their brief encounter. He needed to know more, a lot more, about her but he’d no idea how much longer he could keep up the pretence. Surely she had to know something?
17
JAMES
‘HELLO, I’M SORRY to bother you.’ He was businesslike. ‘MY name is James Weldon and I’m trying to get in touch with Alison’s sister. I wonder if you can help me?’
‘I’m afraid she’s not here at the moment. She’s gone to get some stock from the wholesalers.’ Violet wasn’t sure how much to say. There had been one or two tabloid reporters lurking around a while back and it had made Lily nervous.
‘And, eh, what time do you expect her back?’ He wished he knew the sister’s name.
‘About four, I think.’ Violet came to a decision. ‘Can I take your name and number and ask her to call you?’
‘Actually, if you don’t mind I’ll . . . em, call her later.’
‘OK so.’ Violet did mind, actually, and he sensed it.
‘Thanks very much for your help.’ James said goodbye quickly and considered what he’d just this second decided to do.
* * *
At about a quarter to four he stood outside the salon. Main Street in Wicklow on a rainy day was depressing; funny how he’d never noticed that before. There was litter about and a lot of the shopfronts seemed tired and a bit dated. The tiers of iced cakes in the neon-lit bakery opposite looked like they’d seen better days and someone had left sacks of clothing outside the charity shop, despite the large red notice urging people not to do so. The wind had blown a couple of them open and they looked set to take off down the street any second. James walked over and pushed some baby clothes back into the bag and tied a knot on anything he could. It was the sort of thing he did.
As he walked back towards the salon he remembered the nights he’d spent with Alison in the flat upstairs. They’d laughed a lot, and talked only a little at first, which for him was quite a relief. Mostly it had just been great, uncomplicated sex – the sort that had left him feeling like he could conquer the world. The idea now filled him with a mixture of desire and guilt. The guilt quickly began to win out so he pushed open the door before he changed his mind.
‘Can I help you?’
‘Hello, I think I may have spoken to you earlier. I rang looking for Alison’s sister?’ He noticed the young woman was frowning. ‘I hope I’m not disturbing you, it’s just . . . you said you were expecting her back around four, so I thought I’d . . . drop in.’
Her look told him she was very unsure. ‘That was a guess, it all depends on the traffic. I’m afraid you might have had a wasted journey, Mr—’
‘Weldon, James Weldon.’ He stuck out his hand. ‘And you are . . .?’
‘Violet.’ It was hesitant.
‘Don’t worry, I’m happy to wait.’ She looked like she was about to kick him out, James thought. ‘I promise not to disturb you in any way.’ He held up his newspaper and gave her what he hoped was a friendly grin. ‘You won’t even know I’m here.’
James wasn’t sure why he was being so apologetic. After all, this girl had no idea who he was or what he wanted. He just wished he could remember what Alison’s sister was called, he’d definitely read the name in one or two of the papers, but he’d been so paranoid that he’d thrown them all away immediately. ‘Perhaps you could let her know I’m here as soon as she returns?’ He tried to be assertive but it came out as a plea. James was too soft – always had been – and it meant he got passed over in life occasionally. Most people underestimated him as well though, which sometimes worked to his advantage.
‘Are you a reporter?’ Violet asked tentatively a moment or two later.
‘God, no.’ James was shocked. Christ, that was all he needed right now, to end up on the front page of one of the tabloids.
‘I knew Alison,’ he spluttered, anxious to reassure the girl. ‘For years,’ he added. ‘I just wanted to extend my condolences to her sister and I thought it would be easier to do it in person.’ Thank God he had a face you could trust, because he felt she believed him.
‘OK.’ She nodded and seemed to relax.
He tried not to keep looking at the door but within ten minutes he’d read the same paragraph three times, so he mentally slapped himself and turned to the sports section. He was just managing to keep his interest in rugby going when he heard her voice.
‘Violet, sorry, the traffic’s mad.’ He glanced up, shocked even though he was expecting a twin.
‘Oh, Lily, hi . . .’
Violet looked like she didn’t know how to explain his presence, James thought, getting his first glimpse of the woman who had come rushing in, hair flying and smelling of flowers and traffic fumes. Lily, thank God she’d said it.
‘There’s a gentleman . . . Mr, eh, Weldon, to see you. He called earlier to speak to you and, em, he was in the area.’ It was clear to all three of them that the last part was a lie.
‘Hello.’ He was staring openly. ‘I’m James. I just wondered if I might have a word with you?’
‘As long as you’re not selling anything?’
He sensed she said it to cover her nerves. James shook his head immediately.
‘I’m afraid I’ve had a glut of people calling lately, mostly salesmen, and I’ve discovered it takes up a lot of time. I’m new to this business. It belongs . . . used to belong to my sister.’
‘Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about—’ He stopped in mid-sentence, watching her face for signs of apprehension, but she continued to smile pleasantly. ‘I was a friend of Alison’s and I was very upset to hear about her death.’
‘Thank you, Mr Weldon, that’s very nice of you.’ She glanced around. ‘Would you like to go for coffee?’ She shrugged off her coat as James nodded quickly. ‘Sorry, I feel very warm all of a sudden,’ she apologized. ‘I’m afraid our kitchen’s not big enough for guests but there’s a little Italian down the road and the latte is excellent.’
‘Great.’ James was on his feet in an instant.
‘Violet, is that OK with you
?’ Lily turned towards the other girl. ‘I won’t be long.’ She flung her coat over her arm and picked up her handbag.
‘Fine, no problem.’ Violet seemed relieved that she’d done the right thing.
‘Want me to bring you back something?’
‘No, thanks, I’ll make myself a cup of tea here.’
‘Grand.’ Lily turned towards James. ‘Shall we go? I’m afraid I don’t have that much time.’ She checked her phone. ‘I have an appointment here later.’
Once they were settled with their drinks she cradled hers and watched the steam escape, as if enjoying the moment.
‘So, Mr Weldon . . .’ she said as she came back to earth.
‘James, please.’ He was nervous and as usual he pushed his wedding ring up and down his finger.
‘James,’ she amended. ‘What brings you to Wicklow? It’s not an obvious stopping-off point.’
‘Well, I . . . I don’t know where to start, to tell you the truth.’ He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Seated this close, and even in the unkind neon light that streaked the walls, he realized how alike they were. ‘My goodness, you are identical to Alison, it’s frightening.’ He found himself examining her face with a frown on his own.
‘We were twins.’ When she got no reaction she continued, ‘I presumed you knew . . .’
‘Yes,’ James said quickly. ‘She told me she had a twin but never mentioned you were identical.’
‘Funny, I don’t see it.’ She smiled. ‘I always thought Ali was much better-looking.’ She seemed to get lost again for a second or two. ‘Were you close?’ She sipped her drink. ‘I’m just wondering if you’re the same man she mentioned, the architect . . .’ She blushed as she spoke and James had the distinct impression she was lying.
‘Yes, actually, I am an architect.’ He was still convinced that Alison would never have discussed him with anyone. Maybe it’s a genuine mistake, he thought.
‘And your wife? Is she a counsellor, or . . .?’ She looked so uncomfortable he knew she was feeling her way. But where had she got the information, if not from her sister?
‘Psychologist.’ He stared at her, still unsure. ‘I can’t believe she talked to you about me . . .’ He didn’t know what to say next. ‘It’s just that she was a very private person . . . I knew very little about . . . certain parts of her life.’