Three years later, the horrors of war seemed like another lifetime; a thought Violet would ponder in their home garden, surrounded by vibrant flora. Occasionally, she would retreat into her very own tree house, built in the forest by her husband’s hands.
* * *
A bright spring morning shone as Violet dashed into the greenhouse. She shared news with George that would later spread like a hurricane amongst family and friends; news regarding Violet and George’s first child.
* * *
Eight months and two weeks later.
Violet knew what had begun, and most certainly at the wrong time. At a fraction past three o’clock in the morning, the streets of Britain were covered in a blanket of knee-deep snow. George ploughed his VW Beetle through the treacherous blizzard – the worst to hit Britain in decades.
“Short breaths. Remember what the midwife told you,” said George.
“Hurry, please hurry,” she said as calmly as she could, staring nervously through the windscreen at a white world while the wipers fought the bombardment of snowflakes.
The Beetle battled, until the rear tyres slid and sank into a snow-covered ditch. The engine revved while the tyres spun. George got out and pushed with all his might.
“George!”
At three forty in the morning, Violet gave birth to twins on the backseat of the Beetle; girls, who came together as one. Within a minute, they were motherless.
* * *
Bewildered, anxious and deeply sorry for those left behind, Violet managed to find comfort in Kiian in a sector inspired by British countryside.
The very moment she could return to Earth, she did. The need to know what had happened to her daughters was overwhelming. She was informed of the rarity of seeing loved ones, but her hopes remained high. But Violet walked the entire village to find not a soul in sight. None the wiser, she felt lost, though she would never give up searching for the truth.
* * *
Every year, Violet returned to Earth in the hope of seeing her family. After five years, her greatest wish finally came true: the sight of her daughter and husband – together.
At first elated, she soon feared for her second child whom she had seen moments before passing on. No longer conjoined, she assumed her daughter was either alive and hadn’t been seen, or had succumbed to death; perhaps living as a primitive, or an orphan in Kiian?
Violet searched every orphanage and nursery possible. She filed for a missing girl, just in case. But her despair and anxiety would often triumph – nobody had seen, heard of or known of Lily’s existence.
She explored other work to ease her continual search, and the spirit world offered many opportunities.
While seated in a sunny green park of Sector BL-903, she remembered the war while watching a young boy on a bicycle. She thought about how lives were lost, and how many would have discovered Kiian. The boy on a bicycle reminded her of the telegram boy who may or may not have died. Maybe he lives close by?
Within six months, Violet became president for the Federation of War Victims, a role with much responsibility and rewards. For her efforts and good will, she was granted permission by the authorities of BL-903 to devise twenty acres of land to her own liking.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Mother
Bella Air speared through the vast churning clouds. Flashes illuminated the storm-ridden hills of industrial by-products.
A day of travel had passed since leaving the bandits. The twins rested within the living quarters, where Rose imagined the next phase of the journey while Lily thoughtfully rocked them both in the rocking chair, watching Brunel doze on the armrest. The ambience was peaceful.
Rose continued her routine of watching the compass arrow; every twitch, every flick, caused a stir in her belly. Each hour of travel granted further flutters, until Sector BL-903 drifted into view. The arrow didn’t twitch – it shook. The destination was real, and Rose couldn’t take her eyes away from the sector that contained Mother.
Once entered, flying beneath the clouds, the setting of quintessential British landscape spread all around. There were gliding finches, dashing sparrows and rabbits taking cover down burrows. Cottage houses blew smoke from their chimney pots. Cyclists rode over a stone bridge, and people conversed in their lush green gardens.
Bella Air touched down amid the evening sunset. Elongated shadows cast over the freshly cut grass of a deserted park. Swings, slides and a rocking horse were a stone’s throw away.
“Stanley, it’s so… like home,” said Rose, and walked down the steps into the familiar, smelling the grassy air. She glanced at the arrow; it pointed northeast and shook with excitement, just like Rose. She then noticed something, and investigated.
“Brunel! You stay here, and no messing,” ordered Stanley.
“Pheeeew! No messing! No messing! Okay, Limpy!”
He then retracted the steps into place. “You ready? Girls?”
Rose stood in front of a wooden fence at the rear of a garden. She stared, admiring a particular flower in full bloom; not just any flower, but a rose; and not just any rose – a black rose, amongst reds.
“Ah, I see you have discovered a gem amongst our sectors. Well now, let me see,” said Stanley, peering behind the twins.
“How come this rose is black?” asked Rose.
“A rather odd, nevertheless splendid fault, only to exist due to malfunctions. You… do know about malfunctions, don’t you?”
Rose nodded.
“Right, of course you do. Now, these kind of malfunctions are merely aesthetic – purely a pigment imperfection.”
“The Realm of the Black Rose, right, sis?” said Lily.
“Yeah.” Rose smiled, touching the unique flower with her hand.
“One of the first aesthetic malfunctions to be witnessed. It’s said to be good luck should you find one,” said Stanley, having a chuckle to himself.
“Let’s take some for Mum,” said Lily.
“But that’s stealing,” said Rose, wishing her conscience was more mischievous.
Stanley swept his eyes over the fence. “Yes… but I don’t see anyone to catch us. I doubt they’ll miss a few roses – eh, Rose?”
“I guess not.” She reached down to the roots and plucked a selection, then arranged them into a neat bouquet.
“So… are you ready?”
“We are,” said Rose, assuming Lily felt the same.
“Let’s go,” she confirmed.
Down the field they joined a path and followed it, which led them to a series of steep steps overlooking a stone-built village. Rose held the compass in her hand and glanced at it every minute or so. Closer and closer, the arrow reassured them that they were travelling in the right direction.
Over a river bridge they passed cottage houses, submerged in ivy, and where hanging baskets dripped water.
Stanley and the twins soon arrived at a quiet street; their whereabouts struck the twins like a pinprick. “This is our street,” said Rose, bewildered.
“Well, well, well – isn’t this curious. Maybe a neighbour of yours has authority here. Maybe your mother…”
Rose couldn’t help but smile at the prospect.
“Many have re-creations of their previous houses and streets. Some go beyond that, creating a whole town.”
“Down there, that’s Mrs Hemingway’s house,” said Rose, referring to an old friend of the family who had passed away when Rose was six. “I wonder if she lives there. She used to babysit me.”
“Later. Let’s keep moving,” said Stanley.
Rose walked along the street, admiring the scenery, while motorists slowed, eyeballing the three. Residents stood at their windows, watching them go by with intrigue and reservation.
“Look, look!” cried Rose, running ahead.
Lily desperately tried to see, with little success. “Home? You see home?”
“Yes… we’re home,” she said, with a mighty spring in her step, swooping down the street. She passed the l
ocal news shop, and sprinted beyond the post office, then dashed alongside houses – all so well known she could have arrived home blindfolded.
“Rose! Rose! Slow down!” shouted Stanley, hobbling along and holding his thigh in discomfort.
She couldn’t persuade her legs to slow down, as the house where her mother resided was merely seconds away; the compass confirmed it, and Rose’s smile was fixed.
Having come to an abrupt halt, Lily ordered her to turn for a better view. A moment of silence fell upon them as they both stared at the twin house. The flowers spread throughout the front garden were different in type, but the cherry blossom tree was positioned adjacent to the window with precision.
“Let’s knock,” said Lily.
Rose opened the small gate and walked amongst the fallen petals of blue orchids and white tulips. She looked at the windows to observe any movement from inside.
Stanley came, huffing, and said, “You shouldn’t go… off like that. This your house, then?”
“Yes,” said Rose, turning to face him and back towards the front door. “It’s perfect.”
“Let’s knock already,” repeated Lily.
Rose took a step closer, then another. She stood in front of the door and wondered what her first words should be. She gave three considerable knocks. Nothing shimmered though the frosted glass of the door. She knocked four times.
Nothing.
Rose turned to Stanley. “Maybe she’s in the garden. She wouldn’t be able to hear us,” she said with a worried expression.
Stanley stepped up and took hold of the door handle. He gave it a turn. The door opened.
Her jaw dropped. The re-creation of their home was impeccable: the shape of the stairs, the door arch leading into the kitchen, even the bumpy white plastered ceiling featured.
“Hello, Mrs Ashworth!” shouted Stanley. “Is anybody there?”
Rose glanced ahead at the kitchen. “Hello,” she said, softly.
“Mrs Ashworth, we come with great urgency!” said Stanley.
Nothing. Not even a creak in the floorboards.
The living room door was slightly ajar. Stanley pushed gently and looked inside. He froze, watching. “Rose… Lily,” he uttered and gave a hand gesture, beckoning the twins closer.
Rose moved swiftly towards him, with her eyes wide open – was it really her?
Stanley pushed the door open, revealing a woman curled up on the sofa with her hands held together by her chest. She looked just like the picture, but perhaps a little older.
“Sis… ?” said Lily. Rose immediately turned and gave her sister a better view; a sight greater than any dream.
Rose proceeded further into the living room, noticing the opened book that lay face down by her mother’s side. She then watched her within touching distance, while Stanley stayed back.
“Mum…” said Rose, softly, kneeling down to look at her mother’s peaceful expression. “Mum, it’s Rose. Mum…” She gently rocked her mother’s shoulder.
Violet’s eyes opened, and her startled expression gave way to one of sheer wonderment. “It can’t be…” she said. “It can’t be…” she repeated, noticing Stanley at the door.
“Mum… it’s Rose –”
“And Lily.”
Rose handed her the flowers. Violet took the bouquet as she gasped a breath. Her expression was overcome with bliss. She sat up, sustaining eye contact with them both, and examined each girl in detail. “My Rose… and my Lily…” she uttered, while tears welled up in her eyes. She raised her hands and embraced Rose, then reached towards Lily.
“Wait!” shouted Stanley. “Your touch may separate them.”
Violet’s hand froze. “I’m sorry, who are –”
“My name is Stanley Hopkins. I happened to stumble into your daughters’ journey.”
“I can’t believe it. How? I have so many questions.” She released a laugh of disbelief.
Stanley straightened himself, adjusting his top hat as he approached. “All will be revealed shortly, though time is not a luxury we have.”
Rose looked directly into her mother eyes. “I read out a spell, then I discovered Lily, and we came here to find you. We think you can separate us – a professor said so.”
“My goodness… have you being judged? I mean –”
“No,” said Rose. “But we have been chased. The Govern have come close, and two others were after us, but –”
“No match for us,” butted in Lily.
“Oh my… what have I put you through?”
“It’s okay, Mum,” assured Rose, “it’s not your fault. We would never blame you.”
“I’ve waited for this,” said Lily.
Violet looked at her faint daughter. “All this time?”
“Yes.”
Violet shook her head. “I never once gave up on you.”
“Good. And you now owe me and Rose nine birthday presents, plus Christmas.”
“Yes…” She let out a smiling sigh, glancing at them both. “Absolutely. You know, Rose, the first time I saw you was when you and your father were at the tree house on your fifth birthday.”
“Really… when I was five?”
“I could see you, because that’s what you wanted. There had been a huge snowfall, and you had been sledging, or were about to. He told you about me, and why he had built the tree house. I just wanted to hold you so much.” She smiled. “And from then on, I’ve seen you on every visit, once a year, every year.”
“At the tree house?”
“No, the cemetery.”
“Oh yes… of course.”
“You never saw me?” asked Lily in a quiet voice.
“No, sweetheart. I painted that portrait of Rose, and filed for a missing girl.” She pointed to the framed watercolour painting of her daughter. “Nobody I spoke to ever contemplated… this.”
“We can be together now, can’t we?” asked Lily.
“I hope so.” She reached out, and before she realised what she was doing it, her hand gently drifted through Lily’s arm.
“Mum!” cried the twins.
As if burnt, she retracted her hand.
“It didn’t work?” uttered Lily, daunted.
“Then Pei’s prediction wasn’t correct,” said Stanley.
“Please don’t say that,” said Lily.
“However… we’re within a sector. It may be interfering with your connection.”
“Yes… Pei said something like that,” said Rose.
Stanley looked at Violet. “I have an air vessel. We can fly out into the atmosphere. I’m sure we’ll have a much greater chance of separation.”
“You mean leave, right now?” she asked, looking back and forth at all three.
Stanley gave the Ashworths a serious look. “Soon – very soon. I’m afraid we’re all in danger. The longer we leave it, the more chance of being found.”
“By Govern?” asked Violet.
“Yes. And we’ve had more than enough encounters.”
Rose’s expression indicated her agreement.
Violet nodded. “I guess we can talk on the way, if that’s okay.”
“That sounds like a grand idea,” said Stanley.
Violet stood, followed by her daughter. With her hand held out, she brushed Rose’s hair that partially covered her eyes. “This is the greatest day of my life. I wished for this moment for –” Tears rolled down her cheeks as she cupped Rose’s chin and gave a joyous chuckle.
Her mother’s tearful, elated expression then dissolved, replaced by a stare. The roses loosened within her grasp and fell to the floor. Mother then placed her other palm over Rose’s heart, staring through her, as if all her emotions had died.
“Mum?” said Rose.
“What’s going on? Sis, what’s happening?”
“Step away,” said Stanley.
Rose felt a jolt in her heart. A cold, vibrating sensation flowed through her entire body. The cause of this simply stared without emotion, haunting her bewilder
ed daughter.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Alone
“Rose!” shouted Stanley, stepping towards her.
Violet glanced at his approach. Her stare was no longer blank, but frowning. Her look propelled Stanley through the open door to impact with the staircase banister, where he slumped to the floor.
“Mum! What are you doing!” screamed Lily. She saw Rose’s head droop, while her body remained static. “Stop this now!” she ordered, to no avail.
Lily took a deep breath, shut her eyes and clenched her fists to the point of shaking. A sudden gust of wind rushed through the house. The living room became animated with energy as framed photos swayed on the wall and plant pots toppled over. She focused deeper, harder than ever before; so deep, she delved into her sibling’s body and into her soul.
A black substance oozed like tar. Lily began to force it away, discovering her ability to manipulate and overpower whatever it may be, and she did so with aplomb: she pushed, pulled and blocked, anything to prevent the assault.
The matter returned.
She fought for dominance, though she couldn’t destroy the blackness, only delay it. She targeted the largest orb of matter and squeezed it, tighter and tighter – so tight, the substance exploded. A vast amount spewed forth, becoming a breeze to control. Lily targeted another, and eradicated it too, creating another blizzard of black. Bit by bit, Lily destroyed the matter.
Like an army outnumbered and out-gunned, the last of the black orbs retreated and departed.
Mother collapsed on the sofa. She didn’t move.
Rose fell to her knees, her arms and neck limp. She breathed deeply, as though she had held her greatest breath.
“Sis, speak to me!”
With what seemed like her entire energy, Rose forced out, “Wha– happened?”
“Something attacked us – something attacked Mum.”
“Mum?” she said, bewildered, as though the last hour had all been a delusion.
Lily looked towards her mother and watched her rest. To her left, Stanley was still and silent. “Sis, can you stand?”
Twin Spirit Page 18