The Lost Twin

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by Diana Finley

I can’t tell you how much our meeting delighted me. I feel we really made a connection, don’t you? It’s very, very early days in our relationship, I know, but I do believe we’ll go from strength to strength, getting ever closer over time.

  It’s because I really liked you, Robert, and admired you as a person, that I have some confessions to make. One or two important areas of my life (and yours) that I was not entirely honest about. I’m very ashamed of that now, and very sorry. I hope you will understand and forgive me. It was wrong of me, and I want to change all that, and be completely open and honest with you from now on. My only excuse is that perhaps I needed to see whether I fully trusted you first – and please believe me, I do.

  I noticed that you never once made any demands on me; there was no sense of you being ‘out for what you might get’, no jealousy or resentment – despite the fact that, in material terms, you have hugely missed out in comparison to me. That really impressed me.

  It may seem strange to you, Robert, but there are things I’m desperate to tell you, in person and as soon as possible. Would you be able to meet again, before the 7th April? (And keep that date to meet in the Cheviots, as we discussed.)

  How about another meeting, in York this time, on Wednesday 3rd March? I know it’s very soon, but as I say, I really want to put one or two things straight. This time, I’ve enclosed a return train ticket for you, just so you don’t have the bother of having to go to the station and buy one. Oh, and I’m glad you’ve got yourself a mobile phone – I think you’ll find it a convenience – and we can more easily be in touch any time.

  York is about an hour’s journey for you, more like two hours plus for me. I suggest we meet at Bettys Tea Room at twelve noon and have a bite to eat and a cup of tea or coffee (full address on attached paper). Due to work commitments, I’ll have to leave by about 3 p.m. this time, so it’s a bit brief. Please say you can come. Leave a message on my phone. Hope to see you very soon,

  Your brother Barry

  What’s this all about? What confessions does Barry need to make? What has he not been entirely honest about? I’m intrigued, but also anxious. I try to think whether I’ve been open and honest with him. I can’t think that I’ve tried to deceive him in any way. Why would I? But then, why would he? What has he told me that may not be true, or not ‘entirely’? I’m intrigued by my brother Barry. What an enigma he is.

  There are the train tickets, bought and paid for by him. Perhaps he thinks I’ve already spent the thousand pounds he’s given me, and can’t afford the train to York?! Or maybe it’s just another way of putting pressure on me to meet him again, where and when he wants? He certainly knows how to get his own way. Anyway, I won’t argue; I want to see him again. I’ll go to York to see him. Those confessions are mysterious, and a bit worrying. Oh well, I’ll soon find out about them. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but it won’t kill me! At least, I hope not.

  ***

  The date of our second meeting is rapidly approaching. I decide to buy a few decent items of clothing for our next get-together. The contrast between Barry’s and my getup at our last meeting was a bit too blatant. I enjoy my trip into the town centre on the bus, and have a leisurely look round some of the shops. I even stop in a café for a cup of coffee. Barry’s money gives me choices I’ve never had before.

  Despite that, it really hurts me to see the price of a pair of men’s trousers and a shirt or sweater! I almost turn around and head straight back to my favourite charity shop … but I decide I should show Barry how his gift of money has already started to help me present a smarter, more positive image. I’m also on the lookout for a warm fleece to wear in the Cheviots. I see one or two, but even with the big gift of money Barry has given me, I just can’t bring myself to spend so much, when I already have an old one. Surely it will do? It’s only slightly worn.

  In the end I decide on a simple pair of dark brown trousers and a maroon crew-neck sweater. My shirts are all pretty old and shabby, but I’ve had enough of spending money. Who’d imagine it would be so exhausting! Anyway what a waste it would be – my shirt will be hidden under the jumper. I might just as well wear an old one.

  Back home, I walk to the library, where Julia, my friendly head librarian, shows me how to look up Bettys Tea Room in York on the computer. From the map on the screen, I jot down a few instructions to find the way, on foot, from the railway station and into the narrow pedestrian lanes, where Betty’s is situated. Julia photocopies the map so there’s no excuse for getting lost.

  ***

  In York, the lanes are crawling with people, ambling along slowly, pausing to look in shop windows, chatting, pointing things out. Lots of tourists talking excitedly in a range of languages I can’t understand. I imagine this is what it feels like being abroad. Not that I’ve ever been.

  I head straight for Bettys Tea Room. It’s not far. This time I’m the first to arrive. The old house is on three floors; I head straight upstairs. It’s early for lunch, so there are plenty of unoccupied tables to choose from, some fairly secluded. I find one in an alcove behind a pillar. That should be private enough. I’ve barely sat down when an eager young waitress comes and asks what she can get me.

  ‘I’m waiting for my … brother. He … er … looks a bit like me, but he’s got a beard,’ I tell her. ‘I’ll just wait ’til he comes to order, if that’s OK?’

  ‘Yes, ’course it is,’ she says with a smile. ‘I’ll come back in a little while.’

  After a few minutes I hear footsteps on the stairs and then see Barry standing and looking around the room. I lean forward and wave at him. He spots me and raises his hand in greeting as he approaches. The first thing I notice about him, is that he’s shaved off his beard! What’s that all about?

  I stand up. We embrace firmly this time. A lump gathers in my throat. My heart is racing. It’s almost as though I’m in love! I realise I’m very, very happy to see him.

  ‘Barry, good to see you, man, really good.’

  He smiles and looks at me as if he’s checking whether my pleasure is genuine, as if he’s wondering exactly what I’m thinking.

  ‘I’m not sure if it was the “real you” in Durham last time, or whether it’s the “real you” today?’ I say with a sly grin.

  ‘Oh …? Oh, what … oh right … the beard. Yeah, I’d just tried it out for a few weeks … you know, to do without shaving, and to see what I thought of it. But it started to drive me mad, itching, and getting food in it, and that …’

  ‘I think it suits you better … without, I mean.’

  ‘Yeah? Well, I guess we look more alike now …’ He examines my face closely.

  ‘It’s like looking in a mirror, isn’t it? Have you ordered anything yet?’

  ‘No, I was waiting for you.’

  I pass him a menu. There’s a bit of a hiatus, while we both study the menus. Barry decides on soup and a salad. I go for soup and a sandwich. We indicate to the waitress that we’re ready to order, requesting our meals along with two coffees. Barry’s looking a bit uneasy. He fiddles with the cutlery. He looks down at the table.

  ‘Robert, I’ve got to tell you. There’s no way to justify this …’ He takes a deep breath. What the hell’s coming now? He raises his head and looks straight at me.

  ‘I lied to you … I’m sorry. I lied to you about something very important.’

  My heart’s beating so loudly, I’m sure the other diners must hear it. Barry gives me one of his intense stares.

  ‘I lied to you,’ he repeats, ‘because I wasn’t sure I could trust you … and I wanted to protect her. I wanted to protect our mother, and myself perhaps …’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Our mother, Marie. She isn’t dead, Robert. She’s alive. Our mother is alive.’

  ‘She’s alive …?’ I whisper.

  ‘I’m so sorry I … er … pretended she had died. I wondered if you might be … well, I’m sorry Robert … but, “out for what you could get”, once you realised th
ere was money in the family.’

  ‘You thought I was some sort of gold-digger?’

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose I was afraid you might be. I know it was me who contacted you in the first place, but I knew your life was bound to have been difficult, deprived perhaps. And then once I heard from you about your life, there was every reason for you to feel that you’d had a really “bad deal” in life, especially compared to me.’

  ‘I’d never thought about it that way, Barry. It just never occurred to me,’ I say quietly.

  ‘That’s exactly what I realised when we talked last time. You’re a much nicer person than I am – you definitely are. I felt ashamed of my suspicions, Robert. I really want to make it up to you.’

  ‘So was the cancer a lie?’

  ‘What? Mum? Well, no, not exactly. It’s actually true that she’s not been all that well recently – I promise you, this is all true, Robert. I’m going to be totally honest with you from now on. Always. Mum has been treated for breast cancer. Her oncologist is confident that they’ve caught it early enough, and that all the cancer was removed during her mastectomy. She’s having some chemotherapy to “mop up any rogue cells” as they put it. Apparently, she’ll be closely monitored for a year or two, and then if she progresses well, perhaps less frequently, but still checked regularly.’

  ‘So … she’s alive? Our mother is alive?’

  ‘She is. Marie is alive.’

  I nod. I’m feeling dizzy. I’m afraid I may pass out.

  Chapter 28

  2004

  Barry

  Robert has gone very pale. He looks as though he may faint.

  ‘My mother is alive,’ he whispers.

  Tears start to roll slowly down his cheeks. I stand up and move to behind his chair. I put my arms around him and hold him firmly. I can feel him trembling. It’s a terrible thing I’ve done to him.

  ‘What happens now?’ he says. ‘What do we do next?’

  ‘I think that’s partly up to you, Robert. Maybe we both need to think carefully how we want to go forward. Primarily, I guess there are Marie’s feelings to consider, and yours, of course. That’s why I wanted to meet with you today, so we can discuss the way ahead – openly and honestly. Marie doesn’t know we’ve been seeing each other yet. I felt I had to make sure you want to see her before telling her that you’ve been found.’

  ‘She doesn’t know? Of course I want to see her, but I don’t want her to be upset,’ he says, his chest convulses with a small sob. His whole body is shaking.

  ‘Upset? To hear that you’ve been found? Robert, she’s yearned and longed for you for her entire adult life. She’ll certainly be shocked, but she’ll get over that. She’ll be thrilled, joyful, ecstatic, speechless with happiness. But definitely not upset.’

  The young waitress comes over to us hesitantly. ‘Is everything all right …? Can I get either of you anything …?’

  ‘You could get us a bottle of champagne!’ Robert says, near hysterical.

  ‘Oh … I’m sorry, sir … I don’t think we have champagne.’

  ‘Don’t worry, love, only joking. Maybe bring us some more coffee?’

  She gives a sigh of relief and smiles. ‘I’ll bring some straight back.’

  We both watch her scurrying back towards the stairs.

  ‘So, Barry. What do you think is the next step? Where the hell do we start?’

  ‘Well, as I said, in a way, I think it’s your call, Robert, but I’m happy to make a suggestion.’

  ‘What are you thinking?’

  ‘Well, what I’m thinking is I know this is probably the most momentous piece of news in your entire life, and I’m sure you need some time to think it over, to process what it means now, and what it might mean for you in the future. This mess is my fault, entirely my fault for being so cowardly, and for misjudging you. So, it’s right that whatever we do now should be up to you.

  ‘Having said that, while I had to tell you the most important thing – that Mum is alive, and not dead as I pretended – I now suggest, we don’t rush headfirst into emotional reunions immediately. Let’s give ourselves – and I do mean both of us – some more time to get to know one another, to think about all the implications of this new grouping of relationships.’

  He’s looking at me intently, an agonised expression on his face.

  ‘All these years, you’ve been on your own, Robert. Now suddenly, you’re part of a family: a family of strangers. That’s quite something to take in.’

  ‘Mmm, yeah … you’re right. I suppose there’s a lot of new relationships to negotiate.’

  ‘Yes … and as I said in my letter – I hate to admit this Robert – there are some other things I wasn’t totally honest about.’

  Robert puts his hands over his face.

  ‘Jesus! What else?’

  ‘Well, for one thing, I’m not too well myself …’

  ‘What d’you mean? What’s wrong with you?’

  ‘I won’t beat about the bush, Robert. I’ve had a bit of a drugs problem … no, not a bit, a lot – I’ve had a serious drugs problem … an addiction for some years.’

  ‘You? What … what kind of addiction?’

  ‘Cocaine … heroin too. I am trying to get a hold on it, but it’s hard. Hard drugs, hard problem.’

  ‘I’ve known quite a few druggies, you know, when I was living rough. You don’t seem the sort of person on hard drugs, Barry. I’d never have guessed it.’

  ‘There is no “sort of drugs person”, Robert, and I’ve learned to be quite good at controlling outward appearances.’

  ‘Does our mam know?’

  ‘Yes. She let herself into my flat some years ago, while I was at work. She was bringing some fresh fruit and vegetables that she’d bought at the market nearby. She decided to give the place a clean-up – typical mum you know …’

  I pause in horror at what I’d said.

  ‘No, I don’t know,’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Robert, ’course you don’t. It was just a stupid figure of speech.’

  ‘It’s OK. I know it wasn’t deliberate,’ he says. ‘Does your wife know?’

  ‘Anaïs? Yes, she’s come to know – because it’s made me even more of a bastard than usual. That’s why she doesn’t want to put up with me any longer. I’m not proud of the way I’ve treated her.’

  ‘Phew. What a situation.’

  ‘The thing is … there’s something else to tell you.’

  ‘Bloody hell, Barry. What else?’

  ‘It’s not really something new – it’s something connected with the drug-taking.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well, all these years on heroin and cocaine has really fucked up my health. My kidneys have pretty much packed in.’

  ‘Jesus! How serious? Can they treat you? You had a letter from the hospital, didn’t you? I remember seeing it now – at that café in Durham. What did it say?’

  Robert looks at me, frowning. His mouth is quivering. I can tell what he’s thinking. I’ve only just found my twin brother – am I about to lose him?

  ‘It is serious, Robert, very serious. My specialist has made it clear that a kidney transplant is the only hope.’

  ‘Well, that’s not so bad then, is it? They can do kidney transplants, can’t they? They do them all the time. When are you having the operation?’

  ‘They can do it … but the thing is, there’s a great shortage of kidneys, especially for people with my unusual blood group. In fact, it’s a rare blood group, so highly unlikely that a suitable donor, someone who’s a blood match, will be found in time.’

  ‘But … that’s impossible. There must be people who could be donors! People with the same blood group … there must be!’ He looks like he’s about to burst into tears.

  I’m scratching at the wood grain on the table, looking at my brother. He’s staring at me. His hands are shaking. His mouth is twitching.

  ‘It’s me, isn’t it? I’m the one who’s a match. Identical twin bro
thers have the same blood group.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So … so that’s why you need me! That’s why you sought me out, right? You need my fucking kidney! You never cared about meeting your long-lost brother; you just needed a part of my body! That’s all you wanted me for, right?’

  ‘Robert, you remember I said there would be no more lies? I said I promised to tell you the absolute truth from now on? So I’m going to do that.

  ‘Yes, your kidney could save my life. But when I first found you I didn’t know just how bad my kidneys were. Then, on the morning of our first meeting, I got the letter from the hospital – the one you found on the floor. It didn’t pull any punches. Without a transplant I haven’t got long.

  ‘At first, I thought I would see what you were like as a person. I wanted to persuade you to give me one of your kidneys, but I didn’t know what it would take. Knowing you were bound to have been hard up for most of your life, I thought maybe all it would take would be to offer you enough money. I’m sorry, Robert, to admit this – it’s horrible I know – but I really thought that, having led such a miserable, poor, deprived life, you’d be bound to agree. But then we met, and by the end of that meeting, I realised I was starting to really like you. To be honest, I was drawn to you as to very few people before. I could tell you weren’t hooked on money the way I’ve been. You weren’t motivated by material gain in the same way as me. I admired how you didn’t seem resentful about me having had everything, and you so little in life.’

  I was running out of breath. I had to stop and breathe deeply for a while. Robert watched me, frowning.

  ‘I found I really wanted you to have some of the advantages I’ve been given, Robert. I wanted you to meet our mother, while at first I’d thought to keep you apart from her in case she persuaded you against giving up a kidney. I thought that after all those years of missing you, maybe she wouldn’t want to risk losing you by having a major operation. That’s why I told you she was dead. Why would she? I don’t want to risk losing you either. It’s a terrible thing to have done, Robert – to you, and to her. I know that now.’

 

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