The Lost Twin

by Diana Finley

  I couldn’t go on. My voice cracked, and I could hardly breathe. I put my hands over my face and sobbed like a baby.

  Robert put his arms around me. ‘It’s OK, man, it’s OK. I understand. I’d probably have done the same.’

  ‘No, you wouldn’t. I know you wouldn’t. We may be twins, but we’re different.’

  Robert gives me a little shake to make me look at him. ‘Well I tell you what, brother Barry, you’re not going to pay the bill today. I’m going to – from that ridiculous amount of money you gave me. Let’s get out of here and have a walk by the river before you have to get your train back. That’ll give me a chance to think about your proposal.’

  ‘No! No way. Don’t think about it now. I’m not going to let you make any decisions about that today, Robert, unless it’s definitely no, which I’d absolutely understand. In fact, not before our next meet-up in the Cheviots. You have to promise not to make a decision, nor to tell me about it, until after that walk in the hills in April.

  ‘And if you still want more time after that, it’s fine. I want you to know I’d completely accept a negative answer, with no hard feelings. There’s still a faint chance of finding a donor from the data bank, so there’s no pressure on you.’

  Chapter 29

  2004

  Robert

  As we walk, Barry tells me a few other untruths on his conscience. For example, the beard at our first meeting had been hastily grown to make us look less alike, less obviously twins. At the time, he seemed to think that if anyone saw us and later remembered us as twins, it could be assumed he’d somehow tricked me into giving up a kidney. Totally irrational perhaps … but part of his guilty conscience. Well, I’d already sensed part of it. Also, he doesn’t really have glaucoma, he tells me, that was just a pretence to explain why he was hiding behind sunglasses on a cloudy winter’s day – another part of his disguise.

  I could start to wonder if Barry is a pathological liar, but I prefer to put the ‘pretences’ down to his initial distrust of my motives – even though he was the one who had contacted me in the first place! I’m trying hard to believe he really is determined to be truthful from now on. If my life were on the line that way, how far might I go, might any of us go, to save ourselves?

  As to the issue of whether to agree to part with one of my kidneys, I need to think hard about it, and maybe do some research into the effects of living with only one kidney – as well as the implications for Barry of not having a well-matched transplant. I decide to talk to Belle, one of my few loyal and totally trustworthy friends, who also has some medical knowledge. I know she’ll give me some straight opinions.

  ***

  After Barry’s revelations in York, I spoke to Belle to ask for her advice. She’s always calm and wise, and straight to the point.

  ‘It seems to me you’ve got strong feelings for this newfound brother of yours, Robert, am I right?’ she said.

  ‘Yes, I guess I have. He’s the only family I’ve got; at least, he’s the only one I’ve met so far. I have a mother, Belle, but I’ve not met her yet. That’s the next big thing to happen.’

  Belle gives me one of her huge smiles, and then changes to a serious face. ‘Yes, that’s wonderful news, Robbie – a mother Barry told you was dead, right? That was a terrible, terrible thing to pretend to you.’

  ‘He knows it was a bad thing to do. It’s all sorted out now, Belle. He’s explained why he told me that. He’s a bit of an enigma, is Barry. I think he’s been used to having his own way. I’m making sure I stay in control, but I have been giving the question of the possible kidney donation a lot of thought.’

  ‘Sounds to me like you’re leaning towards agreeing to it. You know I trained as a nurse, Robbie, don’t you? I worked with the transplant team for a while. It’s true people can certainly live fine with only one kidney, but that’s not to say it’s a minor thing. It’s a major operation for you as well as for him, remember. Also, you’ve got to be well sure your one remaining kidney is in good shape, and will see you through the rest of your life.’ She pauses and looks at me.

  ‘But without a doubt, assuming it’s a match, it would give your brother the best chance of life.’

  That’s enough for me. I’ve made a decision.

  Chapter 30

  2004

  Marie

  I can’t remember the last time Barry came round to my house. So today feels like a treat – a special occasion. He rang to say he had something to tell me. Something important, he said. I’m delighted, if a little apprehensive. Is it good news or bad? You never know with Barry. Either way it feels like a special occasion, and special occasions in Erna’s house always meant cake. As Easter isn’t too far away, I decide to make a Simnel cake. Like Erna always was, Barry is fond of almonds and marzipan, has been ever since he was a little boy. He used to love rolling the little marzipan balls for the top of the cake in his hands.

  ‘The little balls represent Jesus’s disciples. We need to make eleven.’ I tell him.

  ‘Why not twelve balls, Mammy?’ Barry asks, even though he knows full well. ‘There were twelve disciples.’

  ‘Yes, but we don’t want Judas, do we, Barry?’

  ‘Why not, Mammy?’

  ‘Because he was bad, son, that’s why. He betrayed Jesus, didn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, that was mean, so we won’t put him on our cake, will we?’ he says with satisfaction, popping Judas into his mouth.

  ***

  I cut Barry a piece of the cake and pour coffee for us both. It’s a mild day for early spring, so we sit with the doors to the garden open, letting the sunshine flood in.

  ‘Mmm, Simnel cake. That’s a treat, Mum.’

  ‘Here you are, Barry love, and there’s plenty for seconds. You look like you need feeding up.’

  He looks dreadful. Worse than usual; frail and ill. I’ve not seen him quite so pale before. I sit next to him on the sofa.

  ‘Pity you didn’t bring Anaïs and Nina too, Barry. It’s a while since I’ve seen them.’

  ‘Probably not as long as since I’ve seen them, Mum. You know we’re not seeing each other just now.’

  How I hate the bitter tone he uses when he speaks about Anaïs these days.

  ‘Well, more fool you. It’s a crying shame.’

  ‘Look, Mum, let’s not talk about that today. I haven’t come to talk about me and Anaïs. I’ve something very important to tell you.’

  ‘Not more bad news, I hope, son.’

  ‘I think you’ll agree it’s not bad news at all. In fact, it may be the best news I could bring you.’

  ‘Oh, I could just do with some good news. Come on then, spit it out.’

  ‘I’ve found him.’

  At first I don’t understand. I look blankly at Barry for several seconds. Then I feel nausea washing through me. Is it …? Can it be …? I can’t get enough oxygen. My lungs aren’t working properly. I pant and gasp frantically, trying to suck more air into my lungs. I think I’m about to collapse, or maybe have a stroke. I stare at Barry, and open my mouth, trying to speak, but no sound comes out.

  ‘Mum, I’ve found him,’ Barry repeats. ‘I’ve found Donal.’

  ‘Donal!!’ I hear the word come out of me, an unearthly howl. I clasp my face in both hands, trying to keep it upright, but some force throws my head back. I gasp for air. I can’t think of any words. Is it possible? I’m afraid I may be losing my mind.

  ‘Oh God! Oh God! Oh dear God! Are you telling me the truth, Barry? Is it true? You’ve found my Donal! My boy! My baby!’ I hear myself scream.

  Barry’s looking at me anxiously, like he’s wondering if I’m losing my mind too, wondering if maybe he shouldn’t have told me. Yet how else could he have shared his news?

  Barry gets up and kneels on the floor in front of me. He puts his arms around my waist and holds me firmly against his chest. He strokes my hair. I’m trembling and moaning, swaying backwards and forwards despite his grip on me; I can’t control it. He squeezes me
tightly.

  ‘Ssshhh,’ he croons. ‘Ssshhh, Mum. It’s all right. Yes, I’ve found Donal, I really have, and I’ve met him! He’s doing really well.’

  I sit bolt upright, and try to focus my mind on what he’s told me. I look him straight in the face.

  ‘He’s well? He’s all right? What does he look like, Barry? Is he just like you? Where is he? Is he here, in London? Does he want to see me? He doesn’t hate me, does he? Please tell me he doesn’t hate me.’

  ‘Whoa! One thing at a time … I’m going to answer all your questions, Mum,’ Barry says quietly, ‘I promise. I’m going to tell you all about Donal. Everything I know. But I need you to calm down a bit. I’m going to get you a drink, some brandy. It’ll make you feel calmer. We’ll each have some, OK?’

  Very slowly, as if he’s afraid I may return to the madness of before, Barry releases his grip on me. He stands up, watching as I continue to rock backwards and forwards on the sofa. He disappears into the kitchen and returns a few moments later with two small glasses.

  He sits on the chair directly opposite me.

  ‘Here,’ he says, handing me a glass. ‘Drink this, Mum. It’ll make you feel better.’

  The smell of it nearly makes me gag, but he’s right. I swallow some and it courses down my throat in a red-hot stream. I cough and choke, and then sip some more. Its heat is a comfort, reaching every extremity of my body.

  ‘Thank you, darling. That’s better. I’m all right. Please tell me about Donal now.’

  ***

  I’m going to see my son, my Donal, very soon. First, Barry is going to meet him in the wilds of Northumberland in four days’ time. It’s been arranged for a while. Donal lives in Newcastle. Barry’s already spent some time with him. He wanted to meet Donal before telling me, to make sure he was all right, not resentful, not revengeful about being ‘given away’.

  ‘I was really impressed by Donal, Mum,’ Barry tells me, ‘for all he’s had a difficult life, he’s got a lovely, kind, thoughtful personality.’

  ‘Has he …?’ I whisper shakily. ‘Yes, of course he has. I knew he would have.’

  I picture him. I hear his voice. Every thought of him, my Donal, brings fresh tears of joy.

  ‘So far we’ve met twice in all, Mum. The first time in Durham and then after that, in York. I’ve spoken to him on the phone several times too.’

  I nod, soaking up every word Barry says.

  ‘Meeting up the first time was very strange, almost unreal – a strange experience for both of us, very emotional. But we got on well, straightaway. We’re growing closer all the time. He’s dying to meet you, but he’s also very nervous. He’s never been to London. He wants me to take him down, as he feels a bit at ease with me now. I know you can hardly wait to see him, but do you think you can bear to wait just another couple of weeks?’

  ‘I’ve waited over thirty-five years now, so I have, and had no choice in the matter. I guess I can wait another two weeks. But it will be hard, Barry. I ache to see him – now, right here in front of me. Until then I can’t quite believe it’s true. But I know it is. Thank you, dearest Barry, for making my dreams come true, for making it possible.’

  For once he takes the initiative; he stands up, walks over to me, and gives me a huge hug.

  Donal’s adoptive parents named him Robert, but he’ll always be Donal to me. Why, oh why couldn’t they have told me that his adoptive parents gave him back to social services when he was only tiny? Why didn’t they tell me years ago? Why couldn’t they return him to me then? All those years we could have been together – wasted.

  Still, I’m not going to focus on those lost years, not now. I just can’t wait to see my boy, to hold him, to love him. I’m really proud of Barry too, for the sensitive way he’s handled getting to know his brother. I’m touched that he’s been so thoughtful and protective of me. For all Barry’s faults he’s got a good heart. He can be difficult, but there’s good in him too. I just wish he were stronger, fitter. At least a day or two of fresh air and walks in Northumberland should do him good.

  After their short break up there, Barry is going to bring Donal to London to stay in his flat with him. Time for Donal to get to know all his family, but gradually. Starting with me of course. I don’t know how I’ll contain all my feelings for Donal for the next two or three weeks! If only Erna was here to meet him. How thrilled she’d have been.

  I’m bursting to tell Sylvia about him, and Anaïs, and Elsie. But I’ll not tell anyone, not yet, not ’til he and I have met. One step at a time. Oh, what joy! If only Erna were still with us – how she would have loved to know Donal.

  Chapter 31

  2004

  Robert

  Just four days before we’re due to meet up in the hills, Barry rings my new mobile to check I’m still coming. He sounds tired.

  ‘Don’t forget I gave you a detailed map of Northumberland, Robert,’ he tells me. ‘There’s a map reference for the exact spot in the Cheviots for us to meet in April. You’ll see it’s marked on the map with a red circle. You have kept the map, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve got it. That’s fine, thanks.’

  ‘I’ve written the date and time for us to meet and some clear directions to get there. You can drive, Robert, can you?’

  ‘I can drive … I mean, I’ve passed the test. But I don’t have a car of my own. I’ll need to hire a car to get there. Unless we meet in Newcastle instead, Barry, and you can take me up to that place in the hills in your hire car?’

  He pauses before replying, as if he’s seriously considering my suggestion, but I sense he doesn’t like it. I’ve noticed Barry always likes to have his own ideas about arrangements, and doesn’t appreciate deviating away from his set plan.

  ‘I really think it’s best if we travel independently, Robert. You know … my train from London might be delayed and I wouldn’t want to keep you waiting.’

  ‘Hmmm, well … either one of us could be delayed on the way to the Cheviot meeting place. But anyway, it’s OK, whatever’s easier for you, Barry. You’re the one who’s got further to come.’

  ‘That’s right. Well now … er … as you’ve got to hire a car … I’ll send you …’ he starts to say.

  ‘No, no, Barry. It’s fine, absolutely fine. No problem. You’ve given me more than enough already, man,’ I interrupt, anticipating his offer of further funds.

  ‘Hmm … all right then, if you’re sure.’ He sounds mildly put out. ‘So, you’re all set for our get-together are you, Robert?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve got the car hire planned booked. I found a different outfit to yours in the end.’

  ‘Oh? Not the one I suggested near the Central Station? It seemed so convenient.’

  I smile at this anticipated response. ‘Well, it is convenient for your return journey, Barry. But you know me – I’m always after a bargain. I found a hire company that was cheaper, further along the river. Anyway, it’s no problem; I’ve got an OK car in mind.’

  I want to resist his tendency to control me, and he doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like me asserting my own arrangements.

  ‘You know, Robert, you’ve got to get out of that “find the cheapest” mindset. Money’s not going to be a problem for you from now on. Start thinking about what’s most convenient – and best quality – first.’

  He sounds slightly fussed and flustered. I try teasing him out of it.

  ‘Are you sure you’re OK to drive, Barry? What with the glaucoma?’ I ask him.

  ‘The what …? Oh yeah, ha ha, very funny … the glaucoma. I’m absolutely fine driving. Anyway Robert, it’ll be great to see you again. Drive very carefully, won’t you.’

  ‘Yeah, you too. See you April 7th.’

  It’s all very well for Barry to tell me to reform my cheapskate ‘mindset’, but habits of a lifetime take more than just a few weeks to change! I’m used to making my own decisions, and not sure I want to trust Barry’s view of the world all the time. When I check, the Quays
ide car hire looks very expensive to me. All right, I’ve enough money now, thanks to Barry. He’s made it possible for me to have choices, which I enjoy, but I’ve no intention of asking him for more money. Why waste it if I can find a cheaper firm?

  There’s another issue too. I don’t have a valid driving licence, even though I did pass my driving test. The ramshackle outfit I’ve found probably won’t give a toss about details like that.

  So I decide to go down to the riverside and look for myself. Not the smart dolled-up area of the Quayside, with the huge glass, slug-shaped concert hall, expensive restaurants, and the Millennium Bridge, changing colour as you watch it. That’s what tourists and visitors see as their train rolls over the rail bridge into Newcastle station. Probably think it’s a right posh city. Probably have no idea what lies beyond – but I do.

  Where I go is the messy, upstream part of the Tyne; where down-and-outs doss down behind piles of old bricks or rubbish bins; where hopeful old guys swing fishing rods out over the black water; where scruffy kids bunk off school to kick a deflated ball around and chuck stones into the water’s edge – laughing and running away if they splash passers-by with mud.

  I noticed it a while back: a rough, tumble-down garage with a notice claiming they did car rentals. At least it looks cheap – or so I think. That’s what drew me to the place in the first instance, but it soon becomes clear that renting any car at all is going to cost an arm and a leg! The car rental guys turn out to be right sharks – they tell me they usually demand a credit card, which I don’t have, of course. They’d have known that just by looking at me.

  So I have to leave the rotten car rental outfit a large deposit just to book it for April 7th. They act like they’re doing me a favour! Truth is, they’ve got me over a barrel; they tell me I’m lucky to find any company willing to trust me without a credit card. I know that’s true. Of course it’s daylight robbery. Just as well Barry has given me all that money. Money might not mean much to him, but I haven’t spent so much in one go for years – and that’s without any petrol!