But what Max wants, moving back home and having children, terrifies me more than the chaos. How could I ever have a child and stay sane? She’d not be allowed to walk to school alone or go to sleepovers or have boyfriends. I’d never leave her side knowing one day she could disappear like Edie and I’d be left forever wondering. A child raised in a glass cage. And what sort of life is that for a child or for me? Max always thought I’d change my mind about having children. I won’t.
My phone beeps with an incoming text. Cassie: GET A MOVE ON.
Half an hour of dawdling between the bedroom and bathroom to clean my teeth, spray on deodorant, put on a loose-fitting blouse, jeans and strappy sandals, comb my hair, drag mascara across my lashes and I’m ready to leave the flat. Last night’s rain has raised the humidity and the tube’s heat and claustrophobia will be too much today, so I catch the bus. It’s slower but I’m already late and at least I’ll be able to breathe.
A red light halts our two yards of progress along the Caledonian Road. From the top deck I watch a girl pass by on the street below. She’s in school uniform with curly hair that hangs to her waist. It’s not her. I know it’s not her. I’m not going to look. The bus lurches forwards. I turn around. Sensing my stare, the girl glances up. Other than the hair, she’s nothing like Edie and she’s a schoolgirl. I forget Edie’s grown up now. I have to believe she’s grown up.
*
At work, the office intern is hovering by the door. I smile at him.
‘Be a love and get me a coffee will you, Oliver?’
‘Sure,’ he says. ‘And it’s Oscar.’
‘Of course, sorry. Oscar. Americano.’
‘No milk, no sugar. I remember.’
‘You’re a star.’
I head for my desk. It’s not unusual for people in our office to turn up late and dishevelled. In advertising sales most of our pay is commission, so it’s your own loss. And on my good days I bring in a lot of sales. Only there haven’t been so many good days recently and I can’t remember the last time I was at my desk by nine. The laptop flickers to life and I lean back in my chair. I used to be able to switch myself on and off like that computer. Not any more. Now the previous evening lingers until early afternoon.
My coffee arrives. Oscar tries to make small talk. I tell him I’ve too much work to do to sit around chatting. I sip the coffee and stare at my screen for ten minutes then open a spreadsheet. My mobile rings. It’s Dad. He works for his brother, my uncle Ray, so gets away with doing very little. He often rings up during the day to pass the time and chats on about the weather, how it’s affected the garden or the mid-week West Brom match. He asks after me and after Max. We never mention Edie. From our conversations, you’d never know I had a twin.
I’m not in the mood today and send his call to voicemail.
*
Whatever was keeping me buzzing last night has long since left my system and my mind has gone the same way as my body. Caffeine isn’t doing the trick. I need rest, so head for the toilets. As I walk past, Nadine taps her watch.
‘Ten minutes,’ she says.
Not enough time for a nap.
Instead, I splash water on my face.
‘Your mascara’s gonna run.’
A figure emerges from the cubicle behind me. Flawless skin, neat hair, ironed clothes. Cassie. The last time I’d seen her was about 3 a.m., when she was dancing with some vaguely famous DJ. Now, she turns up looking like someone who’s had eight hours’ sleep whilst being drip-fed wheatgrass.
‘How do you manage it, Cass?’ I say. ‘Weren’t you out as late as me?’
‘Out, but not out of it. You need to slow down, Tess Piper.’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ I say.
I pat my face dry with a paper towel. Its rough texture scrapes against my skin.
‘Seriously, you look terrible,’ she says.
‘Thanks,’ I say.
‘Anytime.’
We laugh, which hurts my ribs.
There’s something about Cass that reminds me of Edie. Despite being cousins, they don’t look alike. It’s more the elegance she gives her clothes. If I wore a tight-fitting top with short feather sleeves, I’d look like a drag queen. Cassie looks like a model, long-necked and glossy. You’d imagine her to be highly strung, but she’s easy-going and fun. Nadine passes on our not so infrequent fuck-ups to her and soon the clients are cooing.
She pulls a can of Red Bull from her bag.
‘Even with a good night’s sleep you’d need one of these to get through Nadine’s strategy meetings.’
‘Thanks.’
I take it and tug on the ring pull. It smells of bubble gum and makes me wrinkle my nose.
‘Drink it,’ she says. ‘You shouldn’t even be here in your state.’
‘I’ve come in worse.’
‘But y’know … with what you told me.’
The drink’s sickly sweetness bubbles on my stomach. What the hell did I tell her?
‘You’ve been with Max for nine years. You’re not going to get over it in one night.’
I don’t remember telling her this. I’ve made a point of not telling anyone, hoping Max will change his mind and we can limp on as we are.
‘Cass, I’m fine.’
My stomach contracts. I think I’m going to throw up.
Cassie finishes washing her hands.
‘Maybe you two can still work things out.’
I give a non-committal, ‘Hmm.’
Cassie gives me a quick smile and squeezes my shoulder.
‘Three minutes,’ she says.
I wait till the click of her heels disappears down the corridor, then dive into the nearest cubicle. All the sugary red fizz shoots straight up my nose as I retch into the bowl. Cass is right, I need to slow down. I shouldn’t have told her about Max.
I return to the sink and rinse my mouth out. It’s less than one minute till the meeting and Nadine always starts on time. In the mirror I look old and the strip light gives my skin a muddy-green tinge, my face looks drawn and puffy at the same time. Maybe in natural light I only look tired.
I sit down at the central desk just as Nadine is organising her papers. The meeting starts with Nadine banging on about professionalism and commitment. I look round the table, as if this applies to everyone but me. My phone rings. Dad again. Nadine glares at me.
‘We
