Twins

Yesterday afternoon I went to the hospital with Jemima to visit Holber, the woman whose job I’ve been doing. It was weird to be back in hospital again, my feet squeaking on the lino floor surrounded by the antiseptic hospital smell that had an occasional undercurrent of urine and boiled cabbage. I felt like I should be in my uniform, bustling down to A & E ready to face the scared, the belligerent and the intoxicated. But instead I followed Jemima to Holber’s bedside and sat quietly while Holber told us that she was hoping to come home soon and, after a week’s convalescence, she would be fit to work again.

When we arrived back at the Golden Chain there was a strange man sitting on the doorstep. Well, he was strange to me but Jemima knew him. It was Horace, the husband who’d left 10 years ago. No one had seen him since, but from the way he talked to Jemima, you’d think he’d just popped out for a packet of jello. At first, when he started asking, “Where’s the twins?" I thought he was talking about me and Ann and I suddenly felt a huge pang of homesickness.

Jemima told him that Lucy had gone away to help a friend and she hadn’t seen Leo for about 7 years. He tended to find life difficult and she suspected that he’d had some kind of breakdown just before he left. “Left suddenly,” she said, “I came home one evening and he was gone. No note or anything.” She glared at Horace. “Like father, like son.”

Horace paced up and down asking, “How do you know he’s not dead?” but not listening to the answer Jemima gave, which was that Leo sent the occasional postcard saying, “Don’t worry, I’m doing OK.” She offered to get them for him and went into the house to find them. Horace followed her in and within minutes I heard raised voices in the kitchen. “You should have looked after them,” he shouted, “I left you in charge of my twins and when I come back, I find you’ve let them go off God knows where.” “They’re adults,” Jemima said, “adults!”

I went upstairs out of the way. Jez was on the computer. “Hey, look at this,” he said as soon as I walked through the door, “They did a virtual funeral in an online game for one of the players who really died.” “Yeah?” I said, not really listening. “And a bunch of other players raided the funeral,” he went on, “and it all ended up in chaos.”

I sat down on the bed and said, “Holber’s coming back to work soon. I’ll lose my job.” “Hmm?” said Jez, still looking at the screen. Then the door burst open and there was Horace, his face all red and angry. “Clues,” he said, “I need clues about where Lucy is. I’ve got to find her. Maybe she knows where Leo is.” He pulled the pictures down off the wall and stuffed them in his pocket. He took the books down off the bookshelves, flicked through them then tossed them on the floor. When the bookshelves were empty but the floor was piled up, he searched through all the drawers, most of which had mine and Jez’s stuff in. Any letters or documents, including the one from Aliss, he slid inside his shirt because his pockets were full. Then he turned to the computer. “Get off there,” he said to Jez, “I need to look for clues.” Jez hesitated before standing up and letting Horace sit down in front of the computer. He put his hands on the keyboard and then looked up at Jez. “How do you work this damn thing?”

I left them to it and went to sit out in the garden and try AP again. It was still his answerphone and I left another message. What’s up with these people, saying mysterious things and then never having their mobile turned on?