Double (9 page)

H
elen and Frank and Edie were sitting at the kitchen table when I got back. Helen stubbed out her cigarette. She said, “I thought you were in bed.”

“I needed some air.”

“How was it?” Edie said. Her hair was wet, just washed. She looked very young.

“Good,” I said. “I saw Floyd.”

Helen coughed suddenly and convulsively, like she’d just breathed in water. Edie went white and shook her head at me, a quick, tight, definite warning.

Only Frank didn’t react. I don’t think he heard. He was reading the paper, and he closed it, shook it out, and folded it neatly—rustle, crack, and rustle. He showed me the cover. There was a picture of us, dead center, under the headline
HOME AT LAST
. I took it out of his hand.

“‘Cassiel Roadnight, of Felindre, near Hay-on-Wye, has returned to his family after a long absence,’” I read out loud. “‘Cassiel went missing at Hay on Fire two years ago, and his family have fought long and hard to find him. “This is a vindication of all our hard work,” said his sister, Edie.’”

“No I didn’t,” Edie said. “We all know I never said a word.”

“‘Cassiel’s brother, Frank, a banker now living in London, and his mother, Helen . . .’”

Helen pointed at herself and giggled.

“‘. . . said they couldn’t be more delighted and overjoyed at his safe return.’”

I studied the photo. I didn’t look like an impostor. I looked real and clean and loved and at home. I looked like Cassiel Roadnight. It’s amazing what storms your face can hide, what terrible wrecks can writhe and heave beneath, without one ripple on the surface. I looked at that picture and saw a family reunited with their son. It was thrilling.

But under the thrill, and the weird swell of pride, there was a black seam of panic, like coal deep under the swell of the hills around us. I let it play out in my head like a movie.

Wherever he was, Cassiel saw the picture of him that wasn’t him. He snatched up the paper to take a closer look, this picture of me with his family, bunching it up in his fists. He tore out my face, a ragged square in his pocket, a space in the picture where I . . . where he had been. Cassiel Roadnight was on his way back to take everything.

I could feel him getting closer. He was on the train, watching the country slip by, watching his face, our face, in the window. I saw him walking up the long hill to the new house. I had this sudden crystal-clear picture of him at the front door. The boy whose life I’d stolen, finally home. I had this instant crippling vision of us meeting here in this room, of us coming face-to-face, me and my lie. Frank would go out on the porch to meet him. I imagined him coming in with his arm around his real brother, the same way he had done with me. I would try to get past them, out through the door, but someone would stop me. I would throw myself through a window, all blood and glass, and flee into the night.

Frank was talking to me. I dragged myself into the room again, into reality.

“Isn’t it great?” he said. “Now it’s official.”

“Yes,” I said.

“Seeing it in print like that,” Helen said, “makes it real. It really brings it home.”

“Yes, it does,” said Frank. “Cass is home and nobody can take him away from us.”

Yes they can, I thought. And you’d never guess who.

I went to his room. I put a chair by the window and I sat, watching for him. What would happen when Cassiel Roadnight showed up at the door?

If I saw him coming, I could run. I could leave by one door, and he could enter by another, seamless, the switch unnoticed, the kindest thing. The others wouldn’t have to know, then. I wouldn’t exist. They wouldn’t need to hate me.

That’s what I was scared of, more than anything.

I didn’t have to run. I could stay and fight. I could open the door to him and say, “Go away. I got here first. You are already here.” Or I could wage war. I could lie in wait for him. I could sit here, at the top of my castle, on the lookout for the enemy. I could bring the fight to him. I could stop him from ever arriving.

Would I wipe Cassiel Roadnight off the face of the earth, if I had to, to protect what I had? When it came to it, would I make that choice?

I sat by the window and watched and wondered. How much did I want this? How far was I prepared to go?

Not to murder. I couldn’t do that, however much I wanted what I’d taken.

Edie came in without knocking. “What are you doing in here?” she said.

“Thinking.”

My hands were gripping the sides of the chair so hard that they ached. I let go and flexed my fingers. I didn’t take my eyes off the window. I didn’t get up.

“What’s the matter?” she said. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Do you hate being home?” she said.

“Why?”

“Do you hate playing happy families?”

What was I meant to say to that? Happy families is a dream come true. I’m trying to get used to it. I can’t ever enjoy it because it’s always about to end.

I said, “I think we’re all right, we’re all pretty happy.”

She yawned, took her hair and tied it in a knot at her neck. “Now you’re just being funny.”

“No, I’m not.”

“It’s okay. It’ll wear off soon anyway,” she said.

Not so much wear off as explode in my face.

“One of us will crack,” she said. “It’s bound to be Frank, as usual.”

“What do you mean by that?” I said.

I knew it was more likely to be me. Or the surface of the earth, to swallow me up. Or all of them, when they found out the truth.

“The Floyd thing,” Edie said.

I remembered her face, wide and white. I remembered the quick tight shake of the head. “What about it?”

“It can’t happen,” she said.

“What?”

“Just don’t talk about him,” Edie said. “Don’t mention his name.”

“Why not?”

She looked at the ceiling, shrugged her shoulders.

“Frank won’t like it,” she said. “Just please don’t.”

I wondered what Frank had against Floyd. Maybe he didn’t like the way he dressed.

“I’m meeting him later,” I said.

“Floyd?”

I nodded.

“Why?” Edie said. “Why would you do that?”

I looked at her. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Of all people,” she said, shutting her eyes, shaking her head. “You can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Where are you meeting him? He’s not welcome here. He knows he shouldn’t come.”

“What’s he done?”

“Oh God,” she said. “Mum will lose it, seriously. Frank will go mad. That’ll be
it
. Don’t meet him, Cass. Don’t bother.”

Helen pushed the door open. I hadn’t heard her coming. “Don’t meet who?” she said.

Edie looked up. “No one.”

Helen stared at me. I remembered her sudden coughing fit at the mention of Floyd’s name.

“Is it Floyd?” she said. “Are you talking about Floyd?”

“No,” Edie said, but Helen wasn’t looking at her, she was looking at me.

She looked like someone who’d woken up too fast. She looked utterly lost. “Why?” she said, holding on to the door handle, turning it and turning it.

“Floyd’s my friend. I want to see him.”

“He’s not your
friend
,” Helen said. “What are you talking about?” And then she yelled down the stairs. “Frank!”

“What?”

She stood in the doorway, looking from me to Edie and back again, panic bubbling to the surface of her voice. “Frank, come here!”

“No, Mum, don’t,” Edie said. “It’s okay. He won’t go.” She looked at me. “Will you.”

Helen breathed in, ready to shout again.

“What?” Frank called from downstairs.

“He’ll phone him, won’t you, Cass?” Edie said to her. “He’ll tell Floyd he can’t make it.”

“What is it?” Frank said again, loud.

“Please,” Edie said to both of us. “Come on. It’s fine. Don’t bother him.”

Nobody moved. I wondered why Edie was so keen not to let Frank know. I wondered why she was so anxious about it. I could feel her fear in the room, fear that quickened her voice and opened her pupils and brought a high color to her cheeks. What was she so afraid of?

Helen stared at me. I couldn’t stare her down. I looked away.

“Cass, please phone him,” Edie said. “Phone him now.”

I didn’t know his number. Of course I didn’t. I said, “I haven’t got my phone.”

She said she’d look the number up.

“What do you want?” Frank yelled. I heard him start to come up.

Edie was almost beside herself. She was scared of him. It was like I was letting a monster climb the stairs. I couldn’t watch it happen.

“Okay,” I said quickly. “I’ll phone him.”

She breathed out hard, went to the door and called down to him. “It’s nothing. Mum saw a big spider. We’ve got it.”

Then she left the room and came back with the phone book, her finger on Floyd’s number. She gave me her mobile phone. I did as I was told. I took it from her, listened to it ring. Helen stood just inside the room the whole time and
watched me.

“Hello?”

“Floyd. It’s Cass.”

“Yeah. I’m leaving now.”

“No. Don’t. Maybe it’s not a good idea.”

“Ah.”

“Sorry.”

“I get it. I knew it.”

“What?”

“It’s fine. I’m sorry. It was nice knowing you.”

“What?”

“See you around.”

“No,” I said. “I can’t.” I stressed the last word. I hoped he’d know what I meant. I couldn’t talk in front of Edie and Helen. I couldn’t say anything. But I still wanted to meet him.

“Cass?”

“Yes.”

“Can you talk?”

Bingo. “No.”

“Okay. So.”

“So.”

“So what do you want to do?”

I didn’t say anything. I waited for him to work it out.

“I’ll be at the clock tower anyway, how about that? I’ll be there this afternoon. I’ll wait.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Will you come?”

“Yes.”

“If you can, right? See you there.”

“Yes.”

I ended the call, gave it back to Edie.

“Thanks,” Edie said.

And I said to Helen, “Okay?”

Helen nodded. She wrapped her arms around herself.

I wondered if I was supposed to know what the hell was going on. I wondered if I was allowed to ask.

Helen broke the silence. It was like nothing had just happened, the way she spoke. Her voice was different, light and sunny, like she’d instantly forgotten.

“I’m going out with Frank,” she said. “He’s buying me lunch.”

“Have a good time,” I said.

Edie said, “Mum,” and Helen turned.

“Don’t tell him,” Edie said. “It’s sorted now. Cass has sorted it. Don’t tell Frank. You know what he’s like.”

Helen nodded. She put her finger to her lips and smiled at us, and closed the door on her way out.

We were quiet for a minute. Edie played with the corner of a pillow. She opened a drawer and shut it again.

“Since when were you and Floyd friends?” she said.

“He’s all right,” I said. “I like him.”

Edie shook her head and smiled at me, a wary, uncomfortable smile. “That’s not what you used to say.”

“What did I used to say?”

“That he was a weirdo. That he would never belong. That he made you uncomfortable. That he made your skin crawl.”

Cassiel didn’t like Floyd. And I’d wandered into another minefield. I had to tread carefully and back right out.

I shrugged it off. I said, “Maybe I’m trying to be more tolerant.”

“Well, don’t bother trying with him.”

“Why not?”

“Test your new personality out on someone else,” Edie said. “Floyd isn’t our friend, Cass. He’s not a friend of this family.”

“What did he do?”

“He’s a liar.”

So am I. I’m the biggest liar you’ll ever meet. Everything about
me is a lie.

“What did he lie about?” I said.

“He said you were dead, Cass.”

“So? Lots of people thought I was dead. You said
you
thought I was.”

“He said he
knew
you were dead. He told everyone. He told the police. He went crazy.”

“I didn’t know about that,” I said. “How could I know about that?”

“Well, I’m telling you now,” she said. “Why were you suddenly so interested in hanging out with him? Where did that come from?”

“Why would he do that?” I said. “Why would he say that?”

“I have no idea,” she said. “He said he had proof.”

“What proof?”

“Exactly,” she said. “You’re not dead, so how the hell could Floyd prove it?”

I had this thought, and every cell in me stopped to look at it.

I wasn’t dead. But . . . maybe Cassiel Roadnight was.

“It was horrible,” Edie said. “It was sick and twisted. He wouldn’t shut up.”

I couldn’t stop thinking it. It rang in my head like a bell.

“We were trying so hard to believe you were alive,” she said. “We were all just hoping. And Frank was doing
everything
. Frank—”

I turned away from the window. “What did Floyd say exactly?”

“He said you were dead,” Edie told me. “He said he knew for sure, and—”

“And what?”

“It didn’t come to anything, Cass. He didn’t have proof. He was just trying to make trouble, and nothing happened. He’s just a twisted, evil little—”

“What?”
I said. “Just tell me. I’m going to find out anyway.”

Edie looked at me. She bit her lip. “He said Frank did it.”

It thrust me right back to the center of my own body. My eyesight was pin-sharp. My ears popped clear, like up until now I’d been listening to her through a wall. My blood stopped moving in my body. I swear it did. I felt for the cold, hard edge of the desk behind me. I felt for the chair so I could sit down in it without falling.

“Shit,” I said. I felt the color drain out of my face. My thoughts careered into one another, out of control.

“I know,” she said. “You can imagine how upset he was; we all were.”

“God!” I said. My body was ice cold. It was warm in his room and I was shivering.

“Now you see why you can’t meet Floyd,” Edie said. “Why we hate him.”

“I don’t understand,” I said, not really to her, just out loud.

“Me neither. It was a sick joke. And now you’re back, proving him wrong just by being here.”