Colin M. Johnson's Fiction - Novels

"ONE POTATO, TWO"

by Colin M. Johnson

CHAPTER 1


      It was not until mid-November, on a bright morning with the sun shining cheerfully through drawn curtains beside her bed, that a long-awaited change came in the young patient's condition.   Ever since she'd been found near the scene of a fatal road accident two months earlier, she had lain in a South London hospital, unconscious, unclaimed and unidentified.

      But now, at last, her dormant brain was beginning to stir.

      First came Awareness.   She was conscious only of Being, but it was a pleasantly satisfying feeling.   And in the instant of recognising her own being, this simple awareness blossomed to embrace a knowledge of Area, followed soon by the third and vital dimension of Reality, as her young mind drifted gently back into the everyday world of spaciousness and light.

      For a while, all around her remained pink - a smooth, delicate, flamingo pink, pretty enough in itself, yet incomplete - until gradually a certainty dawned that there had to be more.   And so, as if by a miracle, her eyelids slowly parted, and the gift of sight returned.

      There was no focus yet, no concentration on any image - just a myriad of colours, as though someone had been kind enough to shower her with a sackful of shimmering, iridescent sweets.

      The eyes opened wider and she blinked at the tall figures in white who stood above and around her like angels.   Then came hurrying footsteps, and voices too, echoing as if a million miles away - yet sounding only inches from her face.   The faraway voices seemed to be calling loudly, while those nearby uttered the merest whisper, all bringing her the same golden message.

      "She's awake!" breathed a nurse.   "Bless her darling little heart, she's woken up.   Good morning, my love, welcome back.   No, don't try to talk - just smile to let us all know you can hear what I'm saying."

      The little patient obliged with a weak gape, like a contented inebriate.

      And at that precise moment, some thirty miles away, an identical seven-year-old knew beyond a shadow of doubt that her missing twin sister Wendy was still alive.  

****

      Aunt Dottie would understand.   Aunt Dottie knew all about twins.   The whole family knew about twins, but Dottie had actually been there, seven and a half years ago, to see the girls being born.

      In fact, Dottie's presence that April day had nearly given the midwife a heart attack in the road outside Trudy's front gate.   She'd returned mid-morning to check that all was well after the double home delivery in the early hours, and came face to face with the lady she'd known briefly as the new mother, now fully dressed and about to mow the front lawn, barely six hours after giving birth to twins.

      "Mrs. Bradmore, what ARE you doing?   It is Mrs. Bradmore, isn't it?"

      "That's me," Dottie smiled her usual response before realising the poor woman's dilemma.   "Oh, sorry - you're confusing me with my sister Trudy - I assure you, she's safely tucked up in bed."

      "But you said YOU were Mrs. Bradmore," the midwife persisted as they went through to Trudy's kitchen for a reviving cup of tea.

      "Indeed I am," Dottie explained, "I'm Dorothy Bradmore.   My sister and I married twin brothers, so naturally we both have the same surname.   And that made today's twin arrivals all the more probable.   They say twins run in families."

      "You're not saying you have twins yourself?" enquired the visitor.

      "Sadly, no," said Dottie, her normally cheerful face clouding as she poured the tea.   It wasn't an easy topic, not then.   Six months earlier, her own unborn child had failed to survive after twelve weeks of pregnancy.   Worse, after Dottie's miscarriage it was confirmed that no family of her own would ever be possible.   The loss seemed even more poignant now that two healthy girls were born to Trudy, near to the very day when her own would have been due.

      "But we've always been close," she added, "and naturally Jim and I plan to share as much as we can of Allen and Trudy's good fortune.   In fact we've been asked to help choose the girls' names.   They're to be called Sarah Jane and Wendy Rose."

      Seven years on, lying in her bed now at Aunt Dottie's house, Sarah was in a reflective mood.   As toddlers she had always accepted that most good things came in pairs - two mothers known as Mummy and Auntie Dottie, and two fathers known as Daddy and Uncle Jim.   And when at the age of three they'd moved to a new house in Somerset, they found twin elm trees at the bottom of the garden - one each, they decided.

      Originally both couples had lived on the same West London estate in cramped rented accommodation.   But with the arrival of Wendy and Sarah, the two families' life-styles diversified sharply.

      Jim's city job had already earned him a four-bedroomed house on the outskirts of St. Albans where Dottie found a fulfilling role as a supply teacher.   Denied a family of her own, she surrounded herself with other peoples' children, contributing her own good values to their social and moral upbringing - a task she thoroughly enjoyed.   It was good to spend the day among hordes of happy youngsters, even if they were taken home after school by someone else.   Occasionally when those old nagging sorrows overwhelmed Dottie, she would invite Sarah or Wendy to come and stay, allowing her the role of alternative mother to two adorable girls who looked in all respects as if they truly were her own.

      Allen Bradmore was less fortunate than his brother, yet it was he and his growing family who needed the larger house.   In the end, he took a job in Taunton where homes were more affordable.   Yet despite his best efforts, they sustained only a modest standard of living.   Trudy believed her duty as a mother was more important than going out to work, and Allen soon learned the stark truth, that four persons of whatever size cannot be clothed and fed as cheaply as two.

      Whenever Wendy and Sarah went to stay with their aunt, Trudy would take them by train to London where she would rendezvous with Dottie, and treat the youngsters to a tour of the sights.

      Occasionally if the weather was good, Jim might feel inclined to drive down and collect the girls himself, largely because he enjoyed motoring across southern England in his powerful BMW.   But Allen wasn't so keen on driving to St. Albans - his own second-hand Ford was growing progressively unreliable.

      "It'd be different," he sighed, "if we had the sort of car my brother seems able to afford."

      But Jim was more than ready to help financially, and when at the age of five the girls attended a private school within walking distance of their home, he insisted on paying the fees, assuring his brother it was the soundest investment he could ever make.

      The girls soon became popular with everyone except Miss Gibson the headmistress, who suffered repeated humiliation from not knowing which of the two Bradmore girls she was addressing.   She might have suggested each twin be dressed differently, but Miss Gibson was a stickler for her own rules, and insisted that the smart blue uniform be worn at all times during school term.   She even tried issuing every pupil with a name-tag, and felt quite satisfied until she spotted the twins swapping labels at lunch-time.

      Their best friends were more observant than Miss Gibson.   They soon noticed how Wendy's eyes had a tendency to sparkle after telling one of her cute jokes, while Sarah was more serious than her sister and much, much quieter.   Their looks may have been identical, but the two personalities were notably different.

      One regular playmate, Hilary Billings, considered herself privileged in having two friends for the price of one.

      "I don't know about price of one," Mr. Billings often observed with endearing dry humour.   "It's still the price of two when it comes to their damned birthdays.   So I hope," he added, rubbing his hands like a friendly gnome, "when it's YOUR birthday, young Hilly, we'll get double presents back from those Bradmores."

      During the Easter holiday, when Hilary was invited to the twins' seventh birthday party, she was one of a chosen few who knew it was officially Sarah's party - that there would be a second party for Wendy six months later, celebrating their half-birthday on the twelfth of October.   This had been regular practice ever since Wendy, with impeccable logic, pointed out an obscure element of unfairness in being a twin.

      "Most brothers or sisters," she claimed, "get one birthday party each, and everyone gets invited.   But Sarah and I have to share the same party because we're twins, and Mummy says that's Daddy's fault for marrying someone with similar genes."

      Allen was still debating how much to spend on presents, when a huge parcel arrived from Jim and Dottie, containing a video recorder complete with a load of appropriate cassettes.   To spare any embarrassment, Jim emphasised it was only his old Betamax recorder which became redundant when he switched over to the more popular VHS system - not that this bothered the twins, especially when they found among his collection of tapes the full-length Disney cartoon of PETER PAN.

      In the summer, Allen was advised that one of the two elms had to come down, so to compensate he built the girls a rudimentary den in the branches of the remaining tree, nailing firm climbing aids onto the trunk so they could scale its lower reaches in safety.   In the course of their explorations, Wendy discovered a small hollow in the elm where secret papers could be hidden, in case England were ever invaded by pirates.   Hereafter known as the Secret Safe, it had other uses too, for playing postmen or for keeping biscuits in.

      "At least tree-climbing keeps those monkeys happy," Allen observed one Sunday afternoon.   "That den cost a lot less than two dolls' prams or two tricycles.   Will we ever be able to afford the things they really want?"

      Then, as if in answer to his prayers, and with Wendy's half-birthday party only six weeks away, Allen received an unexpected bonus from Lytham St. Annes.   Out of the blue, a long-forgotten premium bond suddenly won him five thousand pounds.   Every new luxury now seemed possible, though as Allen thought of a dozen ways of spending five thousand pounds, Trudy quickly added a dozen more.

      The question was, should they spend the windfall wisely on a series of useful household objects, or squander it all in one go on some luxury item?   Should they get a home-computer, a second television set, the long-awaited prams and bicycles, and new winter clothes?   Should they buy the urgently needed car, modernise the kitchen, or take a holiday abroad?   Was their spending to be ruled by their heads or by their hearts?

      The consensus of four opinions was that it would be more exciting to have one big treat.   The trouble was that Allen would have chosen the car, Trudy the kitchen and the twins the holiday.   As head of the household, Allen was ready to exercise his casting vote when Wendy pointed out that there were two votes in favour of a holiday and only one each for the kitchen and car.

      Thus, in the face of undeniable logic, and with commendable sacrifice on the part of the two parents, the decision was made.   With the autumn term about to start, Trudy went to plead with Miss Gibson to allow the girls two extra weeks' holiday.   After all, travel was educational, she argued, careful not to say too much about their plans for visiting Disney World.

      Miss Gibson grudgingly gave her consent, and the twins squealed with delight at the prospect of celebrating a half-birthday in America with Mickey Mouse as honoured guest.   Passports were sent for at once, and the flight was booked.   Allen settled on a deal saving several hundred pounds by buying non-refundable plane tickets ...   which would have been a smart move if one member of the party hadn't been taken ill at the last minute.

      Four days before they were due to leave, Sarah woke up in the morning feeling sick and shivery.   At first Trudy put it down to excitement combined with a slight cold - but the next day she felt obliged to call the doctor, who pronounced that Sarah had glandular fever.

      "Nothing to get alarmed about these days," he assured them.   "She'll be back to good health in a few weeks if we look after her properly."

      Trudy explained about the impending trip to Florida, but the doctor shook his head very firmly.   There was absolutely no way young Sarah could be allowed to go on holiday, and a trans-Atlantic flight in her condition might well prove fatal.

      Trudy and Allen reluctantly agreed to cancel the trip altogether, even though it meant forfeiting tickets and vouchers worth over a thousand pounds.

      But Wendy protested.   "That'll only make Sarah feel ten times worse, and it's your job as parents to make her feel better."

      Sarah herself was adamant that one person's glandular fever shouldn't prevent the rest of the family from going as planned, suggesting that the fourth ticket could be offered to their friend Hilary Billings.   And Wendy was equally emphatic that going on holiday without a companion of her own age would be no fun at all.

      So that evening Allen slipped discreetly out of the house and drove across town to visit Hilary's parents.

      Vera Billings needed no persuasion.   She agreed at once, insisting that Sam should contribute handsomely towards Hilary's expenses.   Questions of permission or refusal didn't arise - it was an opportunity not to be missed.

      "Of course one of us will have to kneel in prayer before the Gibbon," Sam pointed out, "so it's best we don't say anything to the girls till I've successfully got blood out of that particular stone."

      Vera kindly offered to nurse Sarah while the others were away, but Allen explained he'd already made other plans.   It was a welcome chance for Dottie to provide all the love and sympathy Sarah would have received at home - and besides, Uncle Jim was already on his way down to fetch her.

      Sam sounded relieved.   "Might leave us free to take a few days off ourselves," he said with a wink.   "Actually, I may be visiting the States myself soon - on business, of course.   It's pure luck that I happened to get Hilary a passport and visa.   Just in case," he added mysteriously, "you never know."

      Wendy had already gone to bed when Jim arrived, delayed by heavy traffic.

      "It's like a damned Bank Holiday," he complained.   "Yet it's only mid-week.   You allow yourselves plenty of time to drive to Gatwick on Saturday, Allen.   What day are you flying back?"

      "We'll probably stay two or three weeks," Trudy replied.   "They agreed two at school, but a lot depends on when we run out of things to do."

      "Or money," Allen chipped in.   "But anyway, Gibbon or no Gibbon, I don't intend spoiling the trip of a lifetime just to please one tiresome old lady.   We've got open returns, so how about if I give you a call once we get back, that's the best way.   I guarantee it won't be till after the twelfth, though - Wendy'll see to that.   You'll have to be especially nice to poor Sarah that day, it'll be tough on her.   For our part, we'll keep Wendy fully occupied."

      Trudy brought Sarah downstairs tightly wrapped in blankets like an Eskimo baby, and Jim strapped her firmly into the front seat of the BMW.

      "Sure she'll be warm enough?"

      "Like a baked potato," he laughed, climbing into the driving seat beside his niece.

      Wendy was watching from an upstairs window as they left, and Allen and Trudy Bradmore stood waving in the dim light of the front porch.   On the verge of tears, Sarah took comfort in knowing she'd see them again in a few weeks' time, once the globe-trotting travellers returned laden with souvenirs of the holiday she was destined to miss.   She turned back for a final watery glance at the receding silhouettes, blissfully unaware of the extent to which her entire life was about to alter course.  

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