Shivering in her parked car, Betty Marsh looked again at her watch and gave an impatient sigh. The dancing class for the under-twelves was due to finish sharp at four, yet there was always some delay, some query to be answered, some last-minute announcement to be made or a petty childish squabble needing to be resolved.
It was the first lesson of the new term, a crisp January afternoon and bitterly cold. Inside Miss Owens' Dance Studio most of the girls were already scrambling into warm winter coats. But Miss Owens had some confidential news for four of her most promising pupils. She beckoned Karen Marsh and three others aside to tell them privately that they'd each been selected to take part in a prestigious dancing display at the Allentown Easter carnival.
Nearby, struggling with inside-out jeans, a less accomplished dancer Tracy Atkinson overheard this, and didn't like it one bit! On a sudden impulse she gave vent to personal disappointment by attacking Sarah James, the youngest of the chosen four, causing her to fall and hit her head against the piano. Inevitably tears followed, though in the skilled hands of Miss Owens the only damage sustained was to Sarah's dignity. After listening to a short reprimand about unseemly behaviour and inexcusable petty jealousy, the remaining girls were dismissed.
Meanwhile, Betty Marsh waited outside in her brand-new Fiesta. At six minutes past four she exchanged good-natured smiles of impatience with several other waiting mothers, including Mrs. Isobel James who was parked some distance behind her.
The absence of music was a sure sign that the twenty pupils - Betty's ten-year-old Karen among them - would soon be making their mad dash out into the freezing January air. Any poor child who hadn't brought trousers or thick tights and a coat, or whose personal transport hadn't yet arrived, was in for a cold wait. Karen certainly had her coat, but would she think to put it on?
At last the doors burst open and a chattering assortment of little girls drifted out from the studio, showing no signs of urgency. One by one they stepped warily onto the icy path, some still in pink leotards despite the cold, others more sensibly dressed, all talking excitedly to their chums and in no particular hurry to say goodbye or go their separate ways. It was as if each parent was a menial chauffeur, obliged to turn up at the appointed hour and wait until beckoned forward like a taxi outside the Savoy hotel.
When Karen finally appeared she was in no mood for dawdling. She spotted her mother's Fiesta straight away, and with a hasty wave to her friends ran out into the road between two parked cars, her bright face eager with the good news she had to impart.
It was news that Betty Marsh was never to hear from her daughter's own lips.
Twenty yards away, Sarah James had just climbed into the back of her mother's car alongside her younger sister, her emotions in a highly volatile state after the confrontation with Tracy Atkinson. Keen to get both girls home to a warm fireside and a tea-time treat of hot buttered buns, Isobel checked that they were safely buckled in behind her, then pulled swiftly out into the road.
It was at this very moment that Sarah finally gave way to tears. Instinctively Isobel glanced back, and for one vital second her attention was diverted from the road. Too late she caught sight of Karen Marsh darting out in front of her. The car swerved as Isobel stamped hard on the brakes, but her tyres lost had all their grip and the wheels spun with deadly grace as they skated out of control across the icy surface.
Betty Marsh leapt from her Fiesta at once, but there was no undoing the horror of what she saw - the grim reality of her Karen now lying very still on the hard glistening tarmac amid a smoothly spreading pool of blood.
It had been so sudden, the child probably saw and felt nothing. She'd lost her balance on the slippery surface, and fell beneath the front wheels of Mrs. James's skidding car as it ran straight over her neck.
A week later on a dull overcast Thursday afternoon, a score of subdued dancing pupils gathered for Karen's funeral in St. Stephen's churchyard, holding their breath in silence as the small coffin was respectfully lowered into the ground. They stared in awe at the grieving Mrs. Marsh, noting the uncannily familiar features of Karen's twin brother who stood solemnly by his mother's side.
He looked incredibly like Karen, except for the smart grey suit and plain black tie over a clean white shirt. His windswept hair was the same colour as Karen's, framing a face almost identical to the one they all knew they would never see again.
Kevin himself felt awkwardly conspicuous, bowing his head as instructed to avoid the penetrating gaze of twenty girls who eyed him in silent curiosity and whose daunting presence he found no less an ordeal than the funeral.
When he did dare to glance up across the grave, he caught the eye of Mrs. James, and gave her a glare of reproach as befitted the women whose inept driving had robbed him of his twin.
He noticed then how the two mothers edged nervously toward one another as if drawn by a common need to express unspeakable sorrow. As Mrs. Marsh tried bravely to smile her forgiveness, both women found their grief too overwhelming and fell sobbing onto each other's shoulders - a heart-rending sight which affected Kevin more deeply than he cared to admit.
He'd been taught by his late father that it was wrong for a boy to give way to girlish emotions, and so Kevin dutifully clenched his teeth and grabbed urgent comfort by humming to himself, as the two mothers shared a moment of sad friendship. He saw in them no outward expression of blame nor recrimination. The accident had simply been a wretched Act of God, cruelly plucking little Karen from her carefree excitement into the eternal peace that Kevin was sure she now enjoyed.
Most twins share a special relationship far closer than ordinary brothers and sisters - at least, this is what Kevin believed. In their ten years together, he and Karen had found plenty of evidence to support this theory, evidence they'd wisely kept to themselves. For more than a decade they'd thought alike and acted alike, often making the same spontaneous remark in unison, word for word, enjoying a deep bond of empathy which had made them the best of friends from conception to the grave.
But now it was all over. Kevin had become an only child, and Karen was lost for ever.
Or was she?
Undeniably the body of Karen now lay beneath a mound of damp clay, but what had become of her soul? Did Kevin truly detect Karen's spiritual essence already hovering beside him at her graveside, or was this merely his vivid imagination playing cruel tricks in his hour of grief? Even if it was attributable only to his fertile mind, the sense of Karen's presence came as a precious life-belt that Kevin was grateful to cling to, helping to keep his own spirits buoyant throughout the harrowing day.
As this new concept took hold of Kevin, he felt confident enough to murmur brotherly words of comfort to the soul of his departed sister, certain that they were being acknowledged and welcomed. He discreetly wandered away from the crowd for a moment so as not to be overheard.
"Hope that wasn't too yucky for you?" he whispered. "If you can hear me, stick around! I'm going to pretend you've just turned invisible, that's all! I assume I'm still visible to you - 'cos if not, you'd better find a way of letting me know. But from now on, you're just going to be invisible, that's the only difference! Everything else carries on as normal, agreed?"
He felt Karen nodding her consent. Several children at school claimed to have invisible friends, but Kevin's would be far superior. His wasn't imaginary - she was real, supernatural and super-special, and unlike life itself their friendship was destined to last for ever.
"Come on," Kevin sighed, "we'd better take Mum home, she's had a tough day. Try to use your new magic powers to help get her over the sadness."
He discreetly took his sister's invisible hand and led her back to their mother who was now looking a little more cheerful. Kevin wondered if she too was aware of Karen's spirit standing right beside her. On second thoughts he doubted it. Grown-ups didn't possess half the mystic powers enjoyed by a versatile ten-year-old, especially when they weren't twins. Sad, really! But Karen was lucky - she didn't have to grow up any more. She'd stay ten for ever and would always retain the vitality of youth.
In the car going home, Kevin used an inaudible head voice to discuss with Karen what she'd like for tea, and he learned without doubt that she wanted crumpets. Luckily, Kevin was particularly fond of crumpets himself, and fully approved of his sister's choice.
"Can we have crumpets for tea today?" he asked as their joint spokesman.
"All right, my pet, if it'll make you happy."
"I'm sure it'll make us both happy," Kevin replied smugly.
Being a grown-up, Betty misunderstood. "Yes, you wise old Scruff, you're probably right. We both like crumpets! You're going to be a tower of strength to me, d'you know that?"
They had six crumpets for tea - two for Mother, two for Kevin and two more for Karen. Karen assured Kevin she didn't mind him eating them on her behalf, just as long as he thought of her while he did so. Betty was concerned that four crumpets might upset Kevin's stomach, but he assured her they were quite safe and doubly appreciated.
"Two were for Karen," he explained. "It's like sending things up the chimney to Santa Claus. He's able to read our letters before they get burned, right? Well, Karen enjoyed her crumpets in exactly the same way."
Expecting him to be devastated by his sister's death, Betty was relieved that Kevin seemed to be coping remarkably well, carrying on with life quite normally and playing contentedly on his own.
Yet in the weeks that followed she became increasingly aware of something inexplicably different about him. He had become calmer, more philosophical, and unusually serene. Betty would occasionally hear voices coming from Kevin's room - two quite separate voices, both disturbingly familiar. When questioned, Kevin assured her he was simply talking to an imaginary friend, and Betty accepted this as his way of dealing with the aching, daily loneliness she felt so deeply herself.
But the next few months were to prove agonising for Betty Marsh. Repeatedly she would hear Karen's voice calling for something, even when she was alone in the house. Instinctively she'd drop whatever she was doing and run to the stairs, only to realise her distraught mind was playing tricks.
Karen's bedroom door was always kept firmly closed, mainly to ease the desperate, overwhelming grief Betty felt every time she passed it. Nothing in that room would ever be disturbed. By leaving everything as Karen had left it, part of her personality would remain. The curtains were drawn as Karen last drew them. The bed had been made by Karen in her own special way, and her clothes were hung in her wardrobe just the way she wanted them. Even the book she'd been reading the night before she died was there on her bedside table, still open at the page she'd reached, ready to be continued...
It was unthinkable that little Karen Marsh would never return home, yet Betty had to face the reality that on the 25th of March her twins would be eleven - a date she would still have to celebrate, but with only one. The third chair would remain horribly empty.
The dreaded day fell on a cold, rainy Saturday. It was miserable and unbirthday-like weather, though Kevin seemed to bear the hollowness of the event remarkably well. Betty bought him an expensive gift, a kit of electronic experiments, and he spent all day playing with it, coming at intervals to show his mother some enthralling new gadget he'd just constructed.
"See that little torch bulb?" he said on one of his visits. "Clap your hands to make a noise."
Betty obliged, and a small light came on.
"Clap again!" he ordered, and immediately the light went out. "Clever, don't you think? How do you suppose it works?"
"Don't ask me!" Betty managed a necessary smile. "I'm glad I was able to find something you really wanted, Scruff!"
"You bet!"
Delighted with his success, Kevin dashed away to a quiet corner and reassembled the pieces for another experiment. This constant stream of entertainment sustained Betty throughout the day, but by tea-time she was on the brink of tears - tears she had a duty to conceal.
At five o'clock the two of them sat together for the quietest party ever. For ten years it had always been Karen who organised the games at their birthday parties, a formality which Kevin endured with boyish reluctance. Betty couldn't bear to arrange another party without Karen, and so it was agreed that this year's would be a private commemoration shared simply and quietly between mother and son.
Betty had agonised over whether to ice their cake in the usual way, or to omit Karen's name. To have no names at all seemed too impersonal, yet to see only one would be heart-breaking. In the end she wrote both names as usual, one in pink icing and the other in blue, recognisng that the anniversary was still a celebration of the day when both her children were born.
"Oh!" Kevin exclaimed as his sister helped him blow out eleven candles. "That's different! You've done my name in pink!"
Betty was speechless. She'd iced the cake herself and so had no-one else to blame. How could she have made such a tactless error without noticing it, after taking so much care? She stared in awe at her handiwork, the pink writing symbolic of life and warmth, the blue of Karen's name screaming of the ice that had killed her and the cold grave where her body now lay.
Stunned as she tried desperately to banish mocking thoughts and find an explanation for what she'd done, Betty dimly heard Kevin's voice:
"What did you buy for Karen?"
He said it quite naturally, as if their birthday were no different from any other. But Betty was totally unprepared, and the cruel question scoured her very soul. She hadn't bought anything for Karen, yet she couldn't bring herself to say so. To admit having no gift for her own daughter would be to voice the unspeakable truth, that Karen no longer existed.
Then she remembered a dress she'd bought in the January sales, five days before the accident. Grasping every strand of courage, she tackled Kevin's thoughtless enquiry with a stony smile, forcing herself to reply:
"I did buy her a brand new party dress!"
"Good! I hope you've got it all wrapped up in a nice pretty parcel!"
"It's in a lovely parcel," she answered softly, unable to meet Kevin's eager gaze but staring instead at the white lace cloth beneath the cake.
"Am I allowed to see it?"
Betty couldn't account for the aura of calm she suddenly felt, but it seemed a weight of sadness was suddenly lifted from her shoulders. She looked up at Kevin and found herself smiling with a new inner peace, as if sunshine had just returned after a long storm.
"I suppose so, if you like," she murmured hesitantly.
"I think Karen would want us to, wouldn't she?"
Betty nodded and blinked her eyes. "We'd better go upstairs and look at it together," she agreed. "But you'll have to be very patient as we open it. I'm not going to find it easy."
"Don't worry, I'll help," came his eager offer. "I'm good with knots!"
Kevin tagged quietly behind his mother as she made her way slowly up the stairs and into her own bedroom. Reaching to the top of the wardrobe, she pulled down a large flat box, wrapped in silver paper with a large white ribbon tied around it.
"Wow!" exclaimed Kevin with a glee that was undeniably girlish. "Karen likes this! I bet she knew it was up there all the time, and what's in it too! She can see through walls now, you know, so it stands to reason she can see through silver paper!"
Betty managed a smile. "Ah, well, if she's already had a peep, perhaps there's no need for us to bother."
"But we always open our presents!" Kevin insisted. "Come on, don't spoil it for Karen just because you can't see her. She wants us to open her present now!"
His face was so alive with enthusiastic anticipation, Betty hadn't the strength to resist. Together they pulled off the ribbon and eased away the silver wrapping, carefully unfolding several layers of tissue paper. Finally Betty lifted out a pretty dress made of pale blue taffeta. Kevin noticed a dark blue satin bow attached at the back.
"Hm!" he observed with healthy boyish scorn. "Not something she'd wear climbing trees!"
"Don't you think it's pretty?"
"It's okay, I suppose. Can we go and hang it in her wardrobe?"
"No!" shouted Betty. "No," she repeated more quietly with an insecure tremble, "I'll do that. You be a good lad and stay here for a minute."
Betty took the dress and hurried away. Soon Kevin could hear sounds of uncontrolled sobbing coming from the empty room next door, the room he'd grown to accept as being out of bounds. After waiting a full minute, he felt an overwhelming urge to join his mother, sensing he had an important duty to perform.
Cautiously he eased open the closed door and crept into the sanctuary of his sister's room. He saw the dress draped over a chair, while his heartbroken mother sat crouched on Karen's bed, her head buried in her hands.
Kevin approached in silence and sat beside her.
"What's wrong?" he whispered, resting a loving arm on her shoulder. "Was it the wrong size?"
Betty tried valiantly to pull herself together, and again some strange inner strength came to her aid. She looked at Kevin with unusual tenderness.
"I don't know," she sighed, "it's probably fine. Hold it up, so I can see."
Kevin got down off the bed and lifted the dress, holding it at arm's length as if closer contact might contaminate his masculinity.
"I can't tell if you hold it like that, silly! You're not about to peg it on the washing line - drape it against your shoulders. Go on, it won't bite you."
With reluctance Kevin held the dress against his body, instinctively thrusting forward his right foot as his sister would have done. His mother sat mesmerised, looking not at him, nor at the dress, but at something new and powerful in her imagination. She said nothing. She offered no opinion about the dress, till eventually she held out two beckoning arms and Kevin advanced mechanically towards them.
Betty's voice was barely audible. "Do you know what would make me happier than anything else in the world?" she said. "Would you allow me to slip that dress over your head, just for a moment? Then maybe you'd let me cuddle you in my arms? You can say No if you'd rather not, but ... please?"
She faltered as moisture formed in her eyes. She shook her head despairingly, biting hard on her lower lip as the caring Kevin stood ready to comfort her.
"Well, okay," he conceded, "since it is Karen's birthday too."
Betty reached out and held the dress open over her son's head.
"After all," she excused herself, "it's only like wearing a long shirt - except that this fastens up at the back instead of the front. Actually it'd be a lot easier if you slipped your own shirt off first."
Offering no resistance, Kevin unbuttoned his shirt. As it fell to the ground, Betty lowered the taffeta dress down over his bare shoulders, and his boyish instincts protested.
"Yow! That's cold!"
She laughed. "You didn't expect that, did you? Sorry, I should have warned you. Boys aren't used to material like this! Never mind, it won't feel so cold in a moment, I promise. Just slip your trousers off too, so I can see how it hangs."
Glancing skeptically at his mother to make sure she wasn't seeking to make fun of him, Kevin removed his shoes and stepped out of his trousers, kicking them roughly aside. Normally Betty would have scolded him for not folding them neatly over a chair, but she seemed hardly to notice.
"Stand over there," she ordered. "Let me look at you."
Kevin marched to the far side of the room.
"Does it fit her?" he asked.
"It fits perfectly," Betty said with an approving smile. "Though it doesn't look so good when you walk like that, especially with those awful socks. Either pull them up properly, or else take them off. They probably need washing anyway!"
Kevin bent down and peeled off his thick grey socks. "I hope you're not going to make me wear a pair of her stupid tights!" he warned.
"No need for that, my poppet! Bring the little stool over here, then you can sit in front of me."
Kevin obeyed, and found several curious things happening to him, bringing sensations he wasn't at all used to but which nonetheless felt most agreeable. His mother picked up a soft brush and began styling his hair in a way that felt most weird. Kevin's hair normally obeyed its own laws, growing wherever and however the elements dictated, but his mother was now coaxing it to lie in the opposite direction. To Kevin it felt as if she was back-brushing a cat!
While this was going on, Betty's other hand began caressing the side of Kevin's neck in a way he'd often seen her fondle his sister. It tickled at first, but it was undeniably soothing and almost hypnotic, so he graciously allowed his mother to continue. Finally she lifted him up, sat him on her lap with her arms around him, and rocked him gently to and fro.
"Oh, my poor darling," she murmured, "my darling precious poppet! Mummy's missed you so much." And she kissed him tenderly on the cheek.
Kevin wasn't altogether happy about this, not at first. Eleven-year-old boys don't as a rule suffer themselves to be planted on their mother's knee and be cuddled quite so intimately, especially while wearing a very girlish party dress. But he had to admit it was an experience he was in no hurry to end. Kevin was suddenly enjoying new unbounded, undivided attention of a kind he didn't normally receive from his mother.
In his own way, he loved her dearly. But now, as their special day reached its climax, he was experiencing an enhanced form of comfort, a feeling of total security as he nestled in the very centre of his mother's love and devotion. To Kevin it felt undeniably good.
They stayed like that in Karen's bedroom, unhurried and undisturbed for nearly an hour. Betty had a few more presents to give Kevin, but they could wait. She was all too aware that once she allowed herself to recognise Kevin again, her new imaginary Karen would have to be returned to the grave.
And Betty needed more time, a lot more. She couldn't bring herself yet to be parted from her precious substitute daughter. She simply wasn't ready.
As the twins had slowly progressed beyond infancy, they lost more and more of their former similarity. Kevin had become the untidy one, the rebel, the wild scatter-brain forever darting from one engrossing project to the next. This eager impulsiveness showed in the way his eyes moved. Kevin was the energetic one, lively and full of fun, acting as a trusty stand-in for his father who had died several years earlier.
His sister on the other hand had been softer, much more gentle, more amenable to being picked up and cuddled. Karen's eyes often held a dreamlike aura, as though she felt herself surrounded by peaceful and loving things.
Now in Betty's arms for a brief replay, her own child was beginning to look more and more like the one she thought she'd lost for ever. With a subtle change to Kevin's hair-style, Betty could see that softer, gentler look, deluding her into thinking that her precious Karen had been loaned back to her. It needed only a little imagination on her part, and with some co-operation from Kevin, Betty knew she could reclaim that old happiness. The long and bitter emptiness in her life had at last something warm and good to fill its place.
When seven o'clock struck downstairs, she reluctantly lifted Karen down from her knee and allowed Kevin to return. But the smile of contentment remained on Betty's face, held there by the discovery that her months of bereavement seemed to have dissolved in the last hour.
"I hope you didn't mind us doing that," she felt bound to apologise. "But I really felt for a while as if I hadn't lost either of my children after all. Bless you, Scruff - I'll make it up to you, I promise. And I think it's time Kevin had another treat, don't you? I've got a surprise video for you to watch downstairs, and I know it's something you both wanted to see. Run and get your pyjamas, and I'll have it ready by the time you come down."
Kevin needed a helping hand to get out of the crisp new dress without spoiling it. Then, clad only in his underpants, he grabbed his other clothes and raced off to his own room, while Betty went downstairs, humming a certain tune to herself, not intending to give Kevin a clue about the video, but aware only that some miracle had brought an ocean of renewed joy flooding back into her life.
Five minutes later they sat together on the settee watching "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang". Kevin even allowed his mother to put her arm around him, prolonging those good feelings of closeness he'd discovered in his sister's room. When the film was over, it was well past his bedtime.
"Well, Scruff? Did you have a nice birthday after all?"
He nodded his agreement. "Great! And thanks for the electronics kit. I think Karen liked her dress too. Pity she won't get many chances to wear it!"
His mother looked at him wistfully and made a guarded suggestion.
"She could wear it tomorrow if she liked. After all, it is Sunday, and we're not going anywhere. Maybe Karen might receive another present too."
"Can I watch Chitty Chitty again tomorrow?"
"Of course, if you want to - but why not let Karen watch it instead?"
"Maybe. I'll ask her in my dreams and see what she says. But don't forget, she already saw it with us tonight. She is here, you know - she's just invisible, that's all. She is still here."
His mother stood close beside him and fondled his hair. "Invisible or not, I saw her again this evening! You've no idea what a joy that gave me!"
She bent down and kissed the top of Kevin's head.
"Good night, Scruff, and thanks for everything. You made me feel happy for the first time this year. And if that one short cuddle turns out to be the only one we'll ever have together, my poppet, I'll always remember it. Hope you didn't mind too much?"
Kevin shook his head slowly. He wasn't used to being called Poppet!
Conceding that it had been okay, he darted away to his room and assembled two more electronic experiments before turning off his light and settling back to enjoy a deep and satisfying dream about his sister.
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