Kevin awoke bright and early. In no hurry to get up, he stayed in bed to assemble another experiment which suddenly emitted a loud whistle. Before he could disconnect the battery, his mother came hurrying into the room. Kevin expected her to be cross, but instead she looked unusually cheerful.
"Somehow I knew you wouldn't be able to resist playing with that!" she laughed, sitting on the bed and fondling his hair. "What have you made this time?"
"It's a burglar alarm, only I think I may have wired it up wrongly." Kevin connected it up again to demonstrate. "It goes off when you pass your hand over this light-sensitive cell, like this..." He did so, and the whistle began again. "Only now it won't stop."
"Perhaps it's not meant to," his mother suggested. "After all, you don't want a burglar switching off an alarm as soon as he breaks in? Surely it has to keep ringing till the police arrive?"
Kevin turned to reread the instructions. "It's a pity Daddy's not around. He'd enjoy fiddling with this."
"Yes, he probably would. Actually, Kevin, that burglar alarm reminds me of something else we need to talk about." Betty continued caressing the top of his head. "I didn't get much sleep last night, worrying in case you got confused over what we did yesterday, when we sat together in Karen's room."
"With the dress on, you mean, and being cuddled? It was okay."
"I wouldn't want a silly game like that to cause you any problems," she said gently. "The fact is, I didn't stop to think. When I saw you standing there with the dress in front of you, I suddenly saw your sister, and I was missing her so much that nothing else mattered. I hope you understand. It gave me a lot of comfort to hold Karen in my arms again, even though I knew all along it was really you. But I allowed myself to imagine she hadn't left us after all, and that did me a world of good. I only hope it didn't cause you any upsets, because I wouldn't want that sort of thing to happen to my little Scruff."
Kevin reaffirmed it was okay, adding: "You said we might do it again if we felt like it."
"Yes, I know, but I won't hold you to any bargains. I'm sure you've got lots more experiments you want to get on with. You'd best be Kevin today, though I admit I would like to see my little Karen again one day, just to hold her again as I did yesterday. Do you understand?"
Kevin looked at her critically. "Do you love me as much as you used to love Karen?"
"Of course, my pet, but in different ways. You're my boy, right? You're bright, clever, full of jokes and fun. Boys don't want to be kissed and cuddled, or dressed up like dolls in pretty frocks. They like outdoor sports and adventures, or maybe an electronics kit. But my little Karen was different. She adored it when we just sat together, as we did last night, mother and daughter. I used to make her hair look so pretty, and we shared lots of special secrets. I was lucky to have one of each, wasn't I?"
"I don't mind being kissed and cuddled," Kevin repeated, just to emphasize that there was no misunderstanding.
"Then you can be kissed and cuddled too, Scruff, whenever you like."
Betty looked at her son's hair. It was quite fine, but could do with a good shampoo. Karen used to wash her hair twice a week, but it was questionable whether Kevin did his more than once a month.
"How about washing your hair today?"
"Maybe," he replied, not paying much attention. "I think Karen's lucky. She doesn't have school tomorrow, nor any homework!"
"Maybe she's longing to help you with yours instead. It's fun to pretend sometimes, isn't it? Come on, I want you out of bed and downstairs for breakfast. I'm clearing the table in five minutes, so hurry."
"That means there won't be any breakfast for Karen this morning, because it takes her twenty minutes to get dressed! But don't worry. I won't let her starve to death."
It was the first time either of them had made a reference to death, and Betty found the word painful. But Karen wouldn't die, not now. Kevin would stand in for Karen, just once in a while, whenever they needed to be reunited. In this way Betty's grief would become bearable. There would always be something to look forward to - another reunion, some day.
Throughout Sunday she kept hoping to see Karen come bounding through the doorway. She'd given Kevin a broad enough hint, and would have been delighted if, on a sudden impulse, he'd chosen to visit his sister's room and reappear in one of the many dresses that hung in her wardrobe - comfortable, pretty clothes that hadn't been worn since Christmas.
But Karen made no appearance, and on Monday morning Kevin trotted off to school as if nothing unusual had happened.
In the weeks that followed, Betty thought back fondly to that weekend. The memory sustained her peace of mind, reminding her that Karen wasn't gone completely. And Karen didn't have to reappear this week or this month, not even perhaps until the next birthday. Betty's comfort came simply from knowing that eventually there would one day be another chance to see and cuddle her lost daughter, with a little help from Kevin. So she allowed the subject to rest, accepting that she might have to wait until the twins' twelfth birthday or at least until Christmas before repeating the experiment.
As it happened, she was wrong. With the long summer holidays upon them, Kevin took to dressing casually in clothes that were neutral in gender. The inevitable jeans and sweatshirt seemed to provide an impartial mode of attire equally suited to brother or sister. Betty found she could look at her child one minute and see Kevin, or with a simple readjustment in her thoughts see her daughter instead.
And the astute Kevin always knew which twin his mother was imagining, by the way she addressed him. As Kevin he was always "Scruff," "Old Chap," or occasionally "Kevin," whilst the terms "Poppet" or "Little Lamb" meant he was perceived as Karen - not that he minded either way, they were all terms of endearment. His one fear was that his mother might absent-mindedly use a Karen word in front of his school friends.
The weather in mid-August proved sultry and humid, and on a sticky, sweltering Sunday morning Kevin came racing in from the garden, puffing and panting to demand yet another fizzy drink.
"Oh, Scruff, you're so hot!" Betty exclaimed. "Why do you race around so much in this heat? You're sweating like a pig. Karen never perspired like that. Slow down!"
"Pigs sweat, men perspire and ladies glow!" announced Kevin. "Miss Ely told us that in school."
"Well, I'm sure Miss Ely would call it madness to go chasing around out there - it's like a Turkish bath!"
"Why didn't Karen glow? Was she made differently?"
"Karen did glow sometimes, but she didn't perspire, not like you. On days like this she'd use her intelligence and do something less energetic. She'd have worn something cooler too - those jeans must feel horrible in this heat."
Kevin agreed they were sticky and stiff.
"Then, Poppet, why not go and change?"
Betty gazed at the little figure before her, and fondled the curly hair. "You're free to wear one of Karen's summer dresses if you'd prefer. No-one will know, and you'll find it much more comfortable in this clammy heat. But if you do, please take a shower first, and you're not to mess up Karen's room with those dirty sneakers. I suggest you take them off, now!"
"Didn't Karen's sneakers ever get dirty?"
"Not like those, they didn't. Karen was much more ladylike."
"And you want me to be ladylike too, is that it?"
Betty hesitated, her heart screaming to say Yes.
"Ah, that's up to you. If you'd like to become Karen this afternoon, you could sit outside with me in the garden. I haven't seen Karen looking sweet and clean for weeks. She's always such a tomboy these days, which is all your doing, you rascal! Just look at your hair! Why don't you wash Karen's hair today? Then I'll brush and comb it for her, and make her look all nice and pretty, just for an hour or two."
"Then can I make it dirty again?"
There was a light-hearted lilt to Betty's laugh. "I'm sure it'll soon get dirty enough without any help from you! Go on, go and have a quick shower and take off those smelly clothes. I'll look in Karen's room and see what we can find for her."
Kevin gave her a lingering, thoughtful look, then impulsively stampeded up to the bathroom.
Betty took her time. She finished preparing their salad lunch, then dried her hands and tiptoed silently upstairs to Karen's room. It was still kept as it had always been, apart from an evident gathering of dust. Betty couldn't bring herself to dust it alone without Karen's help - it was a task they always enjoyed doing together.
She opened the wardrobe and selected a cool cotton dress, ideal for a hot summer's afternoon. After laying it neatly on Karen's bed with some suitable underwear, socks and sandals, she went downstairs to fetch a duster and some polish. A moment later she heard the sound of movement above, and returning to Karen's room she saw her little daughter standing in front of the mirror. Instinctively Betty held out her arms to welcome the child.
"Oh, my poppet!" she whispered. "Oh, it's wonderful to see you again, and you've washed your hair too - what a good girl! Let me get the dryer, and we'll make it look just perfect!"
Karen followed into her mother's room and sat on the bed while her hair was brushed and dried. The sensation of a hair-dryer was new to Kevin but it felt good, and the attention given to Karen felt even better. Karen felt peaceful and fulfilled, as though for the first time in many months she could relax and enjoy being herself.
As her hair was carefully brushed into place and fixed with a slide, the little girl smiled warmly at her mother - a smile quite unlike Kevin's. It was unmistakably Karen's smile, which Betty knew so well.
"There, my lamb, let's have another look at you," she said. "Do you mind if I give you another big hug?"
Karen's outstretched arms gave the instant reply she needed. Betty lifted the heavy child onto her lap and cradled her tightly.
"You're sure you're all right like this, my poppet?"
Karen nodded silently and put her finger in her mouth, something Kevin would never do. For a while they stayed quite still, saying nothing but swaying gently to and fro until Betty realised her leg was growing numb.
"I must put you down, Poppet, you're getting too heavy for Mummy to keep doing this."
Karen reluctantly allowed herself to be set down, and they returned to her own room where she helped her mother dust bookshelves and tidy the dressing table. When she felt she done enough to satisfy honour, Karen jumped onto her bed and sat clutching her favourite bear, while the finger returned to her mouth.
"You're not still sucking that finger?" Betty reproached her. "I thought you grew out of that silly habit years ago."
Karen didn't reply. She kept sucking extra hard, unwilling to take her eyes off her mother, and it slowly dawned on Betty that the child looked no more than seven or eight years old. The body might be that of an eleven-year-old boy, but Kevin now seemed completely possessed by his sister, behaving just as she did several years earlier.
It reminded Betty of that other dreadful void in her life when the twins had been six-and-a-half and their father had died suddenly - a time when Karen, more than Kevin, had turned to her mother for consolation. The way she was acting now - silent and withdrawn - was a haunting echo of that earlier mood.
"Come on, young lady," said Betty, snapping out of her reverie. "There's work to be done! Those clothes you've left in a tangle at the bottom of your wardrobe - I want them put on hangers and hung up neatly. And when are you going to do something about that sticky ring on your bedside table where you left that milk-shake? It's been there nine months! There's some polish downstairs. I suggest you go and fetch it."
Karen didn't move. She sat there, sucking hard on her thumb, and staring soulfully at her mother.
"It's all very well looking at me with those doe-eyes. Go on! Scoot, you saucy monkey!"
As if emerging suddenly from a deep trance, Karen slid down off the bed and wandered away, apparently to fetch the polish. But when Betty felt compelled to investigate where the child had got to, she found an abandoned pile of girls' clothes on the landing. She ran down to the kitchen and saw Kevin wearing only underpants, standing in the garden with a model aeroplane, his hair grossly unkempt and with mud all over his knees.
Betty opened the back door and yelled angrily. "Kevin? What's the idea? I thought I sent your sister downstairs to fetch something?"
"Haven't seen her!" he replied, pre-occupied with his aeroplane. It was as if Kevin had no idea what Betty was talking about, and didn't seem to care.
"I thought we agreed to tidy Karen's room and put some of her clothes away?" Betty continued, trying to sound encouraging.
"That's her job then, isn't it. It's not my room!"
He thrust the plane high into the air and watched it crash-land among the rose bushes.
"Kevin, come here at once! I won't have you leaving all the housework to me, not during school holidays. It isn't fair! You're old enough to lend a hand."
"Karen can still tidy her own room."
"In that case, my lad, you'd better go and tidy yours, this minute!"
"Mine's fine!" retorted Kevin, and he ran off towards the rose bushes.
"No, it's not. Not by a long way. And watch out for those thorns against your bare skin. Come back here. Now!"
Betty was angry, her emotions precarious and vulnerable, unable to withstand her tender feelings being kicked around in such an offhand way. The precious daughter whom she hadn't seen for months now seemed bent on defiance.
"Kevin, do you hear me? Come here this instant!"
From among the roses Kevin again launched the plane and this time it sailed over the fence into a neighbour's garden. Moodily he sauntered back to the house and pushed his mother aside before going up to his own bedroom and slamming the door. Betty followed a moment later and found her son lying face down on his bed. Should she be cross, she wondered, or try to calm his strange outburst with sympathy and kindness? He gave no sign of even hearing her as she asked tenderly:
"What's the matter, Scruff? Did I say something to upset you? I'm sorry."
Betty sat beside him on the bed and began to fondle his neck. Suddenly he turned and clung to her, sobbing loudly.
"Oh dear!" she sighed. "I know, you don't want to be Karen any more. I'm sorry, my pet, it was a silly game! I didn't mean it to upset you, you know that."
"I don't want Karen to be dead," he sniffed. "But she will be before she's eleven."
"But don't you see? With your help I was discovering that she hadn't died, not altogether. When I held you in my arms on your birthday, it felt so good. I love you both equally, you know that. But I guess my brave boy felt shy and stupid wearing a girl's dress. Was that the trouble?"
Kevin shook his head. "She mustn't die," he sobbed.
"Well, she won't if you help her. Whenever you dress as Karen, we'll know she's still with us, won't we? Try to believe she really is Karen, and convince yourself her death was only a bad dream. Karen's going to be eleven-and-a-half soon. How about us buying her some new clothes? You can help me choose what you think she'd like."
Kevin looked puzzled and gazed up silently at his mother.
"What's the problem, Scruff? You want to tell me? Perhaps you'd like Karen to say what's wrong, would that be easier?"
He nodded and clung on tightly.
"Did I pick out the wrong things for her to wear? Perhaps I did. It was a bit stupid, wasn't it! Shall we go and find something more sensible? You choose, this time - Karen always picked her own clothes! She'd never wear anything I put out for her, the little monkey. Come on, let's try again?"
They wandered arm in arm back into Karen's room and looked through the clothes in her wardrobe. At first, Kevin simply stared in confusion at the daunting array of girlish frocks. Finally, his nervous hand reached forward and touched a black velvet dress, the one Karen had worn to her father's funeral. Betty was horrified.
"Are you sure, my poppet? That's hardly a suitable dress for the summer. I don't think you want that one."
But Kevin remained undeterred. As he began struggling into the black dress as a matter of some urgency, Betty tried to restrain him.
"It's not going to fit you, my lamb. You had that when Daddy died, remember? It was a long time ago. You were only six then - you couldn't possibly squeeze into it now. We should have thrown it out years ago. Here, what about this yellow one? It's a nice bright colour!"
Kevin responded with a slow shake of the head, and reached out for something more familiar, the blue taffeta dress that was Karen's last birthday present.
"You want that one again?" Betty queried. "But it's a party dress, darling, not something you'd wear in the garden." She was longing to see Karen looking as she might on a normal summer's afternoon, dressed in something cool and casual.
"Tell you what," she conceded. "Wear that for an hour while we have lunch together. Then afterwards you can change into anything you like and we'll sit in the garden. What's so special about this dress anyway?"
The child didn't reply, but still insisted on the taffeta dress, so Betty helped her into it, and fastened it at the back. Immediately Karen turned and flung out her arms, begging to be seated on her mother's knee. Now Betty felt she understood. It was to be a replay of the March birthday, when she picked Karen up and cuddled her like a life-sized doll.
Lunch was late that day. It was three o'clock before they'd finished washing up and Betty suggested having ice-cream in the garden.
"But we daren't risk spoiling that dress," she added, undoing it before Karen could express other ideas. "Run and change into something more suitable, and be quick about it, or your ice-cream will have melted into a pool of runny custard!"
Betty prepared two dishes of ice-cream, and took them to a shaded part of the back garden, well-hidden from neighbours. As she waited, she began worrying about Kevin's model aeroplane. The last thing she needed was a helpful neighbour coming round to return it while the reborn Karen sat beside her in the garden. Plagued by feelings of guilt, Betty was about to go and retrieve the thing herself when Karen appeared.
For a second the child paused in the doorway like an amateur entertainer, laughing and giggling self-consciously as she twirled for approval. Betty couldn't believe her eyes. Here was her true daughter at last in a pretty floral playsuit, running gaily out towards her with not a care in the world.
Karen seated herself demurely at the garden table, and promptly began to eat her ice-cream. And no matter how hard she tried, Betty could not accept that the child beside her was Kevin - she knew it wasn't! She was the twins' mother. She knew them both better than anyone else on God's earth, and she knew this was not her son.
Karen chatted endlessly about next term's ballet classes. She talked about personal friends, and expressed her keenness to visit them during the holidays. She spoke of starting her new school in the autumn, and of the new uniform she'd need. She reminded Betty that she still hadn't mended her pink leotard, and that her dolls' house lights didn't work properly. As the afternoon wore on, Betty became absolutely certain that by some wondrous miracle she was now in the presence of her daughter's living soul.
Alarmed by these events happening beyond her control, she asked Karen what her brother was up to and why he was so quiet. Immediately, the child gave way to a flood of girlish tears, and begged to be cuddled. Betty responded in the only way she could, by picking her up and holding her to her bosom.
"He's probably up in his room, playing with his electronics," she said gently, trying to avoid what was essentially a difficult issue. Any mention of Kevin seemed a denial of Karen's existence.
"You cuddled me like this when Daddy died," Karen murmured softly.
Was that why she'd shown a sudden interest in the old black dress? They had come home that day from the funeral, almost five years ago. Kevin had consoled himself with his train set, an interest which his busy father never shared. Betty had wanted some time to herself, to reflect on their brief and none too successful marriage. But Karen, who had adored and idolised her dull father, was utterly heart-broken at his death, and Betty had held the inconsolable six-year-old, still in her black dress, sobbing on her lap. She'd caressed her then as she was caressing her now, rocking her gently to and fro.
"Why did Kevin have to die?" whispered Karen.
"Kevin didn't die, my love," Betty reassured her. "He'll soon be back when we're ready to let him return."
"I never want him back ever again," the child hissed in a hard, chilling voice. She eyed her mother with a defiant, malevolent glare and declared: "I hate Kevin!"
Betty tried to make light of it. "Of course you don't, silly, he's your brother."
"He goes into my room and steals my clothes. I don't like it when he does that. It's not nice. He spoils them."
"Then we'd better buy him some clothes of his own, hadn't we? Would that be better?"
Karen nodded firmly. "Yes, buy him dresses of his own! Buy him my new school uniform - he'd like that."
Betty paused to give careful consideration to her next question. "So if Kevin continues to borrow your clothes, what do you think we should do about that?"
"Make him stop," Karen replied without hesitation. "I don't like my clothes being worn by anyone else - except the new taffeta dress, he can keep THAT if he likes because I never actually wore it. It only got worn when you dressed him up, pretending he was me on our birthday."
"Do you think he minded doing that?"
"How should I know what goes on in a boy's mind?" Karen argued. "But it did seem odd, I thought. Don't you think it's odd?"
"Yes, my poppet," Betty replied. "I suppose I do. But we live in an odd world!"
"I know I do," was the response. "It's all very confusing. I don't know who I am any more. Who am I?"
Betty stared down at the earnest, pleading face. Despite giving the matter much thought, she could find no satisfactory answer.
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