Kevin had a restless night, tossing and turning as his troubled mind sought solutions to problems he couldn't identify. He wanted his mother to love him. He wanted her to hold him in her arms, to caress him as tenderly as she would his sister. He wanted her to bathe him as she did when they were infants, to dry his baby body with that scorched towel she used to drape in front of the electric fire. He wanted affection, warmth and comfort, in that order.
Spending the whole weekend in a dress was not his idea of comfort, and comfort still eluded him in Karen's bed. He lay there, his confused mind trying to sort out why he should be wearing a long cotton nightdress. Pyjamas would have been more practical, yet it was as if an alien mind were dictating his choices, goading him to prolong his borrowed identity - an identity he found irksome, although a part of him seemed unwilling to surrender it.
Surely his own twin sister wouldn't wish him harm? Yet he could feel her impish drive coming at him again and again from somewhere close by, thrusting him along a bumpy, unfamiliar path towards pseudo-womanhood. Was he destined to turn into a girl, in the manner of a fairy-tale frog who would one day become a prince?
Would it be so bad if he did become female? Wouldn't people love and admire him all the more, if he truly became his mother's pretty little daughter? The wooden puppet Pinocchio became a real boy. Couldn't Kevin likewise evolve into a real girl?
Despite this turmoil of confused desires and emotions, fitful sleep finally engulfed him.
When he awoke it was Monday, the first of five whole days when he would remain Kevin. With some sadness he cast aside the soft warm nightdress and went into his own room to find some normal clothes.
He wanted to play quietly indoors all day, to be left alone with his most private thoughts, but his mother kept urging him to go and do something more energetic, more boyish.
So, at eleven o'clock, Kevin went dashing off to play with a school friend Jimmy Tyler, promising he'd be back home no later than six. Betty was content, knowing that Kevin was spending the day with a family she knew well and would be fully occupied until she'd returned from her shopping trip with Isobel James.
She finished her domestic chores, then drove round to Isobel's house, inviting her and the two girls out to lunch. She made no mention of her earlier visit in case the subject was too disturbing for the James children. Betty's over-riding motive was merely to put Isobel at her ease and to behave as normally as possible, while at the same time proving that she hadn't become completely deranged after Karen's death.
At two o'clock, on their way back from lunch, they drove slowly past the ballet school and stopped for a moment at the scene of the fatal accident. Betty held Isobel's right hand reassuringly.
"There!" she said. "We've reached our black spot. I can't say I'm glad to be here, but let's both offer a silent prayer that the haunting horrors of January be taken away from us. Then perhaps we can still see this as a happy place where children come running out safely to their waiting parents. I'm sure each child is a lot more cautious now about road safety after the lesson we taught them."
Betty could feel Isobel's hand trembling uncontrollably.
"Sorry," Isobel apologised, "but I think I'm going to be sick. I keep thinking over and over again - suppose it had been one of my two? I realise that's a wicked and selfish thought, but ... oh God, Betty! Why did it have to happen?"
Betty laid a kindly arm across her friend's shoulder.
"I wish I knew - but we can't alter the past, we can only learn from it and try to improve. Don't forget, something wonderful happened here - a little girl was reunited with the father she adored. She's given me a whole new meaning to life. This wasn't the end for her, but a wonderful step forward. There's apparently some great truth we'll all grow to understand one day - meanwhile there's no need for sorrow. If the accident made your Sarah and Gillian seem more precious to you, then that's good. If it's brought you and your family closer together, then again ..."
"Oh, but it hasn't!" cried Isobel. "It hasn't, far from it. Tom's become so distant now. He's lost all patience with me."
"Oh dear. Maybe you've given him cause to be impatient, Isobel? Why not surprise him by getting back into the driving seat? Show him you're ready to pull yourself together! Even the closest relatives can grow tired of a family member who's constantly low and depressed. Cheer up for his sake, and I'm sure he'll change. Meanwhile, would you please drive us down the road, just for a few yards? Stop as soon as you feel you can't manage any more, but I want you to realise you can still do it. I want you to move this car forward all by yourself. Take it as slowly as you like, but just ease the car along a couple of yards - that's all it takes."
Before her friend had time to argue, Betty climbed out and went around to the near side, the strength of her determination eroding much of Isobel's resistance. They changed places, and with an involuntary shiver, Isobel turned the ignition key and started the engine.
She sat there, in silent fear for a few minutes with the engine running, but Betty didn't attempt to hurry her. First Isobel needed to become acclimatised. Only when Betty felt it was time to proceed did she voice the necessary encouragement.
"Now, Isobel, I want you to engage gear and take us slowly down the road. Once you've done that, the worst is over. The law didn't blame you, I haven't blamed you, and there's no ice in August. It's up to you now. Just move forward a few inches, then a few feet. I've got a treat waiting for your passengers if you'll take us as far as the next corner."
With an apprehensive glance in the mirror, Isobel took a deep breath. Slowly she lifted her foot off the clutch and they began to move, gliding gently along until they reached the corner.
"Carry on if you can," said Betty. "You've done the hardest part and we're all very proud of you. The worst is behind you now."
Isobel made a safe left turn and drove for nearly a mile before she pulled in to the kerb and slumped over the wheel.
"Is Mummy all right?" asked an anxious voice from the back seat.
Betty nodded reassuringly. "Mummy's just fine, Sarah. She'll give you a big smile in a minute to prove she's okay. I'd say she deserves a big hug, don't you agree?"
Isobel sat up and smiled at her two children as the three passengers flung their arms around her.
"I was hoping your brave Mummy would drive us as far as my house," said Betty, "because I've got a treat waiting for us when she gets there."
"You said we'd get a treat if she got us to the corner!" protested Sarah.
"So I did. But nothing can alter the fact that the treat's at my house and someone has to get us there. Wouldn't it be great if your Mummy did that?"
Isobel recognised the obligation placed upon her and continued the rest of the way. But when they arrived, sitting on the doorstep outside they found Kevin, looking grim-faced and flinging stones into the road.
"Hi, Scruff!" Betty greeted him as they got out. "You're back early!"
"I'm never going to those Spencers ever again," he declared with a sullen scowl, and flung another stone.
"Oh dear! What's happened? Look, here's Mrs. James and her children. We've been for a drive and now they're coming indoors for a treat. What happened to you? I thought you had a key?"
Kevin shook his head, and his mother was wise enough not to pursue the matter in front of her guests. She invited them into the kitchen and gave the girls a double helping of ice cream and lemonade while she and Isobel James went to sit in the garden.
"What's wrong with young Kevin?" asked Isobel quietly.
"Don't know yet. The truth is we're going through rather troubled times. Karen's visits may be doing him more harm than good, but at present there seems no way of controlling them. It's as if I've unleashed a monster! Yet when Karen is here, she's so wise and peaceful, as though she brings a little piece of heaven with her each time she comes."
Meanwhile Kevin was sitting in the kitchen with the two girls, understandably shy in their presence, yet sensing he had a duty to make them feel welcome. Sarah kept staring at him, not because of any fascination for the opposite sex, but drawn by the resemblance he bore to her late friend.
"Karen was your sister?" she asked with the bluntness of youth.
"Yes," he replied. "We're twins."
"Were, you mean. I suppose that's why you still look like her. Do you miss her, now that she's dead?"
"Only sometimes, but she isn't really dead. Her spirit's still here in this house."
"You mean she's a ghost?" cried Gillian, dropping a messy spoon with a clatter to the floor.
"Sort of! This house is full of ghosts. So is yours, I expect."
It was a revelation for which the sensitive Gillian was ill-prepared. She leapt up, knocking over a chair, and rushed out into the garden.
"He says our house is haunted!" she cried, seeking the security of her mother's arms.
"My cue for a quiet word, I think," murmured Betty, rising to her feet. "Excuse me."
Sarah and Kevin had by now adjourned to the living room where they were discussing ballet. Sarah was demonstrating a few steps in which Kevin showed an abnormally keen interest.
"Kevin, dear, sorry to interrupt, but I must ask you not to upset Gillian with silly talk about haunted houses. She's still very young and it's most unkind."
Karen shook a disapproving head. "The young so often misunderstand, and the situation hasn't been helped by films like Ghostbusters! I believe Sarah understands, so perhaps she can explain to her sister when they're alone. Children tend to fear what they cannot comprehend."
"I think," said Betty guardedly, "we had an agreement, didn't we? An agreement about who lives in this house from Monday to Friday? I'd like that agreement honoured, if you don't mind, particularly when we have guests."
"May I remind you, Betty, that this so-called agreement was drawn up in my absence? I happen to disagree with it. Therefore I shall continue to come and go as I please!"
"We'll not discuss it now, Kevin, if you don't mind. Please go to your room."
"I'll go to MY room," insisted Karen, "but not Kevin's!" And she stamped off upstairs.
Isobel came in from the garden in time to overhear this strange confrontation. "If only my child wouldn't argue!" sighed Betty.
"Well, I'd better take mine home now," Isobel insisted. "We can catch the bus - there's no need for you to take us, really."
But Betty insisted. "There's an atmosphere in this house I don't much care for, and I need a breath of fresh air."
In thoughtful silence, she drove the James trio back home, and Isobel had enough tact not to refer to the incident again.
"Thanks for all the trouble you've taken, Betty. I hope you know how grateful I am, and to prove it I'll do what you suggest!"
The two ladies exchanged a prolonged embrace and promised to keep in touch. But as Betty began the drive home, her thoughts reverted to Kevin. Remembering his report of a problem with the Tyler family, she decided to call on them to find out what had gone wrong.
Mrs. Tyler's greeting was formal and frosty. "I'm sorry, Betty, but your Kevin is no longer welcome in this house, and I had to tell him so." She shifted her feet awkwardly. "I regret to say I found his conduct today unacceptable. I happened to hear a noise upstairs, and when I went to investigate, I found him in my daughter's bedroom, not only ransacking her wardrobe, but half-undressed and in the process of trying on a pair of stockings! How far he'd have progressed if I hadn't intervened, I dread to think."
Betty tried to apologise. "The truth is, Mrs. Tyler, since his sister died last January he's suffered something of an identity crisis. They were twins, as you know, and well ... please keep this to yourself, but the same thing's been happening at home too. Only there, of course, it doesn't matter so much."
"That's your attitude, is it?" To judge by her tone, it certainly wasn't Mrs. Tyler's. "Far be it from me to teach you your job as a mother, Mrs. Marsh, but if my son behaved like that, I'd be seeking professional help."
"If it's any consolation, Mrs. Tyler, that's exactly what I intend doing before the day is out. I can only say I'm sorry. Boys will be boys, eh?"
"In Kevin's case, I question it! He seems to have other notions which in my opinion are far from healthy. I'm sorry. Good afternoon."
Having said and done all she could, Betty drove home, determined to contact Mr. Wright as soon as he returned from his conference. Unlike Mrs. Tyler, she knew that Kevin's problem wasn't psychiatric but more of a spiritual nature.
She was all set to have a stern confrontation with the miscreant as soon as she got in, but found him in so buoyant a mood that he effectively pulled the rug from under her feet. She therefore dropped the subject until she'd had a chance to speak to Mr. Wright.
Early on Thursday evening, Betty telephoned Rushbury 425412, and found herself addressing a rather breathless clergyman who'd just that moment arrived home from his four-day convention. Without giving away too much, she stressed that it was a confidential matter of some urgency, and so Mr. Wright graciously arranged a rendezvous at his home the following afternoon.
They found his address to be no palatial vicarage nor rectory. The Rev. Dan Wright lived in a modest semi-detached house on the outskirts of Rushbury, a dwelling that could best be described as ordinary.
"Do come in," he greeted them cordially. "Wait now, I know you, don't I?" He waved a friendly finger toward the curly-haired Kevin who stood before him in an open shirt and jeans. "Aren't you the young lady who suddenly leapt to her feet in church last Sunday?"
Betty felt bound to correct him at once. "This is my son Kevin!"
"Your son? Oh!" The reverend gentleman clapped his hand over his mouth, and his tired eyes warmed into a merry smile. "Whoops! Forgive an old man! Perhaps these glasses of mine need a respray after all!"
"Karen was Kevin's twin sister," she explained.
"Ah! Oh? Was, you say?" The smile was replaced by a look of deep concern. "Oh, Mrs. Marsh, has something dreadful happened?"
"It's not an easy story to tell ..."
"No, I'm sure, I'm sure. Come on, let's go through to my study where we'll be more comfortable."
Comfort was not a word that sprang to Betty's mind as she entered the minister's study. It was grossly untidy, littered with hundreds of old books, random papers, worldly artefacts, and a large stuffed owl. Dan Wright directed her to the solitary armchair. Left to fend for himself, Kevin went over to a small upright chair by the bookcase, while their host seated himself on a low stool facing Betty.
"Well, now," he said, cupping his chin in his hands and gazing up at his visitor like a garden gnome. "Start anywhere - wherever you like."
Instead of launching straight into her story, Betty began with a polite enquiry about Mr. Wright's recent spiritual conference. He seemed surprised, almost startled.
"How in the same of St. Pancras did you hear about that?" he almost whispered. "I kept it a very close secret, deliberately. There are many good folk in Rushbury who can't understand, you see, or won't! They claim to believe in God, and in some form of life after death; but as soon as you offer them evidence to support the theory, they flatly refuse to listen. Can you explain that?"
Karen's voice interrupted without warning. "It's surely a matter of confusing anticipation with reality."
Dan Wright's mouth opened wide, his eyebrows shooting up as he squinted with unusual curiosity toward the young speaker.
"The lad's probably hit the nail on the head," he admitted. "I've always said there's a lot of confusion between Faith and the Church, which is why I elected to take the path of non-conformity. I've never fully supported the doctrine that stipulates we must recite page four-hundred-and-forty-four merely because it happens to be the forty-fourth day after the feast of St. Pancras! Do you like trains, Kevin? There's a heap of books on steam engines right beside you, if you're interested."
Kevin would have been very interested, but he declined the offer because at that moment he was unaware of his surroundings. Karen's own devotion to railways had never developed beyond scant amusement at her brother's toys.
"My brother," she said, "has always had an unaccountable fascination for such things, which I'm afraid I don't share. But on his behalf we thank you for the thought."
"You see," Betty quickly intervened, "there's a lot I have to explain about my two children. Assuming you have a belief in life after death, Mr. Wright, I must tell you that my Karen, the girl you thought you saw last Sunday, was killed in January. Yet we haven't lost her. She's here with us now."
"I'm so glad you see it in that way ..."
"No, I mean literally standing over there. I can tell which of my two is talking by their little mannerisms or the words they use. Kevin would love to look at your books on trains, but Karen has no such interest."
The old man opened his mouth and said: "Ah!"
"It was at my suggestion," Karen added, "that we came to see you, Dan, knowing of your readiness to listen with an open mind. I'm not worried for myself, you understand, but I am concerned that my continued presence might create psychological difficulties for Betty or my brother."
"Your brother? Forgive me, I'm confused. The child I saw on Sunday was surely in a pretty dress and a coat. Was that you?"
"We have but one physical body, so we're deprived of choice. Have we time to tell you the full story from all three points of view?"
"My dear friends, stay as long as you like. A subject like this has my undivided attention."
"Then I suggest my mother speaks first. Spare him details of the accident, Betty. I suggest you bypass those wretched early months and start with the birthday party."
Betty cleared her throat and gave the Mr. Wright a concise account of the incident involving the party dress, and subsequent encounters with her two very different children. The clergyman listened intently, making no attempt to interrupt with comments of his own.
"You see my dilemma," Betty concluded. "I can't bring myself to shut out further visits from Karen, I love her too much. But I don't want my Kevin developing into an oddity who likes dressing up."
"The clothes themselves aren't crucial," Karen elaborated. "I'm sure Dan Wright could preach just as good a sermon in his vest and underpants, but his rightful use of appropriate vestments lends credence to his words, giving him the status and dignity which his devoted listeners have every right to expect."
A fascinated smile of enjoyment spread across the minister's face as he listened to this eloquence coming from the mouth of a mere child.
"Wisely put, my dear. I assume I'm addressing Karen now and not the brother?"
Karen nodded approvingly and offered him a benign smile.
"Twins, you say? Yes, from what I know, that would certainly help the association to continue after death. Would Karen care to give me her side of the story now?"
"I think I need a brief rest," she declined. "Besides, the real problem concerns two earthbound spirits, not mine. I'll leave you for a while - but not before commending Dan Wright on his ability to listen. A rare gift, Dan, which so few mortals possess ..."
Kevin gave a yawn, smiled contentedly at his mother, and wandered over to the bookcase where he noticed some books on railways.
"Kevin again," said Betty, signalling to their host that she'd recognised the change, "Kevin, tell Mr. Wright about Karen's visits!"
"There's not much to tell," he mumbled. "Anyway he'll probably say we're both batty."
Dan Wright was quick to put him at his ease. "No, Kevin, I promise. Shall I make a bargain with you? Tell me about Karen and I'll let you borrow one of those books, if you guarantee to take good care of it."
Murmuring his gratitude, Kevin picked up a large volume by Eric Treacy, and idly thumbed through it as he spoke.
"Well, to begin with, I knew Karen was with me at her funeral, though of course I didn't let on, or people would reckon I'd gone loopy. But I knew. Twins know lots of things about each other, even after one of them's dead."
"Do you know where your sister is now?" the minister asked.
"Her body's in the grave, but her actual self - you know what I mean - that's still around, only right this minute I think she's resting. Anyway, so then I used to talk to her a lot, and that was okay because some of the others at school had invisible friends too. And on our birthday Mum got Karen this dress, all smooth and cold material, and she made me put it on."
Betty gave a nervous laugh. "I didn't make you," she protested, not wanting to be blamed for child abuse or initiating any deviant practice.
"Well, no," Kevin conceded, "but she made out she'd be a lot happier if I did - so, to please her, I wore it. Then I sat on her knee and she began to cuddle me, and I didn't mind that at all, so long as no-one else knew. She always used to cuddle Karen more than she cuddled me, because boys aren't supposed to need cuddling as much as girls. But I didn't mind being cuddled, in fact it felt sort of nice," he concluded with a bashful smile.
"Tell the minister about the start of the summer holidays," his mother prompted.
"Oh, yes. It got all hot and sticky one day, and I remembered Karen deciding ages ago that girls wore more sensible gear in the summer than boys. Boys only wear sensible clothes when it's winter! So I put a dress on, and played around for a bit. It felt silly at first, but when I got used to it later on, it was okay."
"Tell him about your dancing!"
"Dancing?" Kevin evidently didn't understand. "What dancing?"
"Ah! Wrong child," Betty confided to the minister. "Talk instead about that day we went shopping then, you know, for your new uniform?"
"Ah, yes. Well, I thought, since it was okay for me to wear a skirt, I should get some nice new clothes instead of wearing Karen's throw-outs."
"They're hardly throw-outs, Kevin."
"Well, they weren't new. I wanted something that was mine. I didn't want to wear a vest she'd once 'glowed' in, or knickers that had her smelly bottom sitting in them."
Betty frowned. "Kevin, please! I'm sure the good minister doesn't wish to hear talk like that!"
"Don't worry," smiled the minister, "I know what the lad means. It's not nice wearing things that belong to someone else, is it, son?"
"Particularly someone who's dead!" Kevin emphasised.
"And that's another thing!" Betty exclaimed, waving a finger. "One minute he's telling me Karen's still with us, then he hurls that word DEAD in my face, as though he's deliberately trying to hurt me."
"But, in a sense, both are true," Dan advised them. "Her body's no longer living tissue, I'm sorry to say, so in that respect she is dead. But the soul, the love she has for you, the joy you have of knowing and remembering her, that's still very much alive. I wish you and Karen could have been at our conference this week."
"Oh, I was," said Karen. "You weren't alone!"
"That's Karen again," Betty explained. "They're both quite different, you can tell."
"Oh, I don't need glasses to see that for myself."
"Your eyesight's deteriorating badly, isn't it?" Karen sympathised. "You make little jokes about it, but we know you're worried. There's no need though. You're a good man, Dan, and you'll be well taken care of. You'll see!"
Dan Wright looked Betty straight in the eye, grim-faced. "Now explain that! Only my doctor and optician know those details - I haven't even told Moira."
"You should," Karen warned. "She's not merely your wife, Dan, she's your best friend. She has a right to know."
"Yet the other day," queried Betty, "Karen said she couldn't see into the future."
"I'm merely extrapolating, from Dan's present condition, something he already knows to be true. And my mother is about to explode, Mr. Wright, because I keep using your Christian name, even though I've told her many times we're all equal in spirit. I know you're not offended, but I'll gladly offer you an apology, if only to satisfy her."
"But there's no need, is there?" he said with a knowing smile. "Mrs. Marsh - I have to call you Betty now - I'm totally at one with your story. This is your Karen, of that I'm sure. And you should realise her spirit is here solely because she loves you and wants you to be content. She's not haunting you like a ghost, in case that worries you. She's sharing with you her continued existence, rather like our eldest daughter who's gone to live in Canada. In our case, neither side can afford to visit the other, but we make occasional extravagant phone calls. What matters most to us is to know she's happy where she is. Sadly her sister died not so long ago, so you and I have a lot in common, Betty. As to any effect this may have on young Kevin, all I can say is - don't neglect him, even subconsciously. The most precious thing we can give our children isn't a doll or a train set, it's our time and attention - TLC, we call it, Tender Loving Care. Love your Kevin, not for the plans you've drawn up for him, but for the character he is. Guide and correct him by all means; that's your job as a mother. But don't turn him into a retread of Karen, nor a role model for your own ambitions. Kevin has his own life to lead, a life of his making, not of yours - and remember that word LEAD, Betty. He leads; you guide. As Karen has now reminded me, I may need leading and guiding soon, who knows? As for the dressing-up, if that worries you, the best advice currently offered is that one shouldn't actively encourage it, nor suppress or forbid it - that's far worse. The world may not understand, but that's the world's fault, not Kevin's, so let him do whatever comes naturally."
"But what if this results in him wanting a sex-change?"
"If he does, then it won't be simply because you once dolled him up in a frock. In fact, ninety-nine times out of a hundred, allowing him that freedom is the best treatment. I allowed my son to drink freely when he was in his teens. Now he's nearly thirty and doesn't care to waste his money on alcohol. I let my daughter have a cigarette when she was twelve. It made her sick and she's never touched one since. Forbidding them to smoke or drink would have set up a challenge, a contest between us, and knowing my children as I do, I'm sure they'd have won, hands down! I think you'll find it's the same with Kevin and the dress. If you make it too strong a symbol of togetherness between Mother and son, it may become an obsession. But as to letting him wear whatever he wants at home - provided it doesn't offend anyone else - why not? I don't believe God really minds, do you?"
It sounded to Betty like a closing speech, so she thanked Dan for giving up his time, and promised she'd come to his church as often as she could.
"Come just whenever you want to," he replied. "We don't keep personal attendance records, nor do we hand out bonus points at the end of the season. My friends come whenever they want to share their Sunday morning with us. That's why we're there. And I'd say we've shared something very wonderful here this afternoon, wouldn't you agree? The only price I ask for my time is that you keep in touch, and that Kevin returns whichever book he cares to borrow. I don't mind who has them, but I do like to know where they are! You'd better let me have your address, just in case."
Kevin showed no reaction, until Betty nudged him.
"What?" he asked, as if returning from somewhere far away. "Sorry, I wasn't listening."
"Mr. Wright was asking if you'd like to borrow one of his railway books."
"Can I really? Please?" he added quickly in response to a look from his mother.
"Of course, but do bring it back before I go completely blind."
Kevin's puzzled frown showed that this remark meant nothing to him.
"Yes," the clergyman repeated as they took their leave, "the old eyes are failing fast but they say there's nothing I can do except keep watering them. I wonder what Karen meant by saying I'd be well taken care of? We'll have to wait and see, hopefully! Keep in touch, whatever you do, and I'll be keen to know of any further developments."
Betty handed him a piece of paper with her name and address. He peered at it closely.
"Allentown eh? You know Rev. Barkworth?"
"We know him," she replied. "But we much prefer your attitude, Dan. You're a lovely man, bless you. Thank you so much for listening and understanding. Oughtn't we to say goodbye to your wife?"
"Moira's gone to see her sister this week. Perhaps I can introduce you next Sunday after the service? She's been appointed principal of the new integrated grammar school. They're going co-ed, you know!"
<<< Previous Chapter
Back to my Stories Page
Back to my Front Page
Next Chapter >>>
Chapters:
1
2
3
4
5
6
8
9
10
11
12
13
Except where specifically noted, all music and stories on this web site are my own creations.
You may not use any of them for any purpose without written permission from me.
Copyright © 2003 Colin Johnson All Rights Reserved.