twins arenâtâwell, freaks?â said Mel, who did not want to know what Joeâs mother had said. âThat itâs just aâa sly trick of nature, and that if they can be separated they probably wonât even be disabled at all?â
Joeâs face twisted with sudden, rather frightening anger, but he mastered it almost at once, and said that Mel was becoming quite whimsical nowadaysâa sly trick of nature indeed!
Mel had known, as soon as the word disabled came out, that it had been a mistake to use it. But once you had said a word you could not unsay it; it lay on the air between you, puckering the air with its ugliness, just as a thought, once formed, stayed stubbornly in your subconscious. Even a dreadful deformed thought that kept sneakily asking if you might have done anything that could have contributed to the twinsâ problem. Or even if Joe might be somehow to blame. No, that was a truly ridiculous thought, in fact it was positively Victorian.
Anyway, whatever thoughts might pad softly and treacherously through your subconscious mind, the words disabled and deformed must never ever be allowed to be part of them.
Extract from Charlotte Quintonâs diaries:
1st January 1900
Had no idea that chloroform made one so sick . All very well to talk about, No pain, Mrs Quinton, far better to do it this way; what they donât tell you is that although the stuff knocks you out for the entire birth, you spend the whole of the next day retching miserably at regular intervals.
Itâs slightly peculiar knowing the twins are here after all the waiting. Have not yet seen them, but Dr Austin says they are both girls. Edward will not like that very muchâhe wanted sonsâbut I shall love it. I shall love having two daughters, and I canât wait to meet them.
2nd January: 10 a.m.
Oh God, oh God, can hardly bear to write this. Dr Austin has just told me that the babies are joined to one anotherâtheyâre joined . Theyâre growing out of one another like some dreadful creature in a freak show. Thatâs why they werenât brought to me when I came out of horrid chloroform.
I said, âWhen can I see them?â and Dr Austin looked surprised, as if he had not expected me to ask this. He hrmphâd a bit and eventually said, Well, perhaps a little visit to take a look might be in order, perhaps after lunch when I had had a nap.
Do not want a nap after lunch, and do not want any lunch either. But did not dare to argue with Dr Austin in case he banned me from seeing the babies at allânot sure if doctors able to do this, but would not put it past Edward to be quietly having all kinds of sinister discussions behind my back. He knows a lot of people, my husband, Edward.
My husband. Edward. Itâs curious, but I put those words together, and they never seem quite to fit.
He has not yet been to see me, although flowers were deliveredâred and white carnations. Expensive and eye-catching, because he would want the nurses to see them and say, Oh, how beautiful! What a generous husband! Wonder if Edward knows the superstition that red and white flowers mixed together presage a death?
Itâs almost twelve oâclock. Two hours to get through.
2nd January: 1.30
I can hear Dr Austinâs voice in the corridor outside, and I can hear the sound of a bath-chair being brought for me. Itâs rumbling along the bare floors. Ridiculous to think that it sounds like the beating of two hearts, twined inextricably around one anotherâ¦
CHAPTER SIX
F OR SOME TIME the only sound in the small operating theatre was that of the measured bleep from the monitors. There was a scent of oranges, from the sweetened orange juice that Mr Brannan sometimes sipped when he was operating.
âHâm,â said Martin Brannanâs registrar. âAs well the lady opted for a general anaesthetic, isnât it?â
âI didnât give her any choice.
Joeâs face twisted with sudden, rather frightening anger, but he mastered it almost at once, and said that Mel was becoming quite whimsical nowadaysâa sly trick of nature indeed!
Mel had known, as soon as the word disabled came out, that it had been a mistake to use it. But once you had said a word you could not unsay it; it lay on the air between you, puckering the air with its ugliness, just as a thought, once formed, stayed stubbornly in your subconscious. Even a dreadful deformed thought that kept sneakily asking if you might have done anything that could have contributed to the twinsâ problem. Or even if Joe might be somehow to blame. No, that was a truly ridiculous thought, in fact it was positively Victorian.
Anyway, whatever thoughts might pad softly and treacherously through your subconscious mind, the words disabled and deformed must never ever be allowed to be part of them.
Extract from Charlotte Quintonâs diaries:
1st January 1900
Had no idea that chloroform made one so sick . All very well to talk about, No pain, Mrs Quinton, far better to do it this way; what they donât tell you is that although the stuff knocks you out for the entire birth, you spend the whole of the next day retching miserably at regular intervals.
Itâs slightly peculiar knowing the twins are here after all the waiting. Have not yet seen them, but Dr Austin says they are both girls. Edward will not like that very muchâhe wanted sonsâbut I shall love it. I shall love having two daughters, and I canât wait to meet them.
2nd January: 10 a.m.
Oh God, oh God, can hardly bear to write this. Dr Austin has just told me that the babies are joined to one anotherâtheyâre joined . Theyâre growing out of one another like some dreadful creature in a freak show. Thatâs why they werenât brought to me when I came out of horrid chloroform.
I said, âWhen can I see them?â and Dr Austin looked surprised, as if he had not expected me to ask this. He hrmphâd a bit and eventually said, Well, perhaps a little visit to take a look might be in order, perhaps after lunch when I had had a nap.
Do not want a nap after lunch, and do not want any lunch either. But did not dare to argue with Dr Austin in case he banned me from seeing the babies at allânot sure if doctors able to do this, but would not put it past Edward to be quietly having all kinds of sinister discussions behind my back. He knows a lot of people, my husband, Edward.
My husband. Edward. Itâs curious, but I put those words together, and they never seem quite to fit.
He has not yet been to see me, although flowers were deliveredâred and white carnations. Expensive and eye-catching, because he would want the nurses to see them and say, Oh, how beautiful! What a generous husband! Wonder if Edward knows the superstition that red and white flowers mixed together presage a death?
Itâs almost twelve oâclock. Two hours to get through.
2nd January: 1.30
I can hear Dr Austinâs voice in the corridor outside, and I can hear the sound of a bath-chair being brought for me. Itâs rumbling along the bare floors. Ridiculous to think that it sounds like the beating of two hearts, twined inextricably around one anotherâ¦
CHAPTER SIX
F OR SOME TIME the only sound in the small operating theatre was that of the measured bleep from the monitors. There was a scent of oranges, from the sweetened orange juice that Mr Brannan sometimes sipped when he was operating.
âHâm,â said Martin Brannanâs registrar. âAs well the lady opted for a general anaesthetic, isnât it?â
âI didnât give her any choice.
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