daughter, unloved by her mother and abandoned by her father. The clarity of his realisation was as piercing as the fresh spring sunshine as he marched eastwards, along the clogged main road, towards the hotel.
Emily sat at her desk in her bright square bedroom trying to concentrate on her GCSE maths revision. The house felt strange, characterless, without Caroline there – her twin had always added a kind of electric zing to the atmosphere – but although she missed her Emily felt relieved that Caroline was finally getting some help. She was pleased with their mother’s response too – Frances seemed to have overnight transformed into more of a proper, genuine mother to Caroline, as if a switch had been flicked on, and Emily had felt her mother’s focus shift from her at last. It might even help hers and Caroline's relationship too – Emily had always done her best to get on with her sister, make allowances for her behaviour, after all it was no wonder Caroline was so jealous of her, considering how much she was favoured. It was weird how it was only now her twin wasn’t here that Emily was fully aware of it.
Emily was a nice girl. She had inherited her father’s whimsical nature but none of his weakness, along with her mother’s strength and stoicism. It was a good combination. She was sweet, in both looks and nature, did well at school, was quietly popular, gently amusing, in fact all round sickening to her younger twin. Caroline was a harder, glittering version of Emily – prettier, cleverer, wittier even, but with none of the lovability, and the irony was that Emily seemed embarrassed to be liked and yet everyone loved her, and Caroline was desperate to be loved and nobody did.
Emily presumed that that must have been why Caroline had begun to starve herself, to try to take back some control in the midst of such isolation. She knew very little about the illness and was astonished now that none of them had noticed, but Caroline had been clever. When she’d refused to join the family meal times they all assumed that was just Caroline being Caroline; when she started covering herself from head to foot in black, that was Caroline going through her gothic phase; when her cheekbones shone brittle through her pallid skin it was her new choice of makeup. Emily felt ashamed. This was her twin sister after all, she couldn’t believe she’d been so oblivious. She turned the page of her maths book – simultaneous equations. Emily enjoyed doing these, loved the solidity of them, the reliability, the fact that despite the complexity of getting there, there was only one right answer in the end. That’s pretty much how she approached life, she realised, always looking for the right answer and it nearly always coming to her. Even with this situation, although Emily was sad for her twin she felt optimistic, sure that Caroline's cry for help had been heard and now she'd get better. They’d get on better too, Emily was confident of that; she was determined to try harder. She studied the question:
A man buys 3 fish and 2 chips for £2.80
A woman buys 1 fish and 4 chips for £2.60
How much are the fish and how much are the chips?
Emily half got up from her desk by the window and peeked down into the road – her father should be home soon. She turned towards the door and surveyed her room, with its neatly-made bed and over-sized cushions that Frances had covered in aztec-style fabric, arranged casually along the wall so she could lounge with her friends, like it was a sofa. She was happy with her new posters, of Madonna in a cone-shaped bra and Michael Bolton with his long angular face and flowing hair. She thought they were nicer than the ones Caroline had plastered all over her wall in the room next door, of grungy bands Emily had never heard of like Stone Temple Pilots and Alice in Chains, and shouty intimidating punk-rockers like The Sex Pistols – one thing she had been glad of in the past weeks was not having to
Emily sat at her desk in her bright square bedroom trying to concentrate on her GCSE maths revision. The house felt strange, characterless, without Caroline there – her twin had always added a kind of electric zing to the atmosphere – but although she missed her Emily felt relieved that Caroline was finally getting some help. She was pleased with their mother’s response too – Frances seemed to have overnight transformed into more of a proper, genuine mother to Caroline, as if a switch had been flicked on, and Emily had felt her mother’s focus shift from her at last. It might even help hers and Caroline's relationship too – Emily had always done her best to get on with her sister, make allowances for her behaviour, after all it was no wonder Caroline was so jealous of her, considering how much she was favoured. It was weird how it was only now her twin wasn’t here that Emily was fully aware of it.
Emily was a nice girl. She had inherited her father’s whimsical nature but none of his weakness, along with her mother’s strength and stoicism. It was a good combination. She was sweet, in both looks and nature, did well at school, was quietly popular, gently amusing, in fact all round sickening to her younger twin. Caroline was a harder, glittering version of Emily – prettier, cleverer, wittier even, but with none of the lovability, and the irony was that Emily seemed embarrassed to be liked and yet everyone loved her, and Caroline was desperate to be loved and nobody did.
Emily presumed that that must have been why Caroline had begun to starve herself, to try to take back some control in the midst of such isolation. She knew very little about the illness and was astonished now that none of them had noticed, but Caroline had been clever. When she’d refused to join the family meal times they all assumed that was just Caroline being Caroline; when she started covering herself from head to foot in black, that was Caroline going through her gothic phase; when her cheekbones shone brittle through her pallid skin it was her new choice of makeup. Emily felt ashamed. This was her twin sister after all, she couldn’t believe she’d been so oblivious. She turned the page of her maths book – simultaneous equations. Emily enjoyed doing these, loved the solidity of them, the reliability, the fact that despite the complexity of getting there, there was only one right answer in the end. That’s pretty much how she approached life, she realised, always looking for the right answer and it nearly always coming to her. Even with this situation, although Emily was sad for her twin she felt optimistic, sure that Caroline's cry for help had been heard and now she'd get better. They’d get on better too, Emily was confident of that; she was determined to try harder. She studied the question:
A man buys 3 fish and 2 chips for £2.80
A woman buys 1 fish and 4 chips for £2.60
How much are the fish and how much are the chips?
Emily half got up from her desk by the window and peeked down into the road – her father should be home soon. She turned towards the door and surveyed her room, with its neatly-made bed and over-sized cushions that Frances had covered in aztec-style fabric, arranged casually along the wall so she could lounge with her friends, like it was a sofa. She was happy with her new posters, of Madonna in a cone-shaped bra and Michael Bolton with his long angular face and flowing hair. She thought they were nicer than the ones Caroline had plastered all over her wall in the room next door, of grungy bands Emily had never heard of like Stone Temple Pilots and Alice in Chains, and shouty intimidating punk-rockers like The Sex Pistols – one thing she had been glad of in the past weeks was not having to
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