eventually began to take their toll on Irene. Tending to Eunice day and night was extremely draining in itself. But in addition to that duty the Reverend's wife was obliged to be available to counsel female students at the Bible College, many of whom wished to consult her about their own personal problems. It was a role which she carried out with much skill and aplomb. But with no one to counsel her in her own difficulties, and unwilling to reveal the dark secrets of her own marriage, Irene began to show more and more signs of stress, experiencing bouts of hyperventilation and falling to the floor in hysterical paralysis. It was not long before she herself was confined to bed, diagnosed as suffering from nervous exhaustion.
Mother and daughter, estranged from one another as they were, had one thing in common: neither had anyone at all with whom they could share their sense of isolation - least of all each other.
At the same time, despite Grace's concern for Eunice, all was not sweetness and light between the twins. For many years there had been considerable tension, for although she rarely said as much, Grace resented the fact that her sister had become both disfigured and incapacitated. Previously they had talked, walked and run together, whereas after the tumour was diagnosed these activities had ceased abruptly. As young children they had played happily together, with Eunice invariably the leader of the two, often protecting her more fragile sister in minor skirmishes at school. But those days had long since gone. The sad truth was that from the moment she had set eyes on her sister neatly propped up on pillows in her hospital bed after her first craniotomy, Grace had felt that her twin had already passed from her.
Eunice's illness had prompted Grace to make a painful reappraisal of their relationship. The situation had not been at all easy to accept, and when Grace was back at home from boarding school she would occasionally take out her frustration on her sister. There were frequent arguments, often concerning the family piano, a dark upright model to which she was very attached. Grace loved to play it, but Eunice could not bear what to her ears was a string of ugly, discordant sounds.
With Grace out of the way at school, Eunice naturally came increasingly under the influence of her mother, on whom she had become entirely dependent. As a result, during the school holidays it would not be long before Eunice was herself pointing her finger at her twin sister. 'That's a very unchristian thing to do,' she would often remark. And then, just to remind Grace of the many binding rules of the Mann household, she would warn her twin: 'Mummy and Daddy wouldn't like that.' For Grace, it seemed that her best and oldest friend had ceased to exist. Once again she had been abandoned.
For years Grace had been leading a double life, as is the fate of many a child sent away to boarding school. But for Grace, the contrast was unusually extreme. At Clarendon she enjoyed close and enduring friendships, laughter and fun. Awaiting her at home were an abusing and controlling father, an invalid sister and a remote mother. However, when she was fifteen and a half she was forced back into this nightmare full time, for the Manns had decided that she should leave school. Based at home, she would attend the local technical college and sit the O-levels in English and French that she had failed at Clarendon.
Grace's return home ushered in a period of despondency. Not only did she find her studies dreary; what seemed to her even worse, she felt a victim of her parents' shortage of money. At a time when, like any teenager, she wanted to dress up and enjoy herself, the Reverend made it abundantly clear that she would have to make do with her school uniform, comprising a shapeless dress, a V-necked sweater, striped socks and distinctly unflattering shoes. Again and again she was reminded that she was lucky to have as much as she did, given the strain
Mother and daughter, estranged from one another as they were, had one thing in common: neither had anyone at all with whom they could share their sense of isolation - least of all each other.
At the same time, despite Grace's concern for Eunice, all was not sweetness and light between the twins. For many years there had been considerable tension, for although she rarely said as much, Grace resented the fact that her sister had become both disfigured and incapacitated. Previously they had talked, walked and run together, whereas after the tumour was diagnosed these activities had ceased abruptly. As young children they had played happily together, with Eunice invariably the leader of the two, often protecting her more fragile sister in minor skirmishes at school. But those days had long since gone. The sad truth was that from the moment she had set eyes on her sister neatly propped up on pillows in her hospital bed after her first craniotomy, Grace had felt that her twin had already passed from her.
Eunice's illness had prompted Grace to make a painful reappraisal of their relationship. The situation had not been at all easy to accept, and when Grace was back at home from boarding school she would occasionally take out her frustration on her sister. There were frequent arguments, often concerning the family piano, a dark upright model to which she was very attached. Grace loved to play it, but Eunice could not bear what to her ears was a string of ugly, discordant sounds.
With Grace out of the way at school, Eunice naturally came increasingly under the influence of her mother, on whom she had become entirely dependent. As a result, during the school holidays it would not be long before Eunice was herself pointing her finger at her twin sister. 'That's a very unchristian thing to do,' she would often remark. And then, just to remind Grace of the many binding rules of the Mann household, she would warn her twin: 'Mummy and Daddy wouldn't like that.' For Grace, it seemed that her best and oldest friend had ceased to exist. Once again she had been abandoned.
For years Grace had been leading a double life, as is the fate of many a child sent away to boarding school. But for Grace, the contrast was unusually extreme. At Clarendon she enjoyed close and enduring friendships, laughter and fun. Awaiting her at home were an abusing and controlling father, an invalid sister and a remote mother. However, when she was fifteen and a half she was forced back into this nightmare full time, for the Manns had decided that she should leave school. Based at home, she would attend the local technical college and sit the O-levels in English and French that she had failed at Clarendon.
Grace's return home ushered in a period of despondency. Not only did she find her studies dreary; what seemed to her even worse, she felt a victim of her parents' shortage of money. At a time when, like any teenager, she wanted to dress up and enjoy herself, the Reverend made it abundantly clear that she would have to make do with her school uniform, comprising a shapeless dress, a V-necked sweater, striped socks and distinctly unflattering shoes. Again and again she was reminded that she was lucky to have as much as she did, given the strain
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