Taking off her hat, she beat it against the side of her coat.
Andrew was staring, as if he’d only just seen her. ‘You’re awfully like him, aren’t you? I didn’t think boy/girl twins could be identical.’
‘They can’t,’ she said. ‘One’s a boy, one’s a girl.’ He was supposed to be a medical student, for God’s sake. ‘Anyway, we’re not twins.’
‘Oh. I’m sure Toby said –’
‘I think I’d know.’ That verged on the sharp. ‘Toby was a twin, the other one died.’
‘Sorry, I must’ve got it wrong.’
He was still looking puzzled: Toby
had
said they were twins. She didn’t understand any of this, but there was no time to think about it now. ‘Is there anybody in the house who can help look after him?’
‘No, not really. I live at home, I can come in during the day, but I couldn’t stay overnight.’
‘I meant the landlady, somebody like that.’
‘I’m afraid she’s much too grand for anything like that. And I don’t think he knows any of the other tenants.’
The walk took a lot longer in the snow than it would normally have done. By the time they reached Toby’s lodgings Elinor was gasping for breath, in no state to face four flights of stairs, or brace herself for what she might find when she reached the top.
Andrew pushed open the door, called out a cheerful greeting and then stood aside to let her go in first. Her nostrils caught the usual sickroom fug of camphor and stale sweat. The room was in darkness except for a circle of firelight flickering on the hearthrug. She couldn’t see where she was going, but then Andrew stepped in front of her and lit the lamp. A bristle of meaningless detail: clothes, shoes, socks, furniture, books, dirty dishes piled up in a sink. None of it registered. She saw only Toby’s face.
‘Elinor.’
Three quick strides took her to the bed. ‘It’s all right,’ she was saying. ‘It’s all right.’
He gazed up at her, and a thick, pasty-white tongue came out and licked his cracked lips.
‘Don’t try to talk.’
As she spoke, she was pulling off her coat and scarf. She tossed them on to a chair and stamped her feet to shake off the curds of snow. The room filled with the smell of wet wool and the cold air they’d brought in on their skins.
Elinor glanced round. The fire was burning low, but there was a basket full of logs, presumably carried up by Andrew. There was a jug of water by the bed. As for food, well … She doubted if Toby could eat anything and she certainly didn’t want to.
‘You won’t tell Mother, will you?’
‘She’s got a right to know.
And
Father.’
‘Honestly, Elinor, this is a terrible thing …’ He was struggling to sit up. ‘Don’t let –’
He’d always been like this about Mother. Nothing must be allowed to upset or disturb her at all. It made Elinor actually quite angry: so much concern for Mother, so little for her. It obviously didn’t matter if
she
got ill. And Father, where was Father in all this? Nowhere. Rachel, not even mentioned. But she could see he was becoming more and more agitated.
‘All right,’ she said, at last. ‘I promise.’
He closed his eyes then and let her settle him on to the pillows, which were damp with his sweat.
When she’d made him as comfortable as she could, she turned to Andrew, who’d been hovering, awkward and clumsy, by the door, his gaze fixed on Toby’s flushed and sweating face.
‘I’ll be all right now, if you want to get off.’
He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘I don’t want to, but I think perhaps I’d better.’
He went to stand by the bed. For some extraordinary reason she felt she ought to look away, but then, deliberately, didn’t. She watched him wrap one big red hand round Toby’s twitching fingertips.
‘Right, then, I’ll see you in the morning.’
‘What time?’
‘Nine-ish.’
‘Oh. Not till then?’
‘All right, I’ll try to get in for eight.’
Toby seemed about to say something else,
Andrew was staring, as if he’d only just seen her. ‘You’re awfully like him, aren’t you? I didn’t think boy/girl twins could be identical.’
‘They can’t,’ she said. ‘One’s a boy, one’s a girl.’ He was supposed to be a medical student, for God’s sake. ‘Anyway, we’re not twins.’
‘Oh. I’m sure Toby said –’
‘I think I’d know.’ That verged on the sharp. ‘Toby was a twin, the other one died.’
‘Sorry, I must’ve got it wrong.’
He was still looking puzzled: Toby
had
said they were twins. She didn’t understand any of this, but there was no time to think about it now. ‘Is there anybody in the house who can help look after him?’
‘No, not really. I live at home, I can come in during the day, but I couldn’t stay overnight.’
‘I meant the landlady, somebody like that.’
‘I’m afraid she’s much too grand for anything like that. And I don’t think he knows any of the other tenants.’
The walk took a lot longer in the snow than it would normally have done. By the time they reached Toby’s lodgings Elinor was gasping for breath, in no state to face four flights of stairs, or brace herself for what she might find when she reached the top.
Andrew pushed open the door, called out a cheerful greeting and then stood aside to let her go in first. Her nostrils caught the usual sickroom fug of camphor and stale sweat. The room was in darkness except for a circle of firelight flickering on the hearthrug. She couldn’t see where she was going, but then Andrew stepped in front of her and lit the lamp. A bristle of meaningless detail: clothes, shoes, socks, furniture, books, dirty dishes piled up in a sink. None of it registered. She saw only Toby’s face.
‘Elinor.’
Three quick strides took her to the bed. ‘It’s all right,’ she was saying. ‘It’s all right.’
He gazed up at her, and a thick, pasty-white tongue came out and licked his cracked lips.
‘Don’t try to talk.’
As she spoke, she was pulling off her coat and scarf. She tossed them on to a chair and stamped her feet to shake off the curds of snow. The room filled with the smell of wet wool and the cold air they’d brought in on their skins.
Elinor glanced round. The fire was burning low, but there was a basket full of logs, presumably carried up by Andrew. There was a jug of water by the bed. As for food, well … She doubted if Toby could eat anything and she certainly didn’t want to.
‘You won’t tell Mother, will you?’
‘She’s got a right to know.
And
Father.’
‘Honestly, Elinor, this is a terrible thing …’ He was struggling to sit up. ‘Don’t let –’
He’d always been like this about Mother. Nothing must be allowed to upset or disturb her at all. It made Elinor actually quite angry: so much concern for Mother, so little for her. It obviously didn’t matter if
she
got ill. And Father, where was Father in all this? Nowhere. Rachel, not even mentioned. But she could see he was becoming more and more agitated.
‘All right,’ she said, at last. ‘I promise.’
He closed his eyes then and let her settle him on to the pillows, which were damp with his sweat.
When she’d made him as comfortable as she could, she turned to Andrew, who’d been hovering, awkward and clumsy, by the door, his gaze fixed on Toby’s flushed and sweating face.
‘I’ll be all right now, if you want to get off.’
He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘I don’t want to, but I think perhaps I’d better.’
He went to stand by the bed. For some extraordinary reason she felt she ought to look away, but then, deliberately, didn’t. She watched him wrap one big red hand round Toby’s twitching fingertips.
‘Right, then, I’ll see you in the morning.’
‘What time?’
‘Nine-ish.’
‘Oh. Not till then?’
‘All right, I’ll try to get in for eight.’
Toby seemed about to say something else,
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