Ben laughs. ‘That’s ridiculous.’
‘Is it?’ She stares at him, deliberating whether to say it. ‘Surely you’ve noticed?’
He crosses his arms. It’s a defensive gesture. His biceps are strong and tanned. He’s wearing another new shirt. Designer, no doubt. ‘Noticed what?’
She opens her mouth to say it, but she can’t find the right words. It could all sound so terribly wrong.
He sighs then puts a cigarette in his mouth and lights it. ‘Look, Bea,’ he says after a few puffs. ‘Abi needs our support and understanding, you know that. She’s had such a hard time. Losing your twin – can you imagine?’
She stares at him for one long incredulous moment. ‘I can imagine exactly how that feels.’ His expression softens. ‘But it’s no excuse for her behaviour.’
He’s silent for a moment, assessing her through a fug of smoke, and she knows he’s searching around in his mind for a solution. Solid, dependable Ben. A typical man, desperate to fix things, make good a bad situation. ‘Do you think we should ask her to move out?’ he says eventually.
Beatrice’s heart quickens. She’s thought it on numerous occasions, of course. But she never imagined that Ben would agree. She chooses her words carefully. ‘It might be for the best. There has been a lot of tension in the house since she moved in.’
He turns away from her to look out over the garden, flicking his cigarette butt over the balcony, then grips the iron railings as if he’s been hit with the sudden onset of vertigo. Beatrice rubs his back, the way she used to when they were younger. It’s still light, the grey clouds heavy, the grass glistens with raindrops, the air smells washed, refreshed. From inside the house someone has put on ‘Psycho Killer’ by the Talking Heads and people are yelling along with the words.
‘Beatrice?’
She turns to see Nia standing in the doorway. She’s wearing a red-and-white polka-dot dress that clings to her curves and compliments her dark Celtic looks. Beatrice removes her hand from Ben’s back as Nia joins them, wrapping her arms around herself at the sudden change in temperature. She has intelligent brown eyes and a no-nonsense demeanour that Beatrice admires. ‘Abi wants to be on her own,’ says Nia in her sing-song Welsh accent. ‘I knew this day was going to be hard for her.’
‘We shouldn’t have thrown her a party, it was thoughtless,’ says Beatrice. Ben protests as soon as the words are out of her mouth, assuring her that her intentions were good, that she didn’t know how Abi was going to react, although she notices that Nia doesn’t say anything, she stands there regarding the two of them as if she’s trying to work them out, as if something about them bothers her.
‘Should I call an end to the party, tell everyone to go home?’ asks Beatrice, wrinkling her nose and surveying the clusters of people laughing, drinking and dancing.
Nia glances at her watch. ‘It’s still early. Maybe Abi will join the party later, I think she’s disappointed.’ She turns to address Ben. ‘When I spoke to Abi earlier today she was adamant she was going away with you, Ben.’
Ben lights up another cigarette. He smokes too much, it worries Beatrice. His eyes are bloodshot and she’s sure that while Abi remains living here, the tension, the worry of it, is going to make him ill. Not for the first time, she regrets asking Abi to move in.
‘I think we got our wires crossed,’ says Ben, his eyes flicking towards Beatrice.
You can say that again, she thinks, surveying her brother.
Ben flicks his cigarette butt over the edge of the balcony and steps away from the railings, handing Beatrice his empty glass. ‘I’m going to speak to Abi, I need to tell her I’m sorry.’ Beatrice opens her mouth to protest, to ask him if he’s still going to suggest that Abi moves out, but realizes anything she says will be futile, so she swallows her words, watching him weave his way through the throng of people, smiling and nodding politely to those who call out a greeting, until he disappears from her sight.
‘It must be hard for you,’ Nia says suddenly, by her elbow. The sky has darkened so that Nia’s face is in shadow and difficult to read. They are the only ones left on the balcony. The heavy beat of a dance tune wafts towards them.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Ben being your twin. Trying not to be over-protective.’
‘I love him,’ she says. ‘I don’t want him to get hurt.’
‘And you don’t think Abi is right for him?’
Beatrice thinks about her next words carefully, not wanting to offend Nia. ‘Abi moved in here as my friend. I never wanted her to become Ben’s girlfriend, and not because I dislike Abi, it’s, well, she’s been through so much. And since she’s moved in and taken up with Ben …’ she sighs. ‘There has been nothing but trouble.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Look,’ she says, turning to face Nia. ‘There’s been a lot of weird shit happening.’ And she launches into all of it, finishing up with the dress and the trainers.
Nia groans. ‘Not again.’
Beatrice shivers. ‘This has happened before?’
‘Well, not exactly, but …’ She hesitates.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Beatrice, as soon as I saw you I thought you resembled her,’ she says in a rush.
Beatrice frowns. ‘Lucy?’
Nia shakes her head. ‘Not only Lucy, but Alicia.’
She has a sudden sense of foreboding as she asks, ‘Who’s Alicia?’
Nia fidgets, wrapping her arms even further around her body as if to hide herself. Beatrice can tell Nia is clamming up, knows she probably regrets what she’s already said. ‘I can’t talk about that, you will have to ask Abi. It’s not fair for me to say anything.’
Beatrice swells with indignation. ‘I know that she tried to kill herself. I know more than you think, Nia. This is my house. I need to know who I’m living with, for fuck’s sake. Is Abi dangerous?’
Nia swivels around. ‘Of course she’s not. She’s better now, she seems better, especially now she’s on the antidepressants.’ But her voice wobbles and she sounds unsure.
‘But she’s not always taking her bloody antidepressants. Don’t you understand?’ Beatrice snaps. She’s as taut as an over-stretched elastic band. She has a hunch that whatever happened with Alicia didn’t end well. She remembers the intensity in Abi’s eyes, the neediness that emanated from her when they first met, and she knows, deep down, that she fed off Abi’s vulnerability, that she liked that Abi was so desperate to be her friend. It made her feel wanted, special. ‘Please, I need to know.’ There’s a silence and Beatrice holds her breath, aware that any sudden movement might change the course of things, that Nia might decide against confiding in her.
Nia is silent for a while and Beatrice is convinced the moment has been lost, until Nia says in a voice slightly louder than a whisper, ‘I’m only telling you this because I care about Abi and I’m worried.’
And Beatrice listens, her heart in her throat, as Nia tells her how Abi became obsessed with their new neighbour in the weeks after Lucy died, how she befriended her, convinced that they were soul mates, how she began to stalk her. ‘She would turn up at places where she knew Alicia was going to be. She got jealous when Alicia went out with other friends. I think Alicia thought Abi was too intense, too needy. I understood, of course, I’ve known Abi for years. But Alicia didn’t have that history with her, couldn’t make allowances for her grief. In the end, after a few months of this, Alicia told Abi that she wanted her to stay away and Abi,