Double Spell (5 page)

But when evening finally came and the sun lay low over the lake, the house was beginning to look like a house and not, as Mama had said in the morning, like the back storage room at the Salvation Army.

“Nothing wrong with the Salvation Army,” Papa had muttered. “Serves its usefulness.” But all the same Mama had managed to put even Papa to work. Now the sugar canister was out of the washing machine and on its shelf between the coffee and the flour, where it belonged. The hot water bottle was no longer on the mantlepiece in the living room. The cat’s dish had been found in William’s underwear drawer and put beneath the kitchen sink. The bathroom towels had been taken from the oven and the blue vase for the pussy willows, which had been at the bottom of the last packing case, was put in the center of the dining room table to decorate for supper. As a treat, Mama had bought a family-sized steak and potato chips to go with it, and the first whole day in the new house subsided into a comfortable tiredness of eating and trying once more to decide what to call Patrick’s new dog (which they couldn’t
and so left for another day). It was the last comfortable day the twins had for a long time.

When they climbed the stairwell to their tower, twilight had settled on the cherry trees in the garden below. The lake beyond was soft and still. The breeze, much the same breeze that had frightened them the night before, was floating quietly through the windows, disturbing only a very little the blue and white ladies that patterned the curtains.

Elizabeth, standing by the windows looking out at the lake, marshalled the arguments she had been storing all day to convince Jane that something should be done about their dreams. She slid into the conversation gracefully.

“There’s a ship in full sail out there. Come see,” she invited.

Jane, who always liked to get right down to things, was not deterred by Elizabeth’s sideways approach to the conversation.

“I think,” she said firmly, resting back on her heels from sorting the paints, books, tennis rackets, and old dolls’ clothes, “I think all that dream stuff really is just what Joe said.”

“What did Joe say?”

“You know, when we talked about Aunt Alice’s sick basket. It’s what I said this morning. Twins. We’re twins and twins just have the same dreams sometimes.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Twins do.”

“I know what twins do and what twins don’t do and they don’t always have the same dreams. We didn’t have the same dreams before we had this doll.” She shook the doll impatiently. “Why shouldn’t I know what twins do and don’t do. You’re not the only twin around here.”

“Oh,” said Jane irritably, “I didn’t mean that. I know you’re a twin too. I just meant,” she said seriously, “I don’t think that stuff you were saying this morning about the doll and the dreams is true….”

“Yes it is. It has to be. Look at the dreams, two of them, and knowing names and having feelings – all since we bought the doll. I think the doll wants something, wants us to do something. I really do.”

This was too much for Jane. She stood up and marched over to the window where Elizabeth stood holding the doll. “How can a doll want something? Honestly!” She looked closely at the doll’s face as she spoke, half expecting it to show some sign that it agreed. She was rather relieved when its bright blue eyes stared impassively back from its cracked face.

“You’re always looking for magic, dreaming and imagining things,” she said crossly. “Stupid dreams.”

“Stupid dreams! You had them too.” Elizabeth was outraged. Her face was beginning to show angry red. “You saw the house too and you saw,” she paused triumphantly, “you saw Hester. And you know it was Hester. And when I said Hester, and William came up the stairs, you screamed. You did, and I heard you.”

Jane started, “I don’t even know anyone called Hester,” she said lamely.

Someone said, “Ha!” For an instant Jane could have sworn it was the doll, then she looked angrily at Elizabeth.

“Well I don’t,” she said defensively.

“I don’t either,” said Elizabeth looking fixedly at her disgruntled sister, “but Amelia does.”

“Amelia does?” Jane turned her back to Elizabeth and the doll. “How do you know who Amelia knows? Dolls don’t know people anyway. The whole business is just plain silly.”

“And how do you know anyhow who I mean when I say Amelia?” and this time Jane knew it was Elizabeth who said, “Ha! Ha!”

“Well, I don’t know. I have no idea at all.” Jane was as angry as Elizabeth now.

“Oh yes you do!” Elizabeth grabbed Jane’s arm. “Yes you do. You just don’t want to admit it because … because it was my idea. You’re just plain hateful.” Elizabeth was shaking with rage. “You don’t like anything that’s interesting or exciting or different at all.”

“I don’t like what’s silly,” said Jane coldly, “and I don’t see for the least minute why I should be one bit interested in dreams. What’s so wonderful about dreams anyway? They aren’t real. You can’t prove them.”

This seemed the ultimate insult for Elizabeth. The one thing Jane could say to make her want to do something wild and murderous.

“Prove it,” she screamed. “Prove it. Prove it! PROVE IT! Is that all you can ever say – ever? You can’t prove baseball either. Or swimming. Or John A. MacDonald or two and two, but you don’t think those are stupid or say prove it to Miss Andrews.”

“At least,” retorted Jane, spitting out each word with great care, “you can see baseball and John A. MacDonald is in the books and two and two. But your dreams, they’re just plain crazy. I wouldn’t be one bit surprised if you’re crazy. You and your dreams. I don’t see at all how I can be twins with someone who’s just plain crazy.” She walked carefully and deliberately past Elizabeth’s nose as though she didn’t know Elizabeth or Elizabeth’s nose were in the room. She pulled her bathing suit out of the bureau drawer and began to change into it.

“I hate you!” screamed Elizabeth. “I hate being your twin and I hate you. I really truly, absolutely and positively hate YOU!” In her rage she picked up the first thing at hand and hurled it at Jane, who was just starting down the stairs. It was the doll. It landed halfway down where the stairs made a sharp turn. There it stayed, upside down, until Elizabeth crept out of bed much later and retrieved it. She brought it into bed with her then and murmured soothing words to it until finally she fell asleep and dreamed she was with Amelia aboard the sailing ship she had seen out on the lake. The dream was sad.

Jane went with Joe for a quick swim in the dark, but found herself too angry and unhappy to take any pleasure at all from the treat. She slunk into her bed and lay there
awake for hours. She couldn’t take her mind off the little house or the doll – or Hester. Of course she knew who Hester was, Hester with the brown dress, the puffed sleeves, and the fat brooch. She shivered. She didn’t like Hester – and Hester didn’t like her either. “That’s ridiculous,” she whispered into the night. “Who’s Hester? How does Hester know me or I know Hester? It’s a silly dream. Nothing to do with me. Anyway Hester belongs to the doll, not me. The doll belongs to Hester. Hester belongs to the doll … the doll belongs to Hester … Hester belongs to the … the doll belongs to …” and she fell asleep. And dreamed of Hester.

Untwins

T
he fight wasn’t over the next day – or the next – or the day after that. The twins couldn’t remember a fight that had lasted so long or been so dreadful. They went around for days in silence and hurt and anger. Usually their fights were about something definite, something that happened, but this one was about being twins. It started with the doll, of course – or maybe it was Hester – but it wasn’t about that. It was about being twins, being different but locked together by shared thoughts, feelings – and now dreams. They wanted to break that lock. They wanted to so badly they could barely speak.

“Mama, are Liza and Jane untwins?” William asked and the family decided maybe that’s what they were, untwins.

Feeling sorry and hoping to make things more comfortable in the family, Mama suggested that one of them move to the attic room. Neither twin, knowing how much the other loved the tower room, would do this.

So Jane went off every morning down the beach to the high diving pool. Two days in a row she brought home a girl named Polly, who lived a couple of streets away, and ignored Elizabeth strenuously.

Elizabeth did more or less the same thing. She didn’t dive. She puttered around, found the local library, and got to know Miss Porcastle, the librarian. She tried dress making for the doll, but after three unsuccessful attempts she left it with its half-made clothes in the window seat. Although she couldn’t actually put it right out of her head, she shoved it into the background and concentrated on historical novels under the cherry tree.

Papa tried to show his sympathy by taking them for a walk, but neither wanted his sympathy.

It was the doll that ended the fight – which was only fair since it was the doll that had begun it.

Elizabeth went upstairs at noon, a day or so after the nighttime walk, to get away from Mama’s cross scolding. Someone had been at Mama’s sewing, and since Elizabeth had lately shown some interest in sewing, Mama had questioned her closely about it. Indignantly Elizabeth had denied all knowledge of the mess. Hurt, she had gone upstairs to her own room. As she often did these days, she went to the window seat to tell Amelia all about it. Amelia wasn’t there. She looked in the space inside the window seat. The doll wasn’t there either, nor in the closet, nor on the chair, nor any other place in the room.

Back to the window seat she went in panic, to have another look. From the window she could see Jane coming
up the garden walk. Forgetting they were untwins, not sharing things, not speaking at all, she raced down the stairs and slammed through the kitchen door.

“Oh, Jane,” she cried, nearly running her sister down, “it’s gone.”

Without stopping to ask what, Jane looked up toward the window.

“No it isn’t,” she said. “There it is.”

Elizabeth whirled round on her heel, looked up where Jane was pointing. There was Amelia, face down into the pigeon hole, hanging by one foot from the window ledge above.

The twins stared at each other, their fight forgotten.

“How did you know?” Elizabeth asked.

“I don’t know. I just knew what you were looking for and I knew where it was clear as day.”

“The doll …” Elizabeth was about to say triumphantly,
the doll told you,
but she cut off the words before she could say them. Elizabeth had learned something.

“I wonder how it got there,” she said.

“Maybe Porridge took it. Maybe he thought it was to eat – you know, like the peanut butter sandwich.”

From high up in his pigeon hole Porridge regarded them out of his unblinking eyes.

“I’ll bet that’s what he did,” said Elizabeth, somehow relieved.

From behind them William said, “Maybe Porridge wants your doll for his babies to play with.”

Jane and Elizabeth burst out laughing.

“Oh, William,” Jane said, “he birds don’t have babies,” but when Jane went upstairs and leaned out of the window to rescue Amelia, she looked down into the nest and William was right. Porridge had babies.

“Maybe he – or I guess it’s she – did want it for her babies,” she said breathlessly when she was back beside the cherry tree, the doll clutched safely in her hands.

The twins looked at each other warily. Jane said quickly, “I’llbefriendsifyouwill,” which was a make-up-after-a-fight formula they had been using, almost since they had started talking real words.

And Elizabeth quickly gave the expected answer, “Guessitwasn’tallyourfault,” and solemnly they shook hands. To cover their embarrassment they sat down under the tree to talk about Porridge and her babies.

To Find a House

A
ll that afternoon, Jane and Elizabeth sat under the cherry tree in the back garden. William watched them curiously for a brief while and then went off to find his cars. Joe came by and threw a handful of sand at them on his way from the beach. Patrick passed on his way from cleaning the coach house, and the puppy, following Pat, decided he liked the shade of the cherry tree and squeezed in between the twins.