Julia heated the soup, microwaved a potato, set the table, moving quietly around Martin’s kitchen, thinking now about Robert and Valentina downstairs with Elspeth; now remembering Sebastian’s slim gloved hands gripping the forceps to pull the tooth; and now the panicked expression on Martin’s face as he opened his mouth at Sebastian’s request, and the way the panic had subsided as Martin kept his eyes on her lips as she counted for him. Numbers…Why numbers? What’s comforting about counting? She turned to look at Martin. He was sitting slumped with his head tilted, staring off into nothing. He looks sad. Or maybe that’s just how he looks when he isn’t doing something else with his face.

Julia served Martin and herself. There was no point in worrying over whether Valentina expected to eat dinner with her; Robert was there. Martin ate carefully, trying not to bite himself. After the meal Julia counted out his pills and he swallowed them and smiled his half-smile at her. “Thank you, Nurse.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, and began to clear the table. When she glanced at him a moment later he had lapsed back into his sad expression. “What’s wrong, Martin?”

“Oh-I know it’s silly, but I’m worrying because I can’t smoke. I know I ought to quit, but this doesn’t seem to be the right moment-that is, I’m always quitting, but I wasn’t planning to quit today.”

Julia smiled. “When our dad had his wisdom teeth out he couldn’t smoke so Mom smoked for him.”

“I fail to see how-”

Julia snapped her fingers. “Where are your cigarettes?”

“In the bedroom.”

She came back with the blue packet and the lighter, pulled her chair very close to Martin’s and lit a cigarette. “Okay, now, like this-” Julia took a drag, taking care not to inhale. Martin opened his mouth and she blew the smoke into it. “Yeah?” she said. Martin nodded and smoke came out of his nose. “Yeah.”

Julia put her hand on Martin’s shoulder. They leaned into each other. She turned her head and put her lips to the cigarette; the tip glowed. Martin’s eyes were half-closed, his mouth half-open. Julia tilted her face, and when she was inches away she blew the smoke very slowly; the sound Martin made as he inhaled reminded her of Valentina’s long asthmatic gasps. He exhaled, then chuckled.

“What?” she said.

“I’m awfully useless, aren’t I? Can’t even smoke for myself.”

“Don’t be silly,” Julia said. She touched his jaw. “Chipmunk cheek.” Martin raised his eyebrows. She took another drag on the cigarette. He leaned towards her eagerly.

When Robert went downstairs he found the door to the twins’ flat ajar. He knocked and went in. There was a window open somewhere in the flat and a cool damp breeze had found its way into the hall. Valentina was sitting on the sofa in the front room, surrounded by pieces of paper. The Ouija board and the plastic planchette were on the coffee table. The evening light made everything golden: all the faded rose and pink velvet brightened, Valentina’s pale green dress spread around her like a lily pad and her hair, electrified, encircled her face; everything merged in the golden light so that it seemed to Robert like a painting, one continuous surface. Valentina was sitting at the far end of the sofa with one foot tucked under her. She was facing the other end of the sofa as though someone were sitting there with her. Robert stood in the doorway and tried, wished and hoped to see this other. But he could not.

Valentina turned to him. He hadn’t noticed before how tired she looked; her eyes were bloodshot and had dark smudges underneath.

“Can you see her?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “Tell me…how does she look?”

Valentina smiled. “She changed when you came in…” Valentina shook her head slightly. “Why shouldn’t I say that? Anyway, she’s wearing a blue silk dress. It’s tight at the waist and has an A-line skirt; her hair is short, there’s just a little curl to it, it makes her eyes look huge; she’s incredibly pale, except her hands and the edges of her ears…She’s wearing dark lipstick…What else should I tell him?” “Can you hear her?”

“No, she’s pointing to things…”

Robert sank down until he was sitting on the floor at the edge of the scattered papers. He leaned his elbows on the coffee table. From this vantage point he thought he saw a disturbance in the air where Elspeth should be: perhaps it was like looking through perfectly clear glass; perhaps it was like trying to see music. He shook his head. “I want to, but I can’t.”

The planchette began to move. Valentina wrote down the message. MAYBE SOON.

“Yes,” said Robert. He was relieved to be back in Elspeth’s good graces. He glanced at the papers on the floor. “What have you been talking about?”

“Family stuff,” said Valentina. “Elspeth was telling me about when she and Mom were little, growing up in the house on Pilgrim’s Lane.”

“Didn’t your mother tell you all that?”

“Not much. Mom told us a lot of stories about Cheltenham. You know, like, all the weird social hierarchies and boring school uniforms. Julia always says they should have gone to Hogwarts instead.”

WE LIKED IT BETTER THAN HOME

“Why, Elspeth?” said Valentina. But Elspeth didn’t elaborate. Valentina watched her watching Robert. Elspeth had leaned back slightly so that she and Robert seemed to be gazing into each other’s eyes. Then Robert turned to Valentina and said, “Your grandparents were awfully strict. Apparently boarding school was a relief; Elspeth used to talk about the school plays, and they liked to play pranks on the other pupils-you know, twin sorts of pranks.”

Valentina asked Elspeth, “Did you and Mom dress the same?”

AT SCHOOL EVERYONE DRESSED THE SAME. OTHERWISE NO ONLY WHEN WE WERE TINY. Valentina found it disconcerting that Elspeth was so wholly focused on Robert; since he had come into the room Elspeth had hardly taken her eyes off him. She’s so used to being invisible, she forgets I can see her.

All afternoon, and for several days running now, whenever Julia was elsewhere Valentina and Elspeth had been sitting together, conversing in halting questions and answers. It amazed Valentina how different Elspeth’s stories were from what their mom had told them. In Elspeth’s childhood, events tended to take dark turnings: a picnic by a lake ended with the drowning of a schoolmate; she and Edie tried to befriend a boy from next door who was later sent to an insane asylum. In every story Elspeth and Edie were a team; there was no hint of discord, no foreshadowing of any rift; they were together always, cleverer and faster than their many adversaries. The stories made Valentina long for Julia-not the Julia of now, bossy and stifling, but the Julia of childhood, Valentina’s protector and second self. The suspense of each story was heightened by the laborious movements of the planchette. Out of necessity Elspeth’s stories were marvels of compression. They reminded Valentina of the blue-and-white plaques in Postman’s Park.

Robert picked up a few sheets of paper. “May I?” Valentina looked at Elspeth, who shrugged. YOUVE HEARD IT BEFORE, the planchette spelled.

Valentina had added some punctuation. WE WERE NINE. ONE DAY WALKING HOME WE SAW A SIGN THAT SAID “PUPPIES FOR SALE” IN FRONT OF A SHOP. VERY EXCITED, WE WENT IN AND SPOKE TO THE OLD MAN AT THE COUNTER. HE WAS A TOBACCONIST. HE BROUGHT US THROUGH THE SHOP TO A SHED IN THE YARD. THERE WERE BEAGLE PUPPIES. WE PLAYED WITH THE PUPPIES FOR A LONG TIME. THEN WE WANTED TO LEAVE AND WE FOUND HE HAD LOCKED US IN THE SHED. The page ended there. Robert remembered Elspeth telling him, years ago; they had been walking in Pond Street, where the tobacconist’s shop had been. Valentina found the next page and handed it to him. WE SHOUTED BUT NO ONE CAME. THE MOTHER DOG WAS BARKING WITH US. IT GOT DARK. THE MAN UNLOCKED THE DOOR. WE RUSHED AT HIM KNOCKED HIM OFF HIS FEET AND RAN HOME.