Five
When Beth Campbell began life, she was one of a pair of twins. They shared the same world. They both knew, and recognised, their mum’s voice, and were comforted by the sound of her heartbeat. Beth’s twin would often float by, and they would be reassured by each other’s presence.
Then, one day, when they were still tiny foetuses, Beth’s sister’s heart, unexpectedly, stopped beating. Curled in a little ball; to Beth she seemed too still and silent. Beth didn’t understand what had happened. At this early stage of her life, she had no conscious thought. But somehow, instinctively, she knew there was something very wrong with her sister’s body. Frightened of losing her, Beth offered her a way to remain. Without words, she suggested, ‘Share my life?’
Having her twin inside her head was wonderful. As a small child, Beth always had someone to talk to when the lights went out at bedtime. The sisters giggled together all the time. Her twin was fascinated by the story of Alice in Wonderland, and was happy to recite it whenever Beth couldn’t get to sleep.
‘Why do you like Alice in Wonderland so much?’
‘I don’t know. I suppose I just love all the unusual things that happen. A cat that can become invisible, a dormouse that lives in a teapot. Then, of course, there are the twins …’
‘Tweedledee and Tweedledum. Do they remind you of us?’ Beth giggled.
‘A bit.’ Her twin laughed too.
Where Beth was hesitant, her sister was forthright, and they worked well as one.
It was only when she started school, that Beth realised the uniqueness of their situation. The more she talked to the other children about their families, the more it became obvious that no one else had a twin living inside them.
She made friends with her neighbours, Michelle and Charlie, and it was clear that they too were alone in their own heads. She decided not to mention her unusual circumstances to anyone.
Beth was at school, when her sister chose a name. They were all practising writing in their special handwriting books, with their sharp little pencils.
Envious of Emma, Jack, Sarah, and all the other children with short names, Beth painstakingly copied all the letters from her full name. E-l-i-s-a-b-e-t-h.
The teacher pointed out that her parents had chosen the more unusual form of spelling. ‘Most people spell it with a z instead of an s. The Queen does too.’
‘The Queen?’
‘Yes, she’s called Elizabeth.’
‘Really?’ Beth felt very important.
Then, the teacher said, ‘You can make another name from the letters, look.’ She pointed at the end of the word. ‘There’s the name you like to be called ‒ Beth.’
Beth focused on the letters. Learning her sounds took all her concentration. ‘Uh huh.’
‘But you can also make the name Lisa. Do you see?’ The teacher’s finger moved back to the L.
‘I want that name,’ Beth’s twin said. Although, of course, no one else could hear her.
‘You want me to call you Lisa?’ Beth’s response also took place in her head. No one in the class was ever aware of their conversations.
‘Yes. I like it.’
‘It would be good … like Miss Parkinson says ‒ it would mean we both came from “Elisabeth”.’
‘Perfect,’ her twin said.
And that was that.
The twins learned everything together. Lisa always persuaded Beth to try new things, and Beth never thought to question her authority.
When Charlie nearly drowned at their tenth birthday party, Beth was extremely grateful that she didn’t have to go through the experience alone. Having Lisa’s support meant everything that day.
And yet … there was a tiny part of her that occasionally wondered … what must it be like to be the same as everyone else? Was it nice to make your own decisions?
As the girls grew older, Beth became aware of a change in Lisa. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she’d say Lisa was restless. Beth didn’t like to think too much about how things must be for her sister. But the older she got, and the more freedom she was allowed, the more she began to question how Lisa experienced life.
Her conclusion was, it must be rather claustrophobic to live inside someone else’s head. Beth had always feared confined spaces, and the thought of being shut in, caused her extreme anxiety.
She found it best not to dwell too much on what it must be like to be in Lisa’s place.
Sometimes, she agreed to do things that Lisa suggested, like buying the dreadful black tattoos, not because she wanted to do them, but because she felt bad that Lisa was unable to do anything for herself.
Beth was aware of a constant guilt that gnawed at her insides. Incapable of properly putting it in to words, all she could think was, why did I survive, and poor Lisa didn’t?
As the school work became more difficult, Lisa stopped offering her support. She was less inclined to praise her sister when she finished all the questions on time, and she failed to compliment her on her beautiful drawings. Lisa’s voice took on a sarcastic tone. No longer full of admiration, she often chose instead, to mock Beth’s efforts.
By the time puberty hit, the easy-going closeness of the girls’ younger years was forgotten, and their bedtime chats were far from jovial. Now, they were all about Lisa moaning that Beth ought to try being more adventurous, or that she was wasting the precious gift of life, that she’d been fortunate enough to keep hold of.
There was simply no getting away from it – Lisa was stuck in an unimaginably isolated world. And it was Beth who’d put her there!