Jenny Valentine - The Double Life of Cassiel Roadnight

“You don’t know that,” Helen said.

“Yes I do, Mum. I know him better than you. I’m right, aren’t I, Cassiel?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“I am,” she said. “And you do know. And I will never forgive you.”

“You said on the missing persons thing that you’d never give up,” I told her. “You didn’t say you’d never forgive.”

I worried instantly that I shouldn’t have spoken. In the silence that followed I thought I’d done something wrong.

“You didn’t make it easy,” Edie said.

Helen started to clear the plates. I got up to help her.

“Sit down,” I said, my hand on her shoulder. “I’ll do this.”

“Nice try,” Edie said. “Walk out for a couple of years and then tiptoe back in, all soft and sweet and helpful, like that’s going to fool anybody.”

I stacked the bowls as quietly as I could.

“Who the hell are you pretending to be, Cassiel Roadnight?” she said.

“Leave him,” Helen said. “That’s enough.”

“I’m sorry, Edie,” I said. “I’m sorry, Mum.”

Edie growled.

Helen looked at me and I smiled. “Your eyes have changed colour,” she said. She was surprised to hear herself say it.

I didn’t move. Edie pushed the ice cream away from her and leaned towards me. “They haven’t,” Edie said.

“They have,” said Helen. “They’re different. How’s that possible?”

Because I’m not him. Because I’m a grotesque copy. Because I’m a cuckoo in the nest.

“It’s not possible,” said Edie. “That’s the point.”

“Look at me,” Helen said.

I didn’t want to. I didn’t want her to see me. “I am.”

“Your eyes used to be blue,” she said.

“They are blue.”

“They’ve changed,” Helen said. “They’re not the same blue. They’re darker.”

I waited for them both to notice. I waited for the horror to dawn on their faces. I knew his mother would see.

“Yeah, right,” Edie said under her breath. “And you can count how many fingers I’m holding up.”

“What?” Helen said.

“You’re not remembering them right,” Edie said. “That’s all it is.”

“I am,” Helen said. “I know my son’s eyes.”

Tears welled up suddenly in hers. I hated to see his mother so ruined and so upset and so completely right. It hurt. And it was my fault.

“Do you think I don’t know my own son?” she said, to neither of us.

I put my arms around her. I said, “It’s OK, Mum,” even though it wasn’t, even though if she knew the truth she would scream the house down if I tried to touch her.

“I’ve got to go to bed,” she said. “I’m suddenly so tired.”

Edie said, “Tranquillisers will do that.”

“Don’t, Edie,” I said, without thinking.

It stunned her. It stopped her dead. I knew what the look on her face meant. I knew what she was thinking. Cassiel wouldn’t have said that.

Helen took my hand and looked at it like she’d never seen it before. She kept hold of it until I moved away, until she had to let go.

She kissed me on the cheek, delicate and cool.

“Night, Cassiel, Night, Edie,” she said when she was halfway up the stairs. “Sleep well.”

I tried to look everywhere but at Edie. I washed up and wiped the table and made a big deal of finding out where everything went and putting it away.

She watched me the whole time. I could feel her watching. I watched myself through her. I became aware of every little movement, every little sound, like the next thing I did would give me away.

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