Audrey Niffenegger - Her Fearful Symmetry

F OR DAYS Martin had been hearing noises in the eaves. Something was scampering, clawing, scratching in the space between his ceiling and the roof. Martin called Robert. Robert called the pest-control man, whose name was Kevin.

Kevin duly arrived first thing Monday morning. He was an enormous man, at least twenty stone, both tall and wide. He didn’t say anything as Martin and Robert led him through the darkened rooms with their piles of boxes. Martin wondered how such an immense human was going to manage to get through the small trapdoor in the dressing room ceiling that provided access to the eaves.

Kevin pulled down the ladder, took out a torch and squeezed himself through the hole with a soft grunt. Robert and Martin heard his boots treading from joist to joist. Martin felt a bit queasy, staring up at the hole. Something might come running out of it. Perhaps whatever it was had fleas; perhaps Kevin would bring the fleas down with him on his boots. He seemed to be up there a long time. Martin became very uneasy. Robert said, “You don’t have to stand here. Why don’t you go and have a fag at your desk. I’ll wait for him.” Martin shook his head. The faint boot treads seemed to be moving around the outer perimeter of the building. “Have you ever been up there?” Robert asked.

“When we first lived here Marijke went up. And we had some problems with the roof, but that was before you came. It’s just boards and insulation.” Martin wondered if he could persuade Kevin to remove his boots before he stepped off the ladder. Not likely.

The boot treads approached; Kevin appeared in the opening, lowered himself onto the ladder. Martin stared at his boots. Robert said, “See anything?”

“There’s nowt up there,” said Kevin. “You’ve got very empty eaves.”

“Hmm,” said Robert. “They must be on the roof, not in the roof.”

“That’ll be it, perhaps.”

Robert saw him out and came back upstairs. Martin was scrubbing the dressing-room floor.

“Well?” said Robert.

“That’s a deep subject,” Martin replied.

“My grandfather used to say that.”

Martin said, “Why haven’t you introduced yourself to Elspeth’s girls? They’ve been here for six weeks.”

Robert leaned against the doorjamb and thought about it. “I don’t know. I’ve been rather busy. I had their ceiling fixed, though.” He watched Martin scrubbing and said, “You might use a bit less water when you do that, or you’ll be bringing down their dressing-room ceiling as well and all Elspeth’s shoes will be ruined.”

“They’re charming. Or, one of them is. I haven’t met the other one. She was quite Elspeth-like.”

“In what way?”

“That devastating forthrightness. Elspeth could wield it better, of course; Julia seems a bit out of control. But really, she’s a lovely girl. Nothing to be afraid of.”

Robert made a little snorting sound that Martin correctly translated as Kindly back off . “These noises you’ve been hearing. Are you sure they’re animal noises? I noticed the big oak has grown over the roof. Perhaps we need to call a tree surgeon and get things trimmed up. It couldn’t hurt.”

“All right.” Martin was convinced that the eaves were infested with something, but he knew better than to insist on it now that the pest-control man had checked things out and found nothing. Martin knew that there were two realities: the actual one and the felt one. In the past he had tried to explain, but Robert didn’t understand and invariably started talking about medication in a serious, almost patronising manner. Martin stopped scrubbing and stared at the floor, then closed his eyes and consulted his feeling about the floor. The urge to clean it was satisfied. He stood up and gathered his bucket and brush.

“How’s your thesis coming along?” he asked Robert.

“Fine. I’m off to the Royal Society of Medicine today. I’m helping Dr. Jelliffe with his pamphlet on all the medical practitioners buried in Highgate.”

“Oh, what fun,” Martin said wistfully. Of all the things he missed about the world, researching in actual libraries ranked near the top. Robert opened his mouth to say something, changed his mind. Martin said, “Say hello to the doctor, then. And for heaven’s sake go and introduce yourself to those twins.”

Robert smiled and gave Martin an enigmatic look. “Okay. I’ll get right on it.” He left Martin’s flat and went down the stairs. On the first-floor landing he stood facing the door, staring at the little card with Elspeth’s name on it. He raised his hand to knock, then didn’t, and continued walking down the stairs and into his flat.

I T WAS A GREY, cold day. Rain was imminent. Julia and Valentina were walking up Primrose Hill. They were bundled up against the cold, and the effort of walking uphill made their cheeks pink. Julia had bought a book called Super-Mini British Slang Dictionary in an Oxfam shop. She occasionally referred to it as they walked.

“Bubble and squeak,” Julia said.

Valentina pondered. “It’s something to eat. Is it steak and kidney pie?”

“No, steak and kidney pie is steak and kidney pie.”

“Well, it’s like a stew.”

“Cabbage and potatoes chopped up and fried together,” said Julia. “Okay, here’s a good one: codswallop.”

“Nonsense.”

“Very good, A plus for our Mouse. Now you do some for me.” Julia handed Valentina the book. The twins reached the top of the hill. London spread out before them. The twins were unaware of it, but Winston Churchill had often stood on the spot they happened to be standing on, thinking over strategy during World War II. The twins were disappointed with the view. Chicago was dramatic; if you went to the top of the John Hancock Center you felt a little bit of vertigo and saw a city full of huge buildings beside a gigantic body of water. Standing on Primrose Hill, the twins saw Regent’s Park, which was drab in February, and tiny buildings in the distance all around.

“It’s bloody cold up here,” said Julia, jumping up and down and hugging herself.

Valentina frowned. “Don’t say ‘bloody.’ It’s swearing.”

“Okay. It’s jolly cold up here. It’s blooming cold. Gorblimey, it’s cold up here.” Julia began to do a sort of dance. It involved running in circles, skipping and hopping in place every now and then while throwing her body sideways. Valentina stood with her arms crossed, watching Julia carom around. Now and then Julia bumped into her. “C’mon, Mouse,” Julia said, grabbing Valentina’s mittened hands. They two-stepped around in a circle for a few minutes until Valentina was out of breath. She stood leaning over with her hands on her knees, wheezing.

“You okay?” Julia asked. Valentina shook her head and her hat fell off. Julia replaced it. After a few more minutes Valentina’s breathing returned to normal. Julia felt as though she could jog up and down the hill ten times without getting as winded as Valentina had been after a couple minutes of dancing. “You okay now?”

“Yeah.” They began to walk down the hill. The wind dropped almost instantly. Valentina felt her lungs unclench. “We should figure out how to get a doctor.”

“Yeah.” They walked in silence for a while, following the same train of thought: We promised Mom we’d find a doctor right away and not wait until Valentina has some kind of emergency. But we’ve only been here six weeks, so really this is still “right away.” Besides, there’s a hospital just down Highgate Hill, so if anything does go wrong we could go to the emergency room. But we’re still not insured, so we’d end up having to tell Mom and Dad. But how do we figure out the National Health Service? Maybe that lawyer who did Aunt Elspeth’s will could explain it.