Audrey Niffenegger - Her Fearful Symmetry

“Marijke? Are you crying?”

“No. No, go on…” Talk as long as you can, until the batteries run down, until dawn, until I see you again, my love.

T HE NEXT day was strangely mild, the kind of day that induces people to say, “Global warming,” and smile ruefully. Robert woke up early to the sound of church bells and thought, Today is the perfect day to picnic in Postman’s Park.

He gathered his courage, went upstairs and invited the twins. By noon he had assembled sandwiches, bottled water, apples and a bottle of Pinot Blanc into an ancient picnic basket borrowed from Jessica and James. He decided they should take the bus, partially to accommodate Valentina’s tube phobia and partly because he thought the twins ought to get to know the bus system. By the time they arrived at the unassuming gates of the park all three of them were hungry, and the twins were quite lost.

Robert carried the picnic basket into the park and set it on a bench. “ Voilà, ” he said. “Postman’s Park.” He had not told them what to expect; they had imagined something like St. James’s or Regent’s Park, and so they stood and looked about, perplexed. The park occupied a narrow space between a church and some nondescript buildings. It was neat, shady and devoid of people. There was a diminutive fountain, eight wooden benches, a scattering of trees and ferns, a low, shed-like structure at one end and some old tablet-style gravestones leaning against the buildings.

“It’s a cemetery?” asked Julia.

“It was an old churchyard, yes.”

Valentina looked quizzical but said nothing. The park was sort of drab and she couldn’t see why Robert had been so intent on bringing them here.

“Why is it called Postman’s Park? I don’t see any postmen. Or postpersons,” said Julia.

“The old Post Office was nearby. The postmen used to eat their lunch here.”

Valentina wandered over to a sign on the church wall. GUILD AND WARD CHURCH OF ST BOTOLPH-WITHOUT-ALDERSGATE. She looked at Robert, who smiled and shrugged. She took a few steps towards the shed at the back of the park.

“Warmer,” he said. Julia was there and Valentina hurried to join her. The shed building was covered in beautiful white tiles, which were lettered with blue inscriptions:

Elizabeth Boxall, aged 17 of Bethnal Green who died of injuries received in trying to Save a Child from a runaway horse, June 20, 1888.

Frederick Alfred Croft, Inspector. Aged 31 Saved a Lunatic Woman from suicide at Woolwich Arsenal Station. But was Himself run over by the Train. Jan. 11. 1878

The twins wandered back and forth, reading the plaques. There seemed to be hundreds of them.

David Selves, aged 12 off Woolwich supported his drowning play-fellow and sank with him clasped in his arms September 12, 1886

“You’re kind of sick, you know that?” Julia told Robert. He looked slightly hurt.

“They’re memorials to ordinary people who sacrificed themselves for others. I think they’re beautiful.” He turned to Valentina, who nodded.

“They’re nice,” she said. She wondered why Julia was being so mean. Usually this was exactly the sort of thing they both found interesting. There was something very strange about the plaques; the stories were extremely abbreviated, hinting at mayhem, but they were decorated with flowers and leaves, crowns, anchors. The ornamentation belied the words: drowned, burned, crushed, collapsed.

Sarah Smith, Pantomime Artiste at Prince’s Theatre died of terrible injuries received when attempting in her inflammable dress to extinguish the flames which had enveloped her companion. January 24, 1863

All these ordinary catastrophes crowded in on Valentina. She went back to sit on the bench. Just to be sure, she got out her inhaler and took two puffs. Julia and Robert watched her.

“She has asthma?” Robert asked.

“Yeah. But I think at the moment she’s trying to fend off a panic attack.” Julia frowned. “Why did you bring us here?”

“This was one of Elspeth’s favourite spots. If she was around to give you the grand tour she would have brought you here herself.” They began walking towards Valentina. “Shall we have lunch?” Robert unpacked the sandwiches and distributed food and drink to the twins. They sat in a row on the bench and ate quietly.

“Are you okay?” Robert asked Valentina.

She glanced at Julia and said, “I’m fine. Thanks for bringing lunch, this is good.” Say something nice, Julia.

“Yeah, really good. What are we eating?”

“Prawn-mayonnaise sandwiches.”

The twins inspected the insides of their sandwiches. “It tastes like shrimp,” said Julia.

“You would call it a shrimp-salad sandwich. Though I’ve never understood where the salad idea comes into it.”

Julia smiled. “We’ve been trying to teach ourselves British. Logic does not apply.”

Valentina said, “Have you ever been to America?”

“Yes,” Robert replied. “Elspeth and I went to New York a few years ago. And the Grand Canyon.”

The twins were puzzled. “Why didn’t you come to see us?” Julia asked.

“We talked about that. But in the end she decided not to. There were some things she never told me. Perhaps if she’d known she was going to die-?” Robert shrugged. “She was reticent about her past.”

The twins looked at each other and silently agreed that Valentina would ask for the favour. “But you have her papers, right? So you know everything now, right?” Valentina put down her sandwich and tried to seem casual.

“I do have her papers. I haven’t read them.”

“What? How could you not read them?” Julia could not suppress her indignation.

Hush, Julia. I’ll do it. “Aren’t you curious?”

“I’m afraid,” Robert said.

“Oh.” Valentina glanced at Julia, who looked about ready to run home and read Elspeth’s papers whether Robert liked it or not. “Well, we were wondering, um, if you would mind, if we could read them? I mean, we’re living in her place with all her stuff, and we don’t know her, and, you know, we’re interested. In her.”

Robert was shaking his head before Valentina finished speaking. “I’m sorry. I know she was your relation, and ordinarily I would gladly hand over the lot. But Elspeth told me you weren’t to have them. I’m sorry.”

“But she’s dead, ” Julia said.

They sat in silence. Valentina was sitting next to Robert, and without Julia seeing she reached down and took his hand. Robert laced his fingers with hers. Valentina said, “It’s okay. Pretend we didn’t say anything about it. We’re sorry.” Julia rolled her eyes. Her bruise was smaller today; she had covered it with make-up, but Valentina felt bad just looking at her. She wondered if Robert had noticed.

“It’s not my decision,” he said. “And not knowing what’s in there, I can’t tell you why it would be better if you don’t read her papers. But Elspeth did care about you, and I don’t think she would have been so adamant about this if it wasn’t important.”

“All right, all right,” said Julia. “Never mind.”

Clouds had appeared in the narrow sky above the park and scattered drops of rain began to fall. Robert said, “Perhaps we’d better pack up.” The picnic had been a failure, not at all the urban idyll he had imagined that morning. They filed out of the park, each dejected in various degrees. But on the bus Valentina sat next to Robert and Julia sat in front of them, and he offered Valentina his hand. She placed her hand in his and they rode in surprised and contented silence back to Highgate.