The following day I walked to the shops to buy my Girl Talk magazine and buy a pint of milk so Aunty M could make some custard to have with the apple pie she made that morning. It was a lovely day and I felt quite cheerful, but my mind was full of unanswered questions. I felt my life was turning upside down. I wanted to ask Aunty M to answer my questions but it all seemed too personal. It was awful to see her look so desolate when I asked her about being married. She might not even know what had happened all those years ago and even if she did, she might not want to tell me or get involved.
I got my comic and the milk and as I walked out of the shop, I turned left to walk home. As I continued on my way, I looked in the dress shop window because they always had lovely beads and stuff and I saw a gorgeous hair band. It had little beads and seashells on it. I looked for the price but the label was the wrong way up. I decided to go in and ask how much it was. A bell rang as I went in.
“Can I help you?” asked the lady behind the counter.
The hair band was quite cheap and the lady gave it to me to have a closer look. As I took it, I held it up to the light and as I did, I noticed someone on the other side of the road. For a second, I thought I could just see my reflection in the glass. She had long ginger hair just like mine. It was long and loose. She had her back to me so I couldn’t see her face. Then as I stared, she slowly turned to face me. To my horror, I was looking at myself. I blinked and when I blinked, she wasn’t there. I was sure I had seen someone identical to myself but who was she?
“I’m sorry,” I spluttered to the lady I quickly handed the hair band back to her and ran out of the shop. I stared up and down the road. Nothing. No-one even remotely like me was walking about. Think. Think. It must have been my reflection after all but the clothes weren’t the same. I was wearing jeans, converses and a white tee shirt with a green cardigan. The girl was wearing a white dress and white plimsolls. It could have been a girl, my age that looked similar to me. Lots of girls have red hair. That must be it. You’re not going mad. There is always an explanation for things like this. I heard dad say it a hundred times when magicians were on the TV. He would even go on to explain how the trick was done. Apparently, he’d had a magic set when he was a little boy so he felt he was a bit of an expert.
I walked back to Apple Jack’s Cottage. My list of unusual happenings was increasing day by day. My best friend, Eloise wouldn’t believe a word of all of this. Not surprising really because I didn’t believe it myself.
That afternoon, I went back up to the attic. Aunty M was busy painting and I knew I had to amuse myself. I was used to that. I decided to try on one of the dresses and hats on the clothes rack. I pulled the dress over my head. It was far too long and big. I put on some matching shoes and hat and stared at myself in the mirror. I looked really funny and old fashioned. I trotted down to the sofa in the high heels. I couldn’t imagine ever being able to walk in shoes like this. They were so uncomfortable.
I opened a drawer in the old wooden bureau just to see what was in there. I found a tiny blue leather ring box and lifted the lid. Inside was the most beautiful engagement ring-- a blue stone in the middle with diamonds surrounding it. Perhaps it was Aunty M’s. I glanced into the drawer again. There was a pile of letters tied up in a pink bow. Love letters. How romantic was that. She kept her letters from the man she loved and the ring too.
As I put the ring back, I noticed a long box. I took it out and took the lid off. Once again, like the wedding dress box, it was lined with black tissue paper. I carefully separated the tissue and found two baby dresses the sort you see at a christening. They were identical and long. They had ribbons and lace on them and each dress had a matching bonnet, the sort you see on Victorian dolls with ribbon ties. I wondered if these beautiful dresses belonged to the twins in the photo. That meant if I was one of the twins, I had worn one of these dresses.
“I’m so confused,” I said aloud. “What happened to the other twin? Where is she now? Why was I never told? I must have a sister, a twin sister. Why is it such a secret?”
Desperation filled me. Then I thought, perhaps it isn’t me in the photo after all and I just look like the baby in the photo. Babies do sort of look the same. That must be it. Yeah, I just look like that baby. Dad would have told me even if mum wouldn’t. He’s always so honest that he’s bound to have told me. Even though he treats me like a baby most of the time, he’d never keep something like this from me. Why would he? No reason I could think of. Why do grown ups have so many secrets?
I took off the clothes and went to find Aunty M. She had finished painting and was making the custard. There was a gorgeous smell of apples and custard and chicken.
“Hi. Yummy I’m starving Aunty M. You’re the best cook ever.”
“I hardly think so sweetie pie, but I do enjoy cooking and it’s lovely to cook for someone else. Usually I just cook for myself.”
That night my room was full of moonlight. It was a clear night and the inky black sky was dotted with millions of sparkling stars. Eerie shadows danced around my room as the cool night breeze, as always, tickled my curtains. Above me in the attic, a drawer shut so violently that my bed vibrated. I had definitely heard the noise that time. I did not imagine it; I knew I hadn’t. I pulled the covers up under my eyes and waited breathless for the next noise but there was nothing. I had to find out. I had to know what was going on in the attic. I climbed the steps. I pulled the ring in the hatch. The hatch swung down. I stuck my head up through the hole. Then everything went black.