The following morning I was certainly bruised, but apart from that, there was no other permanent damage. Aunty M was busy packing her two pictures ready for the Arts and Crafts Show.
“We’ll have to go to the Village Hall later to hang these up ready for the exhibition tomorrow. I do hope they sell. It’s always exciting when you sell paintings.”
“They are bound to be sold because they are so good,” I said and I meant it. These two paintings were the best I had seen so far, not quite so colourful, more realistic.
“Let’s hope you’re right, darling.”
Anty M had a good place for her pictures just inside the entrance. I continued to look around at all the other stuff on show. There were lots of stupid pictures which were so badly painted I thought I could do better myself. Aunty M said a lot of what was on show was pretty dreadful, but that the exhibition gave lots of pleasure to lots of people and that was all that mattered. Some were so bad I could hardly imagine who would get pleasure from them. Some of them just gave me the giggles and I had to pretend I had a coughing fit so as not to get into trouble for being rude.
One of the last paintings on show was a small little oil painting of two girls. They were wearing identical clothes. Long white frilly dresses, bonnets and both were carrying parasols. It was a Victorian scene and quite well painted. As I looked more closely, I noticed a house in the background. It was just the same as Apple Jack’s Cottage. The faces on the girls were not clear but they were the same height with long red hair.
“Aunty M there’s a picture over here will you come and see?”
“Which picture is that, dear?”
I led her over to the painting.
“How extraordinary. That painting is of your great, great grandmother and her sister. It was up in the attic years ago and it must have got muddled up with the jumble I put together the last time I went up there. Mind you, that was quite a while ago. I wonder who is exhibiting it?”
Aunty M shuffled off to the organiser to try to find out.
“How very odd they said the painting is down as mine, but I didn’t put it in the exhibition. There is no price on it so it won’t be sold. I’m pleased about that it would be a shame to lose it out of the family. We can take it home after the show ends. I think I better put it up on the wall to keep it safe from now on. I wonder who would have bought it and then given it back to me. I must say it’s a very kind person. Wish I knew, I’d like to thank them.”
“Yes,” I agreed, “it is odd but sort of kind too.”
Something was niggling at me. Perhaps the painting had been given back for a purpose to bring it sort of ‘home.’ It could have been ‘stolen back.’
“Do you think we ought to take it now just in case there’s been a mistake and it shouldn’t be here?”
“I think you might be right Florence. It’s in my name and it shouldn’t be here anyway. I’ll take it now.”
Aunty M took down the painting put it in her basket and covered it with her cardigan.
Later that evening, the painting was hanging on a nail on the sitting room wall. The two little girls were back home, I thought. It was all mysterious how it came about. Funny the painting had been in the attic and because of that not missed. A picture of two little girls back together at home where they belong.
Later that evening, even though I was aching a bit from my bruises, I climbed the steps to the attic. I wanted to see if I could work out which drawer I heard slam the night before. I pulled myself up and what I saw shocked me.
The wedding dress was on the dummy with the coronet balanced on the top. The christening robes were laid across the top of the chest of drawers with the bonnets on top. Photos of my mother’s first wedding were strewn around the floor. Photos of me and the other baby were there too, on the floor, but there was more. The baby photos were cut in half so the twins were separated. It was horrible. Who would do such a thing? I realised this was a sign; a sign to show that the twins had been separated. They were not together now or maybe not ever.
I thought about the painting. It had been retrieved from wherever it had been sold, to bring it back to where it belonged. Twins need to be together, back home together. That’s why twins are so close. I heard that identical twins often think the same, talk the same and have the same thoughts. Well if I was a twin perhaps my twin was trying to reach me. Perhaps this was why all these strange things had happened to me since I came to Apple Jack’s Cottage. I decided there and then to wait for the next sign and this time I would try to make contact. I sat down on the sofa and thought.
There were strange things happening here, sure there were, but sometimes at home, odd things happened too. I’d never thought about it before, but I never really felt lonely or alone. I had always put it down to being an ‘only child.’ When you are an ‘only child’ you have to sort of amuse yourself because there is no-one else there. In R.E lessons, my teacher talked about ‘guardian angels’ and I thought what a cool idea that would be to have one. You know, someone looking out for you, protecting you so you don’t come to harm. As I sat there, I remembered the day I got out of dad’s car and just walked into the road without checking first. A car shot pass just in front of me nearly knocking me down, but I missed it by a whisker. I always thought my ‘guardian angel’ saved me. Perhaps she had. Maybe she really did ‘exist.’
The more I thought about it, the more I remembered other things that happened to me that I couldn’t explain. I always felt like I was sharing my thoughts with someone else. That could be the reason I talked to myself. Yes, that could be it. I wasn’t going dotty, I was sharing my thoughts and fears and good times with ‘someone else’. Then there was the other day in the sea. I felt my fleece tug and suddenly, I was on the beach.
I put the wedding dress and coronet back in the box. I placed the christening robes back too and gently closed the drawer. It must have been this drawer I heard slam last night. I put all the photos back in the album. I fitted the cut photos back together on the sticky paper. I shut the album with a bang.
“There you are. Everything sorted and back in its place. You can’t scare me, whoever you are.”
With that, I put my foot on the top step and climbed down into my room. I lay on my bed flicking through my Girl Talk magazine. There was a bit about working as an air stewardess. It was really interesting and I decided it would be something I would like to do.
“Florence come quickly. Granny is on the phone,” called Aunty M from downstairs.
“Coming,” I called back.
“Hello, Granny. Yes, I’m fine. Yes, I’m being good. No, I’m not missing mum and dad. Ok see you tomorrow. Bye.”
“So we have visitors tomorrow Florence. Well that’ll be nice won’t it?”
“Yes, I haven’t seen granny for ages,” I replied.
I was a bit surprised. I knew granny didn’t come to visit Aunty M too often because she always said it was too far to drive. I wondered what she wanted and what made her decide she had to come all this way.