The Twin Read Online Free PDF Page A

rim of her mug. 'Old . . .' she says. 'What gave you that idea? You've got a handsome face, a nice full head of hair and not an ounce of fat on you.'
     
I turn red, I feel it and can't do a thing about it. Not just because Ada says I have a handsome face, but most of all because I've lied and my lie could be exposed at any moment by Father. He's not asleep.
     
'And you're blushing like a schoolboy!'
     
Ada is sitting in my old spot. That's where she always sits when she's here, so she can see her husband's farm through the side window and feel like she's keeping an eye on things, even though the farm is more than five hundred yards away. I'm sitting in Mother's place. The hooded crow has been perching on the same branch in the ash for more than a week now. St Nicholas came – but not to our house – and went. It's a Saturday, the sun is shining and there's no wind. A clear December morning with everything very bare and sharp. A day to feel homesick. Not for home, because that's where I am, but for days that were just like this, only long ago. Homesick isn't the right word, perhaps I should say wistful. Ada wouldn't understand. Not coming from here, she doesn't remember days long ago that were just like this, here.
     
'Have you ever seen a hooded crow around here?' I ask.
     
'What's a hooded crow look like?'
     
'There's one in the ash.'
     
She gets up and looks out of the front window. 'It's enormous,' she says.
     
'It's been sitting there watching my every move for days now.'
     
'Nice,' says Ada. She couldn't care less. She turns and sits down again. When she talks it's as if she's got a ball of cotton wool in her mouth. That must be something to do with having had a cleft palate. 'What was that about the donkeys?'
     
'They left the gate open.'
     
'I'll tell them not to do it again.'
     
'I already have.'
     
'Has the doctor been back?'
     
'Yep.'
     
'What did he say?'
     
'Old. He's just old. Old and forgetful. He's been saying funny things lately as well.'
     
'Like what?'
     
'Ah, just things. About the old days. Sometimes I have no idea what he's on about.' I make a vague gesture at my forehead.
     
'And now?'
     
'And now what?' I put my coffee down and try to rub the warmth out of my forehead with my left hand. Left – to get my hand between Ada and me.
     
'Should I drop in now and then? I'd be happy to help look after him a little.'
     
'No, I can manage. It's almost winter, I've only got the milking to do.'
     
'All right.' She's finished her coffee and slumps a little on her chair. She stares out of the side window. 'No, Klaas van Baalen, he's old. You can look after yourself just fine.' She keeps staring, she's thinking. Maybe she's wondering why Father is in bed upstairs and why I have painted the floors bluish grey. 'He never even talks to anyone,' she adds, 'he's shy and lonely, and now that they've taken his sheep away he doesn't have anything any more.' She shivers. 'Terrible.'
     
'Yes,' I say. That is terrible.
     
'Why didn't you ever get married, Helmer?'
     
'Huh?'
     
'Married?'
     
'You need a woman for that,' I say.
     
'Yes, but why haven't you got one?'
     
'Ah . . .'
     
'That brother of yours, he had a girlfriend, didn't he? Weren't they going to get married?' If Ada really is thirty-five, she was born the year Henk died. 1967.
     
'Yes,' I say. 'Riet.'
     
'Henk and Riet,' says Ada. 'That has a nice ring to it.'
     
'Yes,' I say.
     
'So he had a girlfriend and you didn't?'
     
'No.'
     
'Strange.'
     
'Ah, things are like that sometimes.' I hear the scullery door open. Before anyone appears at the kitchen door, we both know who is coming in.
     
'Don't yell like that,' Ada calls out.
     
Teun and Ronald come into the kitchen together and take up positions on either side of their mother, their shoulders drooping. 'Hi, Helmer,' says Teun. Ronald doesn't say anything, he just stares at the packet of cake on the table.
     
'What are you two here for?' asks Ada.
     
'Dad wants you to