living here until I broke in.’
‘I—it isn’t that.’ She sniffed and he handed her the handkerchief.
‘Be my guest!’ he said in Michael’s voice, and she bit down the sob.
After a few seconds she pulled herself together and blew her nose hard, pocketing the handkerchief.
‘I—I’m sorry. It’s just that I didn’t realise—you’re so like him, it was a bit of a shock. He didn’t tell me …’
‘That we’re clones?’ He gave a short, slightly bitterlaugh. ‘No, it’s a fact he normally tries to escape from. He’s spent his life trying to be different, and I’ve copied him in everything, just to annoy him, but I guess he’s won this time,’ he said with heavy irony. ‘Can I get you a drink?’
She noticed that there was an open bottle of wine on the table, half finished, and another empty on the worktop.
‘Don’t frown disapprovingly. I’m sure lover-boy won’t mind.’
‘No, I’m sure he won’t, but you’ve had rather a lot, and presumably you have to drive to your hotel for the night——’
‘What hotel? There’s a spare room here, surely it won’t worry you if I kip down in it?’
Clare sighed. This was Michael’s twin brother, after all. She could hardly turn him away. ‘Of course not. And yes, I will have a drink. Thank you.’
O’Malley came in and wound round her legs, then with a little yowl he leapt on to the worktop and up again on to her shoulders, draping himself round her neck.
‘Hello, rascal,’ she said, dropping gratefully into a chair, and he greeted her with a trembling squawk in her ear.
‘Nice little place he’s got here,’ Andrew said with an expansive wave of his hand. His red wine slopped over the edge of the glass and dribbled on to the floor.
Clare got up and mopped it.
‘What a domesticated little thing you are,’ Andrew slurred.
‘Not at all,’ Clare told him repressively, ‘but red wine stains the bricks.’
He stared at the floor for a moment and then backat Clare. ‘Sorry. So, Clare, tell me about my little brother—how is he?’
‘To be honest, I’m not sure. Physically fine, mentally—I don’t know how well he’s coping. He’s shut himself off from me——’
‘Oh, join the club. That’s why I didn’t rush over—knew he wouldn’t appreciate it. He’s always been reclusive—I suppose that’s why he gets on so well with the damn cat—they both go off to lick their wounds.’
‘Except he can’t.’
‘Not yet, maybe, but he will, just as soon as he can. Me, I want all the sympathy and company I can get!’
Clare laughed, despite herself. Andrew was all right, and he couldn’t help looking like Michael. Although, as she was beginning to realise, the resemblance was only physical. Michael was just as open and direct on the surface—whereas she rather thought that Andrew was all surface, with none of Michael’s quiet, still depths. Perhaps she was doing him an injustice.
‘Would you mind very much if I deprive you of my sympathy and company tonight? It’s been a long day and I have to be at work by eight.’
He raised his glass. ‘Be my guest. Goodnight, sweet Clare. Sleep well—and get up quietly, eh?’
She gave him a level look. ‘I always do.’
‘Wonderful. Adieu, fair maid …’
She left him, slouched against the table, his glass dangling from his fingers. He was going to have a hell of a head in the morning.
In fact he was up and about by seven, with no obvious signs of the previous night’s excesses.
‘Seen the Porsche?’ he greeted Clare, coming in through the back door as she came down the stairs.
‘Good morning, Andrew. No, I imagine it must still be at the hospital where Michael left it on Friday. Why?’
‘Well, obviously he doesn’t have any further use for it, so I thought I’d have it back,’ he said with a shrug.
‘Fine—how did you get here yesterday, by the way?’
‘Taxi,’ he said economically.
‘Oh—right. I’ll give you a lift in. Did you make
‘I—it isn’t that.’ She sniffed and he handed her the handkerchief.
‘Be my guest!’ he said in Michael’s voice, and she bit down the sob.
After a few seconds she pulled herself together and blew her nose hard, pocketing the handkerchief.
‘I—I’m sorry. It’s just that I didn’t realise—you’re so like him, it was a bit of a shock. He didn’t tell me …’
‘That we’re clones?’ He gave a short, slightly bitterlaugh. ‘No, it’s a fact he normally tries to escape from. He’s spent his life trying to be different, and I’ve copied him in everything, just to annoy him, but I guess he’s won this time,’ he said with heavy irony. ‘Can I get you a drink?’
She noticed that there was an open bottle of wine on the table, half finished, and another empty on the worktop.
‘Don’t frown disapprovingly. I’m sure lover-boy won’t mind.’
‘No, I’m sure he won’t, but you’ve had rather a lot, and presumably you have to drive to your hotel for the night——’
‘What hotel? There’s a spare room here, surely it won’t worry you if I kip down in it?’
Clare sighed. This was Michael’s twin brother, after all. She could hardly turn him away. ‘Of course not. And yes, I will have a drink. Thank you.’
O’Malley came in and wound round her legs, then with a little yowl he leapt on to the worktop and up again on to her shoulders, draping himself round her neck.
‘Hello, rascal,’ she said, dropping gratefully into a chair, and he greeted her with a trembling squawk in her ear.
‘Nice little place he’s got here,’ Andrew said with an expansive wave of his hand. His red wine slopped over the edge of the glass and dribbled on to the floor.
Clare got up and mopped it.
‘What a domesticated little thing you are,’ Andrew slurred.
‘Not at all,’ Clare told him repressively, ‘but red wine stains the bricks.’
He stared at the floor for a moment and then backat Clare. ‘Sorry. So, Clare, tell me about my little brother—how is he?’
‘To be honest, I’m not sure. Physically fine, mentally—I don’t know how well he’s coping. He’s shut himself off from me——’
‘Oh, join the club. That’s why I didn’t rush over—knew he wouldn’t appreciate it. He’s always been reclusive—I suppose that’s why he gets on so well with the damn cat—they both go off to lick their wounds.’
‘Except he can’t.’
‘Not yet, maybe, but he will, just as soon as he can. Me, I want all the sympathy and company I can get!’
Clare laughed, despite herself. Andrew was all right, and he couldn’t help looking like Michael. Although, as she was beginning to realise, the resemblance was only physical. Michael was just as open and direct on the surface—whereas she rather thought that Andrew was all surface, with none of Michael’s quiet, still depths. Perhaps she was doing him an injustice.
‘Would you mind very much if I deprive you of my sympathy and company tonight? It’s been a long day and I have to be at work by eight.’
He raised his glass. ‘Be my guest. Goodnight, sweet Clare. Sleep well—and get up quietly, eh?’
She gave him a level look. ‘I always do.’
‘Wonderful. Adieu, fair maid …’
She left him, slouched against the table, his glass dangling from his fingers. He was going to have a hell of a head in the morning.
In fact he was up and about by seven, with no obvious signs of the previous night’s excesses.
‘Seen the Porsche?’ he greeted Clare, coming in through the back door as she came down the stairs.
‘Good morning, Andrew. No, I imagine it must still be at the hospital where Michael left it on Friday. Why?’
‘Well, obviously he doesn’t have any further use for it, so I thought I’d have it back,’ he said with a shrug.
‘Fine—how did you get here yesterday, by the way?’
‘Taxi,’ he said economically.
‘Oh—right. I’ll give you a lift in. Did you make
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