country house: perfect, ethereal, as if it had been magicked there. Ben parked the car and they got out. There was no-one around. There was no obvious entrance, it didn’t even seem like it was a hotel, maybe the sign on the road was old or something. The air was sharp and freezing and Emily huddled into her cardigan. It was four o’clock and the sky was high and hungry, eating up the last of the winter light. They walked towards the far end of the house, and entered a stone portico, feeling like intruders. There was no bell, so after a few fruitless knocks Emily tried turning the bronze ring on the giant oak front door. It creaked open and a gush of warm air came towards them.
“Hell-o!” called Emily. As they were about to give up, they finally heard footsteps and a proper old butler appeared from nowhere and ushered them into the warmth as if he'd been expecting them, and he served them tea and fruit cake by the fire in the great hall, and that's how they found the place where they would one day get married.
That first New Year's Eve was in every way but one the best Emily had ever spent. She normally hated the forced jollity of the occasion, and she'd long ago given up going to the local pub with her old school-friends where people thought that just because it was New Year’s Eve it was OK to ram their tongue down your throat. The previous year she’d spent it at home in her flat with Maria from work and a couple of other girls, and they'd cooked a huge meal and watched Jools Holland and Out of Africa which happened to be on the telly, and as far as Emily was concerned that had been perfect – no trouble getting home, no yobbish behaviour, no Caroline prowling around being drunk and obnoxious. She hadn't even felt obliged to invite her sister – Caroline wouldn’t have dreamt of doing something so boring, and anyway she’d gone clubbing in London.
Emily and Ben had dinner in the hotel and the food was fancy in a self-conscious, second rate way, all oddly cut carrots and balsamic dribbles across over-cooked lamb, but it didn’t matter, the restaurant was wood-panelled and charming and the wine was good. She and Ben just talked and talked, it seemed they would never run out of things to say, sharing childhood anecdotes, laughing at how they’d met, it was as if they were never tired of going over it. Emily loved that Ben was the first person she felt able to confide in about her family, knowing he didn’t judge her, or them, realising that before she’d met him she’d spent her whole life feeling lonely, although she hadn’t even realised it at the time. It was insane when she thought about it, twins weren’t meant to be lonely.
“...and so just as I got there," Emily was saying. “Caroline slammed the glass door and I went headlong through it, like it was made of paper, like at the end of It’s a Knockout or something. And then my dad started chasing Caroline round the dining room table, and he couldn’t even catch her, and my mum was just shrieking like a mad woman, and all the while I was quietly bleeding to death,” and she started to giggle and then Ben was laughing too and although he’d asked her before about the scar on her knee, she hadn’t told him the truth at the time, but she hadn’t been sure why. It wasn’t like Caroline had been trying to kill her or anything.
“I think I’m glad I’m an only child,” said Ben. “The worst thing that happened to me at that age was when my spout fell off while I was doing “I’m a teapot” during assembly. I’ve never got over the humiliation.”
Emily looked at Ben and she wondered again how different his life growing up must have been, with his kindly older parents who had showered him with love, and no-one to torment him.
“Was it odd not having siblings?” she asked. “I think I’d have had to watch Eastenders if I’d been an only child, my life would have been so boring without Caroline.”
“No, not really. I had my
“Hell-o!” called Emily. As they were about to give up, they finally heard footsteps and a proper old butler appeared from nowhere and ushered them into the warmth as if he'd been expecting them, and he served them tea and fruit cake by the fire in the great hall, and that's how they found the place where they would one day get married.
That first New Year's Eve was in every way but one the best Emily had ever spent. She normally hated the forced jollity of the occasion, and she'd long ago given up going to the local pub with her old school-friends where people thought that just because it was New Year’s Eve it was OK to ram their tongue down your throat. The previous year she’d spent it at home in her flat with Maria from work and a couple of other girls, and they'd cooked a huge meal and watched Jools Holland and Out of Africa which happened to be on the telly, and as far as Emily was concerned that had been perfect – no trouble getting home, no yobbish behaviour, no Caroline prowling around being drunk and obnoxious. She hadn't even felt obliged to invite her sister – Caroline wouldn’t have dreamt of doing something so boring, and anyway she’d gone clubbing in London.
Emily and Ben had dinner in the hotel and the food was fancy in a self-conscious, second rate way, all oddly cut carrots and balsamic dribbles across over-cooked lamb, but it didn’t matter, the restaurant was wood-panelled and charming and the wine was good. She and Ben just talked and talked, it seemed they would never run out of things to say, sharing childhood anecdotes, laughing at how they’d met, it was as if they were never tired of going over it. Emily loved that Ben was the first person she felt able to confide in about her family, knowing he didn’t judge her, or them, realising that before she’d met him she’d spent her whole life feeling lonely, although she hadn’t even realised it at the time. It was insane when she thought about it, twins weren’t meant to be lonely.
“...and so just as I got there," Emily was saying. “Caroline slammed the glass door and I went headlong through it, like it was made of paper, like at the end of It’s a Knockout or something. And then my dad started chasing Caroline round the dining room table, and he couldn’t even catch her, and my mum was just shrieking like a mad woman, and all the while I was quietly bleeding to death,” and she started to giggle and then Ben was laughing too and although he’d asked her before about the scar on her knee, she hadn’t told him the truth at the time, but she hadn’t been sure why. It wasn’t like Caroline had been trying to kill her or anything.
“I think I’m glad I’m an only child,” said Ben. “The worst thing that happened to me at that age was when my spout fell off while I was doing “I’m a teapot” during assembly. I’ve never got over the humiliation.”
Emily looked at Ben and she wondered again how different his life growing up must have been, with his kindly older parents who had showered him with love, and no-one to torment him.
“Was it odd not having siblings?” she asked. “I think I’d have had to watch Eastenders if I’d been an only child, my life would have been so boring without Caroline.”
“No, not really. I had my
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