Lauren wanted her to stop talking. They weren’t interchangeable, they were two different people. Two different personalities. Riley was serious, he wanted things his own way and was finding ways of making himself heard. He was determined, intelligent. Morgan was more laid back; he would be the artist. Totally different, unmistakably so. And, they looked different, the same but also so obviously different. To her, at least. It didn’t matter what anyone else saw.

Cindy, oblivious, did not stop talking.

“There are stories about twins, you know. It came up in my English A-level. Lots of different cultures have different stories—they used to think magic was involved. You can see why, can’t you?”

“No.”

“Some African tribes thought they brought a curse upon the village. They would just throw them into the bushes to die, the moment they were born.”

The idea of baby twins, dying in the bushes; a painful stab in her heart. “Why are you telling me this, exactly?”

Cindy caught the warning tone in Lauren’s voice. She took a sip of her tea. “Oh, well, that’s just an example. I’m sure they’re not all as gory as that. Look, I’m sorry I started this. Let’s talk about something else.”

Lauren remembered the storybook, the one she hadn’t read, because she was frightened of what might be inside. Perhaps she ought to face it head on, the way her mother had done when she’d pretended to like spiders even though she was terrified of them, so as not to make her small daughter afraid too. Didn’t she have a duty now, to try not to pass on her own fears to Morgan and Riley? Why was she scared of a few fairy stories anyway?

“Is that why you gave me that book?” said Lauren. “I haven’t read it yet.”

Cindy frowned. “What book? I gave you a fish and an octopus. Those ones.” She pointed to the soft toys, dumped in a pile in the corner and still half in the wrapping.

Lauren rummaged in the pile and found the book. The spine was coming away slightly, the binding soft to the touch. As she turned it over in her hands, a smell of ancient libraries rose from the dun-coloured cover.

She handed it to Cindy, who took it with her fingertips, as if she didn’t really want to. “I would never have given you this,” she said. “What makes you think it was from me?”

“It was in the gift bag, with the toys. You said there was a little something for me in there, didn’t you?”

“Yes, it was soap. Hand-made lavender soap, from the craft market.”

“Soap? I didn’t find any soap.”

Cindy’s eyes were wide with disbelief. “That is so weird.”

The crumbling hardback nearly fell apart as Cindy flipped it open to read the contents page.

“It’s fairy tales.”

“I know.”