“I suppose I’m less scary now.” What has he done to them?
“What did she write to you about?”
“I burnt them. I can’t remember.” He genuinely can’t. Where are they? He can’t bear to think how she pleaded, how he couldn’t forgive her. If they’re in the house, Janet will find them, or Henry. It doesn’t matter. He feels this, too, slip from him.
Janet knits, her needles clacking gently. She must be making a present for her brother, he realises. No one in Singapore would need a woollen scarf. It is dark blue, almost black, with splashes of light through it.
“Has Henry—” He does not know how to continue. “Your brother, is he—”
“He’s booked his plane ticket. I’ve got the dates written down. You’ll see him soon.”
“Is he happy?”
“You think I’d know that, just because we’re twins? Some sort of sixth sense?”
“I thought you might have talked.”
“You phone him more often than I do. I suppose he’s happy. Why wouldn’t he be? He has everything he wants.” The needles are made of bamboo, and sound like chopsticks when they click together.
They sit for a while more. He cannot say how long, his sense of time has become totally untethered. He closes his eyes for a moment and is no longer sure if this is the same visit, or the next day. Janet’s scarf seems to be progressing at an impressive rate. If only there were a view in this room—the window opens into an airwell, making it impossible to tell the time of day from the quality of the light. He feels he should say something, but the words seem to be going altogether. He imagines them leaving his mind, one at a time, as they have been steadily. Goodbye, meaning. Goodbye, thought.
Janet glances at her watch, and pulls The Daily Bread out of her bag. “Almost time,” she says, and reads the lesson for that day. As usual, it consists of a few verses from the Bible, then an anecdote translating them into a modern day parable. It is always the impatient businessman, the arrogant politician, ultimately humbled by the might of God.
When she has finished, she waits for a few seconds, what she considers a contemplative pause. She does not expect her father to respond, but feels she must give him the opportunity. Perhaps he is praying. His body is completely still, his eyes shut. After a while, she realises he has died, and goes to fetch the doctor.