especially in your pretty unique circumstances.’
I gaze back at him. ‘DNA?’
‘No. Afraid not. Even if we had’ – he winces as he speaks the next words – ‘a large enough sample from your deceased daughter, standard DNA tests could almost certainly not discern any difference. Identical twins are just that: identical – genetically identical as well as facially and physically identical. This is actually a problem for police forces; there have been cases where two twins have escaped conviction for crimes because the police are unable to identify which particular twin did the deed, even when they have DNA samples from the crime scene.’
‘What about fingerprints, aren’t they different?’
‘Yes, there is sometimes a slight difference there, in fingerprints and footprints, even in identicals, but of course your daughter, ah … there was a cremation, wasn’t there?’
‘Yes.’
‘And neither girl was fingerprinted before.’
‘No.’
‘You see the difficulty.’
He sighs, with unexpected vigour. Then he stands, and walks to the window and gazes at the streetlights outside, which are switching on. At three p.m.
‘It is rather an intractable problem, Mrs Moorcroft. If both daughters were alive, there are other ways we could differentiate them, from now on – maybe using patterns of branching blood vessels in the face, facial thermography, but when one is dead, and you want to do it retrospectively … Then naturally it is pretty much impossible. Anatomical science is not going to help us.’
He turns, and regards me in my disconcertingly deep leather chair. I feel like an infant, my feet barely touching the ground.
‘But maybe this is all unnecessary.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Let’s be positive, Mrs Moorcroft. Let’s look at it a different way, and see what psychology can tell us. We know that loss of a co-twin is especially distressing for the surviving sibling.’
Kirstie. My poor Kirstie.
‘Identical twins who lose their co-twin have significantly higher scores on four of the eight GEI bereavement scales – they suffer more from despair, guilt, rumination and depersonalization.’ He sighs, briefly, but goes on: ‘In the light of this intense grief, especially the depersonalization, the major possibility is that your daughter Kirstie is simply hallucinating, or delusional. Doctors at Edinburgh University did a study on this subject, on co-twins who lose the other twin. They found that outright psychiatric disorder is elevated in twins whose co-twins have died, compared with twins both living.’
‘Kirstie is going mad?’
He is framed by the dark window behind.
‘Not mad, more disturbed; perhaps quite severely disturbed. Consider what Kirstie is going through alone: she herself is a living reminder of the deceased sister. Every time she looks in a mirror, she sees her dead sibling. She is also experiencing, vicariously, your confusion. And your husband’s confusion. Consider, likewise, how she must dread the approach of solitary birthdays, of facing a life of comparative isolation, after being a twin since birth – she is surely experiencing a loneliness none of us can really comprehend.’
I am trying not to cry. Kellaway continues,
‘The bewilderment must be profound. Also, a surviving twin may well feel guilt and contrition after the co-twin’s death: guilt that she was chosen to live. The guilt is further compounded by seeing the grief of her parents, especially if the parents are warring. So many divorces follow this kind of thing, they are sadly universal.’ He looks directly at me. Clearly expecting a response.
‘We don’t argue.’ Is all I can say. Quite weakly. ‘I mean – maybe we did, at one point: our marriage went through, you know, a rough patch, but that’s behind us. We don’t argue in front of my girl. I don’t think we do. No.’
Kellaway walks to the second window, and stares out at the streetlights while talking: ‘The guilt and the grieving,
I gaze back at him. ‘DNA?’
‘No. Afraid not. Even if we had’ – he winces as he speaks the next words – ‘a large enough sample from your deceased daughter, standard DNA tests could almost certainly not discern any difference. Identical twins are just that: identical – genetically identical as well as facially and physically identical. This is actually a problem for police forces; there have been cases where two twins have escaped conviction for crimes because the police are unable to identify which particular twin did the deed, even when they have DNA samples from the crime scene.’
‘What about fingerprints, aren’t they different?’
‘Yes, there is sometimes a slight difference there, in fingerprints and footprints, even in identicals, but of course your daughter, ah … there was a cremation, wasn’t there?’
‘Yes.’
‘And neither girl was fingerprinted before.’
‘No.’
‘You see the difficulty.’
He sighs, with unexpected vigour. Then he stands, and walks to the window and gazes at the streetlights outside, which are switching on. At three p.m.
‘It is rather an intractable problem, Mrs Moorcroft. If both daughters were alive, there are other ways we could differentiate them, from now on – maybe using patterns of branching blood vessels in the face, facial thermography, but when one is dead, and you want to do it retrospectively … Then naturally it is pretty much impossible. Anatomical science is not going to help us.’
He turns, and regards me in my disconcertingly deep leather chair. I feel like an infant, my feet barely touching the ground.
‘But maybe this is all unnecessary.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Let’s be positive, Mrs Moorcroft. Let’s look at it a different way, and see what psychology can tell us. We know that loss of a co-twin is especially distressing for the surviving sibling.’
Kirstie. My poor Kirstie.
‘Identical twins who lose their co-twin have significantly higher scores on four of the eight GEI bereavement scales – they suffer more from despair, guilt, rumination and depersonalization.’ He sighs, briefly, but goes on: ‘In the light of this intense grief, especially the depersonalization, the major possibility is that your daughter Kirstie is simply hallucinating, or delusional. Doctors at Edinburgh University did a study on this subject, on co-twins who lose the other twin. They found that outright psychiatric disorder is elevated in twins whose co-twins have died, compared with twins both living.’
‘Kirstie is going mad?’
He is framed by the dark window behind.
‘Not mad, more disturbed; perhaps quite severely disturbed. Consider what Kirstie is going through alone: she herself is a living reminder of the deceased sister. Every time she looks in a mirror, she sees her dead sibling. She is also experiencing, vicariously, your confusion. And your husband’s confusion. Consider, likewise, how she must dread the approach of solitary birthdays, of facing a life of comparative isolation, after being a twin since birth – she is surely experiencing a loneliness none of us can really comprehend.’
I am trying not to cry. Kellaway continues,
‘The bewilderment must be profound. Also, a surviving twin may well feel guilt and contrition after the co-twin’s death: guilt that she was chosen to live. The guilt is further compounded by seeing the grief of her parents, especially if the parents are warring. So many divorces follow this kind of thing, they are sadly universal.’ He looks directly at me. Clearly expecting a response.
‘We don’t argue.’ Is all I can say. Quite weakly. ‘I mean – maybe we did, at one point: our marriage went through, you know, a rough patch, but that’s behind us. We don’t argue in front of my girl. I don’t think we do. No.’
Kellaway walks to the second window, and stares out at the streetlights while talking: ‘The guilt and the grieving,
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