Writing for Fun
January 2017
Ice Cold - Maureen Rampersaud
It was Denise’s choice to embed herself in the middle of the Welsh countryside. She had no connection with this country, let alone the area and that suited her. Snow was predicted within the next few days, so she decided to take stock. Jars of preserved fruit and vegetables lined the larder, all grown by herself. She preferred this method, in case the electricity failed, as it so often did during bad weather. A freezer full of spoiled produce would spell disaster for her independent existence.
Twenty years had slipped by since she moved to this cottage, its purchase facilitated by the premature death of her grief stricken parents. She was still only forty-one, fit and healthy, in body, at least, but in thirty years’ time . . . would she be able to continue with this, her chosen way of life? She went to check on the chickens. Her mind drifted back. The first five years of her and her twin sister Amy’s life were idyllic. They had a secret language, felt each other’s pleasure and pain, they were inseparable. Their favourite pastime was sitting by the canal, picking daisies and throwing them into the water. They had to sneak away, though, as their parents expressly forbade them to go anywhere near there.
They started school and Denise heard the teachers whisper, ‘Poor Denise will never be as bright as Amy.’ ‘Amy seems to be better in everything, even sport.’
Amy’s star burned brighter every day, as Denise’s diminished. Denise felt Amy’s elation and it tipped her side of the scales downward. She curled up inside. Amy was surrounded by friends while Denise became more and more isolated. Amy felt Denise’s misery, but it buoyed her up to outshine her sister even more.
Through their teens, Denise had boyfriends, but when they met Amy, they left Denise behind. Denise looked in the mirror, she was pretty, she knew it. She made up her mind to keep the next boyfriend to herself.
She was nineteen when she had her chance. As soon as Jack started work in her office, she knew he was interested in her and she was captivated by his cheeky freckled face and startling blue eyes. They were soon inseparable, just like she and Amy used to be. She even started taking him to sit by the canal at the spot where she and Amy used to sit. Denise started to feel complete again, Jack was filling the void left by Amy. She was very careful not to take him home, making the excuse that she had very strict parents.
Amy could feel Denise’s happiness, ‘Who are you seeing then? Why don’t you bring him home?’
She denied it and hoped she was convincing enough to keep Amy off the trail.
One night, after work, when she and Jack came out arm in arm, Amy appeared, ‘Hello sis! I thought I’d surprise you. Aren’t you going to introduce me?’
Denise went pink with shock and anger, but forced herself to appear calm. Jack was cheerfully oblivious to the undercurrents of tension and suggested they all go for a coffee. At home, Denise grabbed Amy and shook her, shrieking, ‘If you ever come near Jack again, I’ll destroy you!’
‘Okay, okay, keep your hair on, he’s not up to my standard anyway.’
All seemed fine for a few months, until the evening she was walking home from her yoga class by the canal. Amy was sitting there, beside someone, laughing. Her heart started to pound as she moved closer . . . her inner voice was repeating, ‘It can’t be, it can’t be,’ but it was . . . Jack.
She didn’t think. Her body acted. She pushed Amy into the fast-moving, murky water. Jack looked at her with revulsion and jumped in after Amy. It was as if she had turned to stone, all she did was watch. Amy disappeared and soon after, so did Jack. She didn’t know how much time had elapsed, but eventually she bent down to pick daisies, threw them into the canal and walked home. Accidental death, that was the conclusion. At the funeral, everyone was so sympathetic. Poor Denise, losing Amy, like half of her . . . still in shock.
So . . . here I am today, no feeling . . . cold, like a lump of ice.