Double by Jenny Valentine

see you?”
    I tried to nod. He was holding on to me so hard, I couldn’t move.
    I tried to say, “I think so,” but my mouth just came up against the wool of his sweater, coarse and perfumed and hot.
    He kissed me once on the side of the face, a kiss loud with joy and relief. “Where did you come from?” he said.
    I shrugged. It was all I could do.
    “I don’t care,” he said. “I don’t need to know. Let’s go in.”
    He put his arm around my shoulders, drew me across the kitchen. Edie followed us in and shut the door. Helen stood in the corner, her hands clasped together. Frank’s skin was smooth and poreless, clean-shaven. His smile was like a light, making safe the dark corners of the room. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. My new big brother.
    It wasn’t like meeting Edie. It wasn’t like having a sister I wanted to look after. With Frank, I felt like someone was going to look after me. I hadn’t felt like that in way too long. I was almost weak with the relief of it.
    He held me again at arm’s length and looked at me. “Where have you been?” he said. “Has anyone asked you that yet? Where the hell have you been?”
    I didn’t answer.
    He said, “Where’d you pick up those scars?”
    I felt myself flush. I knew the dog bite would show up pale against my reddening skin; I knew the diamond cut would get darker. Would the marks from a dog and a boy called Rigg give me away?
    “I’m all right,” I said. “They’re nothing.”
    He looked me in the eyes and then away and around the room. “He’s really back,” he said to Helen and Edie, as if saying it out loud made it true. It felt like that to me. “He’s really here.”
    He turned to me again then, his light fell on me. “Back from the dead,” he said. “Our own Lazarus.”
    “Oh!” Helen said, clutching her cardigan about her. “Don’t say that.”
    “Where’s the champagne?” Frank said. “Did I leave it in the car?”
    He went out, left the front door open, his city clothes instantly wind-flattened against his frame.
    “You okay, Mum?” Edie said.
    “Of course.” Helen smiled. “I couldn’t be better.” The sound of her was all joy, but her eyes were hardly there, I could see that.
    “I’ll make some coffee,” Edie said.
    “No, champagne!” Frank said, striding back in, pushing the door shut with his foot. “Get some glasses, Edie.”
    “I don’t think Mum needs one.” Edie’s voice was low.
    “You want one, don’t you, Mum?” he said.
    “Of course,” Helen said.
    Frank eased the cork out of the bottle smoothly, expertly, with a sigh instead of a pop. The champagne rushed to leave the bottle, like sea-foam. He poured four glasses, passed them out.
    “A toast,” he said.
    “Oh yes,” Helen said.
    “To you,” Frank said, looking me in the eyes with warmth and confidence. “To Cassiel. To all of us together again.”
    Edie raised her glass. “However long that lasts,” she said.
    Frank ignored her. “Welcome back, Cassiel,” he said.
    “Thanks,” I said, and I meant it. I looked at him when I said it. I looked at each of them in turn, Edie and Helen and Frank. I wanted to remember this moment for as long as I could. I wanted to hold it still and keep it.
    “Thank God you came back,” he said.
    I told the truth. “It’s good to be home.”
    “I bet it is,” he said.
    The champagne tasted light and sweet and sharp and acid. Frank topped up my glass. “Do you like the new house?” he said.
    I thought about everything before I said it. It needed to be just right. My mind felt lightning-quick. It danced, one step ahead. That’s how it felt. I couldn’t go wrong.
    “It’s great. A dream come true, right, Mum?”
    Helen smiled and nodded, sipped her champagne.
    “They found you in London, did they?” Frank said. He pulled a chair out from the table and sat down. He was the owner of this house. Everything about the way he moved and spoke in here said he was.
    “Yes. In