“So,” said Penny after a time. “We’re not supposed to move anything, right?”
“Right.”
“Fuck that. I’m off to choose a bedroom.”
And she started to pick her way across the rubbish.
The two bedrooms proved just as bad even though they were a wonderful size, with near perfect views if you squinted through the murk of the filthy panes, over the rooftops and Mary Poppins chimney pots of Chelsea. They were piled high with old shoes, and each had three wardrobes. The bathroom, with its old-fashioned claw-foot bath, was full of old perfume bottles and an odd collection of wooden-handled toothbrushes.
“You have to say,” said Penny, “she’s a site-specific crazy old bat.”
Lizzie was too overcome to speak. She wondered how long the old lady had sat here, surrounded in rubbish, all alone. How they’d found her . . . and who. Despite realizing it wasn’t her fault—she didn’t exactly owe this woman much—her eyes cast over a huge box of old photographs, and she felt sad, culpable, and guilty.
Lizzie knew her mum didn’t think she could remember their dad, but she could. He used to bring sweets and he was incredibly handsome. Penny used to shriek all the time. Lizzie used to think that was why he didn’t come back, and practiced being quiet. If they hadn’t been twins . . . if she hadn’t been so dumpy and useless, maybe they’d all still have been a family and they’d have been coming to Chelsea for years.
“Right,” said Penny, “let’s dump our stuff in this shithole and head out.”
“You are joking?” said Lizzie. “Nobody is going anywhere until . . .” and she handed Penny a pair of rubber gloves.
“Oh for God’s sake.”
“House and jobs first. Fun later,” said Lizzie. “Please, Penny. Please, let’s not fall out quite yet.”
Penny rolled her eyes.
“Plus, we’ve spent all the money on the cab,” said Lizzie. “Plus, what if you want to get up for the toilet in the middle of the night and fall over and get smothered and die?”
Penny pouted.
By the end of the day, it looked a little better, but not much. You could make toast in the kitchen without immediately contracting salmonella, and even risk a bath, but Lizzie was conscious of her grandmother’s strict orders not to move anything, and even if she wanted to, where would it go? Every square inch of the property was already stuffed full. She didn’t know, it might even be valuable, though she doubted it very much, looking at the empty milk bottles. She’d done most of the scrubbing and Penny had sat around grumbling about it, but now, as they sat down with their Pot Noodle in front of the ancient television, she wondered if it had even been worth it.
“Ah. Pot Noodle in front of the TV,” said Penny, casting a glance out of the window. “This is almost as good as being at home.”
“You go out if you want,” said Lizzie. “I’m tired.”
Penny wobbled a bit. “I will,” she said. “I’ll go out there. Take it by storm. And all that.”
“Yes,” said Lizzie.
“Maybe a job first.”
Lizzie nodded, a little surprised, but not much. Penny might have a veneer of hardness, but underneath there was a bit of mush only her twin got to see. Which was why, she thought glumly, she’d had to stick by her for so bloody long.
“But then,” said Penny, “hold us back.”
“Get up, get up!” shouted Penny the next morning, forcing her way into Lizzie’s room. Four filing cabinets filled with leaves were piled in front of Lizzie’s window. Lizzie had woken up a lot in the night, dreaming she was being buried alive. But now, as she woke, she realized where she was, and her heart leapt.
“It’s a Chelsea morning! And we’re going on a job hunt!”
“Aren’t we lovely privileged ladies living in Chelsea?” said Lizzie, sleepily rolling over. “I don’t have to go on a job hunt. I’m going out in my four-by-four to buy expensive belts and luxury wallpaper.”
“No you’re not,” said Penny. “You’re pulling yourself together and you’re going to put food on the table.”
“You don’t eat food,” said Lizzie. “And we don’t have a table. We have six tea chests stuffed with identical copies of the 1967 Cheltenham telephone directory.”
“That’s detail,” said Penny. “We’re here now, and we’re getting out there. We are going to find jobs and then meet men. Who will buy us Range Rovers and think our penchant for luxurious soft furnishings is simply hilarious.”
“Why don’t you just walk up and down the King’s Road in a negligee winking suggestively?”
“Tried it. Up!”
“What kind of job am I going to find anyway?”
“Some crazy stamp-collecting one? I don’t know. It’s a new world out there.”
“It’s a scary world in here. What’s for breakfast?”
“Water,” said Penny. “But when we start making some money we’ll get a juicer and juice up fresh fruits and vegetables in the morning and have them with sunflower seeds and grass and things.”
“Water?” said Lizzie. “Are you sure? Is there nothing else?”
Penny rubbed the corner of her mouth. “Well . . .”
“Are those crumbs?” said Lizzie. “What have you got? You’re holding out on me! Stop it!”
Penny shrugged. “Well, maybe . . .”
Lizzie leapt out of bed and into the kitchen.
“Jaffa Cakes!”
“And they’re not even store brand,” said Penny.
“Nothing like a good breakfast to set you up for a busy day,” said Lizzie, munching happily.
“But we’re going to get that juicer,” said Penny with a warning glint in her eye.
“Yeah,” said Lizzie sadly. “You maybe. I think I’ll stick to a biscuit-based morning.”
“OK,” said Penny. “Clothes next! What are you going to wear?”
Lizzie’s face turned down. “Well, I was thinking of black . . . with a further helping of black.”
Penny nodded thoughtfully. “Well, maybe you could think of it as artfully chic.”
“The trousers have an elasticated waistband.”
“Don’t eat any more Jaffa Cakes then.”
“I won’t,” said Lizzie.
“Good.”
“I’ve finished them.”
“Oh. They were meant to last us until teatime.”
“Do you think the smashing orangey bit counts as one of my five portions of fruit and veg?”
Ignoring her, Penny picked her way through the mess. “I’m going to wear my Dolce and Gabbana top.”
“It’s so obviously fake,” said Lizzie. “You totally so obviously picked it up in Wellings market.”
“It’s not,” said Penny. She picked up the corset thing from her suitcase and slipped it on over her tank top.
“Penny, it says ‘Dolce e Banana’ on the front.”
“Oh, who’d notice that?”
“Only anyone leaning over to get a look at your tits, which as you stick them out all the time means absolutely everyone.”