Another Me Page 5

  My heart went into overdrive. There was a hand on the stair railing, only two floors down. A girl’s hand. A hand like mine. I jumped back, in that second afraid of what I might come face to face with. But only for a second. It had to be confronted. This had to be finished. Here in the echoing stairwell was surely better than a pitch black school corridor at night.

  All at once, I was running, my feet clattering wildly on the stairs. Floor by floor. Flight by flight. Swinging myself round on each landing. Faster and faster. As I speeded up, it seemed so did she.

  At the ninth floor I stopped suddenly, my hand poised on the railing. I glanced down. She had stopped too. This other one, and I could see her delicate hand on the railing exactly as mine was. It took all my courage to call out to her.

  ‘Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?’

  As I waited for her answer I felt as if my heart had stopped beating.

  ‘Who are you?’ I screamed again.

  It seemed to me I heard a muffled giggle. Was it my imagination, or was she laughing at me?

  Whatever it was it made me angry and my anger spurred me on. I ran faster than ever down the stairs though my legs were aching, and I could feel the blood pounding in my temples. But I would catch her. I had to.

  Yet, no matter how fast I ran, she ran every bit as fast.

  I stopped again at the fourth floor for only a second, and glanced down. Was she closer now? Was I catching up with her? This time I didn’t call out. I wasn’t going to waste my breath. I ran even faster.

  Down and down.

  Still I couldn’t catch her.

  ‘Stop!’ I yelled breathlessly. ‘Stop! Let me see you.’

  I was so afraid I was going to miss her again.

  Knew that I was.

  I heard her feet on the last step, saw the sunlight flood in as the street door was pushed open. Heard her footsteps echoing into the distance as they hurried into the street.

  I was only seconds behind her, only seconds pushing through into the street. I was almost in tears. She must be somewhere close.

  The street was busy. Pupils just like me hurrying to school. Mothers pushing toddlers in prams towards the shops. Pensioners heading for the post office.

  I grabbed an elderly woman standing right outside. ‘Did you see her? Did you?’

  The woman, a cigarette dangling from her lips, snarled at me. ‘See who?’

  ‘A girl like me, coming out of there.’ I pointed at the doors. ‘You must have seen her. She must have run past you.’

  The woman answered gruffly, ‘I never saw nobody, right?’

  Mrs Brennan appeared from the entrance to the flats. I ran to her. ‘Mrs Brennan, that wasn’t me you saw up there. It was somebody else.’

  But she wouldn’t believe me either. ‘’Course it was you. I’d recognise you anywhere.’ She flicked at my hair with affection. ‘Could never mistake that lovely bouncy hair of yours.’

  No one would ever believe me.

  But then I realised what I had to do. ‘Well, you’ll never make that mistake again!’ I screamed at her.

  I ran for the lift, and punched at the buttons angrily. Again, my anger was replacing my fear and when I reached my floor I flew out of the lift and into the flat. I made straight for the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror.

  At me.

  Not this other one.

  ME!

  I lifted the scissors Mum kept in the cabinet above the sink.

  No one would ever mistake her for me again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘What have you done to your hair!’ Dawn and Kaylie looked horrified when I came running into the playground during morning break. Horrifed that my soft, golden hair now stood out in spikey, unsightly tufts on my head. I had cut it. I had chopped it. I put up my hand to flatten it down, but it just kept springing up again.

  Kaylie came over and hugged me. ‘What have you done?’ she said again.

  ‘I saw her,’ I began, then, remembering I hadn’t actually seen her, I corrected myself. ‘I almost saw her. Almost caught her. Mrs Brennan saw her. She spoke to her. She thought it was me.’

  Dawn tutted. ‘She’s an old bag. Blind as a bat. She was probably just mistaken.’

  I turned on her angrily. ‘Everybody can’t be mistaken. There is somebody else.’

  They were looking at me as if they didn’t know me, almost as if they were afraid of me.

  ‘What’s happening to you, Fay?’ Kaylie asked.

  I touched my hair. ‘You remember what Mr Hardie was saying about clones? Well, I’ve changed my hair. Her hair is soft and shiny, but mine isn’t anymore. Now nobody – nobody! – will mistake her for me again.’

  Drew Fraser stepped from behind a corner of the playground. He had been listening. ‘Well, there’s no chance of two girls having a haircut from hell like that.’

  I pushed him so hard he almost stumbled. ‘Shut up you!’

  ‘Fay. Come to my office right now.’ Mrs Williams’ voice behind me was brisk and angry. She led me silently, with clipped heels and a tight mouth, to her office. She didn’t say a word until I’d sat down and she’d closed the door. ‘Now, Fay. You’re late. Why?’

  I couldn’t tell her the truth. She wouldn’t understand. So the lie came easily. ‘I was stuck in the lift. I’m sorry, Mrs Williams.’

  The problems with our lift were notorious but I still don’t think she believed me.

  ‘And this?’ She flicked a tuft of my hair. ‘Were you stuck in the lift with a pair of shears?’

  That was more difficult to explain, so this time I didn’t try. ‘There’s someone pretending to be me, Mrs Williams. People keep seeing her. They think it’s me. So I thought . . . if I cut my hair we’d look different. She wouldn’t be mistaken for me again.’

  She looked bewildered. Wondering why someone being mistaken for you should call for such drastic action. ‘Yes, I’ve heard you’ve been saying that.’ As if I was making it up. ‘Fay, would you like to talk about this?’

  I was on my feet in a second. ‘Why? Because I’m late for school? Because I cut my hair? Does that mean I’m potty?’

  She sighed. ‘You know it’s more than that. It’s your behaviour lately. A few of the teachers have commented on it.’

  I wanted to go quickly. Before she started on about my home life, my mum’s boyfriend. Was that all they ever thought about? I straightened up and smiled. ‘You’ll see, Mrs Williams. I’ll be OK from now on. I promise. Can I go now, please?’

  She saw there was no holding me. ‘You know if you ever need me, I’ll be here. OK, Fay?’

  ‘OK.’ I agreed at once. Then I was out of that office and racing down the corridor to my class.

  In spite of all the jibes – and there were plenty, especially from Monica – I forgot about my hair. I felt so much better. I had solved it. I had made myself look different. Now, no one would ever get us mixed up again.

  However, I still had my mother to face.

  She went white when she saw me. ‘Fay. Your lovely hair.’ Her eyes filled up with tears. ‘Why did you do that?’

  I told her. What was the point of lying to my mum? I told her that this other one had been on the stairs today and that it was beginning to really frighten me.

  ‘She was the reason you asked if you had a sister?’

  I nodded, and she smiled. ‘I can assure you, you haven’t got a clone either, Fay. They don’t exist. I know you find it hard to believe but there will be a perfectly logical explanation. Mistaken identity. Or someone who looks like you is playing a cruel practical joke.’

  ‘That’s what Dad said.’

  Her face fell. ‘So, he was told the whole story first, I suppose?’

  There was a time, I thought, when they would have confided in each other. We were a threesome. Now it seemed we each lived in our own separate worlds.

  Suddenly, she seemed to brighten. ‘Well, I will tell you this, young lady. You’re not going back to school looking like
that.’

  Now I brightened. ‘Ever again?’ I asked hopefully.

  She was grinning as she lifted the phone and began to dial. ‘I’m going to call my pal, Stella. The hairdresser. Remember her?’

  Stella, who owned her own shop in town, wore too much make-up, smoked too much, and smelled of too many different perfumes. I liked her.

  ‘How could I forget Stella?’

  Mum was about to say something else when the phone was answered. She shook her finger at me to keep quiet. ‘Is that you, Stella? Hi, it’s Rona. I know, I’ve not seen you for ages. Well, I’m phoning for a favour. You remember my daughter, Fay?’ There was a pause. Stella obviously remembered. ‘Could I possibly bring her over to your house tonight? She really needs a major makeover with her hair.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  It didn’t look a bit like me staring back from the mirror.

  Stella stood beside Mum, her arms folded, surveying her handiwork with satisfaction.

  ‘Would you believe the difference it makes!’ she said. ‘You look so grown up, Fay.’

  I could hardly believe it myself. The clumps and tufts had been cut away and my hair had been layered into the back of my head, and the top was spikey and tousled.

  Mum was delighted too. ‘It looks so modern. It makes you look . . .’ She searched around for the right word. ‘Elfin.’

  I wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but I knew it was a compliment. When Stella’s daughter arrived home with her boyfriend she raved about my hair too.

  As we sat around Stella’s kitchen table drinking tea and chatting, I kept sneaking quick glances at myself in the mirror, as delighted as everyone else.

  How I loved that night. Mum and Stella and her daughter and me. Laughing and talking and having fun.

  ‘A real girls’ night!’ Stella said, ignoring her daughter’s poor boyfriend in the other room.

  A real girls’ night. If Mum left, I would lose nights like this, and I couldn’t bear that.

  But I wouldn’t lose them. Mum would never leave.

  When we went home Dad was even more impressed with my new hairstyle. ‘That is lovely!’ He looked at Mum. ‘Was this your idea?’

  He wanted it to be her idea, pleased to see us together like this.

  ‘Of course it was her idea,’ I said at once. Then I went over every detail of our night at Stella’s.

  This was how I always wanted it to be. Me and Mum and Dad, laughing together, talking together. I’d do anything to keep it that way.

  It was only as I lay in bed and listened to their murmured, annoyed whispers from the living room that the old fears rose up in me again.

  They were two lovely people. Why couldn’t they just be happy? I have never looked forward to going to school so much in my life. Dying for everyone to see and comment on my hair.

  * * *

  Dawn and Kaylie, waiting for me at the top of the stairs, jumped and screamed when I came into view. ‘That is so cool!’ Dawn shouted.

  ‘I can’t believe a haircut could change you like that. You look like a new person.’

  It was everything I needed to hear. No one would ever mistake the other one for me now. And it wasn’t just the haircut that was different. I felt it was a whole new me at school that day.

  A change is as good as a holiday. I hadn’t realised just how true that saying was. I was more confident, especially with everyone noticing me, and admiring my new style. It made me feel as if this was a whole new beginning for me.

  Even Drew Fraser did a double take when he saw me. ‘I hardly recognised you there.’ Then he peered closer and grinned. ‘It is the real you, isn’t it? Not that other one?’

  I had almost smiled at him, right up until he said that. Now I glared at him and flounced off.

  Monica, I noticed, was the only one in class who didn’t remark on my hair.

  Kaylie giggled as we watched her trying her best to ignore me. ‘Jealousy’s a terrible thing!’ she whispered. And we all giggled. Was Monica really jealous of me?

  But new hairstyle or not, when it came to remembering my lines for Macbeth at rehearsal that night, they still eluded me.

  And Monica made sure I knew it.

  That night we were rehearsing the scene when Macbeth first sees Banquo’s ghost. Daft Donald was trying to make us believe it was every bit as scary as a Scream movie. I don’t think. No one believed him.

  Over and over in my mind I repeated my lines. ‘This is the very painting of your fear; this is the air-drawn dagger . . .’

  It never would come out right . . . ‘the painting of your fear.’ As soon as I said those words, all I could see was a portrait of myself, of my fear. Not any other ghost. My mind kept going blank.

  It didn’t help that Monica was sitting in the first row, right in front of me, mouthing the lines perfectly. Mocking me. I tried not to look at her.

  But even then, that wonderful day didn’t go wrong. When I finally got the words right, Donald came right up to me and slapped me on the back. ‘You sent a shiver down my spine when you said that, Fay, gazing into the distance, almost as if you could see a ghost, too.’ He rubbed his hands together with excitement. ‘I knew I’d made the right choice with you.’

  Poor old Monica almost fell off her seat with annoyance.

  It had been a wonderful day, one of the best, and I had the whole weekend to look forward to. Shopping in the mall on Saturday with the girls. Cinema at the Multiplex at night, and best of all, and most surprising to me, was the memory of Drew Fraser’s eyes, green like emeralds, following me as I walked out of rehearsal and Kaylie and Dawn’s whispered words. ‘I definitely think he fancies you.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was a wonderful weekend. The best weekend I’d had for ages. Even the winter sun shone bright and crisp for me.

  Until Monday, which was dark and wet and miserable. Dreech, we call it here. Isn’t that a good word? Sums it up perfectly. Dreech.

  A drizzly rain filled the air like a mist, as I walked up the stairs to school. Kaylie and Dawn wouldn’t be waiting for me at the top today. Dawn had phoned to say her mum would be running them both to school.

  I held my umbrella down in front of me and hardly heard the footsteps coming behind me. Not until they stopped right beside me.

  I peeked to see who the trainers belonged to and found myself looking into the green eyes of Drew Fraser. Normally, he would rush past me. Pulling at my umbrella, trying to trip me up. Acting like a dork. This morning, he had stopped and when I looked at him, he actually smiled.

  ‘I was hoping I’d see you,’ he said.

  Suddenly, I was blushing. Stupid, because I’d known Drew Fraser all my life, and had never liked him. He’d never seemed to like me either. Yet, now, here we were on the stairs alone and he’d been hoping he’d see me.

  Cool.

  ‘How are you enjoying Macbeth?’ he asked. Drew, who always seemed so sure of himself, now acted as if he didn’t quite know what to say. Was that because of me? The thought made my heart race.

  He didn’t wait for my answer, but rushed on. ‘It’s a rubbish play, isn’t it? I mean, it should be a good story. Murder, ghosts, witches, fighting. But the words!’ He made a face as if he was going to be sick, and I laughed. ‘That Shakespeare guy didn’t have a clue, eh?’

  He smiled at me. He really did have nice teeth. I had never noticed that before. Or how thick his lashes were. Like brushes. Then, he said something that really took me by surprise. ‘Tell me about this double you’ve got.’

  My smile disappeared. Was this what it had all been leading up to? ‘Are you trying to take the mickey?’

  Before I’d even finished he interrupted me. ‘I’m serious, Fay. I think it’s really interesting. You know anything like that always fascinated me. Anything weird and wonderful.’

  I almost walked away from him then. ‘Weird and wonderful! Are you referring to me?’

  He slapped his hand across his mouth and laughed. ‘I didn’t
mean that, honest.’

  The way he said it made me laugh too.

  ‘You know I’ve always loved things like this,’ he went on, his voice full of excitement, like a little boy. ‘But it’s always been in books, or in movies. But this is real life, and it’s happening to somebody I know.’

  I didn’t answer him and he went on hurriedly. ‘I see you running down the stairs in front of me, sometimes you don’t even look at me, as if you haven’t seen me. As if I’m not there . . . and now I wonder, was that really you I saw?’

  Was he being serious? He seemed to be. If so, he would be the first person who believed me. If he was, maybe I could tell him everything.

  Yet, here, even on a dreech Monday morning, it all seemed to be a thing of the past. The figure in the lift, the hand on the stairwell, the lights going out in the corridor. Coincidence, accident, but nothing mysterious.

  ‘I’m probably making too much of it,’ I said, mainly because all at once I didn’t want Drew to think I was potty. ‘Mistaken identity. Happens all the time.’

  He nodded. ‘Probably.’ He hesitated, wanting to say more. ‘But I’ve been kinda looking into it, you know, on the Internet. I’ve found out things, strange things.’ He seemed so serious then. He reached out and touched my arm. ‘Things I think you should know.’

  ‘Like what?’

  He didn’t get a chance to answer. There was a sudden commotion at the top of the stairs. His mates, yelling out to him. He glanced up at them and waved. Then he looked back to me and shrugged. ‘Got to go,’ he began backing up the stairs. ‘Maybe . . .’ I watched his face go red. ‘Maybe I can walk down the road with you after school. Tell you about it.’

  My face went as red as his. Drew Fraser was asking to walk me home. I don’t even think I answered. Just swallowed and nodded. Then he was off and running up the stairs two at a time.

  Wasn’t it strange that only a few days ago he annoyed me so much. I couldn’t stand him. Yet, in those few days it would seem my opinion of him had changed entirely. Drew Fraser asking to walk me home? And I was looking forward to it. Here was another mystery!

  I was desperate to tell the girls. Forget all about the ‘strange things’ he wanted to talk about. Who cared about that now? Wait till Kaylie and Dawn heard this! And wouldn’t moaning Monica be so jealous!