The Dinosaur Feather

visited today, said nothing about twins.’ The cardboard came off, underneath it the faded backside of the photograph appeared. Anna cheered. On it someone had written
Anna Bella, Dad and Mum. July 1979
.
    Anna placed the two photographs side by side on the coffee table. They sat up and studied them.
    ‘It’s the same child,’ Karen stated. ‘But in August 1978 she was called Sara and the following July, her name was Anna. That’s just weird.’
    They sat in silence for a long time, lost in thought. Anna felt a strange sense of purpose. She wasn’t alone. Karen was there.
    ‘Why would you change a child’s name?’ she asked Karen.
    ‘Why don’t you just ask Jens and Cecilie?’ Karen suggested.
    ‘True,’ Anna said. ‘And I’m going to. But let’s play detectives. I want to be prepared.’
    ‘Okay,’ Karen said, indulging her. ‘A name usually marks the beginning of a life. You’re named and you go through life with that name. You keep that name – unless you visit a numerologist who tells you you’ll win the lottery, if you change it to Solvej, or something like that.’
    Anna started to smile.
    ‘So, a name marks a beginning,’ she said slowly. ‘Cecilie was ill. She had problems with her back.’
    ‘Hmmm,’ Karen said. ‘I do remember something aboutthat. My mum used to say that’s why you were so close to Jens. Because he carried you everywhere in your first year.’
    ‘He was practically a single dad,’ Anna said. ‘Cecilie spent a lot of time in hospital. Though I think he managed quite well,’ she added.
    Soon afterwards they went to bed.
    Saturday morning Anna woke up and, for a moment, she didn’t know where she was. She sat upright, feeling dazed. It was past ten and she was in her bedroom. She couldn’t recall the last time she had slept till past ten. She heard muted laughter and got up. She went to the kitchen. The door to Lily’s room was open and Karen and Lily were sitting on the floor drawing pictures. They had taped paper to the floorboards and were drawing houses and roads as seen from a bird’s perspective. Lily had started furnishing one of the houses with small teddies and furniture from her doll’s house. The radiator was on at full blast and she could smell toast.
    ‘Hi,’ Anna said.
    ‘Mum,’ Lily shouted, dropped everything and threw herself into Anna’s arms. Anna lifted up her daughter and sat down on a chair in the kitchen. Lily’s body was warm and soft under her PJs.
    ‘Did you sleep well?’ Karen asked. Anna nodded.
    ‘Cool afro,’ she said, giving Karen a nod of approval. Karen’s hair was – if possible – even frizzier in the morning. They both burst out laughing.
    ‘Why are you laughing?’ Lily asked, confused.
    ‘Auntie Karen’s monster hair,’ Anna explained.
    ‘Auntie Karen has a lion on her head, Mum,’ Lily said.
    Karen and Anna laughed even louder. The kitchen was welcoming and Anna fancied some toast. With lashings of butter and cheese. It was just like the old days. Karen and Anna rolling down a hill in the sunshine, laughing and rolling. They could take on the world. The cowpats they rolled over, the spinning globe, hunger, thirst, everything. As long as they were together.
    Karen joined Anna at the table while she ate her breakfast. Lily went back to play in her room. Karen had made coffee. It tasted heavenly.
    ‘What’s behind that door?’ Karen asked, pointing over Anna’s shoulder. Anna swallowed her toast and turned around to look at the door to Thomas’s old room, as if seeing it for the very first time. Then she stole a look at Lily who was absorbed by her game.
    ‘It was Thomas’s room when we lived together. I nailed the door shut when he moved out. We didn’t need all that space.’ She smiled bitterly.
    ‘What’s inside it now?’ Karen wanted to know.
    ‘Nothing,’ Anna said, taking another bite of her toast.
    ‘Aha,’ Karen said. A short silence followed. Then Karen remembered that Jens had called.
    ‘Seven times on your mobile and twice on the landline. I unplugged it so as not to wake you.’ Karen gave Anna a searching look.
    ‘Did you speak to him?’
    ‘No. Your mobile is over there.’ She gestured to the kitchen counter. ‘I saw his name come up on the display.’
    Another pause. Karen turned on the radio.
    ‘Okay,’ Anna said, eventually. ‘Please would you answer itwhen he calls back? I’m going to Professor Helland’s funeral at one o’clock.’ She checked her watch.