B= From the Hip 2

Chapter One

They sit beside each other on the dark leather sofa, these brothers.
While ostensibly they are listening to Leon's choice of music, the
Sleepy Jackson's mini-album, really Gil is listening to his brother
breathing, trying to feel his thoughts. He takes in the crumple of the
leather as his brother shifts his weight, crosses a leg to put his
right calf across his left thigh. Even though they are just loafing
around, killing a day off, Leon's shoelaces are tied perfectly.

As always, one could hold both ends of the laces against each other and
see that the length matches. Leon will think nothing of spending twenty
minutes threading the laces on a new pair of shoes and never does what
Gil does, which is to take off a pair of shoes by pressing down on the
heel with the toes of the other foot and never tying the laces until
they come undone by pure chance.

'Don't always dream for what you want, but I love to watch good dancers
talk'

When Leon rises, to fetch a book from the shelf, a Ruth Rendell mystery
never finished; Gil comes with him, looks for a book himself. Nothing
here appeals to him. He doesn't return to books. He consumes them and
is done. If he had begun a book and not finished it, he would take this
as a hint. In any case, it is Leon who buys books, who buys music. As
with so much of the flat, what was intended to be shared space has been
colonised by his brother.

It is very much Leon's flat. The seagrass on the floor, the black and
white photographs of cities at night, the sparse ornamentation - two
slim vases in grey and green; the shallow leather-lined dish on the
coffee-table into which without fail Leon puts his keys and loose
change and Switch card every day on returning from work. It is his
kitchen too, with the cool sharp lines and Le Crueset pans. It is only
when you begin to open the cupboards and note how precariously the open
bags of pasta balance on each other that you begin to see Gil's
influence. Move into the bathroom and there are Leon's towels, folded
neatly as a newspaper; in colours of duck-egg blue, cinnamon and putty
and still fluffy, soft, smelling of fabric-conditioned meadows.

Leon checks his watch; the ironing should arrive shortly. It is one of
his few vices, paying for his ironing to be done and delivered on
hangers with thin plastic coverings. He pays for Gil's ironing to be
done as well. It is only fair, since after all, it is his insistence
that Gil wears shirts and ties identical to his own during working
hours. Somehow Gil still manages to stamp himself on this uniform, the
shirt buttons don't line up with the fly of his trousers, but rather
shear off to the left, the tie knot is too fat or too thin, never
precise and perfect as Leon's is; and there are always clumps of
stubble that the razor never finds beneath his jawline.

Leon looks through the slats of the blinds, out into Saffron Park, past
the honey-coloured flats and towards the glass-still lake itself. The
sky is a soft blend of colours, a light sketching of clouds. He feels
on edge, awkward and guilty. The music is doing little to soothe his
mood.

"Shall we make some pasta for lunch?" asks Gil, who begins to feel
hungry.

Leon considers it for a moment and moves off towards the kitchen,
closely accompanied by Gil. He pauses for a moment, sniffs the
air.

"Are you wearing Eternity?"

"Yes, " says Gil, sniffing his own wrist, "Yes, I think so. "

"I wish you wouldn't, " says Leon, "It's very cloying, I find. Too
sweet. "

Gil already knows this. He salts the water in the pan and turns on the
gas with a satisfying click of the ignition button, which only ever
fires up on the third press. They work as a team, chopping the celery
to act as a base for the sauce, picking the best of the tomatoes,
pulling fat round leaves from the fresh basil plant on the windowsill,
adding the muscovado sugar to add richness and tone to the sauce.

"You haven't forgotten that we're going to the doctor's at four, have
you?" asks Leon, and there's something in his voice, an attempt to put
too much lightness into it.

Gil grins as he tastes the sauce, which as always is just to his taste,
"I do love living with you, " he says.

Leon shoots an eyebrow, checks the pasta. "It's not like you have a lot
of choice, " he replies.

( a ) Opinions

When it came to naming their favourite boxing movie, Leon would always
select "On the Waterfront", whereas Gil would plump for "Rocky 3",
which had substantially less mediocre plot-filler and more of the pure
aesthetic training and punches that made sweat fly from the gloves. It
should not be inferred from this that Leon was more of a thinker than
Gil, but it was an indication of a difference between the brothers, who
were as close as brothers could be.

In relation to chocolate, Gil's preference was always towards the Twix,
the dark Bounty, the bars that could be shared equally, whereas Leon
preferred the intricate beauty of a Chocolate Orange - the ritualistic
manner in which it could be consumed. The tapping of the sphere, the
unwrapping of paper and the smell of citrus almost oily in its scent,
the smoothing out of the paper to one flat sheet and only then could
eating begin. The considered removal piece by piece of each segment,
taken with the delicacy of a seasoned Jenga-player, before finally the
splendid core was revealed. This is not to say that Leon would not
share with his brother, for he was generous, merely that it was never
foremost in his mind.

Gil sought to please, to show fairness and favour, in everything he
did, whereas Leon chiefly sought to satisfy himself. Don't assume him
selfish, he just believed that Gil loved and enjoyed the same things he
did, which was generally true.

If there was anything more that could be read into the selection of "On
the Waterfront" by Leon, it was perhaps the dynamic between the two
brothers, the one feasting off the talent of the other and eventually
destroying him. Likewise, although he had never spoken this aloud, Leon
had admiration for Michael Corleone in Godfather 2, when he finally
takes the decision that his craven, weakly brother Fredo has to be
eliminated; although he does not carry out the action himself and makes
his foster-brother do it.

In short, so far as their status as conjoined twins, joined by a girdle
of flesh about the hip, was concerned, Gil felt it to be a blessing
with occasional inconveniences and Leon felt it to be a curse.

( b ) Practicalities

There are a great many ways of being conjoined as a conjoined twin, or
what used popularly to be called a Siamese Twin. The most difficult to
live with is the condition where the twins are joined at the top of the
head, with effectively no top of the skull and a shared brain. The
living arrangements for this are generally only practical as toddlers,
since evidently neither can stand upright without having an entire
other person's weight atop their head. This the most difficult to
operate upon, but because the impact is so severe, it is one where
operations are ardently desired.

It is rare, though not impossible; to be joined effectively back to
back. This puts the twins in the unparalleled experience of having
their destiny and life bound up with someone they will never see.

Gil and Leon had what is usually considered the most benevolent of the
conjoining possibilities, that is that they had a band of flesh
approximately a hand's width in length, three inches in height and
thickness joining them just above the hip. Through this band of flesh
they had a joint blood supply and in particular, Leon himself had no
liver or kidneys and his body used the organs of his brother. Gil was
the right-hand twin, meaning that the side of his body most close to
Leon was his left, and Leon the left-hand twin. The band of flesh
allowed them some flexibility, but the furthest they could get from one
another was to both bend at the waist away from the other.

Both had reasonable use of the arm that was closest to the other,
although of course care was necessary to ensure that their two arms did
not get entangled or that a gesture would injure the other.

When they slept, Gil's left hand would tend naturally to fall upon the
girdle. He took responsibility for washing it and covering it with
clothing; Leon could barely tolerate looking at it and touched it only
if utterly necessary.

Leon's feeling on the matter is difficult to pin down with precision,
but effectively it was that he was constricted, confined. It was as
though half of him was on the aisle seat of an aircraft and the other
was pressed against the window with another person squashed against
him. It was like sitting in a cinema seat with someone next to you on
one side, all of the time.

He loves his brother very dearly, but he would very much like not to
have to be with him at all times.

If asked, Gil would say that it did not bother him. He hadn't known
anything else and didn't trouble with imagining how life might be like
if things were otherwise, any more than most people would imagine
having a third arm.

( c ) The Five things that most irritate Leon about his brother

1. Gil eats bananas. Leon hates the smell. It sickens him to his
stomach. He loathes the softness of bananas and their damp, limp skins
that flower out when being discarded. He cannot move very far away when
Gil eats bananas to escape the smell and as a compromise Gil eats them
next to an open window and immediately disposes of the skin in a bin
with a lid.

2. At the weekends, Gil sleeps late and Leon is an early riser. He
cannot get up and go for a walk, or listen to the radio, or do anything
of value. He simply has to wait for Gil to wake up naturally. Leon
tries to remember to keep a book by his bedside, but the time passes so
slowly. Sometimes he pinches his brother to wake him. He is not always
gentle.

3. Gil reads his letters both when he writes them and when he reads
them. Leon has taken to writing with his left hand, and the right arm
curled around it to make a shield, much like children did at school to
prevent 'copying'. There is little that Leon can do to prevent Gil
reading his letters.

4. Gil likes to put the teletext subtitles on while watching
television. He chuckles when the subtitle doesn't correspond with the
words being spoken and he loves to see the short-cuts that the
subtitler takes. Leon did not mind this at first, but now it makes his
top row of teeth rub against the bottom in a grinding, shuffling
manner. Gil's shows of this for preference are any live events, Top of
the Pops and Holby City. Gil also keeps the remote control on the
right-hand arm of the sofa, which is the one place that Leon can never
reach while they are sitting down.

5. His relentless cheerfulness. There is always something about every
day that pleases Gil and delights him. He also insists on trying to
cheer Leon up if Leon is in a bad mood. To an extent, Leon understands
this. It is no fun being next to someone who is miserable and it is
better for both of them if they are happy, but Gil never allows him
even a few minutes of feeling down or angry or upset. He leaps in on
every occasion to perk him up, to wish him well, to encourage and
understand. The one thing Leon can never have is what he needs the most
- to just be on his own for a bit.

6. And a sixth, he doesn't like that Gil sometimes uses his left hand
to ruffle Leon's hair. There is a purpose and design in Leon's hair and
he likes it to be the way that he has constructed it.

7. And a seventh, he doesn't like that sometimes as they are walking;
Gil will try to hold Leon's right hand in his left.

8. And if he's truly honest, almost everything. They are like a
too-long married couple. Even the way in which Gil lowers his head
nearer the food on his fork rather than raising the fork all the way up
to his mouth, Leon finds personally offensive now. If Leon could yield
to the way he himself would like to eat, he would personally choose to
cut every morsel up into suitable size before laying his knife aside
and proceeding. But he resists and eats in the appropriate
manner.

( d ) The Five things that most irritate Gil about his brother

1. He doesn't like that Leon has learned, by use of tapes and
headphones, to speak Spanish, French and Portuguese and uses these
languages in conversation with his friends so that Gil cannot
understand what is being said. It is impossible for Gil to attempt
himself to learn these languages without Leon's knowledge, and when he
has attempted it, an argument has resulted. Gil hates arguments. They
make him very upset.

2. Leon tends to be too precise about things. When they go out to
lunch, Leon will spend time getting ready, making himself look his
best. This bores Gil, who likes people to take him as they find him. He
can sense that when Leon goes out wearing his best clothes and having
muddled his hair with gummy wax, he is disappointed that Gil doesn't
bother to shave and leaves his hair as it comes.

3. He notices that Leon likes to stand in front of the mirror in such a
way that Gil's face can't be seen. They could easily buy a mirror big
enough for both to use, but instead, Gil has to wait for Leon to finish
admiring himself and then shuffle along to the left so that Gil can
then use the mirror. He has also noticed that the photographs that Leon
puts in frames are ones that are cropped, angled, so that he appears
alone and handsome. Gil favours the ones that make it obvious who they
are. He likes particularly any where they are bare-chested, with the
girdle naked and visible towards their abdomens; Leon's tight little
six-pack and his own slight paunch.

4. He has no fourth or fifth.

( e ) Separation

Leon gets them to the doctors by false pretences. He arranges, in
Portuguese, for a friend to make the appointment at a private clinic. A
special consultation. He and Gil have come to an arrangement with the
holiday entitlement that Leon's job allows. This is their spare time
after all and there are times when Leon does feel for his brother, that
he has to attend meetings and hearings that are fascinating to Leon but
dull and wearying for Gil, who has no choice in the matter. Gil
therefore has the ability to set the agenda for two-thirds of their
holidays, Leon controls the other third. Generally weekends work
themselves out.

Leon tells Gil that he wants to see the doctor about the possibility of
sperm donation, that he wants to father a child with a friend. To
cement this lie, he has had several false conversations with his
friend, who secretly is entertaining
the idea.

A subtle orange dominates the waiting room, which is silent and cool.
There is a fish tank in the waiting room, and thin blue slips of fish
dart about in the water. This is intended to be soothing. The magazines
on the worryingly modern coffee-table are new, a mark of the fees that
the clients pay; but when Leon picks Esquire up to flip through to calm
his nerves, a half-dozen inserts fall onto the parquet flooring with a
soft shushing kissing noise - credit cards one could apply for, cars
one could buy, subscriptions and promotional offers. They are as hard
to pick up as the slender blue fish would be and Leon chases them
around as they skate on the floor. Gil just kicks the one nearest to
him underneath the chair.

The doctor comes in, his breath smelling of coffee left too long in
cups and his trouser legs slightly too long so that the back of each
leg just catches underfoot with each stride. They watch him pull these
trousers up by the waist and do a little dance akin to hula-hooping, to
hope that his hip-bones will maintain them in place. When he does his
rounds, he hits the vending machine for caffeine and bars of Cadbury's
Whole Nut. His pockets shuck and chuckle with change.

Dr Perez has a file and as requested by Leon talks in Portuguese.

Gil says, "I'm sorry, I can't understand a word you're saying. "

The doctor apologises and despite Leon's protests, moves to speaking in
English.

"I was telling your brother, " he says, "That the operation to separate
you has a very good prospect of success. The join that you have is one
of the easiest to operate on. Would have been better if you'd been
younger, but?"

Gil says, "I don't want to hear this. "

Leon holds onto his seat with both hands, using all his strength. He
says, "It's my day. My day. At least listen. "

Gil listens, with his arms folded.

The gist is that the operation to separate them is straightforward,
although long. It is Leon who bears the risk, since he will need to
have transplant organs so that he can function alone.

"And as an adult, " Gil asks the doctor, "If you don't have my consent,
you can't go through with it?"

The doctor blinks and moves his wedding-ring round and round in a
nervous gesture. "That's correct. We would need the consent of both of
you to operate. "

Gil and Leon don't speak to one another for four days. That's a great
deal of silence in their particular set of circumstances.

( f ) Queen's Evidence

Gil says, "Go on then, call the police. I thought you were supposed to
be the smart one. "

"What do you mean? " asks Leon, his fingers nervously flexing back and
forth, moving like seaweed in the tide. He can smell the blood that is
on his shirt colour. It smells like metal and like dust. Even though he
is still wound up and terrified, he can't stop looking at the three
empty champagne glasses and he wants to rinse them and dry them.

"You forget I was in all those lectures with you, " says Gil, "I know
the law. Sit and think it through. I need to tell you about the fork.
"

Leon sits and thinks it through.