Disappeared Colin Falconer 'A belief in the supernatural source of evil is quite unnecessary; men alone are quite capable of every wickedness.' - - Joseph Conrad.
Prologue Buenos Aires, Argentine March, 1976 So much death. And yet it began, as it ended, with life. Two lives. The doctor looked at them over his glasses, his face grim. 'You should prepare for the worst. She has acute respiratory problems and we have noted a cardiac arrythmia. You must pray for her.' Gabriella stared at him. Someone had scooped out her insides with their fingernails. She folded over, clutched the newborn closer to her breast. Reuben put an arm around his wife, looked down at the child she held in her arms. She had the softly pink radiance of new life, and huge eyes, brown and liquid. She started to cry, as if she understood the death sentence that had been pronounced on her twin. Reuben felt the child's fist close around his finger. It was so very tiny. This is all my fault, he thought. He had placed those he loved at risk and now God was showing him that what had been given could so easily be taken away. 'There is no hope?' Reuben asked. 'There is always hope.' The doctor's black-framed spectacles flashed in the strip light. 'But I am saying we have done everything we can. Now it is the hands of God.' He would not meet their eyes. He was young, perhaps younger than Reuben himself. He just wanted to get this done, move on to another patient. 'You have one healthy daughter, at least.' 'Can I see her?' Gabriella said. *** Eva had dewlaps of skin at the back of her neck and her brown skin hung loose. She looked like the blind birthling of a rabbit. Reuben could count her ribs through
her skin and the identity tag around her ankle was the size of his wedding ring. How could something so small possibly survive? An oxygen tube had been taped to her cheek. She was crying; an odd, gasping cry, like the barking of a seal. 'Eva,' Gabriella murmured. Her limbs kicked in distress, her face screwed up in a monkey-wizened grimace of pain. There was a tiny birthmark on her cheekbone; it looked like a tear drop. That means she will be crying all her life, a superstitious nurse had told him. Not if I have anything to do with it, he had said. Gabriella handed him the twin, Simone. She patted Eva's bottom, crooning to her, and when that did not work she scooped her up in her arms and tried to gentle her but little Eva arched her back and screamed even louder, her face crimson with rage and pain. Her chest heaved. Her lips were blue. 'Put her down,' Reuben said. Eva kicked more desperately. Her toothless mouth gasped for air, eyes screwed shut. 'Put her down!' Gabriella obeyed, lowering Eva gently into the crib, then stepped back, a knuckle thrust in her mouth. Her eyes were wet. Reuben did not know what made him do it. A flash of intuition perhaps, seeing himself as Eva in the pulsing jelly warmth of Gabriella's womb, feeling the spongy softness of her twin, her nudge and embrace. From the very beginning Eva had been not one, but one half of two. Now, in this first and desperate struggle, she was alone. He placed Simone beside her sister in the crib. Her left arm somehow draped itself across Eva's shoulder. Almost at once the terrible crying stopped. *** Two days later the doctor found the Altmans still at vigil over their daughters. 'Eva is responding well to treatment,' he said. 'You will be able to take her home in perhaps another two days.'
Reuben did not look up. He was staring at Eva and Simone. They had their thumbs in each other's mouths. 'Thank you, doctor.' He smiled, taking the credit. 'Three days ago you told me she was going to die. It's a miracle.' 'In my experience, children, even small infants, can be very resilient.' 'She stopped crying as soon as we put Simone in the crib with her.' The doctor's smile irritated Reuben. 'Yes, of course' The twins were asleep. Reuben, the atheist, said a silent prayer to the God he no longer believed in and made a silent vow he would never put them in danger again. A vow he knew even then that he could not keep.
PART ONE ARGENTINE: 1974-1976
Chapter 1 Buenos Aires: March 1976. Of the fifty or so guests attending the party at the Altman house that afternoon, Julio Castro was the only one who had taken carnal possession of the mother of the twin girls being paraded for the benefit of family and friends. He was not listening as Reuben's father made his speech or the rabbi put on his shawl to give his blessing. All he could think was: But Gabriella, I loved you. She looked radiant. She was wearing a dress of white silk with ruffled shoulders, and long white gloves that accentuated the dark honey of her arms and shoulders. A cascade of dark and luxuriant hair fell around her shoulders, framing a face of angelic beauty. A poor girl's bounty. Do you blame her, Julio? You always knew she would do better than you. But every time he looked at her, he felt a pain that burned like an ulcer. Reuben called him over to the huddle now formed around the parents for the photographs. Gabriella offered him a chill smile. He wondered if she could even begin to guess at the pain she had caused him. As the flashbulbs popped Julio tried to imagine her naked, but even that memory was gone now, a faded scent. Carmen kissed Gabriella on both cheeks. Reuben clapped him on the shoulder and hugged him. He had on an Italian suit and Gucci loafers and Mar del Plata tan. Everyone was smiling, even Julio. Those children should have been mine. End of Excerpt
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About the Author
Find Colin Falconer at: https://colinfalconer.wordpress.com or on Twitter at @colin_falconer
Born in north London, Colin Falconer worked for many years in TV and radio and freelanced for many of Australia's leading newspapers and magazines. He has been a novelist for the last twenty years, with his work published widely in the UK, US and Europe. His books have been translated into seventeen languages.
Copyright Page Revised edition copyright Š 2012 by Colin Falconer
http://coolgus.com This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance of fictional characters to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission from the author and publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. Electronic ISBN 9781621250456 Find Colin Falconer at http://www.colinfalconer.net Colin Falconer's blog at: http://colin-falconer.blogspot.com/ or on Twitter at http://twitter.com/#!/colin_falconer http://twitter.com/#!/colin_falconer