Angel and demon wings with Gemini symbol

The Bramleys are dropping faster than Dad can gather them, so I've been up the ladder since five with the wicker basket hooked on my elbow. Mum says the wasps have had the windfalls under the Cox tree and I'm not to let you back in the orchard until you've learnt to pick one without bruising it. You always said I was the careful one. I used to think that was a compliment.

The letter you left on the kitchen table in June is still in the drawer under the tea towels. I read it again last night. You wrote that the road out was all rain and bad coffee, and that nobody in Hereford had ever heard of a pair of twins who could be two things at once. I laughed, then I went out to the back step and sat until the moths found the porch light. Dad asked if I was all right. I said I was fine. You know how that goes.

This morning I found the pencil drawing we made when we were nine, the one with the two wings pinned to the loft beam. Yours is the one with the claws. Mine has the feathers. Mum never could tell us apart on paper, only on the stairs. I've left the last Egremont Russet on the wall by the gate, where we used to hide the sweets. Eat it before the wasps do, and come home for a week. I'll keep the good wing for both of us.