Located

'There's an artist, famous one, seen his work before, Guggenheim I think was where I saw it, anyway this artist painted a street-scene in 1925. I remember a man carrying a ladder on his shoulder, who was crossing a road; a woman behind him wearing a white veil crossing the opposite way and gesturing to a child talking to her friend by a butcher's doorway; and in the doorway the proprietor gazing at a girl he liked the look of on the opposite pavement. And two men were working on the roof of an ironmonger's. There was an omnibus passing horizontally in the distance and there must have been at least another three or four passers-by.

‘Then in 1932 this artist decided to improve the provincial scene of a small Austrian town, do the canvas again but without the figures he felt unhappy with.

‘Now, something odd has happened. The two pictures are hanging next to each other in a gallery down the road, and it looks like the painter has made a point about ‘chance’, something which no doubt he hadn’t intended at all. The chance that some people might be placed in exactly the same position doing the same things, but seven years apart. And they wouldn’t know it. Except the artist in this case. And the pictures are in our town on loan, right now, just down the road.’

The girl finished telling the twins about the pictures and now stared at them through thick lenses, leaning forward a little with mouth agape and lips too wet. The twins slowly looked at one another. They didn’t know what to say. They could see the bright blue fascination of their new-found half-sister. Her fascination was blue, they both knew, because her eyes were disturbingly spotlighted in the milk-bottle spectacles. The girl continued staring, fixing the twins; they stayed gazing at each other.

When she at last bent down to lift her bag onto the table and remove a large lunch-box, the twins swayed and curved a little, bending their necks and occasionally stretching an arm. One twin was nicknamed Spotters. The other, born seven minutes before her, was Spottable. In their bar ‘The Spotted Bag’, which was presented spotlessly, they had come across this girl who by some odd coincidence had walked in that afternoon and they’d discovered this half-sister connection.

‘I came in here because of the pub sign’ she’d said. ‘Who calls a pub ‘The Spotted Bag’? I got curious, see. Perhaps it draws in only people who’ve got a spotted bag, not necessarily carrying one right now - that would be too thin a clientele - but ask around and maybe you’ll find that everyone here possesses at home . . .‘ 'Or has possessed at some time’ added Spotters,' ‘A spotted bag.’ finished all three.

The girl finished her lunch taken carefully from the lunch-box, while the twins unsurely stroked the thick woolen sleeves of her jacket. Then, after leaving them her home address, she left, saying she’d already spent far too long a lunch hour away from the office, she was overjoyed to have found them, and they would most definitely meet up that weekend when they all had more time.

‘Well!’ said Spotters to her twin. ‘Well!’ came the reply. ‘What do you make of her?’ she asked.

The two nodded at each other slowly. ‘She’s a bit ugly isn’t she . . .’ they chimed. ‘Those glasses don’t help do they.’ said Spotters. ‘And those spots!’ suggested her twin. ‘Yes those!’ replied Spotters. 

‘Oh look!’ she cried, ‘She’s left her bag. What shall we do?’ They hugged each other for a time, thinking. Spotters started to giggle - ‘Look! her bag’s got dots on . . .’ ‘Yes, I know.’ came the blank reply. ‘Come on. We’d better take it home with us. We can give it to her at the weekend . . .’ 

They stumped to the door and there Spotters turned and called to their dog. ‘Come along Spot; it’s only raining a bit; you’ll be fine.’

Her twin looked at their poor old dog who had stretched his neck out on the carpet and now was gazing at them through velvet eyes. ‘Better put him in the bag, I suppose.’ suggested Spotters. ‘The girl won’t mind. She need never know.’

Turning their collars up, the two set off in the rain, the bag heavy with warm dog who had poked his head out of the zip and kept his eyes tight closed. They rested by a public telephone box, which suddenly began to ring.

‘Who would call a phone-box?’ asked Spotters. ‘Well perhaps it’s someone who wants to pass a message on to their daughter in that queue by the bus-stop. You answer it.’

Spotters lifted the receiver and cried out in surprise. ‘It’s our half-sister! She didn’t know our number, she'd was in a bit of a spot, so she closed her eyes and pressed the buttons in a random way. She says Have we spotted her bag; she left it in the bar?’ ‘Tell her we’ll keep it for her. Don’t mention the dog though. Got that?’

They were nearing home when Spottable, giggling stupidly, turned to the other. ‘She asked us what? Spotters? She asked us - had her bag been - er - what?’

‘Located!’ replied her twin, and went indoors.