Estranged twins, Clara and Dempsey, clash when their mother, missing since their infancy, appears, un-aged and living a life exactly as described in Clara’s hit novel. Timelines and realities blur as you’re drawn in to the chaos and disorientation of Clara’s drug fuelled mental state. Tense, lurid and slippery, this is a compelling and unpredictable story about maternal deprivation and self- actualisation.
I wait for the clapping to die. I show the even white plates in my mouth again and make a small joke about the venue. Ahead of me: a gallery of curious faces, bodies and hands. The booze I swallowed in the green- room is dancing its way down, lighting me up like the city at night, shifting me into glittering performance. My voice warms the room. Everyone is laughing in their seats. The joke, whatever it was, worked. I begin to read from page 55, the moment when the prettier, more successful twin sees their long-lost mother for the first time. The catch is this; the mother and the daughter are both eight years old. Both at the same time. I get a startling rush of something cruel, or smothering.
