Tuesday 28th March 1978: Off to the Dentist – Brace out?
Robbie’s hope for the Easter holidays out of posh prison was tied to the dentist. He’d dressed like he might meet someone on the way home. His hair was washed, and he’d even used a conditioner and Kizzy’s dryer. He’d tried his Mum’s eyelash curlers, too. A girl had mentioned his eyes. His best feature.
He was a kimbo in the dentist’s chair. Mouth agape when Dr Bletchley dropped the bombshell.
“Another three months, and you’ll have teeth like Donny Osmond,” Dr Bletchley said, inspecting the metalwork with professional detachment. “We need those central incisors to come together.”
Robbie had no wish to look like Donny Osmond and didn’t share Dr Bletchley’s opinion on the gap between his front teeth. He could feel tears welling up and hated that Dr. Bletchley’s assistant had noticed.
The entire Easter Holiday stretched out before him like a cruel joke. At least Kizzy had promised to meet him. They planned to go shopping in Eldon Square and get him something snazzy for the rugby club disco on Wednesday. Those hopes were now dashed. Robbie felt like going home.
Returning to the waiting room for his coat, he was horrified to find Fenella Penny all perky and bright. She approached him. Eager.
“There’s my sunshine boy,” she said,“I was hoping I’d get the first kiss now you’re officially de-wired.”
Robbie revealed his brace, which was still very much in place.
“Oh no!” Fen declared. Her Easter holidays depended on Robbie not having his teeth wrapped in orthodontic barbed wire.
“You can still kiss me,” Robbie said hopefully.
“Hmm. Maybe once the metal’s gone…” Fen said.
Kizzy showed up late, as always—but just in time. She read the tension between her brother and Fen like a corpse on a hillside. Robbie explained while Kizzy listened. Then, she marched into the surgery as if she owned the place. Dr. Bletchley was mid-drill in Mrs. Simpson’s molar when Kizzy interrupted.
“Three months?” she said. “You’ll have his mother suing you for psychological cruelty.” Eventually, they struck a deal..
Kizzy heard Robbie’s story. She wasn’t going to have it. Bletchley had confessed to being a perfectionist. The brace was due today, so it would, even if it meant she’d get Grandpa involved with a pair of pliers. He told Dr Bletchley this while he tried to fill one of Mrs Simpson’s crowns.
Eventually, Kizzy and Bletchley made a deal. She’d stump up the coast. £300. He’d not tell their mother. He’d get the brace back on in a few weeks time if needed. They had a plan.
Robbie was relieved and released. Once again, Kizzy had saved the day.
It wasn’t quite as perfect as he’d imagined. There was a noticeable gap between his two front teeth. He liked to think of it as charming. Fen pointed out that Mick Jagger had a gap in his teeth. This time, Fenella kissed him in public, mouths closed. It didn’t hurt. That was a start.
“I’ve been practising,” Fen said. Robbie was unsure if he wanted to know when or with whom.
Fen joined them on the bus into town.
Back at their place, sitting in his room with Fen, when the conversation flagged, Robbie referenced Manwatching and the subtle behaviours of courtship stages in primates.
“I’m not a biology practical,” Fenella pointed out. Afterwards, she listened politely as Robbie expounded on school plays, rugby, and the orchestra. He might have shown more interest in her Grade VI Clarinet exam, but he didn’t.
She said something about virginity—joking, maybe not—which shut Robbie down entirely. He glanced toward the ceiling, half expecting his Gran to burst through it like divine surveillance.
That afternoon, bolstered by premature self-belief, he went to the cinema with Fen to see ‘Close Encounters of the Third Kind.’ No Kizzy. She knew when to stand down. She fancied seeing the film but did not sit alongside Robbie and Fen as they tickled each other’s tonsils. She’d feel a right gooseberry.
During the film, Robbie tried the arm-over-the-shoulder move. Fen didn’t flinch, which was a sign of a step towards something, so he thought. But when he turned, hesitating on the cusp of a kiss, she wrinkled her nose.
Nothing. Something had changed. She was having second thoughts. The arm was too much as well.
Back home, Robbie sat on his bed, gap-toothed and rejected, staring at the ceiling. The future had begun, but not quite the one he’d hoped for. It felt like Fenella had turned him down. They weren’t about to saunter off down the Yellow Brick Road of discovery arm in arm.
Robbie was adamant with Kizzy.
“Fen and I are off. No go. Never happening,” said Robbie.
Kizzy had other ideas. She worried for her brother. Being a twin was like waking up every day with distorted mirror. Not identical—thank God. That would’ve been unbearable. But still: same womb, same house, same breakfast cereals, same childhood illnesses, and for years, the same assumptions from others.
“You must be so close.”
“You must feel what he feels.”
“You must never fight.”
Wrong, wrong, and wrong again.
Robbie was a part of her. That much was true. She felt she always knew what he wanted before he did. She saw how he moved through the world—gangly and hopeful. She both adored him and winced on his behalf.
Sometimes she wonder about their differences. Not just the obvious ones, like him being a boy. But how he walked into rooms expecting the world to meet him, and she hovered. Watched. Plotted.
He got braces. She got boobs. She threw himself at love like it was a rugby tackle. She stayed back, holding the clipboard, watching who got hurt.
She felt it was like growing up beside a version of her who was ignoring the instructions she had to follow. Maybe that was the burden. And the joy. She would never be alone in the world. But she would never be fully free either.
She had an idea that would appeal to Robbie. He responded to a challenge.
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