Free Jumping to Conclusions by Christina Jones

voice. 'I mean Leviticus and Ezekiel – they're one heck of a mouthful. What do people usually call you?'
    The left-hand twin wrinkled his nose. 'Bastard, mostly.'
    'No – not always,' his brother corrected quickly. 'Bronwyn Pugh sometimes says "them little buggers".'
    'Yeah,' a ginger head nodded. 'An' ole Bathsheba Cox told Mum we're the spawn of the devil.'
    Allowing herself to laugh in the privacy of the bathroom, Jemima was straight-faced when she walked back into the bedroom. 'Well, I'm going to call you Levi and Zeke, OK? And I can tell you apart.'
    'You can't!'
    'No one can 'cept Mum and Dad!'
    'Yes, I can. You,' she pointed to the left-hand twin, 'have got more freckles on your nose. They're kind of splodged together. And I guess you're Levi
    'Just shows you don't know everything,' he started bullishly, then sighed. 'Oh, bugger.'
    'That's that sorted, then.' Jemima smiled serenely. 'Zeke's got the splodgy nose. Now, I'm going to have a shower. See you later.'
    'S'pose so,' they muttered together, then looked at each other and nodded. 'You're okay. See ya.'
    Jemima closed the bathroom door and leaned against it, letting her breath escape slowly. She licked her forefinger and drew a line in the air. 'Round one to Jemima Carlisle.'
    Having had very little hands-on experience with the clergy, Vicar Glen was going to be the next hurdle. It was one she crashed into at tea-time.
    Looking mutinous, the twins were sitting side by side at the dining-room table when Jemima came down after her shower. Gillian, cool in something pale and floaty, and which Jemima would bet a month's salary – if she had one – came from Monsoon, looked warily at them from behind a huge willow pattern tea-pot.
    'They're sulking because I said this had to be a proper sit-to-the-table tea in your honour, rather than pizzas on laps in front of Grange Hill To be honest, they're not all that happy with sandwiches and cake. And they're miffed that you can tell the difference between them. I think they were counting on causing a fair bit of mayhem. Are you settled in up there?'
    Jemima nodded, sliding into a rather shabby but very beautiful walnut and velvet chair. 'Everything is great, thanks.' She helped herself to two doorsteps of hacked bread as Levi and Zeke pushed butter and a pot of shop jam towards her. 'Is – er – Glen – urn – Mr Hutchinson not joining us?'
    'I do hope so.' Gillian looked distracted and stirred her tea fiercely. 'I told him you were here.'
    'Dad's down the pub,' Zeke mumbled through a mouthful of bread and butter. 'He's always down the pub. We don't wait for him.'
    Jemima concentrated on her plate. If the Vicar had a drink problem it wasn't any of her concern really, was it? It might explain why Zeke and Levi were so unruly. A mother whose head was away in the land of hearts and flowers, and a father – a man of the cloth, no less – who was joined to the barmaid's apron....
    'Boys!' Gillian's laugh held a note of tension. 'You shouldn't say things like that. Whatever will Jemima think?'
    'That Daddy's always in the Cat and Fiddle – and he is – 'cepting for when he's in church.' Levi beamed jammily at Jemima across the table. 'When he does come home he's usually asleep.'
    'And he snores something dreadful, but that's only 'cause he's so old.' Zeke crammed an entire slice of bread into his mouth at one go. His following, 'Can I leave the table now, Mum?' was accordingly muffled.
    'You haven't had any cake.' Gillian was definitely twitchy.
    'Don't want cake. We'll have crisps later.' The twins slid from their chairs and smiled at Jemima. 'See ya.' A nanosecond later the dining room reverberated behind them.
    You could cut the tension with the cake knife. Wondering just what sort of set-up she'd so casually drifted into, Jemima sipped her tea and stared out through the open french doors. The walled garden shimmered in the afternoon sun. Butterflies were practising for summer by flexing their wings on the green shoots