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Fated love

The wrong twin 10,000 miles, and a mix up couldn't keep us apart


Published by: Lisa Brookman and Dale Tyler
Published on: 19th May 2010

You know what it’s like. You’ve had a few drinks and suddenly you’re the greatest dancer. Ginger Rogers has nothing on you.
I was down my local in San Francisco, with the girls I played footie with, swinging my hips and making a prize idiot of myself. It was a long way from my home town of London, but I’d worked as a nanny in the USA for two years and I was still having the time of my life.
Suddenly, I was pressed against a tall fella with a shaved head and gorgeous, blue eyes.
Talk about luck!
‘Are you a team?’ he laughed.
‘Yeah… Gaelic football,’ I shouted across the noise.
‘You know how to handle your balls then,’ he winked.
Saucy!
His name was Johnny Keating, a 27-year-old from Cork, and he had me in stitches all night.
‘I’ve been travelling America as a mechanic,’ Johnny explained.
‘I like a bloke who’s good with his hands,’ I teased.
As my family came from Ireland, we nattered all night.
When we met up a few nights later, he still kept me laughing.
‘Pity I’m leaving for England in a few weeks,’ Johnny sighed.
‘Oh well,’ I said. ‘Let’s just have a laugh.’
Johnny and me had a few dates, but I held back and tried to ignore how well we got on.
I’m a practical girl and I knew long- distance love was a mug’s game. It didn’t stop me going on about him to my twin sister Yvonne, though.
Well, we always told each other everything.
‘There’s nothing in it, though,’ I insisted to her. ‘He’s moving on.’
‘Shame,’ tutted Yvonne. ‘Sounds like you liked him. When are we going to marry you off?!’ she added with a laugh.
She’d married Kieran, settled down in London, and was always trying to pair me off. But our lives were poles apart – the only thing identical about us was our looks.
We even had the same dress sense and hairstyle.
When we were kids, our schoolteachers were always confused. Lads who fancied us often didn’t know which one they were speaking to. Being a twin was handy.
When I didn’t have the heart to ditch a bloke, I sent Yvonne to give him his marching orders.
Sometimes, she knew me better than I
knew myself.
The days before Johnny was due to leave, I couldn’t shake off that heavy feeling.
‘I’ll miss you,’ I told him on our last night. ‘Take care.’
‘Yeah, you take care, too,’ Johnny sighed.
I made a point of not getting his number, I convinced myself he was just some guy passing through…
But in the months that followed, I found myself longing for a bit of Johnny charm, and I kicked myself for not keeping in touch.
Still, I had a holiday in London to look forward to in a few months. In the meantime, I called Yvonne constantly for a fix of home.
‘Can’t wait to see you,’ I said. ‘Any news?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I got accosted by some nutter in the pub.’
‘God! Are you okay Yvonne? Tell me, what happened?’
‘Well, by the end of it Kieran was asking who he was,’ Yvonne chuckled. ‘I was at the bar and this tall bloke starts jabbering on about how he’s missed me.’
‘You’ll talk to anyone after a few,’ I laughed.
‘He even got a bit angry,’ she continued. ‘Kept insisting I was teasing him. I reckon you know him. He called me Marcella.’
‘I don’t know anyone in London any more,’ I replied, bemused.
‘He rambled on about San Francisco, all the time you’d spent together,’ she explained.
I nearly fell over. 
It couldn’t be Johnny…could it? Could he really have ended up in my old local in North Finchley? No, it was too much of a coincidence.
‘Even weirder, he works with Kieran’s cousin Frank at the garage as a mechanic,’ Yvonne went on.
‘What does he look like?’
‘He’s tall, Irish and cute,’ Yvonne replied.
I tried to stop myself from getting excited, but my heart started hammering. Forget coincidence, this was fate!
‘It might be Johnny,’ I gasped.
‘Well you’ll see when you come home, I’m sure he’ll be down the pub,’ Yvonne said.
Back home the next month, I walked into the pub and saw some of my old mates. But disappointment hit. No Johnny.
Maybe Yvonne had the wrong fella. Maybe I’d been silly to get my hopes up.
‘Marcella… or is it Yvonne?’ came a familiar voice behind me.
I turned – there was Johnny, cheeky grin and all.
‘It is you!’ I laughed.
‘Fancy seeing you here!’ he laughed back.
‘Are you stalking me?’ I teased.
I couldn’t believe how good it was to see him. We stood there smiling at each other. Suddenly, Johnny kissed me – it felt better than ever.
Talk about meant to be – what were the chances of a bloke chatting me up in America, then randomly coming into my life again in London!
Over the next few weeks, I saw as much of Johnny as I could.  He charmed everyone, even Yvonne. When I left for San Francisco, I was determined Johnny wouldn’t slip through my fingers so we swapped numbers and emails.
We’d talk for hours. As the months passed, I knew I was falling in love. We were meant to be – it was a million to one chance we’d met up again, I didn’t want to waste it.
‘I’m coming home,’ I told Yvonne on the phone. ‘I’ve been here three years now, I’m homesick.’
‘Well, I for one will be pleased to have you back,’ she said. ‘And I’m pretty sure there is someone else in London who’ll be happy, too.’
I packed my gear and moved back to my mum’s. Then I walked into the pub – Johnny’s face! It lit up like a kid who’d been let loose in a sweet shop.
‘I’m back for good,’ I smiled.
We didn’t waste any more time. Instead, we moved in together and couldn’t have
been happier.
Then last Christmas, me and Johnny went to the Dominican Republic. One evening, as we strolled along the beach together, he kneeled down to tie a loose shoelace.
‘I still think it’s strange that we met up again like that,’ he grinned, rosy cheeked. ‘Like it was fate.’
‘I know exactly what you mean,’ I replied.
‘I love you, Marcella! Will you marry me?’ he asked.
‘Yes!’ I gasped, throwing my arms around him.
We’ve set a date for next August in Ireland. 
I can’t believe I travelled 10,000 miles around the world and ende d up with some bloke in my local.
If Yvonne hadn’t been in the pub, I might’ve missed Johnny. And if he hadn’t taken the job with Frank, I might never have seen him again. I’d never been so glad to be a twin!
I feel like the luckiest woman in the world. You never know when cupid will strike!
Marcella Doyle, 29, London