THEO STEPPED BACK and studied the wide stripe of pale olive paint he’d just applied to the wall above the fireplace. It seemed right for the room. A calming sort of colour but rich enough, saturated enough, not to be boring. He loaded the roller again and worked it over the wall, expanding the patch of colour. There was something satisfying about the sticky glide of the roller, the fresh paint smell, the instant transformation. Mia would approve, he thought. Direk would be peeved. He’d say that Theo was the client, that he wasn’t supposed to be painting...
But he’d been restless. A long run hadn’t helped and, when he’d tried to focus on work, his thoughts had kept drifting to Mia, to the look on her face as she’d slowly backed out of the room. She hadn’t turned her back on him, but held his gaze to the last, giving him chance after chance to stop her. But he hadn’t; he’d let her go.
He’d given up trying to work and roamed the house instead. He’d been pacing up and down the hall when he’d felt a sudden compelling need to control something, an overwhelming desire to assert himself. He’d spotted the paint tins through the sitting room door, and that was it. He’d moved Direk’s vase off the mantelpiece and set to work painting the chimney breast. Pathetic, really, slapping paint on a wall to exorcise his demons. He knew what was wrong with him. It was half-past six. Mia was at Eline’s apartment, which had been his apartment once, and he had absolutely no control over what was being discussed...or revealed.
He coated the roller again, driving it over the wall, wet pinpricks of paint peppering his face. For three days he hadn’t been able to think about Mia without seeing her tear-stained cheeks as she’d stood in the doorway. For three days he’d tried to convince himself that she’d be better off without him, but if he believed that then why hadn’t he been able to draw a line under everything? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her? He paused for a beat. Because he knew all the way to his bones that they were better off together. It had been the coward’s way out, trying to write off everything they’d shared, because he was too scared to turn his gaze inwards and deal with the hard stuff.
Hard stuff!
He powered the roller over the wall.
Deal with it!
Eline... The thought of her didn’t turn his blood to ice any more. Yes, she’d stung him with her attitude to Bram, and she’d broken his heart with her casual affair, but it was time to face the truth. Ancient hurt over Eline wasn’t the reason why he hadn’t told Mia about Bram. It had been a ready-to-wear excuse, that was all. Mia was sweet, kind and empathetic. He’d always known in his heart that she would never think badly of Bram; would never see Bram as a tiresome liability, as Eline had. For pity’s sake, Mia had even expressed sadness at the death of his father, something he’d never been able to do himself.
He poured more paint into the roller tray and moved on to the next section of wall. His father had been a waste of space. At twelve years old Bram had been more of a man than his father had ever been. Bram, protecting them all, wading in to divert his father’s drunken fists from their mother, hollering at him to take Madelon away so she wouldn’t see... And he’d always done as he’d been told, hadn’t he...? He’d always run away knowing full well that, when he got back, Bram would be...hurt. The roller froze in his hand. To this day the sharp scrape of chair legs on tile made his heart lurch. The sound of breaking china made him buckle inside.
He stared at the glistening green wall, felt his ten-year-old self shrinking back, heartbeat ramping, mouth tinder-dry. He’d been a coward. He’d never done a single thing to help Bram put their father down. He’d never raised a finger or answered back. The noise and the swinging fists had frightened him. So he’d let Bram do it, had let him take the blows and the curses, and when Bram had congratulated him for getting Madelon out of the house he’d glowed because Bram’s approval had meant everything. In his eyes, Bram had seemed unbreakable, like a superhero. He’d seemed like someone who could weather a storm and come out smiling. He’d been reliable, dependable. Strong.
But Bram wasn’t a superhero. He was mortal, broken and scarred on the inside. He’d been pretending all along to make his cowardly little brother feel better...
Theo lowered the roller, felt it slipping from his hand. Bram the hero; Mia the brave. He’d never noticed before, the vocabulary he used in his head. He was drawn to strength and bravery because strength and bravery were attributes that he didn’t possess. He could see it clearly now: his unswerving determination to fix his brother at any cost had been a desperate attempt to atone for his own failings. It was messed up but that was why he hadn’t been able to tell Mia about Bram, because sharing Bram’s story with her meant sharing his guilt, admitting his own weakness...
He drew in a long breath. His abhorrence of violence and abuse; the properties he’d bought for the refuge so that women like his mother, and kids like Bram and Madelon and himself, would have somewhere safe to go; his need to control things and protect his family: they were shoots grown on a rootstock of crippling guilt.
He bent to pick up the fallen roller, set it back on the paint tray then stepped over the green splodges on the floor and lifted Direk’s vase back onto the mantelpiece. He pictured Mia’s smile, the way she’d looked at him when she’d caught him watching her filling the vase with tulips. He wasn’t worthy of her love, but if she knew how much he loved her, how utterly shattered he’d felt when she’d closed the door behind her three days ago, would she give him another chance? If he told her everything about Bram; if he dared to show her the darkest side of himself, the side he was most ashamed of, would that make things right between them?
Bram had told him that it was time for him to let go of the reins and live his own life, and Madelon had said she was tired of living under lockdown. He was tired too, bone-weary of it all. Maybe redemption could be found in just being, in living, loving and rising above the past. No one wanted him to be the gatekeeper any more. Perhaps they never had...
Mia glanced at the clock in the lobby as she hurried towards the exit. Half-past seven! No wonder she felt shredded; she’d been in Eline’s apartment for an hour and a half and it had felt like torture. She’d been desperate to leave, desperate to get to Theo’s house so she could tell him that she was in love with him.
She hitched her bag onto her shoulder, pushed through the lobby doors then toppled to a teetering halt. The car by the kerb wasn’t the black saloon that had brought her here; it was a familiar low-slung classic sports car and leaning against it, in a paint-spattered tee shirt and jeans, was Theo.
Her heart couldn’t beat fast enough. The only person in the world she wanted to see was standing right there in front of her, looking messy, tired and completely perfect.
He smiled, hesitation hovering at the corners of his mouth. ‘Hello, Mia.’
‘Hi.’ She swallowed hard. If he was here, it could only mean one thing—that he didn’t want it to be over either. A little bubble of joy quivered in her chest. She stepped towards him, tears gathering behind her eyes. ‘It’s funny... I was going to ask the driver to drop me at your house...’ She glanced left and right, smiling. ‘Where is he, by the way?’
‘I killed him.’ He dusted his hands together, a playful glint in his eye.
She clutched her chest, pretended to be mortified. ‘But he was such a nice man...chatty and everything... He didn’t deserve to die.’
Theo laughed, rocked forward off the car and stepped towards her. ‘I didn’t really... I just told him he wasn’t needed.’ Closer. ‘I told him that I’m the one you need...’ Closer still, soft light in his eyes. ‘Because I’m the one who loves you, and I shouldn’t have waited so long to tell you that.’
There was no holding her tears in now. They were falling like rain. ‘And I love you too, Theo, but I mean all of you, not just the bits you want me to see. And I was coming to tell you that, because I realised I hadn’t, and maybe you just need to hear it.’
‘Oh, Mia, you’re what I need. I’m sorry I hurt you; I’m sorry I made you cry. I swear I’ll never make you cry again.’ And then he was pulling her into his arms, holding her tightly, and it was sublime, the best feeling in the world. Like coming home. She could feel his heart beating against hers, his warm breath in her hair, and she wanted to stay like that for ever; but then he was shifting on his feet, disengaging. ‘We should go.’ His eyes held hers. ‘We’ve got a lot to talk about and this isn’t the place...’
Something in his eyes. ‘Was this where you and El—?’
‘Yes.’ He’d read her mind. ‘Eline kept the apartment after we split.’ He shrugged. ‘The views were great, but the memories weren’t...’ He opened the passenger door for her, motioned her inside. ‘I prefer my house. And yours.’
She slipped into the seat, breathing in the rich smell of antique leather. In a heartbeat he was beside her and then the engine was roaring. He caught her eye and frowned a little. ‘I forgot something...’
‘What?’
He leaned in. ‘This...’ and then his lips were on hers, warm and firm, and there was that tiny sandpaper rub of his skin against hers, warmth flooding through her, desire pooling in her belly. She slipped her hands to his face, pulling him closer. He made a low noise in his throat, deepened his kiss; and he tasted so good, smelled so good, that if she could have stopped time, stayed for ever in that moment, she’d gladly have done it. But all too soon he was pulling away, eyes cloudy with desire and love. ‘We need to go.’
‘To your place?’
He shook his head. ‘To yours first. You’ll need some stuff for the weekend, and you’ll need to make arrangements for your dependant...’ A ghost of a smile touched his lips.
‘Arrangements...? Stuff for the weekend...? I’m intrigued.’
He grinned. ‘Then we’re going to my place.’ He rubbed at the flecks of paint clinging to the hairs on his forearms. ‘I need to clean up.’
‘I was going to get to that. You’ve actually been painting?’
He nodded. ‘I stuck a toe in the water. Have you eaten?’
She’d hardly eaten for three days. ‘No.’
‘Hungry?’
‘I am.’ She felt a smile coming. ‘In so many different ways.’
He laughed. ‘Okay...so, barge first, then clean-up duty, then dinner and then...’
She slipped her hand to the back of his neck and buried her fingers into his hair. ‘Just drive, Theo.’
She turned the vase on the mantelpiece a quarter of an inch and shuffled the tulips into a pleasing fan shape. They’d lasted well and the colour looked perfect against the green. Theo’s paint job was a little patchy, but it was nothing that a second coat wouldn’t sort out. She turned around slowly, furnishing the room in her head. Large, comfy sofas in fabric, not leather; a mirror—nice and big to bounce light around. Shelves full of books; a rug—pale to push the walls out; lamps with shades in old gold silk to make the woodwork glow. In the corner, a statement plant with glossy leaves. She sighed. It was going to be wonderful. A proper family home...
‘There you are!’ Theo appeared in the doorway, his hair damp and tousled. Clean jeans and tee shirt. His forearms and fingernails were scrubbed clean. He came to stand beside her. ‘So, what do you think...?’
‘I like it a lot, but mostly I like the fact that you did it—that you took the leap.’
He smiled. ‘It was a cathartic experience.’ He turned to face her, a familiar look in his eyes. She drew a measured breath. They’d eaten takeaway in the kitchen, and then he’d gone to shower, but they hadn’t had a heart-to-heart yet, and it felt as if they could so easily slide back into their old ways. She could feel his eyes on her mouth, his hands going to her waist. He wanted to take her upstairs to bed, and she wanted it too, but first they had to talk.
She moistened her lips. ‘You haven’t asked me about how it went with Eline.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
Was he really stonewalling her again? If they loved each other there could be no more hiding.
‘Theo, I know about Bram...’
His eyes narrowed.
‘Eline was telling me about her disillusionment with the industry, what her career had cost her...’ He seemed calm. She took a breath and continued. ‘No names were mentioned but I knew what she was talking about.’ She put her hands on his upper arms. ‘I know what you did, Theo: the sacrifices you made...how you lost Eline because of it. Trusting someone again... I understand why it’s been so hard for you.’
He seemed to consider for a moment and then he gently took her hands from his arms, giving them a little squeeze before letting them go. ‘Whatever Eline said doesn’t matter because I’m the only one who knows the truth about what I did and didn’t sacrifice...’
He threw a glance at the wall. ‘When I was painting this room, I was examining myself, trying to work out why I’d let you walk away, why I couldn’t face telling you about my brother—you of all people, the person who took in a lame kitten.’ He raked a hand through his hair, met her gaze. ‘And I realised that I’ve been hiding behind Eline’s mistakes because hiding was easier than being honest with myself.’
He walked to the single unpainted wall in the room and slid down it. He drew his knees up, traced a finger through the dust on the floor and then he looked up. ‘You said you want to love all of me, not just the bits I want you to see... So, because I don’t want to lose you, I’ll tell you the truth about myself and my brother so you know exactly what I am...’
Seeing him like this, his back to the wall, knees drawn up, it struck her that she was seeing him as a child, and it was turning her inside out. She went to sit beside him and hooked her arm into his.
‘I’ve been angry my whole life, Mia. I thought it was because I was just like my father. It’s what I fear more than anything...the violence inside myself. I thought that if I didn’t drink I’d be able to control it. But it’s there all the time, simmering. It’s why I run—why I work like a dog. I don’t want to give myself any corner. I have to be in control; I have to know what’s coming.’ He glanced at her, smiled faintly. ‘I didn’t see you coming...’
She squeezed his arm.
‘When Bram got sick, I bought the house on Texel, looked after him, but you mustn’t think I was being noble, or self-sacrificing. I was just trying to make amends.’
‘Amends?’
He angled himself towards her. ‘Bram protected us all and he paid a heavy price for that. My scumbag father used to...’ His mouth stiffened. ‘I’ll spare you the details.’ His chest was rising and falling, rising...falling. ‘Bram wasn’t scared of him...’ His gaze swerved to some distant point in the room. ‘Not like me. I was a useless little coward!’
‘No, Theo, no.’ Tears were thickening in her throat. ‘What are you saying...that it was all your fault?’
His eyes snapped to hers. ‘I should have done something to help, two of us against him would have been better, but I always had to take Madelon away...’
‘So you protected your sister...which was doing something.’ She shuddered. ‘Where was your mother when all this was going on?’
His eyes glazed over. ‘In the corner.’
‘Oh, Theo...’ She knelt in front of him, took him in her arms and felt a shuddering sob working its way through his body. It was unimaginable, what they’d all been through, and he’d heaped layer after layer of guilt onto his own head, just as she’d done over Hal and Ash. There seemed to be so many parallels between them, yet there were so many things she didn’t understand... Had there been no help from the authorities? Maybe Theo’s family had slipped through the net somehow. No wonder he and Madelon had involved themselves so passionately with Saving Grace.
In time she’d find out but, whatever had gone on, the experiences of his childhood had given him a seriously unbalanced picture of himself. He was no coward. He was strong, noble, kind and compassionate. He needed to see himself through her eyes. That was her job now, to correct his vision.
She released him slowly. ‘Do you remember us talking about the day I came to your hotel to ask you to meet Ash in Greenwich?’ He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘I said that I’d been trying to atone for Hal, and you said that maybe atonement had a little bit to do with it, but that mostly I’d done it because I love Ash and wanted to help him... And then you said something about how I help people...about how I push back. You had a lovely expression which I remember... You said that I “shape fate”.’
She lifted her hand to his face and stroked his cheekbone with her thumb. ‘That’s you too, Theo... You help people. You buy homes for families who have nowhere to go; you rescue drowning cats... And, when the person you’d looked up to more than anyone else in the world needed fixing, you got stuck in. You didn’t shirk or give it to someone else to do. You did it yourself. You never gave up trying, and if that isn’t shaping fate then I don’t know what is.’
She took his hands in hers, gripping them as tightly as she could. ‘And, if you feel angry all the time, is it any wonder? You did the right thing by Bram and Eline punished you for it.’ Such a mess, such a trail of devastation. She took a breath. ‘Would it help to know that Eline is sorry...that she bitterly regrets hurting you?’ Rain in his eyes again, tightness in his jaw, but behind the clouds a glimmer of light. ‘You’ve had a lot to feel angry about in your life, Theo, but maybe you can start to let it go now.’ She leaned in, kissed him softly. ‘It’s time to cut yourself some slack.’