The morning after a raid was always quiet – a hush over the village as we all lay low, waiting to be outed. Waiting to be caught. Caught and taken away for ever.
Rebecca’s Daughters, by Nathaniel Drury (1998)
My train left from Chester at four-thirty the following afternoon, and it was after eleven before I even woke up. Rather than go looking for any party survivors, I decided that a shower and packing were the order of the day.
I was still trying to figure out why I’d brought six pairs of shoes for the week, and only worn one, when Ellie appeared in the doorway. But instead of looking tired and pale as she had most of the time I’d been home, there was colour in her cheeks and fire in her eyes – just like the morning in the Orangery.
“When are you leaving?” she asked, her stare hard as she stood in the doorway. Was she just here to check that I really was going again? I wasn’t sure.
“The taxi’s coming at four o’clock,” I answered, as mildly as I could. Whatever she thought or felt, I wasn’t here for confrontation. I folded one of Therese’s dresses neatly and put it to one side on the bed. I was going to miss the extended wardrobe, when I got back to Scotland.
Ellie nodded, but somehow gave me the impression that she wasn’t taking anything in. She wasn’t good at confrontation – never had been. She got too upset, usually. There was a reason I’d been able to just leave the minute the wedding was done and never have an actual argument with her in the two years since. I’d told Nathaniel I needed to go and, by the time Ellie came home from her honeymoon with Greg, I had a new job, a new flat, a new life up in Perth. My grandfather had friends everywhere and knew exactly which strings to pull.
Ellie fiddled with the empty glass perfume bottles on the dressing table, holding them up in the sunlight to watch them reflect. I carried on packing, and waited for her to speak again. One thing my many conversations with Edward had made clear to me – Ellie needed to figure things out in her own time. Hopefully my visit had convinced her that I had no despicable designs on her husband, and that I was willing to make amends, whenever she was ready. Maybe now she could work towards forgiving me. Maybe.
“Are you going to speak to him before you go?” Ellie asked suddenly, and for a dreadful moment the anger in her voice convinced me that she meant Greg.
“I’m sorry?” I paused in packing a pink top that had gone from suitcase to wardrobe and back again, and looked up at my sister.
“Edward,” she clarified, staring me down. “I saw you two disappear into the house together last night. And then you were both still missing when the party ended… I can put two and two together, Kia. Especially now I know what I’m looking for.”
“We didn’t… It’s not what you think, El.” I stumbled over the words, determined to get my truth out. Edward was Ellie’s confidant, her friend. It was important she know what really happened.
“What? Did you just conveniently forget that boyfriend you’re supposed to have in Perth? Or do partners not count when they’re more than a mile or two away?”
My heart felt like stone, sinking through my body. Two years and we’d never had this argument. And when we did, it wasn’t even about Greg. It wasn’t even about something I’d actually done.
I made the right decision this time! I wanted to scream. I did the right thing and walked away. I was a grown-up. A drunk, lust-driven and seriously annoyed grown-up, but still…
But Ellie wasn’t listening.
“I thought you’d grown up, Kia,” she said, her voice dripping with disappointment, and also a hint of being proved totally right. I was used to disappointing people, but I’d only really let her down once. One colossal, awful time. Apparently she’d grown used to it fast. “I thought, when you came back, that maybe you’d spent your two years away thinking about what you’d done.”
“I did! And I have grown up!”
“Really? Sneaking off to cheat with another man, acting on impulse, not thinking about the consequences, or other people… Sounds like the same old Kia to me.” I’d never heard that cynicism in her voice before, and it broke my heart to know I put it there. “It doesn’t matter to you that Edward’s got his own problems. His own heartbreak. Does it? Not when you can just run away to Perth again, the minute it all gets too difficult.”
“I left because I thought you wanted me to!”
“You ran away because that’s what you do. You always have.” Ellie slammed the bottle in her hand down on the dressing table, and I winced, hoping it wouldn’t smash. “Even when we were little, if you were in trouble or something broke or went wrong, you’d run. Into the woods, or the attic – or to Nathaniel. Because you knew he’d protect you.” She shook her head. “Perth is just the same thing, all over again. So run, Kia. Run and don’t look back. Let those of us left behind pick up the pieces. We’re used to it.”
She swept out of the room, slamming the door behind her so hard that the perfume bottles rattled.
“I have grown up,” I told the empty room. “And I’m not running away.”
I’m not sure even I believed myself, though.
Maybe I’d made one right, grown-up choice – not sleeping with Edward. But look where it had got me? Right back where I started.
Eventually, all the things I’d brought with me, and a couple of precious things from the boxes in the attic, were all tucked away in my pull-along suitcase, sat on the bed beside a pile of vintage clothing and accessories.
“It’s not that I’m not going to see Edward,” I told myself. “I’m just going to drop these back to Therese first.”
Downstairs, the family had apparently taken some sort of hangover vow of silence. They were spread out across most of the rooms of the ground floor, all quietly reading, or just sitting, and staying out of each other’s way. Which seemed like a fine idea to me.
“What time’s your train?” Dad called quietly from the kitchen as I passed the doorway. “If it’s later this evening, I might have got my blood alcohol level down far enough to take you.”
“No chance,” I said, smiling as much as my headache would allow. “Got to be at Chester by four-thirty. Don’t worry; I’ve called a cab.”
Dad nodded, and dropped his head back to the table. “Might be for the best,” he mumbled into his arms.
Outside, it was another glorious sunny day, which seemed mean and unnecessary, really, given everyone’s sensitivity to light and sound. Caro was enjoying it though; she was sitting out on the front steps, sorting through a small pile of books.
“What’re you doing?” I asked, shielding my eyes from the sun as I looked at her.
“Research,” Caro said, gathering up the collection. Looking closer, I realised they were all books on the paranormal.
“I’m going down to Therese’s cottage,” I said. “Want to come with?”
Caroline nodded, and ran to put her books inside on the telephone table before joining me on the path.
Therese seemed to be suffering less than the rest of the family; she was already out in the garden, pulling up weeds, when we arrived.
“Just returning your beautiful outfits,” I explained, holding up the armful of slippery fabrics and sparkly jewels.
Therese held her head on one side as she looked at me, then nodded sharply. “I’ll look after them until you come home next,” she said. Which made no sense at all, since they were hers to begin with.
“Can I help you in your garden?” Caro asked, tugging on a honeysuckle stem. “Everyone up at the house is supremely boring today.”
Therese smiled, and untwined Caro’s thin fingers from the plant. “Of course you can. Let’s start in this bed over here.” She led her to a more sparsely populated bed, and began instructing Caro on how to tell the difference between plants and weeds.
“I’ll just put these in the kitchen, then,” I said, and Therese waved a hand at me.
“Thanks, Kia. What time’s your train?”
“Four-thirty,” I answered and Therese twisted her head around to nod at me and said, “I’ll come up to the house to wave you off.”
Which left me all out of excuses. I deposited the clothes inside the cottage, and set off to find Edward. Not because of what Ellie had said. But because I wanted to see him, one last time, before I went.
In the end, finding him was much easier than it had any right to be.
I slid onto the shady bench Edward had chosen, and looked out across the Rose Garden at all the denuded branches and stems.
“Sorry I ran out last night,” I said, quietly. “I was just… I suddenly realised some stuff, and it didn’t seem like such a good idea.”
Edward smiled softly at me. “Saskia, it’s okay. You’re right. It was a stupid idea. We were drunk and lonely, that’s all.” We were selfish, lonely people… Greg’s words haunted me.
But this time it was different. That wasn’t all, not to me. My heart ached at his words. I hadn’t stopped because I didn’t want him, I’d realised, tossing and turning in my bed alone that night. I’d stopped because I wanted him too much to have him that way – a drunken one-night stand before I went away again. If I were ever to have a chance with Edward, I wanted it to be real. Although, right then, I couldn’t see any road that led to that happening at all.
But maybe he didn’t mean it either. Ellie had said something about heartbreak, hadn’t she? And he’d said, last night, that I was the last person he should want to get to know. Maybe he had his own grown-up reasons not to fall into bed with me.
“Ellie said…” I started, then stopped. After all, I didn’t really want him to think I only came to find him because of my sister.
“I heard the yelling,” he said, drily. “That’s one of the reasons I headed out here. It’s never good to hear oneself talked about in anger.”
“I’m sorry.” Colour flooded my cheeks. He’d heard all that? Not that I imagined it was anything Ellie hadn’t said to him about me before. Still…
He waved a hand. “It’s fine. And I can guess what happened after I stopped listening. Ellie told you that I’m damaged by previous relationships, and you have to be very careful,” Edward surmised. “I’m not actually that delicate, you know.”
“I know.” Except I didn’t, really. I hardly knew anything about him at all.
“Besides, you have a boyfriend.” Edward raised his eyebrows at me and I shivered, even in the sunshine.
“Duncan,” I said. “Yes.” Edward was silent, perhaps waiting for me to go on. “I mean, yes, that’s one of the reasons I stopped…everything, last night. But no, he’s not my boyfriend. Not really. He’s my boss, and sometimes we…” Oh God, I really didn’t want to be having this conversation. “It’s not a relationship, nothing like. And I think it’s over now, anyway. Or it will be, when I get back.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I…I realised last night that it’s time for me to grow up. Move on.”
“Not have sex in attics with strange men.”
I laughed, amazed at his ability to break the tension, even now. “Something like that.”
“And you don’t see Duncan as part of your grown-up life?”
“Definitely not.” I’d got a glimpse of what I did want in that life the night before, in the attic, but I wasn’t telling Edward that. Not if he believed that last night was just two outsiders with too much alcohol.
For me, it had been more. Lots more.
It wasn’t just his hands on my body, or the patient way he’d undressed me. It was the way he’d listened, the way he’d understood. Even just the way he’d kissed my hair and soothed me.
I wanted that. Even if I couldn’t have it with Edward, I knew it had to be out there somewhere. And I intended to find it.
Maybe Ellie was right about one thing. It was time to stop running away – and start running towards something.
Edward got to his feet and held out a hand to pull me up. “Well, I hope you find what you’re looking for, Saskia Ryan.”
“So do I.” I took his hand, letting the sensation of his skin against mine ripple over me, one last time. “And I hope everything goes well here. With the memoirs, I mean.”
“Me too,” Edward said. “Speaking of…have you talked to your grandfather yet this morning?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think he’s surfaced yet.” The last time I’d seen him, he’d been slamming his way into his study. Given the row he’d had with Isabelle, I rather imagined he might have spent the night in there, and had no plans for coming out until tempers had cooled all round.
Edward glanced down at his watch, his palm sliding away from mine. I felt colder for the lack of contact. “What time’s your taxi coming?”
“Four o’clock,” I said, for the umpteenth time that morning.
“Then we’d better get you on your way. Let’s go find your adoring family, so we can get on with the tearful farewells,” he said, and I laughed out loud as I followed him up to the house.
It was almost a relief to settle into my seat on the nearly empty train – the first of three taking me home to Perth.
Home. Strange to think of someplace other than Rosewood as that.
I supposed I’d have to get used to it. If I’d learned nothing else that weekend, it had to be that – whatever Nathaniel thought – there wasn’t a place for me at Rosewood right now. Maybe one day I’d be welcomed back there again, but it wasn’t yet. Not with Ellie so angry, and everybody up in arms about the memoirs.
The memoirs, of course, made me think of Edward, which didn’t help matters either. But I’d only known him four days, and Ellie my whole life, so as much as I might want to go back and see him again, maybe make a better go of things than the awkwardness in the attic, she had to come first.
But I still needed to talk to Duncan. Call things off once and for all. I hadn’t been lying to Edward; I was ready for something more now. Something better.
I’d moved on from Greg, and Rosewood, and everything that had happened over the past two years. At twenty-six, I was finally ready to be a grown-up, and find my real life, at last.
The tears caught me by surprise, and I fumbled in my bag for a tissue – finding instead a book, shoved in the outside pocket of my handbag. A book I definitely hadn’t put there. I tugged it out, sniffing, and stared at the cover while I continued to feel for a tissue.
Biding Time. By Nathaniel Drury.
Of course it was. Who had slipped it in there? My bag had been left in the hall while I said my goodbyes, so anyone could have. But I could only think of two who would – Nathaniel or Edward. And Nathaniel still hadn’t surfaced to face his hangover like a man by the time I left.
I flipped through the pages, looking for a note, an explanation, anything. When nothing fell out from between the pages, I opened it at the first page and started to read.
It was then I noticed the pencil notes.
Every page was annotated in sharp, hard pencil lines. Even if I hadn’t recognised the handwriting from the table plan, I’d have known the notes were Edward’s in a heartbeat. Each questioned the reality or truth behind a fictional event in the book, and I could hear his wry humour in every one.
Biding Time was famously supposed to be the story of how Nathaniel met Isabelle, how they married, moved to Rosewood, and started their lives together. Nathaniel always claimed there was more fiction than truth in it, and Isabelle always declined to comment. Edward, however, had apparently tackled the text as the biographer that he was, looking for the real story behind the book.
Nathaniel would approve, I decided.
With the green and pleasant countryside whistling by outside the window, I turned my attention back to Biding Time, and tried to lose myself in the story. But Edward’s notes kept jumping out, distracting me. I’d read the book often enough to be familiar with the text; Edward’s notes, however, added a whole new dimension to the story.
Mostly they were factual, but every now and then one would offer more insight into Edward himself than the book. I found myself looking out for those nuggets, savouring them, considering them, and matching them up with what I already knew about him.
For instance, what did it mean when he wrote Love at first sight?! in the margin of the scene where Charles meets Bella for the first time? Was that incredulity, disbelief? Or amazement?
Did Edward believe in love at first sight? I might never get to ask him, now.
I could call him from Perth, I supposed, but what would be the point? I’d be hundreds of miles away, and he’d be tied to the one place I couldn’t go – Rosewood.
Better to make a clean break, I decided, fumbling for another tissue. The second train had rattled over the border now, anyway. I was back in Scotland. A whole other country.
I’d run away again, just like Ellie told me to.
Instead of a tissue, my fingers hit my phone this time, and I pulled it out, half hoping there might be a message, an explanation from Edward for the book. Anything to give me a connection back to Rosewood.
I blinked at the screen. Twelve missed calls. Eight voicemails. Twenty-four text messages.
As I stared, it began to ring again. And with my heart in my mouth, I answered.
“Kia?” Edward’s voice sounded too far away, the family nickname too familiar on his tongue. Just for a moment, I let myself believe that he was calling because he missed me, because he regretted how we left things, because he wanted to see me again… But only for a moment.
“Kia, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You’ve got to come home. Now. It’s Nathaniel.”