by Caragh Bell
She wiped her nose with her sleeve. ‘It might trigger another fit.’
‘Yes, but you need to know about your real father. He owes you that.’
Aurora inhaled sharply. ‘I can’t even imagine it, James. Daddy is my father. He always has been. This seems like a cruel joke.’
‘We’ll broach the subject later,’ he said firmly. ‘In private, far away from those awful brothers of yours.’
‘Will you stay with me?’ Her eyes met his.
‘Always.’
Chapter Forty-five
Later that evening, Henry died.
Laura, James and Aurora had gone to a nearby McDonald’s for a bite to eat. William met them there and they ordered nuggets and Big Macs like the old days. ‘Remember when Mum would take us all for a slap-up meal on a Sunday?’ said Laura, chewing on a chip. ‘Our restaurant of choice was McDonald’s on the High Street.’
‘Well, someone’s tastes have changed,’ said James winking. ‘I can’t see Laura and Christian dining out on a Super Saver Meal for fun.’
Then Gloria called, in hysterics. Abandoning their meal, they rushed back to find that it was too late. George and Sebastian were standing by the window. Gloria was sitting by the bed, her head resting on her husband’s lifeless arm. There was a strange quietness in the room. It had an eerie quality, almost like time had stopped.
Aurora stood there motionless. Henry’s eyes were closed and he looked so peaceful. Gloria had parted his white hair, just how he liked it. His hands lay on his lap, one covering the other.
It was too late. She had wanted to know so much but now it was too late.
Laura yelped slightly and moved backwards out of the room. She didn’t know how to handle death. The sight of his corpse made her feel faint. William put his hand on his mother’s shoulder in comfort. James took Aurora’s small hand in his and held it tightly. There was silence in the room as there was nothing to be said. Henry was gone.
They ordered a taxi to take them back to Oxshott. Gloria didn’t want to go home so they left her by Henry’s bedside. James hugged her tightly and offered to stay, but she refused. She wanted time alone with her husband. She needed some space.
William escorted them to the main door of the hospital and hugged them all individually. Henry’s death brought back stark memories of his own dad. He could tell that Laura was feeling it too. Aurora looked like a ghost – her large brown eyes were glassy and she was shivering uncontrollably.
‘I’ll be over in the morning,’ he said as they piled into the car. ‘I have to get back to Ella and the baby.’
The house seemed big and empty. James switched on the light and filled the kettle. Laura disappeared upstairs and returned wearing her old pink pyjamas. Without make-up and with tear-stained cheeks, she looked about fifteen.
James placed three cups of tea on the table and sat down. The only sound was the ticking of the kitchen clock.
‘Poor Henry,’ said Laura in a shaky voice.
A muscle flickered in James’ cheek. His own dad’s death came flooding back and he had that same helpless feeling.
Then there was Aurora. Henry’s bombshell seemed surreal now, overshadowed by his sudden death. He couldn’t even imagine what she was thinking. Not only had she lost her father, she had learned that her whole life had been a lie. She was staring into space, her cheeks deathly white.
‘Drink your tea, Borealis,’ he said softly.
She didn’t even register his voice.
After a while, she got to her feet and disappeared out the door. Laura’s eyes met his in alarm so he followed right away. He found her in Henry’s study, sitting at his desk. Slowly she reached out and traced the outline of his leather writing pad. Then she gathered up the loose pages and stacked them neatly in a pile.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked, unsure of what to do.
She started opening drawers in his desk, rifling through the miscellaneous items stored within. What started as a rummage ended up as a frantic search. Throwing things onto the floor, she emptied each drawer, tears streaming down her cheeks.
‘Borealis!’ He grabbed her arms. ‘Stop!’
‘There has to be something,’ she said. ‘There has to be a note or a letter. Something to lead me to the truth.’
‘Aurora!’ he said firmly. ‘Stop this. Stop!’ He pinned her arms down. ‘There won’t be anything here. Not after all this time.’
‘Then how will I find out?’ she yelled. ‘I need to know who I am!’
He held her firmly, allowing her to struggle. This was to be expected. She was in complete shock and was reacting to it. Suddenly she slumped in defeat and fell to the floor. Her shoulders hunched and she started to cry.
‘Borealis,’ he said gently. ‘Please don’t.’ He lifted her into his arms. ‘I’m putting you to bed.’
Laura was in the corridor when they emerged, her face ashen. ‘Is she all right?’
‘Get some sleeping tablets from Gloria’s room,’ he ordered. ‘Follow me up and bring a glass of water.’
He kicked open her bedroom door and deposited her on the bed. She buried her face in the pillow, her body shuddering. Laura appeared with the pills and a large glass of water.
‘I’ll get a pyjamas for her,’ she said.
James forced her to sit up and shook her gently. ‘Borealis, you need to swallow these. You need to sleep.’
She didn’t respond so he put the tablets into her mouth and tipped the water down her throat. She choked slightly but managed to keep them down.
Laura pushed him gently away. ‘Leave while I get her dressed.’
‘Of course,’ he said flustered. ‘Call me when you’re ready.’
When he was allowed back in, she was under the covers. Her long hair was fanned across the pillow and her eyes were drooping. He fell to his knees and caressed her head, smoothing the long tresses away from her face. Laura watched him in silence.
‘Don’t go,’ Aurora mumbled.
He kissed her forehead. ‘I’m here.’ He turned to Laura. ‘Get some rest. I’ll stay with her.’
Laura gave him a strange look. She had always known that they were close but this was different. It was the way he looked at her.
‘I can stay, James,’ she offered. ‘You should get home to Claire.’
‘No.’ He waved her away. ‘I’ve got this. I’ll stay a while.’
‘If you’re sure . . .’
He turned his back and continued to stroke her head. Laura closed the door quietly.
‘Freddie Thompson! You get back here right now!’
Aurora ran after her friend, her small legs struggling to keep up. She could never catch him, mainly because he had longer legs and was extremely nimble. Through the rose garden they ran, past all the bushes and flowers. Mr. Crowley was there, reading a book with his glasses on his nose. Aurora waved at him as she scampered by, but he didn’t notice. The big house came into view but it had a conservatory – just like the one in Oxshott. Henry was sitting in his favourite chair and there was a man standing next to him: a tall, dark-skinned man with brown eyes and slightly greying hair. They were arguing and the stranger walked away.
‘Daddy!’ called Aurora. ‘What’s the matter?’
Henry couldn’t hear. He just shook his fist. The other man stopped and turned.
She got a jolt. She recognised him. She had seen this before and she remembered this scenario. Suddenly, Justin Debussy appeared, eating a doughnut and laughing.
Then she woke up.
Her eyes opened slowly and struggled to focus. For a moment, she thought she was back in Cornwall. She could almost hear the waves crashing on the shore. It was still dark outside so she snuggled down under the blankets once more. Something moved beside her and she jumped. Reaching out, she encountered a warm lump on the bed next to her and she instantly knew it was James. In a flash, reality took its terrible hold and the events of the previous day came flooding back.
Henry was dead.
The grief punched her in the gut and she felt momentarily winded. For a few blissful moments, she had forgotten everything. She had been safely cocooned between being awake and asleep, lost in a dream world. Now, the cold grasp of the reality clutched her heart and she curled up into a ball.
She couldn’t really remember coming home. There were flashes of William hugging her goodbye and Laura in a pink pyjamas. Then she remembered James by her bedside, soothing her to sleep. His presence next to her meant that he had been overcome by sleep himself. Or had he stayed just to comfort her?
Shifting slightly, she rested her head on his chest, instantly comforted by his steady heartbeat. She didn’t care why he was here. It didn’t matter. It was lovely to have him close by. His heat and regular breathing reminded her that she was alive.
He moved and swung his arm around her shoulder. Turning slightly, she got into a spooning position, relishing the close contact. His strong arms around her mitigated her misery a little, so she closed her eyes and relaxed. She wasn’t ready to face the day – not just yet. Not when her mind was spinning and all she could think of was Henry’s shocking revelation before he died.
She woke up to see Laura was standing at the doorway of her room holding a cup of coffee. James was still wrapped around her and she could tell from Laura’s face that she was shocked.
‘Just checking to see how you are,’ she said warily, her eyes travelling from Aurora to James and back again. ‘You were in a proper state last night.’
Aurora disentangled herself gently from James’ arms and swung her legs on to the floor. Immediately she felt dizzy and slightly nauseated.
‘Where’s Gloria?’
‘She got back around two. I woke up and crawled into bed beside her.’ Laura’s face fell. ‘The last time I did that was when Dad died.’
‘It’s nice to have company,’ agreed Aurora.
‘Hmmm.’ Laura raised an eyebrow. ‘Why is Jiminy in here?’ she asked directly. ‘I thought he’d go home to Claire.’
Aurora blushed. ‘I don’t know. He must have fallen asleep. I woke up to find him there.’
‘He has his own room . . .’
‘Ask him when he wakes up.’ Aurora got to her feet. She didn’t have time for the third degree. ‘Is Gloria awake? I need to see her.’
Laura took one last look at James and then nodded. ‘She’s on the phone to Gordon. Arrangements have to be made for the burial.’
Aurora headed straight for her stepmother’s room. She was in bed, her face sad as she spoke quietly to Henry’s brother-in-law.
‘May I come in?’ Aurora mouthed.
Gloria nodded and patted the bed beside her.
‘Great, so I’ll see you in a few days. Thank you, Gordon. Sure, sure. I’ll let George and Seb know. Bye.’ She hung up the phone.
‘What did Uncle Gordon say?’
‘Oh, he’s organising the burial plot. Henry will be laid to rest with Marcella.’
‘Why?’ asked Aurora in shock. ‘You’re his wife!’
‘It’s customary to be buried with your first spouse.’ Gloria sighed. ‘When the time comes, I shall be with Andrew.’
The cup of tea Laura had brought her ten minutes before lay untouched on the bedside locker. She twisted her wedding ring around and around, her face troubled.
‘Gloria?’
‘Hmmm?’
‘Did Daddy ever tell you anything about me?’
‘He always spoke of you.’ She closed her eyes. ‘He loved you, darling.’
‘No, I mean, something private – something about my mother.’
‘Nothing, my love. Why do you ask?’
‘No reason.’ Aurora’s face fell. ‘I just wondered.’
Gloria took her hand and stroked it. ‘I know this must be so difficult for you, sweetheart. I want you to know that you will always be a daughter to me. I know we’re not blood-related, but you’ll always be part of this family.’
Aurora said nothing. Instead she closed her eyes in sadness. What did ‘blood-related’ mean anyway? From what Henry had said she was a stranger amongst them all.
‘How was Daddy over the last few weeks? Was he terribly sick?’
Gloria shrugged. ‘Not really. His cough worsened and he went off his food. I just thought it was that bloody flu back again. Then William took me aside and explained. I had no idea. Perhaps if I’d known, I could have helped.’ She looked stricken for a moment. ‘Hot toddies were not the answer.’
Aurora gave her a hug. ‘You did the right thing. Daddy loved whiskey.’ She kissed her cheek. ‘You made him so happy, Gloria. Thank you for that.’
Chapter Forty-six
The news broke later that day. Social media sites were filled with reports on Henry’s death. His long career and critical acclaim rendered his death front page news.
HENRY SINCLAIR DIES
THE CURSE OF 2016 STRIKES AGAIN
PLAYWRIGHT DEAD
Tributes began to flow in from around the world. The phone didn’t stop ringing and hundreds of messages arrived from fans and fellow writers. Thousands of people left comments on Facebook and #henrysinclair was trending on Twitter.
Laura kept a note of phone calls and random visitors who happened to pop in to express their condolences. Soon the notebook she had been using was almost full, with names ranging from Mike the gardener to Ralph Fiennes.
Bertie called from Tokyo. He was tied up with an advertising campaign for vodka and couldn’t make it back. He sent an enormous bunch of lilies and a personal card to Aurora. Harry Finkelman sent a bouquet, as did Justin and the cast of La Morte. Even Carey McGrath sent some roses and a lovely message saying to take all the time she needed.
They released Henry’s body three days after his death and so the family packed up and drove to Cornwall. George and Sebastian were in situ when the Bentley pulled up outside the old house. Gloria and Aurora had travelled down together as they were chief mourners. James and Laura were due to follow the following day with William, Ella and the baby.
Conny Thompson had organised a group of villagers to come and prepare the house for guests. It had lain empty for so long it was extremely damp and dusty. The sheer size of the old building made their task insurmountable so George instructed them to fix up the main drawing room, the kitchen and his and Sebastian’s bedroom only.
‘What about Mrs. Sinclair?’ asked Conny.
‘She can stay at a hotel,’ snarled Sebastian.
Caterers were brought down from London and all the paintings were straightened and fixed. Grace, covered for over twelve years, saw the light of day once more.
The first thing Aurora did when she arrived was run into the old drawing room and gaze at her mother. She had forgotten the sheer size of the portrait. It dominated the west gable wall. The fuchsia necklace that Aurora wore daily lay between her breasts.
Aurora stood before her and stared at her mother. ‘Tell me your secrets,’ she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. ‘Tell me, Mummy. Give me a sign.’
Grace stared straight ahead, her beautiful face frozen in time.
‘I’m ever so sorry, little ’un,’ came a voice from behind her.
Aurora swung around. There, looking smaller than ever, was Maggie. She had a walking stick now and her frame was hunched. However, her wise blue eyes were the same and she held out her arms.
‘Oh, Maggie,’ sobbed Aurora, rushing towards her. ‘I’m so glad to see you!’
‘Now, now,’ she said gently. ‘You cry all you like, my lovely. Maggie’s ’ere to mind you, Maggie’s ’ere.’ She rubbed her back rhythmically and sang an old Cornish folksong. Aurora recognised it from when she was a child and it was oddly comforting.
‘I can’t believe he’s gone, Maggie.’
‘Poor Mr. ’Enry. It was a nasty way to go in the end. Still, ’ee’s at peace now. ’Ee’s sleeping.’
Aurora rubbed her nose. ‘I’m so sorry I haven’t been to visit. There’s no excuse.’
‘Now, now
, none of that, if you please.’ The old lady looked stern. ‘Let’s enjoy our time together without all of that. You come with me and we’ll ’ave a cup of tea.’
Aurora smiled through her tears. ‘I’d like that very much.’
Henry was buried in the old graveyard by the water’s edge. The huge tombstone already had Marcella’s name carved on it. Grace’s grave was on the other side of the yard, standing alone against the howling wind.
Aurora watched as they lowered the coffin into the ground. She wore a simple black coat and a black lace veil which covered her face. George and Sebastian stood by her side, both in black suits and ties. They had requested that only close friends and family attend so the crowd was quite small. However, there was a pile of flowers by the east wall from fans and colleagues. Aurora had never seen its equal. There was a large bouquet from Buckingham Palace – even the Queen had been a fan of his work.
James stood behind her, looking handsome in a black suit. He had arrived with Claire, William, Ella and Baby Andrew, just before the service. Laura had travelled with Christian who had turned up out of the blue the night before. Josephine, his longsuffering secretary, had rearranged some meetings at the last minute, giving him two days to fly in for the funeral. Hiring a Mercedes, they had driven down at breakneck speed directly from the airport.
Mary and Conny Thompson stood with Susie, their daughter, and of course Freddie. His handsome ruddy face was sad as he watched the priest sprinkle holy water on the coffin. Maggie stood by his side, her small frame slightly hunched.
Aurora threw the first sod of earth onto the coffin when it was in place. George threw some more and finally Sebastian. The three Sinclair children stood together, all united in grief for their father. Gloria threw a single red rose and wiped her eyes with a white handkerchief. She looked demure in a black suit with a string of pearls. She too had a lace veil over her face; she didn’t want the press taking photos of her tear-stained cheeks.
There was a horde of photographers and journalists by the gates of the big house when the entourage drove by. Aurora stared blankly out the window as nothing seemed real. She and Gloria were in the Bentley and George and Sebastian had opted for a Rolls-Royce. Gordon and Helena were waiting on the front steps when they emerged from their respective cars. Both were white-faced and sad.