by Bea Paige
“Okay, boss,” I salute her, and she laughs. “So, what now?”
“Well, I reckon you’ll be signed out of my care in a few weeks. You won’t be needing me much longer,” she gives me a half-smile, pushing her multi-coloured hair behind her ear. I think she’ll miss me. I know I’ll miss her.
“That’s a shame. I’m going to miss our little chats,” I respond honestly.
“You will?” she looks at me, her deep chocolate eyes surprised by that comment.
“I will. Why’s that hard to believe?”
“It’s not,” she beams at me, her lip ring glinting in the afternoon light. We’re in my bedroom sitting on the sofa. Outside the weather is still terrible, Alicia’s only just about dried off after getting caught in the torrential rain. She’s wearing a pair of my slacks as her own jeans are completely drenched and being dried off by Fran.
“You’ve grown on me too. Besides, there’s no one I know who lives a similar life to me and understands what we have to juggle.” She laughs ruefully at that, rolling her eyes.
“Trouble in paradise?” I ask.
“Something like that.”
“What is it?”
She heaves out a sigh and drags her colourful hair into a high ponytail showing of her pretty almond eyes. There are tinges of an asian descent in the shape of her eyes and cupid’s bow mouth. I’m curious about her heritage but haven’t felt it appropriate to ask.
“I mentioned that I grew up in Hackney, didn’t I? That I got sent to a reform school as a last chance to get me back on track. I was a naughty kid,” she laughs at that, rolling her eyes. “I met my crew there. The boys who eventually turned into the men I love…”
“But…?”
“But we’ve never been able to shake off our pasts. Even here, all these miles away from the streets and the bullshit that happened back home. I’m the only one who’s managed to get a permanent job and I have all these responsibilities, Rose… bills to pay, mouths to feed.”
“I can help. Do you need a loan?” I say immediately.
She looks at me and shakes her head. “Fuck, I’m not looking for a handout, just someone to talk to. Forget I said anything.”
Reaching out, I squeeze her arm. “This isn’t a handout and it’s okay, you can talk to me? It’s tough out there, jobs are scarce down here. If I didn’t manage to get this job, I’m not sure what I would’ve done.”
“Sonny and Easton have had some luck getting adhoc work in Newlyn on the fishing boats, but Camden and Ford get turned away at every possible turn. They’ll literally do anything. But if I’m honest they don’t really fit down here, and I’m worried they’re going to fall into old habits.”
“Old habits?”
Alicia looks at me with worried eyes. “Underground fighting. I spent most of my time at Oceanside fixing those two up. They come with scars, tattoos, a shitload of baggage with a criminal record to match. They basically scare the shit out of most people even though they’re good men. Loyal. I hate that there’s so much judgement. If only people could see what I see. They saved me in a lot of ways, Rose. I owe them a lot. They followed me here even though Cornwall is so far removed from what they’re used too.”
Making a decision, I stand. “Come on, come with me a second,” I say, pulling Alicia to her feet.
“Where are we going?”
“Ivan’s office. He might be able to help.”
“I don’t want no charity, Rose,” she responds, folding her arms across her chest in defence.
“Who said anything about charity? Ivan’s a businessman and a savvy one at that. He has a lot of connections. I’m pretty sure he can make some calls, see if there are any jobs going.”
“He’d do that for me?” she asks.
“No, but he will do it for me. Come on, if you don’t ask, you don’t get.”
When we enter Ivan’s office, he’s sitting behind his desk peering at the computer screen with a scowl. Anton is with him and they seem to be having a rather deep conversation about a recent business transaction. I can’t tell if it’s gone according to plan or not, because the moment they lay eyes on us, Ivan closes his laptop and gives us both an even smile.
“Everything okay, Rose?” he asks me.
Anton grins at Alicia, “Hey, Rainbow,” he says, giving Alicia a wink before turning his gaze on me. “You good, Rose?”
“We’re fine. Alicia was just telling me to go easy on the dancing for a bit. I think we got carried away, Ivan,” I chuckle. Easily done when I’m around him. Dancing is not the only thing we get carried away with.
“Shit, that’s on me,” he responds.
“Rose is fine. It won’t be long until she’s back to full strength. Just don’t overdo it,” Alicia assures him.
“So, what can we help you with?” Ivan asks, looking between the two of us curiously.
Before Alicia gets cold feet and makes something up, I speak for her, explaining her situation. By the time I’m finished, Ivan is looking at us thoughtfully.
“What do you think? Do you know of any contractors who need more guys on site?”
Ivan shakes his head. “All of my build projects are back in London. Unless they’re willing to go there, I’m not sure how I can help.”
“Alicia?”
“No, going back to London wouldn’t be wise,” she says, a little disheartened. “Thank you, anyway.”
“Are you sure there isn’t something?” I press.
“What about that small project in town?” Anton pipes up, giving Ivan a look. “Didn’t you say help was needed on that?”
“What project?” I ask, feeling hopeful. I glance at Alicia and she gives me a weak smile.
“Just a small rebuild,” Ivan explains. “You know what, we could use some extra hands, it’ll get the job done quicker.” Reaching into his jacket pocket, Ivan pulls out his business card and hands it to Alicia. “Get them to give me a call. I’m happy to meet them after our trip to London. How does that sound?”
Alicia takes the card, pocketing it. “Thank you,” she responds.
“You’ve helped Rose. Now we’re returning the favour.”
Chapter 22
Rose
We arrive in London a few days later, finally leaving Cornwall on Monday, rather than the previous Friday as we’d hoped. The intervening days have been filled with a new kind of peace between us all. Erik and Anton have spent a lot of time in each other’s company. They’ve been unravelling their past conflicts and building a new relationship where secrets are no longer hanging over them both and brotherhood bonds are forged in love and a mutual kind of pain.
I’m so proud of them.
Ivan and I continue to dance together in our newly repurposed studio. Sometimes we’re joined by just Anton or Erik, sometimes both. I’m at my happiest when the four of us are together doing what we love. Somehow, we’ve found a new path where happiness rather than pain is what we strive for. It has been a blissful, healing time.
Now, in the blistering cold and bustling streets of central London, we’re ready to face Ms Hadley as a united front, stronger than we’ve ever been.
“The driver’s ready to take us to the institute. Last time to back out,” Ivan says, gripping my hand in his and glancing at Erik and Anton. The wind whips up my hair lashing it against my face. I brush it out of the way and shake my head.
“We do this together or not at all,” I insist, softening the firmness of my response with a smile.
“Until the storm breaks or we do,” Erik agrees, climbing into the taxi with determination. Of the four of us, this will be hardest on him, but I’m ready to catch him when he falls.
An hour later we pull up outside a fairly nondescript building. It isn’t set in the rolling grounds like the care home that Amber lives in. No, this institute is a large, ugly grey-brick building on the outskirts of a Buckinghamshire. It surprises me. I expected luxury, but from the outside this place seems far from luxurious. In fact, it’s depressing and exact
ly what she deserves.
“I can see Viktor spared no expense,” Ivan remarks with a huge dose of sarcasm.
“He might’ve been able to buy her out of a prison sentence, but this is a court ordered institute. I imagine he’s biding his time before he can transfer her to another more suitable unit,” Anton says, his face stony.
“If she lasts that long…” Erik mutters, reminding us all that she has a death sentence hanging over her head. I don’t feel any sympathy for her, none, but I understand that Erik might still. She brought him up after all.
I take his hand in mine. Our fingers link together, my scar pressing against his. “Come on, let’s get this over with,” I say, pulling him up the steps towards the entrance.
The inside is just as bleak as the outside. It’s grey, dull and bland. A rather severe looking woman with short cropped hair and no makeup sits behind a glass screen.
“May I help you?” she asks in a tone of voice that suggests she doesn’t want to help us at all.
“We’re visiting Clara Hadley, my mother,” Erik answers, unable to hide the distaste in his voice.
I squeeze his hand tighter, reassuring him I won’t leave his side. Not now, not ever.
The woman runs her finger over the list of printed names before her until she finds Ms Hadley’s. “Ah yes, Mr Erik Hadley?” she asks, looking from Erik to the rest of us.
“Yes, that’s right.”
She nods. “You may enter, but the rest of you have to wait here.”
“What?!” I exclaim, glaring at her.
“I’m sorry that’s the policy. This is a secure unit for the mentally impaired,” she says, enunciating every word as though I’m stupid.
“Look, lady,” I snap, anger curling up my spine. “We’re here to support Erik. His mother’s dying, for crying out loud. I’m his girlfriend and these men,” I say, pointing to Anton and Ivan, “Grew up with Ms Hadley. She’s like a mother to them. They need to say goodbye …” I add, my voice cracking, pleading to this woman’s better sensibilities. The emotion is all bullshit, of course. But it’s worth a shot. There’s no way I’m letting Erik go in there alone. No fucking way. Besides, there are some things I’d like to say to Ms Hadley myself and I will not pass up the opportunity to do so.
The receptionist glares at me, then smiles a sickly sweet smile that I want to smack right off her face. “Nethertheless, there are just two names on the visitors list; Mr Erik Hadley and Mr Viktor Sachov. I’m certain your name isn’t Viktor,” she says, snapping the book closed with a thud and crossing her arms over her chest. “Besides, I’ve already met Mr Sachov, so…”
“Bitch,” I mutter, none too quietly.
The woman glares at me and I stare back, not breaking eye contact.
“What now?” Anton asks.
“I go in on my own,” Erik says, pulling his hand free from mine.
“No, the fuck you don’t,” I snap, not willing to let him face Ms Hadley without us.
“We’ve got no choice.”
“Let me deal with this,” Ivan says, nudging us both aside and leaning on the counter. He taps the glass partition, getting the receptionist’s attention. “How much?” he asks, pulling out a cheque book.
She cocks a brow but doesn’t respond.
“How much?” he insists.
“You’re resorting to bribery now?” she laughs, shaking her head.
“We need to see Ms Hadley. How. Fucking. Much?” he snarls, the nib of his pen spilling ink as he presses too hard against the cheque.
“Fifteen thousand,” she responds quickly, folding her arms across her chest, grinning smugly like she knows the price is too high and he’ll back down. But she doesn’t know Ivan, and she certainly doesn’t know that he’s a millionaire.
Ivan nods tightly then scrawls quickly across the cheque. “Here’s thirty thousand. Fifteen to get us in, and fifteen to make sure we’re not disturbed. Got it?”
The woman’s mouth drops open in shock. Ivan slides the cheque towards her through the gap between the glass and the desk. She reaches for it, but he clasps her hand beneath his. “Don’t fuck with us,” he growls, letting go of her hand once he’s sure she understands he doesn’t make empty threats.
“Follow me,” she responds, tucking the cheque in her jacket pocket.
Once through the security checks, which are no more than a quick pat down and a search of my bag, we’re escorted to Ms Hadley’s room. At the door the receptionist gives us a curt nod.
“You have two hours. That’s as long as I’ll be able to keep the hospital staff away.”
“We won’t even need one,” Erik responds, attempting to push open the door.
She holds her arm out, preventing him from entering the room. “I warn you now, your mother is in a bad way. She’s refused treatment and has barely eaten since she was brought here. The medical staff have had to force a feeding tube into her several times, otherwise she would’ve starved to death.”
“And knowing all of this you were going to prevent my boyfriend from seeing his mother, only letting us in because we paid you. What kind of monster are you?” I snap, my eyes narrowing. Despite having no sympathy for Ms Hadley, it still doesn’t mean I agree with this woman’s actions. She has the good grace to look ashamed. Erik bares his teeth at her, and she moves aside. We file in the room behind him, not bothering to thank her.
The smell hits me first.
Disinfectant, death, decay, and the vague lingering smell of piss. The room is as bland as the building itself. There are no home comforts, just a hospital bed, and one of those uncomfortable armchairs you find in hospital waiting rooms situated beside it. The walls are painted beige and have seen better days, some of the paper peeling from the corners. It’s as close to a prison as you can get.
“Who’s that?” A feeble voice calls from the bed. I hadn’t even noticed anyone lying there. But now that I look harder, I see the skeletal frame of Ms Hadley. She peers at us from behind the thin cotton sheet, her sunken eyes focusing solely on Erik. It’s as though the rest of us don’t even exist.
“Erik?” she whispers, uncertain he’s actually in the room and not just a hallucination.
Her skin is sallow, her hair dull and wispy. The cancer has already done so much damage in such a short space of time. If she’d been someone we cared about, it would’ve been horrifying to see her like this. As it is, I feel nothing towards her.
“Erik? Son?” she cries out, her thin fingers lifting to her mouth in her certainty that he’s real and not a figment of her imagination. “You came. He said you refused, but you came. I knew you would. I knew you wouldn’t forsake me.” Her voice wobbles with emotion as she struggles to lift herself upright.
A funny sound, pitched between a sob and a snarl, escapes Erik’s lips. For a while he can only stare at her. I can’t begin to imagine how he feels. This woman who brought him up, who betrayed him in the worst possible way. Why is it the people closest to us have the power to hurt us the most?
“Yes, Ma. I’m here,” he says softly, and for a moment I wonder if he really is strong enough to do this. To face her. I step up beside Erik, taking his hand in mine and squeeze gently.
“You can do this,” I reassure him. He looks down at with me with such pain and so much love in his eyes that my heart bleeds for him. He cups my face in his hand and presses a delicate kiss against my lips before pulling away.
“No!” she half-shouts, half wails and I feel her hate, even before we turn back to face her. Despite the feebleness she displayed a moment before, she now grits her teeth and hauls herself upright on shaky arms.
“It’s Mother,” she snaps, keeping her gaze firmly narrowed on me even though she’s admonishing Erik.
“That’s where you’re wrong, it’s always been Ma to me. Or at least it had been until you chose to shoot the only woman I’ve truly loved.” He steps closer to her, and I walk with him. Anton and Ivan each find a spot in the room and wait. For what, I’m not sure.
But they wait.
“She doesn’t deserve you. She doesn’t deserve your love. I do, I do!” she cries, slamming her hand against the mattress. We all flinch not because she has the strength to do any real damage, but because her hate is so heartfelt it’s impossible not to.
Her nostrils flare as she breathes heavily, her gaze flicking between us both. She might not be strong enough to attack me physically, but I get a feeling she’s still got the strength left to rip at us with her words. Sometimes that kind of hate is far more powerful. I pull back my shoulders, lengthening my spine, readying myself for whatever she has to say.
“You’ve taken him from me. I deserve his love,” she repeats, her lip curling up in a feral snarl, her black eyes darkening further.
And right there I see the truth of her jealous heart. The love she felt for Viktor destroyed when Isabelle gave him the son she never could. The years of pining for a man who would never leave his wife for the woman he proclaimed to love. Ms Hadley is the product of Viktor’s cold heart. She’s so desperate for real love, true love that she’s willing to wipe out any competition to get it. All the while filling her own heart with bitterness, jealousy and hate. It’s a sad way to live. Isn’t it interesting how hate can consume a person like it consumes Ms Hadley now? She burns with it, her desire to hurt me clear for all of us to see. I think if she had the strength, she would try to murder me with her bare hands.
“You don’t deserve a damn thing… you killed my mother. You killed her,” Erik chokes out.
“I loved Isabelle!” she exclaims, tears brimming in her eyes. Real hurt swimming there that for a moment I’m taken aback.
“And yet you still murdered her,” Ivan says dryly.
There’s a cold kind of calmness that settles over him. He doesn’t take his eyes off her as he waits for her to answer. “Tell me why?”
Ms Hadley twists her head to face him. “Luka,” she whispers, noticing him for the first time. “Such a sweet child. Such a good friend to my Erik. You understand don’t you, why I did it? She wasn’t good enough…” she mutters, her voice trailing off as her eyes glaze over.