The view was breathtaking at least, and Kit talked about winter skiing in the mountains as a kid, how he thought she’d love it if she gave it a go. She nodded along with a soft smile, wondering if he remembered the time he got her on rollerskates and she ended up a bruised mess at the bottom of the hill. Dancing, yes, give her a rhythm and her body commanded. But any other kind of sport and she was completely at the mercy of gravity.
They walked around at the top, feeling a pleasant shiver at the coolness and the strong winds, feeling almost invincible away from everything. She felt his hand graze her back and there, just the two of them away from a world that seemed so small, where everything in that town below became significant, it felt like everything was going to be okay. But she knew that would only last as long as it took to get down to the bottom again.
They filled the day with small talk, nursing coffees in the restaurant at the top, people-watching and avoiding talk of anything but the past. They managed to reminisce about past trips or funny stories, but talking about the here and now, or even talking about the future, about what would happen when they got back to London, it was off limits. Something had shifted, and despite what Matteo had said the night before, Chelsea was shocked by her ability to love Kit more than she’d ever loved anyone, but to feel like that could never be enough.
She pretended she was entranced by the view, focusing on everything she saw with an alarming concentration. When they stood side by side in the cable car on the way down, watching the sunlight bounce off the blue waters in the distance, she felt his hand on the small of her back.
‘You’re not happy, are you?’ he whispered. Happy was somehow more than just a mood or a moment, what he was really saying was you’re not happy with me.
‘How could I be unhappy? Look how beautiful this all is,’ she replied simply, staring out of the window as if needing to memorise the image, watching as the blues and greens got closer and the colours of the bags and T-shirts at the village shops were suddenly visible.
The sticky warmth hit her as soon as they stepped out of the cable car, cloying and uncomfortable. They followed curling, coiling roads to the castle, Chelsea stopping every now and then to look at a piece of artwork, or a piece of jewellery, until Kit started insisting, ‘Do you like it? You like it, let me buy it for you? Which one?’ and she shook her head, getting irritated. Of course, to him if you liked something you had to own it, you couldn’t just appreciate it. She knew she was being unfair, that Kit was just trying to cheer her up and make amends however he could. But throwing money at the situation, after his comments the night before, was pretty stupid.
She said nothing, continuing on autopilot, reaching the castle and looking up at the beautiful structure, the ancient stone light in the burning daytime, and Chelsea could see how gorgeous the wedding would be, how the views were magnificent and the people would smile at the procession of another beautiful bride through the cobblestone streets. But all she could think was that she could never imagine getting married here. In fact, she couldn’t imagine getting married at all. She tried to picture it, Kit in his suit, waiting for her at the end of an aisle, but then she went blank. There was nothing.
Chelsea let her fingertips trace the rough stone, her feet squeaking on the ramps as she read each leaflet and placard with a severe dedication, concentrating hard. She felt herself surrounded by something solid for the first time, and wanted to hide in one of those towers or annexes, let the cool darkness surround her and keep her safe.
There were certain areas, right at the top, where they couldn’t go, as the staff were setting out the seats for the wedding. Chelsea poked her head around to look, curious in spite of herself, and saw the rows of white chairs looking out over the water, to where the sun would set. It would be breathtaking, standing up above the rest of the town and promising before the heavens that you would always be there. But thinking about that made her sad, so she skipped down to the rest of the curving paths and focused on poking her head out of windows and breathing in deeply, snapping away with her camera.
Kit kept trying to jolly her along, making jokes and talking about how over the top weddings at the castle were, how their wedding would be small and intimate, how it would probably just be a registry office, or they could even do it at the studio in Camden Square if she wanted. She let it roll over her; she felt wrapped in cotton wool, his words didn’t even scrape the edges.
‘We don’t want anything this big, do we, Chels?’ Kit said, reaching for her hand. She held it limply and looked out at the view from the castle balcony. The top was blocked off whilst they set up for the wedding.
‘It’s beautiful,’ she said absently, looking at the swans on the water’s edge, their white feathers gleaming. Why on earth were swans used at weddings? They were cruel, vicious birds that would easily beak you if given half a chance. Chelsea remembered being chased by a swan as a kid, after Ty had lured it over with the remains of his jam sandwich. Evil bastards.
‘I was thinking, when we get back, we should probably think about where we want to live.’
Chelsea turned to him, head tilted. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, the flat’s probably fine for now,’ Kit shrugged, leading her from the balcony and into the coolness of the alcove. ‘And your lease ends on your studio soon anyway, but I mean, the flat won’t do long-term, and we’ll obviously want to move further out when we have kids, so…’
‘Kids?’ Chelsea felt her chest tighten.
‘Well, yeah,’ Kit shrugged, smiling that easy smile, ‘I know we haven’t really talked about it, but I figure if we move out a bit further we can get something bigger, so our children can have a real garden, you know, have more space and stuff.’
‘And how many kids are we having, exactly?’ Chelsea’s throat was dry. Why hadn’t they talked about any of this? Why had they just plodded along, with Chelsea believing they were on the same page, when clearly they had different ideas.
‘I don’t know, two or three? We can discuss it, obviously.’
‘Obviously,’ Chelsea said faintly.
‘What’s wrong? I thought talking about our future would be something exciting, all the things we have to look forward to,’ Kit shrugged.
‘I just feel like I’m being talked into signing a contract.’ Chelsea shook her head, walking through to the stone staircases, letting the breeze through a small window cool her neck. ‘Produce three kids in the next five years, give up your job, move to the suburbs.’
‘I didn’t say anything about giving up your job.’ Kit frowned. ‘We can always get an au pair or a nanny or something.’
‘So you want me to have kids and then pay someone else to raise them?’ Chelsea frowned. ‘Next thing you’ll be telling me you want them carted off to boarding school at ten as well. What’s the point in even having them?’
‘Didn’t do me any harm,’ Kit shrugged.
‘And so the cycle continues.’ Chelsea shook her head. ‘You have told me how you hated boarding school, how you cried when they dropped you off, how you think it distanced you from your family emotionally as a child. And you would want to do that to our child? Who, by the way, doesn’t exist yet.’
‘My parents wanted the best for me, I got the best education money could buy.’
‘And what about the things money can’t buy, Kit?’ Chelsea shook her head. ‘What about acceptance and understanding, being loving and supportive? Having in-jokes with your parents and happy memories? You were hardly around them to even have any of that!’
‘Oh, and I suppose you got all of that from your parents? Is that the point, your family’s poor so they loved you more?’
Chelsea exhaled in shock. ‘And here we are again, back to who has money and who doesn’t. My mother, though I barely thought it was possible, is colder and more self-involved than yours. I didn’t have cuddles or nighttime stories or inside jokes. I don’t have what Mollie has with Esme. And that’s exactly why I’m not even sure I want kids!’
Kit frowned at her. ‘Of course you want kids.’
‘Christopher, you’ve done work supporting women’s rights to choose, so don’t go acting like an arsehole on me now.’
Kit shook his head. ‘I didn’t mean…I just…I thought that’s what we both wanted, and you’re so good with Esme, and…’
‘I haven’t ruled it out, but you’re running away with this idea of our future without even consulting me!’
‘I’m consulting you now!’ Kit was frustrated, pacing back and forth in the alcove as other tourists wandered past, heads down, purposefully avoiding looking at them.
‘Because it’s already all worked out,’ Chelsea sighed, ‘it feels like its set in stone, like you’re doing things the way they have to be done. The next thing you’ll be telling me is you want a pre-nup!’
Kit looked at her and said nothing, his face a mask, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses.
‘You’re joking.’ Chelsea shook her head, feeling her fingertips tingle with rage. ‘You’ve got to be joking.’
‘Chels, it’s not –’
‘Let me guess, it’s not personal? I make as much as you, Kit. Despite all of this family bullshit, we’re equals.’
Kit tried to take hold of her hand, lowering his voice. ‘It’s the family bullshit that’s the problem. Babe, you know if it was just me, I wouldn’t care, but we’ve got to think about my inheritance, the trust fund, my dad’s business, it all comes into it, it’s not just about you and me.’
‘We only made sense when it was just you and me,’ she said simply, feeling the world still around those words. That was what it came down to, after everything.
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means, it’s been a lovely day, but I’m tired and I want to go and take a nap.’
Chelsea walked from the castle, feeling Kit trailing behind her, and not really caring either way. The reasons to leave kept mounting up and the reasons to stay didn’t seem to be big enough any more.
Chapter Ten
Kit had done at least one thing right that afternoon: recognising that she didn’t want him around, and going out for a swim, then out on the boat with his brother. She made empty excuses about sunstroke and feeling tired, saying she’d feel better later. She hoped he could see through the empty smile, the eyes that wouldn’t meet his. She was never a good actress.
The minute he was gone, she video-called the girls at home.
‘Tell me what to do,’ she said, her phone screen held up to her face, where she could see Evie and Mollie looking back at her.
‘Chelsea, you don’t want our advice,’ Evie said raising an eyebrow at her, ‘you always do this, you wait for advice and then you do the opposite to prove them wrong.’
‘I do not!’ She shook the phone in frustration. ‘I am legitimately asking for help!’
‘Come home,’ Mollie said simply, her mouth a thin line. Her blonde curls were pulled back and she looked tired, but tanned from the sun. A London heatwave. Oh, could she just go home? ‘Come home and leave him there to sort out his shit. He made you a promise and he broke it.’
‘I thought you liked Kit?’ Evie frowned at her friend, looking back at the screen in surprise.
‘I do, but if someone doesn’t make allowances for where you come from, or the baggage you come with, then they’re not the person to tie yourself to by law.’
Evie raised an eyebrow at Chelsea, and suddenly Chelsea realised. Mollie was about to start dating again, mainly due to Chelsea and Evie forcing her into it, and she was very aware of the fact that she had a daughter, and most men in their mid-twenties weren’t up for that.
Which didn’t help Chelsea at all.
‘Okay, I’m going to be the voice of reason here,’ Evie said, frustrated. ‘You love Kit, yes? You agreed that you want to marry him. You have never even committed to making plans for the week after with anyone else you’ve been with. You made a choice that you were willing to marry this man.
‘Now, maybe you should have had some basicconversations about what you wanted out of life before slipping that great honking ring on your finger, but it really doesn’t matter. He has a shitty family, so what? So do all of us. He lets them control him? Well, hey there miss, your money is funding your mum’s drinking, my dad has made money by stealing from me, and Mollie’s mum housed Mollie and Ez to get a bigger benefit cheque. His daddy wants to be a lord or whatever, big deal.’
Chelsea could feel herself pouting at this point, feeling like her problems were being minimised.
Mollie looked at Evie in shock. ‘Who are you? Jesus, it’s like you’re a droid or something.’
Chelsea snorted. ‘Yeah, where’s the Evie who would have told me to punch him in the face?’
‘She’s in love,’ Evie shrugged, ‘and she gets that you can love someone and they can still be a freaking doofus who gets stuff wrong. And we all have more than enough baggage that we’re dealing with. Half of the stuff you’re worried about him finding out about, me and Molls don’t even really know.’
‘You know enough,’ Chelsea grumbled.
‘So, let him know enough,’ Evie mocked. ‘Sometimes you just need to feel like your partner isn’t hiding stuff from you.’
Chelsea paused. ‘Are you worried Killian’s hiding stuff from you?’
‘Only my soldering iron, because I fell asleep with it on last week,’ Evie grinned. ‘I just know that it sucks to care about someone and feel like they’re hiding stuff.’
Mollie nodded. ‘Okay, she’s talked me round. Stay there and make it work. Fight and get angry and tell him as much as you can. Now we need to go so I can shout at Evie about almost burning our house down with a soldering iron.’
Chelsea grinned. ‘Thanks guys. See you soon.’
‘Not too soon. Go have adventures,’ Mollie said firmly, before the screen went blank.
Well, at least she felt better, having talked it through. When Chelsea thought back to what life was like before those two had turned up, demanding she be a part of their arts centre and using Ruby’s gift, she wasn’t sure what it was like. It was empty. Sure, she had Kit, and they had a wonderful life, but she didn’t have any girlfriends she could have called in moments like that. Occasionally she’d complain to Delia at work, where they’d trade boyfriend stories, or she’d have a giggle with her hairdresser whilst she was getting a cut and blow dry, but…she didn’t have friends. And, really, until now, she’d never really had trouble with Kit.
Chelsea tried to imagine what Ruby would say, but that was always nearly impossible. She could never even imagine what Ruby was going to say when she’d been alive anyway. It was always unexpected. The times she thought she’d be mad, she was stoic, when she thought she’d laugh, she’d be pensive. The girl had never had a standard reaction to anything. She’d leave, though, without a doubt. Ruby ran, whenever there was trouble, or the grass was greener, or simply because it was time to go. Roots grew too strong and trapped you, that was her philosophy. But all Chelsea had wanted was roots, to keep her in one place, safe and loved and known.
***
‘Chelsea, darlin’, can I…can I have a word?’ Jez was sitting in their living room, in the chair that had since become ‘his’. Her mum was out doing the shopping and Ty was out somewhere, causing trouble, no doubt.
Jez looked relaxed, he always looked relaxed. He sat forward in his chair, hands interlinked and asked her, ‘How’s school?’
She smiled wryly. ‘It’s fine, Jez. Thanks.’
‘A little birdie says you want to go to uni.’
‘That little bird got red feathers and a big beak?’ Chelsea rolled her eyes, wondering what else Ruby had said to the guy who was now pretty much her stepdad.
Jez grinned. ‘Now now, she’s just worried about you. She said there’s some police thing she wants you to testify in, and you want to protect me?’
‘I…’ Chelsea wondered how to phrase it. ‘When that guy…did what he did, I didn’t tell a
nyone. I only told Ruby. And so of course, when his legs…when he ended up the way he did, well that could have been anyone, the dad or boyfriend of some other girl he hurt. But…well I should testify to the police, because I felt bad that I didn’t tell anyone, and now that girl, Kate…’
Jez nodded, his eyes tired. ‘Well, it certainly sounds like you’ve got it all sorted out, my girl. How did you hear about his legs?’
‘In the paper.’ Chelsea shrugged, standing up. ‘Was that it?’
‘I guess so.’ Jez clapped his hands together. ‘You having dinner with us tonight?’
‘Depends what Mum’s making,’ Chelsea snorted.
‘I’m cooking, spaghetti, but nothing like you’ve tasted, darlin’, believe me. You’ve got to try it!’
Chelsea grinned at his enthusiasm and nodded. ‘Sure, okay.’
She went to leave the room, but hesitated, her fingers tapping on the doorframe. ‘I never thanked you…for what you did…’
Jez’s light eyes were kind, and she was surprised to find them a little watery. He stood up, and very carefully put his arms around her, rocking her a little and patting her on the back, before he moved back, embarrassed.
‘It’s a shame I didn’t know anything about it, or I would have done anything for you, my girl.’ He wiped his eyes and offered her a little smile. ‘Shame the bastard didn’t learn his lesson.’
‘So you don’t mind me going to the police, telling them my story?’
Jez hesitated. ‘We all have our forms of justice, darlin’. You do what you need to do. And if it causes some trouble, well, we’ll ride the storm together, eh?’
‘I wouldn’t bring a storm, Jez. I just…Ruby needs me to do it, for some reason.’
‘That girl.’ Jez shook his head. ‘But thank goodness for her, because I wouldn’t have met your Mum, or you. We wouldn’t be a family.’
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