by Carrie Elks
‘My mother felt the same,’ Lachlan said when he opened his eyes. But he was really questioning himself. What his mother – and Duncan’s mother – wanted was irrelevant. Even their father’s wishes weren’t written in stone. It was up to them to decide how to deal with things, they were the ones in control here.
For the first time he saw himself and Duncan as they really were: puppets who were taking roles in somebody else’s play. As children, they’d obeyed their mothers, become their proxies in this crazy fight for their father’s love and attention, the same father who showed no interest in them. And he had sympathy for the boys they’d been then. They were only kids, after all.
But they weren’t kids any more. And the two of them had the power to change things.
‘Can I show you something?’ he asked, having to raise his voice as a police car flew past, sirens screaming.
‘Sure.’
Lachlan pulled the piece of paper out of his pocket, turning it over so Duncan could see the photograph. He passed it to his brother, who lifted it close to his eyes, his lips pulling down as he looked at it. ‘What’s this?’
‘I was given it at Glencarraig. I can’t even remember it being taken.’ Lachlan shrugged. ‘According to the estate manager we were both a pair of thugs. He didn’t know what to do with us.’
‘It’s hard to look like a thug when you’re wearing a kilt,’ Duncan murmured. His frown had gone, but the look of confusion hadn’t. ‘What the hell were they thinking, dressing us up like that?’
‘I think it’s the only time we wore the same clothes.’
‘Like twins.’ Duncan’s eyes met Lachlan’s, and for a moment neither of them said a word. They simply looked at each other.
‘I wanted to tell you about Glencarraig,’ Lachlan finally said, as a crowd of partygoers walked past them. ‘Are you staying in New York next week?’ he asked. ‘We could meet to talk.’
‘Sure.’ Duncan nodded. ‘I’ll get my lawyer to call yours.’
Lachlan shook his head. ‘No, no lawyers. Just us two for now.’
‘Okay then, just us.’
From the corner of his eye, Lachlan saw his car pull up to the kerb. The driver climbed out, and opened the door for him. ‘That’s my ride. I’ll speak to you next week.’
It was Duncan who put his hand out first. Lachlan looked at it for a moment, staring at his half-brother’s outstretched arm as though it was an alien object. It took him that long to realise that he was offering him a handshake.
Feeling the blood flooding his face, Lachlan reached out his own hand, clasping Duncan’s palm in his. The contact lasted for only a few seconds, before Duncan stepped back, offering his brother the smallest of smiles.
‘Good night, Lachlan.’
‘Good night.’ Lachlan gave him a final glance before climbing into the car. The driver closed the door behind him, and Lachlan leaned his head back on the leather seat, letting a mouthful of air escape his open lips.
‘Are you going back to your apartment, Mr MacLeish?’ the driver asked, turning around from his position in the front seat.
‘Yes, please,’ Lachlan said, running his hand through his hair. He wanted to jump in the shower, pull on some sweatpants and climb into bed, resting his head on the pillow that still smelled of her.
Maybe tomorrow would be a better day.
31
Let us not burden our remembrance
with a heaviness that’s gone
– The Tempest
At first it was a relief to walk back into her flat in Edinburgh. Even the cat’s sneaky – and successful – attempt to run inside didn’t ruin Lucy’s sense of calm. But as soon as she looked at the breakfast bar and remembered how they’d shared dinner there the day he’d flown into Edinburgh, it felt less like a sanctuary and more like a prison. She couldn’t look at the kitchen without remembering cooking with him, or glance at the sofa without remembering making love with him there. Everything held memories of the man who had touched her everywhere.
From the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of tabby fur, as the cat stole her way into Lucy’s bedroom. Picking up her box again, Lucy walked into the kitchen, laying it gently down on the breakfast bar. As she pulled the lid off, she felt her throat get congested. The flight attendant had been right – it had come to no harm as they’d crossed the Atlantic Ocean. It had survived the journey from London to Edinburgh, too, as Lucy had placed it on the seat next to her on the train, guarding it as though it was something precious.
Maybe because it was.
Holding her breath, she took hold of the delicate object, lifting it gently from the foam packaging that had kept it safe. She placed it on the counter, running her fingers across the smooth porcelain, taking in every inch of it.
It was a black plate – much bigger than one you’d use for dinner. The curator in the gallery had explained that it had probably been part of a larger set at one point, from the Edo period in the early nineteenth century. But it wasn’t the provenance that enchanted her – it was the beautiful gold repairs that criss-crossed the china, turning something banal and workmanlike into a work of art.
As soon as she saw it, she’d known she wanted to buy it for Lachlan. A thank-you gift for having her stay with him. But for some reason she’d taken it with her when she left New York, unable to give it to him without an adequate explanation.
He wouldn’t have wanted it anyway.
She ran her fingers across the china, tracing the gold lines as they crossed the centre of the plate. Closing her eyes, she remembered the way they’d traced each other’s scars, fingers soft, words softer, as he whispered that sometimes being broken could make you stronger.
A screech from her left brought her attention back into the room, as the cat hared from the bedroom and into the kitchen, running as though she was being chased. She jumped onto the counter, bumping against Lucy’s arm as she rushed for the closed door.
It happened as though it were all in slow motion. Lucy lurched to the left at the impact, her hold on the plate precarious. Then her elbow banged against the worktop, pain shooting up her arm, as the plate crashed onto the wooden floor. Bending over, she grasped for the black china, fingers outstretched as it made impact with the ground. She watched as it broke into pieces, the splintering sound echoing through her kitchen, the sharp china gouging into the soft wood of her floorboards. Almost immediately she fell to her knees, her mouth falling open as she saw the broken plate lying there.
She could feel her chest hitch as she picked up the largest piece, running her finger along the jagged edge. It was sharp as a knife, almost cutting her, and the sensation brought tears to her eyes.
Or maybe it wasn’t the sensation. Maybe it was the realisation that she’d broken something beautiful all over again. In spite of the gold lacquer repairs, and the foam packaging, the plate was still fragile enough to fall apart at a single impact. As hard as she’d tried to protect it, just a simple fall was enough to make it shatter.
And as she held that piece in her hands, she felt the tears start to pour down her cheeks.
It had taken three days for them all to be available at the same time. By that point, Cesca and Sam were back in LA, and had invited Kitty and Adam over for lunch. Lucy couldn’t help but smile softly as the four of them huddled around the laptop, Adam towering above Kitty as she sat, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. Sam was sat next to Cesca, his arm resting lightly on the back of her chair. It made Lucy’s heart ache in a good way to see her sisters so happy, so taken care of. It was everything she’d ever wanted for them.
But then she looked at the corner of the screen that showed Juliet. Like Lucy, she was alone. But unlike Lucy, she had a husband who should have been there, too. Taking care of her, holding her, telling her everything was going to be okay.
Damn Thomas. He was more absent than he was present.
‘Where’s Poppy?’ Kitty asked. Like Lucy, she’d noticed the emptiness in Juliet’s kitchen.
‘She’s at a friend’s house for the afternoon,’ Juliet said quietly. ‘I thought it’d be for the best.’
The second of the four sisters, Juliet was by far the most classically beautiful. And yet even that wasn’t enough to cover up the shadows beneath her eyes, nor the pinched expression on her face.
‘Are you okay, honey?’ Lucy asked gently. ‘Is Thomas there?’
Juliet shook her head but said nothing. Lucy wasn’t sure whether she was answering the first or the second question – or perhaps both.
‘Yeah, you don’t look very well,’ Cesca piped in, her face a picture of concern. ‘Is there anything you need?’
Juliet licked her bottom lip. ‘I’m just tired, that’s all.’
That wasn’t all, but Lucy wasn’t sure whether now was the right time to get into it. She hated the way Juliet looked more beaten down every time they talked.
‘I’ll be okay,’ Juliet said, attempting a smile. ‘More importantly, how are you?’
‘Me?’ Lucy raised her eyebrows. ‘I’m fine, as always.’
‘Bullshit.’ Cesca coughed the words into her hands. ‘Come on, Lucy. You don’t have to be the strong one all the time.’ She turned to Kitty, who was sitting beside her. ‘Can you believe these two? They’re supposed to be older and wiser than us.’
Kitty grinned. ‘Well, they’re definitely older.’
‘Uh, do you want to shut up now?’ Lucy retorted, feeling a warmth flooding through her. There was something about having her sisters close – even if it was only on a screen – that made everything feel better. ‘You need to respect your elders.’
‘Not falling for that one again,’ Kitty replied, a smile still playing at her lips. ‘That was always your excuse for everything.’
‘How about you all hush up for a minute and let me talk?’ Lucy said. ‘I swear I can never get a word in edgeways with you lot.’
‘Must run in the family,’ Sam muttered.
‘I heard that,’ Lucy told him.
‘I think you were supposed to,’ Cesca said, grinning.
Lucy shook her head, smiling to herself. After the past few days it felt good to be surrounded by the ones she loved again. Even if seeing Sam hook his arm around Cesca’s shoulders made her feel wistful.
‘Look, do you want to hear what I have to say or not?’ Lucy asked. ‘Because there are a thousand better things I could be doing right now.’
‘Like what?’ It was Adam’s turn to grin at her, as he gently poked fun at her.
‘I used to like you, Adam,’ Lucy said. ‘Now I’m not so sure.’
It was a lie. She loved Adam the same way she loved Sam – because they made her younger sisters happy. It had been one of the greatest gifts of her life to watch her sisters blossom and fall in love. And as she looked at Juliet, all alone in spite of being married and having a family, she couldn’t help but wish that her third sister had experienced the same.
‘Okay, I’m going to call this videoconference to order,’ Lucy said, realising that if she didn’t, the six of them would carry on like this for ever. And as much as part of her would like that, she’d been honest when she said she had other things to do. Like a whole pile of work she’d been neglecting for weeks. ‘Are you all right with me just getting everything out there?’ she asked them. ‘Or do you want to ask me questions?’
Five faces looked back at her through the screen. ‘Just get it out there,’ Cesca said. The others nodded.
Okay then. Lucy grabbed her glass of water, swallowing a mouthful to moisten her tongue. She’d done nothing but think about this for the past few days – well, this and the mess she’d left behind in New York – and somehow it felt good to be finally talking about it.
‘I guess the first thing to remember was we were all so young back then,’ Lucy said, putting her glass down on the counter beside the laptop. ‘I know we thought we were old, and the bee’s knees, and that we knew everything. But really, we were still kids. And in those days I saw everything in black and white. The girls at school were either my friends or my enemies – though that could change on a daily basis. And as far as we were all concerned, our mum was a beautiful angel who took care of us all.’
Across the Atlantic, her sisters were nodding at her words. She could see that their eyes were already glassy. Thinking back to those days was stirring up emotions in them all.
‘And I don’t want what I have to say to make you change your opinion of her, or of Dad. They were just human like the rest of us, that’s all.’
She took another swallow of her water. She wasn’t sure whether it was all the talking that was making her mouth dry, or the memories. ‘It was one of the last days of term – I remember that because it was Sports Day, and I really didn’t want to take part. So when I actually felt sick, I thought all my Christmases had come at once. I spent a morning in the school nurse’s office throwing up, while they tried to call Mum to pick me up. They even tried to call Dad, but he was in a meeting at college, so in the end they told me to make my own way home.’
She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering that day. The memory was so vivid she could almost feel the way her stomach had griped all the way home, and how she’d clasped her hand across her mouth to stop herself from being sick on the pavement. ‘There was a strange car on our driveway when I got home, but I didn’t think anything of it. I don’t know if you remember but we were always having workmen come in – a house like that was under constant repair. But as soon as I put my key in the lock and opened the door, I was greeted by silence, not the banging or drilling I usually heard.’
She could hear her voice start to wobble. All this detail she was giving them was more of a way to put off the inevitable than anything else. And it was making things worse – she could almost be standing there in that hallway, waiting for her world to cave in.
‘I called out but there was no answer. Nobody in the kitchen when I walked past it. By that point I thought there was nobody in the house, and decided to go and sleep whatever bug I had off.’ Her chest tightened as she continued to speak. ‘I was walking past Mum and Dad’s room when I heard a noise. And for a second everything made sense. I thought Mum must be ill, too – maybe she had the same bug as me. So I pushed the door open to tell her I was home.’
She had to bite her lip not to cry out, the same way she had when she’d walked into that bedroom. The carpet had been soft beneath her feet. Across the room a window was open, the curtains dancing in the breeze, but that wasn’t what had drawn her attention.
‘I saw her in bed with a man. It was only later that I recognised who he was. He was her co-star from the play she was in. Dan Simons was his name. But he really didn’t look the same with his clothes off.’
‘Oh, Jesus.’ Cesca shook her head, covering her mouth with her hand. ‘You saw them.’
‘Only for a second, and then I ran out. I barely made it to the bathroom before I was being sick all over again.’
‘Were they…?’ Juliet trailed off, though her question was clear.
‘No, thank God.’ Lucy wrinkled her nose, not wanting to think about that. ‘But they were lying together on her bed. On Dad’s bed.’ She could feel the anger take over her, the same fury she’d felt as a teenager. Her mother’s betrayal had felt like a slap to every one of them.
‘It was a few minutes later that she came into my room. We had an almighty row. I told her I was going to tell Dad, I was going to tell all of you, too. I said she was a bitch and I hated her.’
She could see her sisters were crying, and felt a tear roll down her own cheek. She wiped it away impatiently. ‘That was the night before she died.’
‘And did you tell him?’ Juliet asked. ‘Did you tell Dad about them?’
Lucy shook her head. ‘I wasn’t brave enough. I wanted to, but I was scared. I couldn’t stand the thought of them divorcing, and him leaving us all. I thought it would all be my fault that our family would be broken.’
‘You’re wr
ong, it was never your fault.’ Kitty’s voice was soft. ‘None of this was your fault.’ Behind her, Adam hooked his arms around Kitty, pulling her closer to him. She rested her head against his abdomen. Seeing the tenderness between them made Lucy’s heart clench.
‘The rest all seems a bit messed up in my head,’ Lucy told them. ‘Of course I remember going to school the next day, and Mum picking me up. I wasn’t expecting her, she obviously decided to have a chat with me, to tell me that it was nothing, just a fling. That’s when I lost it with her, and we were both screaming at each other, making all kinds of accusations. She was driving too fast, and it was raining too hard. As soon as she lost control of the car it was all over.’