Rope of Sand

by C F Dunn

  I took a ragged, deep breath. “I can’t… bear… the thought of this world without you.” Pulling away from him, I climbed off the bed to stalk to the other end of the room by the windows, willing myself to control the tightness in my throat that would give me away if I spoke.

  “We’ve talked about this,” he said, reasonably.

  I nodded so that I didn’t have to say anything, wrapping my arms about me more as a defensive measure against what I might do, or say, than against the chill air away from the fire. “I know,” I managed after a moment. I turned my back on him and opened the shutters for something to do. The black blank glass reflected my pale image and behind me, across the room, the bed I had just left.

  “I know I’m being selfish and I realize it’s irrational. And I know that I’m not the one whose wife is dying…” I bit my lip, flapping my hands to regain control. “But in the same way that you find it hard to let Ellen go, I can’t imagine time without you… agh, drat it, I can’t explain what I mean,” I erupted, punching the air in my frustration. I composed myself, my fists scrunched so hard that my nails bit into my hand bringing welcome pain, and spoke slowly and deliberately. “I know that we can never be together other than for the short time we have been given, and that’s killing me. But, even if – when – I die, I know there is some small part of this planet where you still walk and live and breathe, I shall have some comfort even if… even when I am in the presence of God and it shouldn’t matter any more.”

  “Emma…”

  I spun around to look at him. “And I know… I know that this is entirely selfish on my part because… because if the roles were reversed and it was I who had to live without you…” I couldn’t continue; I took one look at his distraught face and I buried my own in my hands; the thought of eternity without him too much – too soon – too real.

  He was in front of me before the first tear had fallen, catching it as it fell. “Emma, my love, you cannot live your life so full of fear; it will destroy what happiness you have, what we have.”

  “You do, you and your family live in constant fear of… of discovery,” I accused, wiping angrily at another humiliating drop, shrugging his hands off my shoulders in case his attempt to comfort me totally undermined my efforts to keep some scrap of dignity. He bent his head to level his eyes with mine.

  “Yes, I know, but we don’t let it dominate us. We are aware of it and we take sensible precautions, but we don’t let it make us miserable, we don’t let it tear us apart at the seams. How can I live with you, knowing that I make you so unhappy?”

  I glared at him. “You don’t – don’t say that.”

  “Then be happy for what we have now, not unhappy for what might be. We don’t know what the future holds, any more now than when I fought my uncle, or when you faced Staahl, or when we met each other. Emma, you are the very heart of me; if you are happy, then so am I.” I sensed his distress, which I had put there, and my heart crushed under the weight of it. I flung my arms around his neck and pressed my face into the side of his until I felt my skin begin to bruise under the pressure.

  “Matthew, I would do anything rather than hurt you.”

  He pulled away from me unexpectedly, his hands grasping both my arms. He laughed a short, almost harsh laugh. “Anything?”

  I nodded. He gave me a strange glance that I couldn’t decipher, before his face cleared and he smiled, a longing, wistful smile. “Then be happy, that’s all I ask, and I will do everything in my power to make it so.” He put his arms around me. “I think,” he said, “that all this talk of death is too melancholy for what we have together, and certainly for this time of night. If I’m not to be accused of battery tomorrow, you need your sleep to remove those dark rings under your eyes otherwise, Heaven forbid, I might have Sam on my case. Which reminds me, I want to have a look at your ankle.”

  I shook my head and sniffed. “There’s nothing to look at.”

  “I think that I’ll be the judge of that,” he said, scooping me up. He sat next to me on the bed and pulled up my pyjama leg, making a face as he saw the marks his fingers had left. “I shouldn’t be trusted to look after you. I’ll get you an ice pack,” he muttered, disappearing out of the room, his rapid footsteps light on the wooden treads of the stairs as he made for the kitchen.

  I lay back against the pillows and heaved a long, shattering sigh. It wasn’t my ankle that needed a salve, but my heart.

  CHAPTER

  13

  New Year Resolution

  “Culpeper,” I said out loud.

  Matthew waited until the driver in front of us had turned off the main road, before accelerating again. “What about him?”

  I had spent the morning in between packing and tidying my room mulling over what we had discussed the evening before. I had slept late and consequently felt considerably better after a long rest. In the bright light of a golden sun, my performance the previous night seemed ridiculous, infantile, but I had enough self-awareness to understand that, although the tears had stemmed from tiredness, the depth of my reaction tapped a deeper, unexplored well of emotion that was all too real.

  “Did he know about you?”

  “He knew as much as I did, yes.” He focused on the road ahead.

  “Did he try to help you find out the cause of your changes?”

  “Well, it wasn’t that clear-cut. At the time, I was only aware that I grew stronger and healed faster. I didn’t know how long I would live. It didn’t occur to me that I wouldn’t die within a normal lifetime.” He spun the wheel to avoid a large lump of ice that had fallen onto the road from the slope above, neither slowing nor showing any sign that he gave it any more consideration than the movement required to turn the wheel. He wasn’t a reckless driver – far from it; just that his reactions were fast – so fast that he sometimes manoeuvred the vehicle before I even realized he needed to do so. “Nicholas was as fascinated by my body’s healing ability as I was appalled by it. Without his support and his lack of prejudice, I think I would have gone mad.”

  “I’m glad you had someone you could confide in.”

  “Yes, he was a good friend, but he had his own tragedies to deal with and I couldn’t burden him with mine, so I left.”

  I inwardly flinched as he referred to his situation as a tragedy; without it, we wouldn’t be together and he would have died from the natural processes of time.

  Obviously reading my thoughts, he reached for my hand and we were quiet again, the road busier than before as people made their way to parties or their families for New Year, much as we did.

  I missed Matthew’s family already. Despite Maggie, they imparted a warmth that was both wholesome and welcoming, and more normal than my own had felt to me at times. They fell in and out of discussions and arguments and laughter as easily as water runs from a tap, but always with a sense of solidarity, a unifying force that kept them together. Perhaps that is what made being with them easy and leaving so difficult. They were a family – Matthew and Ellen’s family – and although Ellen didn’t live with them, her influence was still strong in Matthew’s insistence that she be included as far as possible in the decisions that affected them all. And rightly so.

  “Matthew, would you mind terribly if we didn’t go as a couple tonight?”

  His fingers tightened on mine. “Why?”

  “Mainly because I don’t feel right about it while Ellen’s still alive – it’s disrespectful, somehow…”

  His expression didn’t change. “Oh.”

  “And… there’s another thing. I don’t want what we have – us – to be the source of other people’s entertainment around campus. You know how corrosive gossip is. Can we continue as we have for a little longer, without going public?”

  I could hear a thread of uncertainty in his voice, something I wasn’t used to.

  “Isn’t it a bit late for that? Matias and Elena know – and then there’s Sam.”

  “But you did say that Sam won’t say anything after
that silly nonsense before Christmas, and his jaw should have healed by now, and I know Matias won’t, and I can threaten Elena with certain death if she says a word to anyone.”

  Matthew’s mouth softened into a smile. “You’re not having second thoughts, then?”

  “No! I’m not, not at all. I just want to protect what we have. There’s going to be enough to deal with without tittle-tattle as well.” I looked anxiously at him. “You don’t mind really, do you?”

  He shrugged ruefully. “As long as there’s no embargo on our being together in private, I think I’ll survive.” He let go of my hand and placed his back on the steering wheel, indicating to turn down the long, tree-lined drive to the college. “Anyway, you’re right about Ellen; sometimes the closer we are to everything… changing… the more impatient I get. God forgive me, you know that I don’t wish for her death…”

  “I know, and so does God for that matter, and if it’s a question of forgiveness, I’m more concerned that you can forgive yourself because nobody else here – and that includes Ellen, by the way – is holding you to account.”

  He turned the car into the car park, now almost full with staff cars as the new term beckoned. “So we’re good friends, then. This is going to be interesting. Think you’re going to be able to keep it up for long? You’re not as practised in deceit as I am.”

  I shuffled unhappily at the word. “I’d better get used to it, hadn’t I, if I have to make it a habit of a lifetime?”

  “Starting from now,” he muttered.

  I followed the direction of his gaze. The director of psychology, Professor Gerhard, was climbing out of her car directly opposite us. There was no way we could avoid being seen.

  “O-K,” I breathed, “in for a penny… I’ll see you later.” I grabbed my bag, opened the car door and stepped into the cold air before Matthew could stop me.

  “Hi – Siggie! How are you?” I called out to her, rapidly distancing myself from the car as she looked up.

  She smiled and waved as she recognized me. “H-ello there, Emma, and how are you?” Her benign face lit with a smile. “You look very well, I must say – much better than you were, I think?”

  I took her by surprise by embracing her and taking the bag from the back seat of her car. She started to turn around to see where I had come from, but I tucked my arm through hers and began to walk us towards the steps.

  “I am so much better, thank you. Britain can be quite dreary in December, but then home is the best place to be when you’re recovering, don’t you agree?”

  She looked a little overwhelmed by my sudden animation but didn’t resist as we walked up the steps together. “Yes, yes, home is quite the best. Is that where you’ve been for Christmas?”

  I took a swift look behind me as Siggie became momentarily distracted by someone calling her name from one of the windows above. It looked as if Matthew was still in the car, bent over the steering wheel, laughing.

  “I’ve been with family.” Not my family, perhaps, but who’s quibbling over a little semantic disparity? “What about you, Siggie?”

  We reached the quad, where snow had been cleared in swathes, dark lines of paths criss-crossing like doodles on a page.

  “I went back to Germany. We didn’t have this much snow in Cologne and I missed it. Saul stayed in Denmark over the holiday and he said they didn’t have a flake of snow all season. Now, are you coming to the party tonight? Yes, of course you are, how stupid of me. I will see you then and you must tell me all about what you have been up to, yes? You must tell me all about it. Let me take my bag, thank you.” Briskly taking her bag from me, she patted my arm, and I wondered what she meant by “it”, since I doubted whether she was interested in what I had been given for Christmas.

  I stood in the middle of the quad in the sunshine and considered going back to the car. I had left so quickly that I’d forgotten to take my luggage. I decided I could do without it until later and continued to my apartment.

  I didn’t need to wait. Matthew had beaten me to it and left my bags neatly on my bed with one of my lilac Post-it notes resting beside them. On it, in exquisite lettering despite his haste, he had written: “Very impressive for a beginner. I’ll meet you there.” Nothing more, just a promise and an echo of him still hanging in the air. It was the first time in weeks we had been parted for more than a few hours. I felt a screw of loneliness. Loathed to wallow, desperate times called for desperate measures. I took my bar of chocolate and trotted along to find someone with whom to share it.

  “Emma, you are back!” Elena cried when she saw me, her Russian accent stronger since being away from English-speaking friends.

  “Elena, so are you!” I reciprocated, grinning and giving her a heartfelt hug. She looked bright and perky after her holiday. “I come bearing gifts.” I waved the chocolate, hiding the present I hadn’t been able to give her before Christmas behind my back.

  “Oooh, that looks expensive, Em; is it as good as it looks?”

  “Better. Do you have time now to tell me about your holiday, or do you want me to come back later?”

  She grabbed my arm. “Don’t you dare. I have the tea, the water is hot, you have the chocolate – now is perfect.”

  She bounced into the kitchen to re-boil the kettle and came back, her face rosy. Her eyes sparkled.

  “You’re looking very well, Elena; what have you been up to?” The kettle clicked off and she jumped up again. I followed her. “Go on, you’re dying to tell me.”

  “Tell you? Why should I have anything to tell you?” She turned the kettle around on its plate in a slow, obvious movement. I passed her two mugs and she made a show of pouring the hot water into each of them.

  I was missing something here. “Well?”

  She handed me a mug and, as she did so, the light from the ceiling refracted through something on her hand that shot blue spears of light.

  “Oh!” I exclaimed, nearly dropping my tea. “You’re engaged!”

  “Da, yes, yes! You are so slow, Em.” Her face flushed with excitement. “Do you like it? We bought it in St Petersburg. Matias proposed to me outside the Winter Palace. He knelt in the snow in front of everyone and they all stopped to see and they clapped and cheered. It was sooo romantic. Then it began to snow and he got a tourist to take a photograph of us. Do you want to see it?” Her words rushed out in a steady stream without pause for me to admire her ring, which danced around in front of my eyes as she waved her hands excitedly.

  I felt blindingly happy for her. “That’s fabulous. Oh, I’m so happy for you both. Elena, this is the best news I’ve heard in a long while. I know I’m not supposed to congratulate the woman, but congratulations – that’s amazing, well done!” I gave her another hug. “It’s lovely,” I breathed, admiring the central blue stone with lilac shot through it like watered silk, supported by rows of tiny, brilliant-cut diamonds on either side as it hung in suspension between them. It sat perfectly on her slender finger, so new to her that, even as she tasted the first square of chocolate as we settled down with our tea, her eyes were drawn to the unfamiliar fire on her hand.

  She came out of her trance. “I get the photo for you to see.” In an unframed glossy photograph, the two of them stood in falling snow, the Winter Palace partially obscured in the eddies of frozen white.

  “There, isn’t it romantic?” she said, her eyes misting slightly.

  “You look so happy,” I said quietly, and realized that part of me envied her uncomplicated life.

  “We are so very happy. And what about you and Matthew, are you happy? Do you have any news?” She came and sat down beside me on the sofa and we looked at the picture together. I had not seen her since before Christmas, when I prepared to leave for the cabin in the hope that I would return similarly engaged.

  “Yes, we are happy. We belong together – does that make sense?”

  Elena nodded emphatically, her short hair bobbing up and down. “Of course, but you do not look – how do you say it?” I di
dn’t feel like helping her with her vocabulary today, in case I guessed what she was trying to say correctly.

  She leapt up from the sofa and came back a moment later with a Russian/English dictionary, already leafing through it. “You do not look ec-sta-tic. You should be esc-static, Emma, yes?”

  Matias and Elena looked out from the photograph at me, a couple in the eyes of the world about them, and loving it.

  “Elena, if I tell you something, will you promise me that you will not tell anyone else?” She peered at me doubtfully. “You can tell Matias, he needs to know as well,” I verified and she nodded gratefully. “Matthew and I are together, but we don’t want anyone else to know. It’s too soon in our relationship and…”

  Elena’s eyes filled with sympathy. “It is too soon since his wife died, da? It must hurt him deeply still.” Her hand fluttered over her breast in simulation of a wounded heart. This was easy, too easy, to deceive my friend and I said nothing, hating my dishonesty.

  Elena took my silence as confirmation. “But you love each other, so all will be well and his heart will mend because you will be there to help him.” She smiled in the certainty of her knowledge and I felt thankful because – despite the irony of it all – she was right.

  I stood up and stretched, arching my back to ease the muscles. “I suppose we’d better get ready for the knees-up tonight.”

  She wrinkled her brow, her dark, arched eyebrows knotted in confusion. I laughed. “Knees-up. It’s a colloquial term used to describe having fun, a bit of a do, bash, party, rave – that sort of thing.”

  “Ah,” she said, “I have missed your English words, they make me crack up. Yes, we must get ready for the knee-up, good.”

  “Give me an hour to sort myself out. Oh, and by the way, this came too late for me to give to you before you left. Happy Christmas.” I left her enthusing over the fringed silk evening wrap, the colours of which reflected the multicoloured euphoria in which she spun.