by Jade Winters
‘Hello Harrington’s,’ she said huskily into the microphone. ‘We are Mayhem, and this song is called “Pain”.’
She turned and nodded to Adrian. The music began, and Skye stood proudly, excitement building as the opening bars played the introduction.
‘I work so hard all day. I go through so much pain,’ she sang softly at first. ‘Wish I could get away. I’m praying for a change.’ With every note, Skye’s voice grew louder and more powerful. ‘I work so hard all day. Sadness fills my brain. Wish I could find a train, and let it carry me away.’
The band played stronger as Skye held the notes longer. She dazzled the audience with her powerful voice and performance, driving them wild. The roaring of the crowd continued long after Skye’s finale, and by the end of the night, she had made a fan out of every single person in the room. Refusing to leave until she’d greeted everyone interested in meeting her, Skye stood with Morgan in the main room of Harrington’s until the early hours of the morning, snapping countless photos. Finally, when the last person exited the club, Skye looked to Morgan with a tired smile.
‘My head hurts,’ she said. ‘Can we go home?’
After she spoke, she realised she’d referred to Morgan’s house as ‘home’, but she was too tired to correct herself and Morgan didn’t seem to mind.
‘I thought you’d never ask,’ Morgan said, sliding her hand into Skye’s as they walked out of the club.
They drove back to Morgan’s in silence and immediately went to bed. As they cuddled in the darkness, Skye imagined every night being like this: singing at the club and coming home to be with the woman … that I’m madly in love with. Though the thought came from nowhere it resounded in her heart.
‘Night, darling.’ Morgan’s sleepy voice filtered through the night air. ‘Love you.’
Skye had to pinch herself to make sure this wasn’t all just a wonderful dream.
Chapter Thirty
Morgan couldn’t have been happier if she tried. In her office, she re-watched the YouTube video Adrian had uploaded the night before of Skye performing ‘Pain’, and there had already been three thousand hits as well as hundreds of thumbs up. Adrian had put a link to the club, so Morgan was hopeful the video would attract more customers.
She’d left Skye sleeping at home. She had looked too exhausted to wake up and deserved her rest. The hours spent rehearsing over the last few weeks had clearly taken their toll.
A light tap at the door caused Morgan to look up from her computer. She frowned. Chanel never knocked.
‘What’s up?’ she asked, giving her a quizzical look as she entered.
Chanel remained silent. Instead of answering, she glanced behind her and then stepped aside. A slight woman in her early sixties with short, mottled, brown-grey hair came into view. Her hands were clutching a white handkerchief, and the rims of her eyes were red.
Morgan first thought she was looking for a job. When Chanel said the woman’s name, however, she gripped the edge of her seat. Mary Kidding. Thomas’s mother.
Morgan’s throat closed up, and she felt nauseated.
‘Do you want to speak to her?’ Chanel asked, no doubt noting the paleness of her face.
Morgan nodded mutely. Chanel pushed the door open wide and let the woman walk in.
‘Do you want me to stay?’
‘No. Thank you, but no. Please close the door behind you,’ Morgan said.
Gesturing for Mary to sit, Morgan peered at her closely. She could see the resemblance. They sat facing each other in silence for a few minutes, Mary sniffing and blowing into her hanky while Morgan tapped her foot incessantly.
‘I take it you heard about my son?’ Mary asked, dabbing at fresh tears.
‘Yes.’ What did the woman want her to say? That she was sorry? The only thing she was sorry about was the fact her mother had chosen to bring Thomas into their lives.
‘He was a good boy, my Thomas was.’
Morgan swallowed the retort that sprang to her lips. Good manners dictated she keep her opinion of ‘her boy Thomas’ to herself. At the end of the day, the woman had lost her child. There were no winners in this situation; they had all lost someone they loved.
Mary started crying again.
‘Can I get you some water?’ Morgan asked, feeling sorry for the small woman. She wished she could reach out and reassure her, but she simply couldn’t.
‘No, no, thank you.’ She locked eyes with Morgan for the first time, and Morgan recoiled in horror at the immense pain in Mary’s gaze. They mirrored her own after she had found out about Chloe and then her mum.
‘I won’t keep you long. I only came here to give you this.’ Mary rummaged around in her bag. ‘I have a letter.’
Morgan raised her brows. ‘For who?’
‘It’s from your mother.’
‘My mother?’ Morgan’s head spun. Why would she have a letter from my mum?
‘Yes. She sent it to Thomas years ago, but he never received it. Not until …’ Mary choked on her words. ‘Until … until he came home …’
Mary slid the crumpled pieces of paper across the table towards Morgan.
Morgan glanced at them and then looked up at Mary. ‘I don’t think it’s appropriate—’
‘Believe me, it is.’ Thomas’s mother’s voice took on a sharp edge, startling Morgan momentarily.
Morgan reached out for the letter and slowly looked down at the two sheets of thin paper. Her heart lurched when she recognised her mother’s handwriting. She never imagined something so simple could bring tears to her eyes. After reading the first few lines, she looked across at Mary.
‘I really don’t know what this has to do with me,’ she said with annoyance. She didn’t want to read a love letter to the man who had brought so much pain into their lives. The fact that her mother had obviously still loved him after all that he had done made her angrier.
Mary stood, reaching for the letter. ‘You need to read it! You have to! If you don’t, I’ll read it to you.’
Morgan narrowed her eyes, fast regretting her sympathy for the woman. She’d read the bloody letter if it got rid of her. Moving her eyes back to the pages in her hands, she scanned the words quickly, barely noting what her mother was saying to her ‘dear Tinker’.
Blah blah blah …WHAT! Morgan pushed back her seat in one swift motion and leapt to her feet, bile rising hot and bitter in her throat. This can’t be true!
She reread the lines again, her mouth growing drier by the second, and then glanced up at Mary in disbelief. A look of satisfaction had replaced the grief on her face. Gone was the weeping, grieving mother. Instead a self-satisfied woman sat in front of Morgan, who had got what she had come for: revenge.
The letter vindicated Thomas from any and all responsibility. Her mother had ruined their lives, not the man Morgan had deemed the enemy. Her hand flew to her mouth. What if she had gone through with hiring the stranger to take Thomas out? Not only would she have been responsible for Thomas’s death, but she would have taken the life of an innocent man as well.
Morgan’s legs gave way, and she dropped back into her seat, dumbfounded. She tried to clear her mind, but Thomas’s mother’s words cut through the fog.
‘All these years, my boy suffered because of your mother.’
Morgan struggled to find the right words. ‘Mrs Kidding, I—’
‘It’s too late for your apologies. Thomas told me he came here to talk to you.’
‘I didn’t know … How could I have known? I didn’t know!’
‘No, you didn’t. People like you are always too fast to judge, aren’t you? Precious princesses in their ivory towers, always looking down on the common people, so ready to think the worst of us. Well I hope you can live with yourself knowing how bad you made my boy feel and what you took from him. All those years in prison for a crime your mother committed! Maybe next time, when you don’t understand a situation, you’ll show a lot more compassion.’ She spat the words out venomously. ‘I trust y
ou’ll do the right thing now that you know the truth.’
Mary stood and left the room.
Morgan was at a loss as to what to do. If she told the truth, her mother’s name would be dragged through the mud. What good would that do? Her thoughts turned to Adrian and her sister. Could she really put them through that? More importantly, could she let an innocent man’s name remain tainted by a crime he hadn’t committed? Morgan picked up the phone and called Daniel.
Chapter Thirty-One
After a blissful night’s sleep, Skye was ravenous. She stood at the cooker in her onesie, frying another round of egg and bacon, since Adrian had finished the first lot in record time. Picking up her cup of coffee from the worktop, she took a long sip. Caffeine couldn’t be blamed for her ebullient mood, as she had been walking on air from the moment she had opened her eyes.
Morgan said she loves me. Skye smiled to herself, ridiculously happy. If she could have purred with delight, she would have. She knew it hadn’t been a drunken slip of the tongue because Morgan was sober, so that only left the realisation that she must have been speaking the truth. The sound of the front door slamming shut caused her to turn in surprise and Morgan entered the room.
‘You’ve got yourself a winner here,’ Adrian said, stuffing his mouth with a piece of toast. ‘Not only is she a brilliant singer, she can cook as well.’
‘Why thank you for the compliment, kind sir,’ Skye said, smiling. She turned to Morgan and was about to speak, when she noticed her set jaw. Something was wrong. Panicked, she removed the pan from the hob. ‘Has something happened?’
Morgan nodded but kept her attention fixed on Adrian. ‘We need to talk.’
‘Well, talk then. I thought you girls didn’t hide secrets.’
‘Adrian.’ Her tone was firm. ‘I—’
‘He’s right. If something’s bothering you, I have a right to know as well, don’t I?’ Skye asked, the hurt evident in her tone.
An awkward silence stretched. Morgan looked at Skye for a second, her eyes doubtful. Then, without a word, she withdrew a piece of paper from her pocket and threw it onto the table.
‘Just read it,’ Morgan said to no one in particular.
Adrian picked up the letter and started reading it.
Seeing the shock register in his eyes, Skye moved to Morgan’s side. Whatever was in the letter was obviously bad. She only hoped it had nothing to do with the club.
After a few seconds, Adrian laid the letter on the table and sank his face in his hands. Skye looked to Morgan for an explanation, but she remained still.
‘Will someone please tell me what’s going on?’ When neither responded, Skye took it upon herself to read the letter and soon understood their muted silences.
‘Oh,’ was all Skye said once she’d finished reading.
‘A fucking big “oh” at that,’ Adrian hissed underneath his breath. ‘Skye, would you mind passing me the brandy, please?’
‘Of course not.’ She looked at Morgan, who nodded solemnly.
Skye grabbed the bottle from the counter and poured three measures, not knowing why she needed one, but it seemed like the right thing to do. She slid a glass over to Adrian and Morgan. ‘So what does this mean?’
‘What this means is that an innocent man died.’ His voice broke.
‘And we’re responsible,’ Morgan added.
Skye slid her arm around Morgan’s waist. ‘No, no you’re not. You can’t blame yourselves for something you had no control over.’
That’s a bit rich coming from me.
‘He came to talk to me and I threw him out. I didn’t even give him a chance.’
‘Morgan, it’s understandable. You thought he was responsible for hurting two people you loved most. Anyone in your situation would have done the same,’ Skye said.
Morgan cast her eyes downwards. ‘Except you.’
‘Only because I let people use me as a doormat,’ she said truthfully. ‘Sometimes you have to have the strength to protect yourself, even if that means hurting others in the process.’
Morgan took a slow sip of her brandy. She didn’t look convinced. Not that Skye blamed her. The whole sorry episode of death and loss in such a short amount of time was unimaginable. Skye wondered how Morgan had kept it together for so long. She didn’t know if she would have been strong enough.
‘Would you prefer a coffee?’ Skye asked.
‘No. I need this.’ She took another drink.
‘So are we gonna tell April?’ Adrian asked.
Morgan rubbed her temple. ‘It’s the right thing to do. I’ve already called Daniel.’
‘What! Already?’
‘Believe me, it was the right thing to do. There’s bound to be an investigation, and I’d rather she hear about Mum from us.’
‘Us or you? I don’t think I’ve got the balls to tell her. This will break her.’
‘Maybe we should fly over and see her.’
Skye sat in silence as the siblings spoke, not seeing the point in her joining in. This was something they had to decide together. The one thing she would advise against would be keeping the news from their sister; she would feel betrayed all over again if she found out via another outlet.
‘So that’s the final decision then. We’ll Skype her later?’
Adrian nodded, but Skye could tell he was far from pleased about this latest development. He pushed his chair noisily away from the table and stood.
‘You don’t want anything else to eat?’ Skye asked.
Adrian took the brandy by its neck. ‘No. I have all I need here.’
He gave a curt nod to each of them then walked out of the room.
‘You look exhausted,’ Skye said, tracing a finger down the side of Morgan’s face. The tension around her eyes was subsiding and relief flooded her. As selfish as it was, Skye didn’t want anything to burst their bubble of happiness—not yet. She wanted to hold on to this dream-like feeling for as long as possible. ‘Will you eat something?’
Morgan ran her fingers through her hair as she sat down on Adrian’s vacant chair. ‘I don’t—’
‘Please.’ Skye pouted and leant over Morgan’s shoulder. ‘For me? I don’t want you getting sick or anything.’
‘You worry too much.’
It wasn’t that she was worried as such—she knew Morgan could handle the situation with her mother—but Skye wanted her to find some peace, which she gathered had been eluding her for some time.
‘Only about the people...’ She paused, unsure if she should continue. ‘I love you.’
Morgan remained silent. Then suddenly, she twisted around and pulled Skye onto her lap. ‘Are you sure about that?’
‘More than anything.’ She breathed the words into her ear. ‘I think I fell in love with you the moment I laid eyes on you.’
Morgan gave a velvety laugh. ‘If I recall, you were very drunk that night.’
‘You make it sound’—she kissed her neck playfully—‘like it’s hard to believe.’
‘Not at all. I’d be a hypocrite if I said that, seeing as I felt the same way.’
Giddy with joy, Skye drew back so their eyes were level and said, ‘This all feels so surreal. Everything I’ve ever wanted, I now have, and it’s all because of you.’
She looped her arms around Morgan’s neck.
‘Not because of me. Somebody up there is watching over you.’
Skye was certain it was true. What or who, she didn’t know. All she knew was that she was grateful Morgan had come into her life, making it complete.
Chapter Thirty-Two
London, UK time—10:00 a.m. Sydney, Australia—9:00 p.m. The living room was quiet. Neither Morgan nor Adrian spoke as the Skype call connected on her computer. Running things through her mind for the past hour had brought Morgan no closer to coming up with an opening statement.
‘April, sorry to inform you that it was mum’s fault your daughter died.’ Even thinking about the crass way it sounded made her cringe. There was no e
asy way to tell her, so she had decided to be blunt. Knowing April, she would prefer it that way. She was pragmatic—just like Morgan.
After several rings, the call connected. Morgan could see a TV in the background and a bottle of wine on a coffee table. She nudged Adrian, who sat next to her, signalling for him to speak first. Adrian nudged her back then leant forward in his seat.
‘April,’ Adrian said with false joviality when her face filled the screen. She had dark circles under her eyes and deep frown lines, which hadn’t been there four years ago. She looked much older than her thirty-five years.
April smiled apprehensively and said in a monotone voice, ‘Hey guys.’
The quiet dragged on. Morgan tensed her jaw. ‘Hey guys?’ We haven’t spoken on Skype for years, and she greets us with the energy of a deflated balloon.
‘How’ve you been?’ Adrian asked.
April gave him a cursory shrug with her eyebrows, her eyes dull and lifeless.
‘How are things over there?’ she asked, somewhat dejectedly.
Adrian scratched the back of his head. ‘You know, so-so.’
The conversation went on as if it were with a long-lost relative they only saw once in a while, not the older sister they had grown up with.
‘You still in a band or have you got a proper job yet?’
‘Getting paid to perform is a job the last time I checked,’ Morgan said, forever protecting her brother from April’s bluntness. Some things never change.
Everything was still black or white with April. Unless you did the whole get married, have kids and work in a soul-draining job until you’re near death routine, you were irresponsible and wasting your life.
‘Hello, Morgan.’ April peered closer at the screen, her expression telling Morgan she was the last person she wanted to speak to.
Well, that was tough. If, after this conversation, April didn’t want to speak to her again, so be it, but she had to be the first person to tell her the news.
‘Look, we called because something’s come up,’ Morgan said matter-of-factly.