Kindred Hearts

by Grace Lowrie

  For a few long seconds I heard only the wind. Celeste didn’t cry out, didn’t make a sound, and then there was a sickening thud and a splash. Sebastian had reached the balustrade, was bent over it in alarm, and a desperate thought raced through my mind: the swimming pool, she thought she could make it to the swimming pool. There was a splash! God, please let her be alright. But I couldn’t move, I couldn’t step forwards to look; my mind no longer felt connected to my body.

  Sebastian staggered backwards, his face pale and unreadable as he launched himself back into the house. ‘Call an ambulance!’ he yelled over his shoulder as he disappeared.

  His momentum jump-started my limbs. I patted down my pockets in vain, searching for a phone on autopilot but I didn’t have one. I turned back into Celeste’s office and picked up her landline, my hands shaking uncontrollably. I dialled 999. I asked for an ambulance. I told the woman on the other end that there had been an accident. I told her the address and then I hung up.

  I walked down the stairs and through the house on rubbery legs that wouldn’t move fast enough. They didn’t feel like they belonged to me. I stepped out onto the stone terrace and stumbled towards the pool, my eyes wide, unable to blink.

  For the briefest split second I thought she was OK – she was floating in the pool on her back, her limbs bobbing serenely on the balmy water as it undulated. But then I saw. Celeste’s beautiful head was smashed open on the concrete at the side of the pool. Her pretty blonde hair was sticky with blood and brain matter and anchoring her body in place so she couldn’t sink or float away. My stomach heaved reflexively. Sebastian was crouched several feet away in the shadows on the lawn. I thought he was crying or throwing up or both but I couldn’t tell. I wanted to comfort him but I couldn’t leave Celeste; not now. I sank down onto my knees beside her and tenderly brushed the hair and flowers away from her peaceful face.

  ‘It’s going to be alright, sweetheart,’ I whispered.

  The next thing I knew a woman in a uniform was talking to me. She was urging me to stand. I stared at my blood-covered hands in shock. It was still warm and sticky, congealing in the lines on my palms. It looked almost black in the low light streaming from the house. My teeth chattered and the ridged concrete at the lip of the pool dug uncomfortably into my knees, but I didn’t think I could stand up.

  Eventually I was led away from the pool and into the house. Sebastian was sitting at the breakfast table, surrounded by strangers, his head in his hands. I called to him, called his name as I was ushered out of the room, and he heard me – his body flinched in response – but he didn’t lift his head, didn’t look at me. At that moment I knew that Sebastian blamed me for what had happened. He blamed me and blamed himself. I had not just lost Celeste in the worst way imaginable; I had lost Sebastian too.

  EPILOGUE

  At midday I officially closed the meeting with thirty minutes to spare – a record. When I was chairing, unlike some of the other heads of department, I stuck rigidly to the agenda and didn’t allow anyone, not even myself, to digress; time was precious. When I returned to my office I briefly ran through the pile of admin waiting on my desk, but there was nothing that couldn’t wait until Monday morning. The room was suffused with hot July sunshine and the open window admitted the busy sounds of London in the streets below. I shut down my computer, collected my things, and closed the window before heading next door to bid my team farewell for the weekend.

  I decided to avoid the most popular galleries, which were overrun with visitors and take a relaxing walk through the tapestry room – it was always slightly cooler in there. As I entered the room and gazed absently at ‘Millefleurs with a Unicorn’ I got a prickling sensation on the back of my neck. I turned and saw two women across the room. They were professional-looking women in their thirties like me, talking in hushed voices and giggling like teenagers, but they weren’t looking at me. As I followed the direction of their furtive glances I saw that the focus of their attention was a man. But not just any man. I recognised him instantly and stopped breathing.

  He was leaning leisurely against the wall by the door behind me, his tall frame slightly hunched, his hands thrust casually into his trouser pockets. His suit was smart and expensively cut; his jacket open at the front, his tie ever so slightly askew. He was clean-shaven and strong-jawed with high cheekbones framed by dark eyebrows and dark hair. There was a trace of a scar at his temple and a smile on his lips as he watched me, his eyes glittering as they connected with mine.

  ‘Natasha,’ he said, his deep, velvety voice making me shiver.

  I didn’t say his name. If I was dreaming I didn’t want to wake. He moved easily across the parquet floor towards me, his eyes never leaving mine as his expression started to morph into concern. I made a conscious effort to hide my shock and breathe normally as he drew closer. He looked older, obviously – it had been six years and three months since I’d last seen him. He was leaner, his worry lines deeper, and there were flecks of grey in his hair, but he looked distinguished and still mouth-wateringly good.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Sebastian asked.

  I swallowed, embarrassingly loudly and tried to smile. ‘Yes, I … it’s good to see you,’ I stuttered.

  ‘It’s good to see you too,’ he smiled warmly and feelings stirred in me that I’d long forgotten … repressed. ‘I’m sorry to just turn up out of the blue – I was in town for a meeting and I … I wanted to see you.’

  With his physical proximity a deluge of memories and emotions, some good, some devastating, surged up inside me, bewildering me with their intensity. I tried to push them aside and remember where I was, who I was and focus on the present.

  ‘I don’t suppose you have time for some lunch or a drink?’ he asked gently.

  ‘Um, yes, I do actually,’ I mumbled glancing at my watch. ‘I have forty-five minutes …’

  ‘Great,’ he said.

  Sebastian and I exited the museum, walked a short distance, and settled outside a vibrant little cafe to sip iced coffee in the shade of a brightly coloured awning. Chart music was emanating from the radio inside.

  ‘So, tell me about New York,’ I said brightly, my senses recovered.

  ‘It’s OK,’ Sebastian shrugged. ‘It’s New York … but it still doesn’t feel like home.’

  I was unsure what to say in response but Sebastian continued. He told me about the various projects he was managing, the people he worked with, and some of the positive aspects of living in America. In turn I told him about my job, about being head of department, and all the responsibility and paperwork that came with it. I learned that he had given up photography altogether and my heart ached for him and for everything we had been through. With a heavy, familiar pang of grief I missed his twin sister – her loss was a wound inside me I doubt would ever heal.

  The traumatic days following the accident were indescribably bad, but for me there had also been a sickening sense of history repeating itself – the twins had vanished from my life once again. The entire contents of the house in Holland Park (apart from my few possessions) had been boxed up by strangers and buried away in long-term storage while the property itself was sold off anonymously through an agent. All the light and colour had faded from my world; my future seemed empty, cold and pointless the days just blurring into each other without meaning. I had moved in with my mum for a while and cried and slept for weeks at a time in the stuffy confines of her bungalow, until I was forced to stop.

  But today, dark thoughts of the past couldn’t outweigh my relief and happiness that Sebastian had survived – that he was alive and well and sitting opposite me, against all odds.

  ‘My girlfriend wants us to get married,’ Sebastian said calmly.

  His words stabbed me in the chest and I felt all the warmth drain from my face. ‘Do you want to get married?’ I asked evenly, bracing myself for worse.

  ‘I don’t know. My doctor says I shouldn’t be alone.’

  I took another sip of my drink while I wonder
ed if I was strong enough to politely enquire about his girlfriend.

  ‘Are you married?’ Sebastian asked.

  ‘No!’ I snorted.

  ‘What? Why not? Why’s that funny?’

  I shook my head, ‘I don’t know, I just don’t … I’m not really …’ God, I usually prided myself on being articulate. ‘I’ve not met anyone I feel that way about,’ I finished.

  ‘I’m surprised, Natasha. Just being with you again – you’re so beautiful … so easy to talk to. I can’t believe no one has swept you off your feet yet.’

  I felt my cheeks heating with his words and swiftly reminded myself that he had a girlfriend.

  ‘I thought it would be strange, painful, seeing you again,’ Sebastian gazed thoughtfully at me, his eyes penetrating with their intensity. ‘But it’s wonderful. I’d forgotten this feeling – how good I feel when I’m around you,’ he added.

  ‘I feel the same,’ I admitted shyly, unable to keep the smile from my face.

  For a while we just looked at one another, drinking each other in, as life in the street and the restaurant bustled around us, Adele’s ‘One and Only’ playing quietly in the background.

  ‘I apologise for the way I treated you,’ Sebastian said solemnly.

  ‘That’s OK.’

  ‘No it’s not – it was callous and rude – to just leave and ignore all your letters and emails. I just … I just couldn’t cope.’

  ‘It’s OK – I understand,’ I said sincerely. ‘You were grieving.’

  For a few moments we thought of Celeste; mutely acknowledging her almost unbearable absence and silently sharing the burden of our sorrow.

  ‘Did you read any of them – my letters?’ I asked, trying to keep the anxiety out of my voice.

  ‘No, I’m sorry, I didn’t. I couldn’t. I was really messed up for a while. I know it was an accident. I know it wasn’t our fault – but it has taken me years to really accept that. The guilt nearly destroyed me. I just couldn’t face your pain on top of my own; I’m so sorry.’

  ‘I understand,’ I repeated firmly, reaching out and touching Sebastian’s hand, unable to endure the tortured look on his face.

  As we connected a small surge of current passed between us and we acknowledged it with exchanged smiles. As much as I didn’t want to ruin this moment, so rare and unexpected, I knew I needed to be honest with him. I glanced at my watch. Where had all the time gone? I needed to tell him, now. I took a deep breath.

  ‘I had good reasons for pursuing you, Sebastian. It wasn’t just that I was worried about you and missed you. I needed to talk to you – I needed you to know –’

  ‘Mummy!’

  Too late. A girl with flying blonde hair and wide, brilliant blue eyes, came barrelling along the pavement, arms wide. Her red summer dress billowed out behind her, a little backpack bobbed on her back, and her sandals slapped the stone paving as she ran. She launched herself enthusiastically into my lap, all knees and sticky fingers.

  ‘Hey, sweetheart, where’s Janine?’ I asked, burying my nose into her sweetly scented hair and avoiding Sebastian’s open-mouthed stare. Then I saw Janine, our weary-looking child minder, hurrying along the street. She spotted us, stopped in relief, gave me a cheerful thumbs-up, and then waved goodbye. ‘Wave bye-bye to Janine!’ I said as I waved for the both of us, mouthing a grateful thank you while my heart drummed in my chest.

  ‘Sweetheart?’ I said, cupping my daughter’s face and gazing lovingly into her eyes. ‘I want you to meet my very good friend, Sebastian.’

  She shuffled around on my lap to peer at Sebastian, before extending her small right hand across the table. ‘Hello, my name’s Celeste. I’m five and one-half, how old are you?’

  And there it was – the cat, well and truly out of the bag. She unleashed the beguiling smile that I had yet to see anyone resist and as comprehension spread through Sebastian’s mind, his stunned expression transformed into a correspondingly, contagious smile.

  ‘I’m thirty-three. It’s nice to meet you,’ he said, gently shaking her little hand in his large palm.

  ‘You’re the same age as Mummy!’ Celeste grinned.

  ‘Yes that’s right!’ I said, squeezing her, inherently proud of how bright she was. ‘Sebastian and I went to school together many years ago.’

  ‘I go to school,’ Celeste informed him, ‘but I’m not at school today because it’s the holidays,’ she clarified, before launching into a long, convoluted description of her friends and teachers. Celeste loved a captive audience and Sebastian couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  ‘Are you coming with us?’ Celeste asked Sebastian as we paid the bill and vacated our seats. He looked at me, lost.

  ‘We go to the park for ice-cream on Fridays,’ I explained. ‘You’re welcome to join us.’

  ‘Please come!’ Celeste urged.

  ‘OK,’ Sebastian grinned. He still looked slightly bewildered but he slipped off his jacket and loosened his tie, effectively abandoning any other plans he may have had.

  Celeste took Sebastian’s hand as we crossed the road and entered Hyde Park. She was chattering away almost continuously while Sebastian listened attentively. I was dying to know what he was thinking.

  As we reached the Diana Memorial Fountain, Celeste started to bounce up and down and grin excitedly, her attention drawn by all the children gathered around it. She looked up at me hopefully.

  ‘Can I …?’ she said sweetly.

  ‘Yes, alright,’ I said crouching to help her out of her sandals. ‘Wait for me, Celeste!’ I called ineffectually after her as she charged across the grass.

  Sebastian started slightly as I shouted her name but I pretended not to notice as I hurried after her.

  Celeste held onto my fingers as she began to paddle through the water, her dress bunched up in her other hand as she giggled in delight. She ordered Sebastian to watch her as she showed off her balancing skills in the shallow rapids and he did – of course. He was powerless to resist.

  Once we’d completed a full lap of the fountain, I dried Celeste’s feet on my skirt and she pulled her shoes back on.

  ‘Oooh, ice-cream!’ she exclaimed, spotting the kiosk. I fished out some change from my purse and she skipped off to join the queue, out of earshot.

  ‘I’m sorry, Sebastian – I don’t know how it happened and I tried to tell you –’

  ‘She’s perfect.’ Sebastian said, turning to me his voice gruff, his eyes bright with emotion.

  ‘Ha, she’s not so perfect when she’s throwing a tantrum,’ I said nervously.

  Sebastian stepped forwards, took my face in his warm hands, and kissed me tenderly and profoundly, our mouths and bodies slotting together like magnets; like two pieces of a puzzle. For a moment I forgot that I was a single mum living in a basement flat in Archway and working hard to make ends meet. Sebastian smelled and tasted so good – so reassuringly familiar. The firm feel of his back muscles beneath his shirt, his long, strong fingers in my hair, his sensuous tongue teasing mine … His body awakened a powerful desire within me; a hunger that swept through my entire body, searing my senses and making my blood sing – a carnal passion that I thought had gone forever.

  I paused, startled by the intensity of my feelings, and turned to look for Celeste; an instinctive, maternal habit and Sebastian released me. She was wandering back towards us happily, intently focused on her ice-cream as she tried to catch drips with her tongue.

  ‘Is that good?’ Sebastian asked crouching down to Celeste’s level while I tried to steady my pulse. ‘It’s years since I had a 99.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘They don’t have them in New York.’

  Celeste looked baffled.

  ‘That’s where I’ve been living – in America. But I’ve just decided I’m going to move back to London.’

  ‘So that you can have ice-cream?’ Celeste asked, impressed.

  ‘Ha, partly, yes,’ Sebastian laughed, his smile extending right up into his cheeks and Cele
ste giggled, pleased with her new friend.

  I watched the two of them together, father and daughter, as Sebastian’s words sank in. I hardly dared believe him. Celeste returned her attention to her ice-cream and Sebastian rose to face me.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Natasha,’ he said, his voice low. ‘I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you; for both of you. I’d like to make it up to you if you’ll let me.’ His eyes pierced me with a love, hope and longing that mirrored my own. I could only nod and smile happily as tears filled my eyes and Sebastian leaned in to kiss me again.

  The Untwisted Series

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  Published by Accent Press Ltd 2015

  ISBN 9781783752256

  Copyright © Grace Lowrie 2015

  The right of Grace Lowrie to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  The story contained within this book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publishers: Accent Press Ltd, Ty Cynon House, Navigation Park, Abercynon, CF45 4SN