by Jo Victor
“No reason? What about Cam?”
“Who do you think told me to go in the first place?”
“She didn’t.”
“Oh yes. She said it’s time for us to stop pretending that I don’t have to get on a plane and go back to my life. At first I thought she was putting me on, but she meant it. And she said…she said she didn’t really—” No, she was not going to go there. “She said I needed to grow up and face reality.”
“Cam said that?”
“Not in so many words, but I got the point. It pissed me off, of course, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized she was right. Sometimes you have to do things that”—break your heart—“aren’t particularly pleasant. I’m going to take advantage of my opportunity and concentrate on being grateful to have a chance like this, instead of whining about what I can’t have.”
Nicola didn’t look particularly convinced, so Alex decided to move on. “Anyway, she’s the real reason I’m here. I’ve been looking all over for her, but she’s vanished. I can’t find her, and I can’t get her on the phone. She’s probably holed up somewhere waiting for me to leave.”
“Sadly, I expect you’re right. Did you try—”
“Nicola, I’ve tried everything I can think of, and I’m too worn out to chase after her any longer.” She looked away. “I just can’t bear to say good-bye in a voice mail. So can you tell her…”
“Of course. What do you want me to say?”
She met Nicola’s eyes again. There was no recrimination there, only compassion, and it almost undid her. “Just tell her…tell her good-bye.” She got to her feet, needing to get out of there.
“Alex, wait.” Nicola put a hand on her arm. “Is there anything else I can do?”
Alex shook her head.
“When is your flight?”
“Tomorrow, from Leeds.”
“So soon?”
“It was the best I could do on short notice. Everything later in the week is booked solid.”
“At least let me give you a ride to the airport.”
“That’s kind of you, but it isn’t necessary. There’s not much point in you going through all the hassle of driving and parking when you’ll have to say good-bye two minutes later at the security checkpoint. I’ll get a cab.”
“I don’t mind that, silly. But if it really bothers you, I’ll just drop you and drive off. What time do you need to be there?”
“The flight’s at noon and they said allow about two hours, so ten o’clock, I guess.”
“Right. I’ll pick you up about nine thirty, so there’s no rush.”
On her way out, Alex paused at the library door. She looked down at her hand on the knob, realized it was trembling, and angrily shoved the door open. Time to lay at least one ghost.
She stepped into the darkened room but didn’t bother with a light. She didn’t need to see anything; her memories were sharp enough. She thought of Rosamund, of how devastating the whole thing had been, how she had just collapsed as if the world had come to an end.
At the time, she had felt completely destroyed, but now the pain was only a distant echo, like an old injury that throbbed in rainy weather. It had been nothing, less than nothing, compared to what she was feeling now—or would be feeling once the chilling numbness wore off and the enormity of her loss consumed her.
By then, of course, she would be far away. Back where she belonged. The words of Artemisia’s Farewell came to her. O my Heart, Love will reunite us. What utter, unadulterated crap. She turned and stalked out, slamming the door behind her.
*
The next morning was appallingly bright and sunny. At least a cold wind was blowing down off the moor, knifing under the doors and rattling the windows. Alex made her way to the empty kitchen, glad that she had insisted on saying good-bye to Mrs. Tate the previous day and had refused the offer of one last breakfast, knowing she wouldn’t have the heart to eat it. That didn’t change the fact that she needed something in her stomach for the flight, so she forced down some bread and butter and half a glass of milk, unable to muster the energy even to make toast and tea.
When she had finished, she looked around the kitchen one last time. The heart of the house, indeed. This was where she and Cam had kissed, where they had touched.
A gust of wind came down the chimney, carrying the faint scent of wood smoke, and just like that she was back in Cam’s arms, wanting her, needing her, the way she had that first time and every other time since. The way she did that very moment.
It hurt so much she wrapped her arms tight around her middle and staggered back a step, bumping against the table. The impact, minor as it was, seemed to jar loose something inside her. She turned and raced out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind her, as if the pain were something she could get away from if she could just go far enough, fast enough. But by the time she reached the top of the stairs she had herself more or less back under control and she paused, shivering in the icy draft that immediately enveloped her.
“Oh, Janet,” she murmured, resting one hand against the rose carved into the door of the secret room. “I’m so sorry.”
She went to her bedroom to grab her blazer. She had decided to wear it instead of packing it, thinking it would be easier to keep it unwrinkled that way, but as soon as she stepped into the room she saw that she needn’t have bothered. Somehow, she hadn’t considered the consequences when she had left it on the bed, and now Grace was curled up right on top of it, gazing at her with disdain—or perhaps that was just her guilty imagination.
“Cat hair—the gift that keeps on giving. Well, at least I’ll have something to remember you by, won’t I?” She lifted Grace, who mewed unhappily. As Alex picked up the jacket, the cat squirmed out of her arms and ran from the room. Apparently sentimental good-byes weren’t her style.
Alex shrugged on her blazer without bothering to tidy up or straighten it, having learned from previous experience it would be pointless to try to brush away the evidence of Grace’s recent occupancy.
She took a final look around, not seeing anything amiss. She had a nagging feeling she was forgetting something, but even after opening drawers and looking under the bed she didn’t find anything.
She glanced at her watch. It was time.
A few minutes later, she closed the door of Dawson House behind her for the last time, stowed her laptop and bag in Nicola’s car, and climbed in.
She tried to make conversation during the drive, but her heart wasn’t in it, and finally she stopped, grateful that Nicola seemed willing to let the silence continue. Instead, she gazed dully out at the countryside whose beauty was just one more reminder of what she was losing. The first time she had ever seen it, Cam had been by her side.
She wondered where Cam was, how she was, what the hell she was doing, if she really was hiding or had just gone off somewhere on a job, not realizing how soon Alex would be leaving. Regardless, Alex decided it was probably for the best, since she didn’t think she would have been able to stand having to see her again, to kiss her or hug her or even just clasp her hand. Touching Cam one last time and then having to walk away would have destroyed her. Maybe Cam sensed that somehow, and that’s why she had taken herself off.
Finally they reached the airport. A few moments to grab her things, kiss Nicola on the cheek, and promise to keep in touch, then wave as she drove away, and just that quickly, Alex was alone.
Squaring her shoulders, she marched inside, passing by the huge lines at the airline counters, very glad she had opted not to check any bags. Of course, the line for security was even longer, but at least it was moving. Apparently someone was watching out for her, because there didn’t seem to be any unnecessary delays from novice fliers setting off the metal detector after neglecting to empty their pockets, or worse, some ruggedly obtuse individualist who felt the need to argue about the regulations, as if the guards were conspiring to inconvenience them personally instead of just doing their jobs, trying to keep everyone
safe.
Eventually it was Alex’s turn, and as she carefully emptied the pockets of her jeans she realized that she still had her key to the Dawson House front door. Well, she would just have to mail it back. Or maybe she should keep it as a souvenir—it wasn’t as if they’d miss it. It was just an ordinary key, easily replaced.
Smiling ruefully, she tossed it in the basket with her wallet before placing the container on the X-ray conveyer belt next to her laptop and carryon. Not wanting to waste anyone’s time, she maneuvered past a guard whose back was turned as he assisted another passenger.
As she stepped up to the metal detector, one of the other guards started to say something to her—all she caught was the word jacket—but then the metal detector beeped. Automatically, she patted her blazer pockets and when she felt something in the right-hand one, she stuck her hand inside, encountering the familiar shape of a long, thin metal object. Not thinking, she drew it out and held it up, grasping it in her fist and staring at it in amazement.
That was when the shouting started.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Cam checked her watch as she strode down the top-floor corridor of Highgate Hall, headed for Nicola’s office. It was already twenty past eleven. She’d need to get a move on if she didn’t want to have to reschedule the rest of her day’s appointments the way she had the morning ones.
She still wasn’t sure this was a good idea, but after spending the best part of two days sitting around, then walking around, and finally driving around, going nowhere in particular and all the while trying and failing to convince herself that she was doing the right thing, she had finally given up trying to sort it out on her own. Everywhere she went, everything she did just made her think of Alex, and the heartbroken look on her face when Cam had walked out on her.
But when Cam finally reached Nicola’s office, it was empty. The fellow across the hall said she was in the library, so Cam went back downstairs.
Opening the door, she stepped inside. Only a few lights were on, but she could see Nicola standing in front of the fireplace looking up at the painting above the mantel. Cam went over quietly, taking a moment to look at the painting herself before she said hello to Nicola, a bit curious but mostly trying to put off the conversation she had come there to have.
She hadn’t been in this particular room in quite a while, and since the few times she’d been there had been to do a job, she hadn’t paid the painting much mind. Now she studied it carefully, trying to puzzle out what was going on in the scene in front of her. Whatever it was, it looked peculiar.
“Cam.”
Reluctantly, she turned to face Nicola.
“Where on earth have you been? I kept trying to ring you but you never answered, and when I asked around no one had heard from you. I was starting to get worried.”
“Sorry, I had my mobile switched off. I didn’t realize you’d worry.” She stuck her hands in her trouser pockets. “I wasn’t really anywhere, just wandering about, trying to think things through.” She looked back at the painting. “What the bloody hell is that supposed to be? It’s like something out of a bad horror film.”
“That’s Artemisia’s Farewell. You know, when she had her deathbed vision of Lady Melissa and gave that speech about how their love would survive beyond the grave.”
“Come again? Didn’t Melissa throw her over, years earlier? Why would Artemisia be making speeches about their love, deathbed or no deathbed?”
“You know, you’re right. That really doesn’t make any sense.”
“Anyway, it was Janet she was in love with, wasn’t it? She wrote all those poems just for her. Stands to reason it’d be Janet she’d be thinking about at a time like that. Unless she’d gone right off her head. What was it she said, exactly?”
“Death may have parted us, O my Heart, but Love will reunite us.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound mad, exactly, though I can’t say for certain what it means.”
“I think it means that they wouldn’t lose each other—that somehow, their love would keep them together in spite of death. You know, it really would make a lot more sense if it had been Janet she was talking about. Perhaps she meant that Janet would have the memory of their love to comfort her.”
“I’m not sure how much comfort that would be.” She gestured toward the painting. “Seems to me remembering how the woman you loved died in your arms would be more likely to give you nightmares.”
“Died in your arms? Hang on a moment.” Nicola leaned in for a closer look. “I always thought that person with her arms around Artemisia, the one whose face you can’t see, was just some servant. I’ve never heard anybody say any different.”
“Janet was a servant.”
Nicola’s eyes were wide. “Of course it was Janet. Oh my God.”
Cam looked back at the painting. “And that thing she said—with Janet holding her like that, she’d be saying it to Janet, wouldn’t she?”
“You’re right, Cam. That’s got to be it. All these years people have been thinking Artemisia had some spooky deathbed visit from Lady Melissa’s ghost, when the truth was there right in front of them.” She pointed at Artemisia lying in Janet’s arms. “Literally.”
“Perhaps folk weren’t too far wrong. Getting a deathbed visit from your ex would be spooky, I reckon.”
“Will you be serious for once? Think about it. O my Heart, Love will reunite us—those were Artemisia’s final words, and she said those words to Janet. They were together until the very moment she died. With her last breath, Artemisia was telling Janet how much she loved her.”
Nicola’s eyes were full of tears, and Cam’s own eyes felt funny. She blinked a couple of times and looked away, clearing her throat.
Nicola’s hand on her arm made her turn back. Nicola was staring at her in amazement. “Hundreds of people have looked at this painting over the years—probably hundreds of thousands have seen copies. But you’re the only one who realized what it shows.”
“Can’t take much credit for that. Alex…” She had to clear her throat again. “Alex is the one who saw how it must have been for Janet, spending all those years and years without the woman she loved.” She looked up at the painting again. “Thinking about what Alex said is what made me see what was going on.” Suddenly she saw something else, something so obvious and so painful it almost choked her. “It was all about the two of them, wasn’t it? Being with each other, I mean, day in, day out. Right up to the end. You can feel the joy of it, all through those poems. But what if they hadn’t been brave enough?”
“Sorry?”
She turned to face Nicola, barely able to force the words out. “What if in spite of how they loved each other, they hadn’t seen past what was keeping them apart?”
“I don’t understand—”
“Janet was a servant, but Artemisia was a lady, for all she wore men’s clothes. What if they’d let that stop them? What if they’d never found a way to be together? Artemisia would still have died and Janet would still have had to carry on afterward, but there would never have been any joy. All those years by herself, maybe it was the joy that she lived on.”
She ran a hand through her hair, her thoughts racing. “What if one of them had made a huge mistake? What if one of them—Nicola, I told her to go. I told her to.”
“That’s what Alex said.”
“She talked to you? When did she talk to you?”
“Yesterday. I almost didn’t believe it. Cam, what were you thinking?”
“I’m thinking I’ve been a bloody fool. But the job—I don’t know about things like that, not really. But I do know it’s important. How can I ask her to choose? I can’t bear to hurt her, to keep her from being who she’s meant to be.”
“You need to tell her that, Cam. You need to let her decide, while there’s still time.” Nicola turned pale. “Time. What time is it?”
“Just gone half eleven. Why?
“She’s flying out at noon. Noon today.”
&nbs
p; “What?” Cam’s heart stopped.
“Leeds Airport. Go. Go now.”
Cam barely heard her. She was already running, headed for her van.
*
Cam skidded to a halt in the parking area, not even bothering to pull into a space. She changed gear roughly, ignoring the screeching gearbox, and jammed on the hand brake in almost the same motion before leaping from the van and racing into the airport. She ran full out until she saw the enormous queue at security and stopped dead. She looked wildly about as an announcer droned, “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. This is the final boarding call for—”
She spotted a monitor and raced over to it. Noting the time—11:54—she scanned desperately until she found Alex’s flight, which showed as on time. All anyone ever did was complain of flight delays, but no, not this time.
She raced around the outside of the security queue to the spot just in front of the checkpoint and ducked under the rope, cutting right in front of the businessman about to step up to the desk. She pretended not to hear the outraged comments as she faced the guard on duty, a woman with close-cropped blond hair and flat blue eyes that got even harder as she addressed Cam.
“Kindly return to your place in the queue.”
“Please,” Cam said, “it’s an emergency, can’t I go through?”
The guard got to her feet. She was tall, taller than Cam, and solidly built. Her eyes were even stonier than before. She looked Cam up and down, no doubt noting her lack of hand luggage. “Ticketed passengers only in the queue.”
“But it’s an emergency—I’ve got to get through straight away. I won’t be five minutes, I swear. It’s life and death. Truly.”
“Step away.” When Cam didn’t move, the guard pulled out her radio and started talking into it as she positioned herself between Cam and the entrance to the screening area.
Cam knew she was in trouble, but time was ticking by and she was desperate. Taking a step forward, she started to plead. “Please, just let me—”