The Rose Girls

by Victoria Connelly

  Julian nodded. ‘There’s a ton of stuff about it on the internet, where you can run tests to see how people score on the spectrum. It’s fascinating,’ he said. ‘Before I came across it, I thought I was going mad at times. I just couldn’t understand why Miles would say the things he did and act in the most unforgiveable ways and then – the next moment – act as if nothing had happened.’

  Celeste laughed and then covered her mouth in shame.

  ‘You know what I mean?’

  ‘You could say that,’ she said, staring down at the hearth, her mind whirling with thoughts. She then got up and closed the living room door, realising that she was intrigued by what Julian was confiding to her and desperate to know more and to share more with him.

  ‘My mother,’ she began as she sat down again, ‘if I so much as dented her pride, she would threaten to disown me and would blank me for days – weeks sometimes. And then she’d start up again as if nothing had happened. It would make my brain somersault in confusion. I felt as if I was walking on eggshells the whole time with her – wondering when her next outburst would be. When, not if. Because that was the one thing you could be sure of: it would be coming.’

  ‘Just like Miles, then,’ Julian said.

  ‘Then it’s not just pride or vanity or selfishness?’ she asked.

  ‘No, no. It’s something that goes much deeper and, I’m afraid, it’s not something that can be dealt with easily. There’s no magic pill or cure. This sort of disorder is so engrained that it’s virtually impossible for a person to change. One of the reasons is that they think they’re right. They’re perfect, you see, and, if you dare to challenge them, they’ll tell you that it’s the rest of the world who has it wrong.

  ‘Yes,’ Celeste said, nodding. ‘That’s it exactly.’

  ‘I’ve tried to point things out to Miles in the past, telling him his behaviour is unacceptable and that I simply won’t put up with it any longer and, sometimes, I think he’s understood me. But he hasn’t. There’ll be a calm period in our lives for a while when we are able to interact like normal people and I’ll almost be fooled into thinking that he’s changed, that he listened to me and really took on board what I said, but then the next eruption occurs and I realise that he hasn’t changed at all – and that he never will.’

  Celeste listened without interruption, watching Julian as he sat on the edge of the sofa, his hands clasped in his lap. He spoke so calmly about it all, but she couldn’t help wondering if he was raging inside just as she was.

  ‘Were you ever tempted to run away from it all?’ she asked him.

  ‘I’ve often thought it would be easier to end things between us,’ he said, ‘and to walk away, but I can’t bear the thought of that. It just doesn’t seem right, even though it might be the sanest thing to do, because it’s an endless cycle of emotional abuse.’ He paused. ‘You okay?’

  Celeste nodded, realising that there were tears in her eyes. She’d never spoken to anybody about this issue before – not really. Her sisters knew a little about what had gone on between her and Penelope but they’d always been too close to it all and unable to help her through it. So it came as something of a relief to realise that she wasn’t the only one who had experienced such a thing.

  ‘I never thought of it all as emotional abuse before,’ she said.

  ‘I’m afraid that’s what it is,’ he said and gave a tiny smile, ‘and I’m sorry to hear you’ve experienced it as well. I sometimes wish Miles would just hit me and have done with it. I think it would be less painful in the long run and then at least people would understand what’s going on. But this sort of abuse – well, people don’t really understand it unless they’ve experienced it themselves.’

  Celeste looked into the fireplace again, her vision blurring with tears. ‘I’ve always thought it must have been a fault in me that made Mum act the way she did.’

  Julian shook his head. ‘It was never your fault, Celeste.’

  ‘But all the things she said. Where did that all come from?’

  Julian sighed. ‘Miles says the most hurtful things sometimes and he stores things up, too – really trivial things, often from years ago. They seem to build up in his mind and then come rushing out in a vile torrent of abuse. It’s like being bulldozed sometimes and it’s a wonder I come out alive at the end of it.’

  Celeste looked up at him. ‘I never knew what to do or say when Mum was like that. There just seemed no words suitable and so I said nothing. I tried to put everything to the back my mind and tell myself that I’d imagined it and that she couldn’t really have said such things. But then it would all happen again.’

  They were both silent for a moment as if weighing up the words they had spoken and the memories they had shared.

  ‘I wish I could but I can’t ever forget the things she said to me,’ Celeste said. ‘I’ve tried. I’ve really tried but they’re always there, ready to surface at any time and make me feel wretched again.’

  ‘But you’ve got to keep trying,’ Julian told her. ‘You’ve got to let it all go. I find it’s easier to cope with Miles now that we’re grown up. We don’t have to see each other if we don’t want to. But it was different when we were kids.’

  ‘He was like this as a youngster?’

  Julian nodded. ‘And there was no escaping from it then. Mum and Dad just thought he was a bit awkward and selfish, but these traits got worse the older he got. I knew there was something odd about it but it wasn’t until I saw an article online about the condition that I twigged. Suddenly, everything made sense. I went through the tick list of traits for NPD and my brother virtually had them all. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Now, I find myself examining him as if he’s some case study and not a real human. It’s really strange.’

  ‘And you really never wanted to just end it with him?’ Celeste said.

  ‘Sometimes, yes, but it just doesn’t seem right,’ he said. ‘There will be some days – some really brilliant days – when he seems so normal and so vivacious that it’s impossible not to love him. But then the cracks will start to appear again and the real Miles will surface, and that other person who I glimpsed briefly just disappears.’ Julian took a sip of his tea. ‘I’m sure you had good days with your Mum, didn’t you?’

  Celeste gave a little laugh. ‘It’s all so mixed up in my mind now because the good stuff was somehow always linked to the bad.’

  ‘Like how?’ he asked.

  Celeste took a moment as she remembered. ‘Like the time she bought me this ragdoll. I must have been about eight. I remember seeing it in a shop in town and my eyes were glued to it for what seemed like hours. Well, Mum went straight into the shop and bought it for me. I loved that doll so much. She used to sit at the end of my bed and I’d make funny little clothes for her. But I’ll never forget what my Mum said when she bought it for me. “Your father doesn’t buy you gifts like this, does he?” It seemed the strangest thing to say and I really didn’t understand it at the time but she did that sort of thing a lot. It was as if she wanted to be measured against other people.’

  ‘Like she was the best?’ Julian suggested.

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Miles is like that too. We were going to a party together to celebrate a friend’s birthday. He was Miles’s friend, really, but I’d met him a few times and liked the guy well enough. Anyway, I asked Miles if he had any ideas what I could get him. I’d heard he liked whiskey and Miles said to me, “Any bottle will do. Don’t go spending much, though.” Well, I’d just put a deposit down on my London flat and I hardly had two beans to rub together but I found a pretty decent bottle. Anyway, I got to the party and watched in horror as Miles presented Anthony with the most expensive bottle of malt whiskey I’ve ever seen. You can imagine my embarrassment when I handed over my little bottle.’

  ‘One-upmanship,’ Celeste said. ‘It used to drive me crazy. Mum was
always comparing herself to other people. She’d say things like, “Your Aunt Louise couldn’t do my job” or “Aunt Leda’s hair is thinning. Have you noticed? It’s not as thick and glossy as mine.” As if I cared about such things.’

  Julian smiled sympathetically.

  ‘And she could be incredibly charming with people,’ Celeste went on. ‘I would often watch in amazement as she entertained them. She became this bright, dazzling creature and they would hang on her every word, and I would try to connect the person I was watching with the one I knew behind closed doors.’

  Julian nodded as if he understood.

  ‘She used that charm to make friends too. Over and over again I would see it. She would reel them in with such ease but she couldn’t keep them. Something in her would flare up sooner or later. It always happened. The only friends she managed to keep were the ones she didn’t see very often. They were lucky enough to escape the outbursts. That’s why I knew I had to get away,’ she said, ‘and that’s why I rushed into marriage. It was a mistake but, at the time, it seemed like a wonderful escape. I was trying to make something for myself – a new life – but I just made another muddle.’ She closed her eyes.

  ‘Listen,’ Julian said, getting up from the sofa. ‘I’ve tired you out with all this.’

  Celeste jumped to her feet. ‘No, no,’ she said. ‘Well, maybe just a bit. I can’t seem to get my head round all this.’

  ‘There’s a lot to understand,’ he said, ‘but maybe it’ll really help you to process what’s been going on in the past. If anything, it’ll help you realise that none of it was your fault. That’s the thing that I couldn’t get to grips with for ages – I’d drive myself crazy trying to understand what I could have done to change things. You mustn’t do that to yourself, Celeste. You’re a good person. A truly good person.’ The expression in his eyes was soft and gentle and Celeste felt deeply touched by his concern for her.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘This is all so – so incredible.’ She gave a tiny smile. ‘But it’s been really good to talk about all this with you. I’ve never been able to do that with Gertie and Evie.’

  Julian nodded in understanding. ‘And if you ever want to talk about it some more – to talk about anything – you know how to reach me,’ he said.

  She nodded.

  ‘Take care of yourself,’ he said, and he reached a hand out towards her and squeezed her shoulder. It was so simple a gesture but it brought tears shimmering to Celeste’s eyes.

  20.

  Gertie was staking a fabulous pink rose called Summer Blush. It was one of the Hamiltons’ bestselling roses but it did need a little bit of support at this time of year when the plant was heavy with full blooms. Gertie took her time, supporting it gently and dipping her nose into a particularly perfect flower, its deep scent instantly making the world a better place.

  She sighed, wishing roses had the power to banish all worries. James was being particularly elusive, texting excuse after excuse as to why they couldn’t meet up and cutting their brief conversations short whenever Gertie tried to talk about their future.

  Since the great scone baking session in the middle of the night, she had been doing her best to avoid conversation opportunities with Celeste, deciding that now wasn’t the right time to confess to anything. She was desperate to talk to somebody about the situation she found herself in but she couldn’t help worrying what her big sister would think. Celeste had never been one to judge a person but Gertie was still anxious as to how her sister would react to the news that she was seeing a married man. You couldn’t really predict a person’s reaction, though, could you? And Gertie harboured the great fear that Celeste would think less of her.

  Not for the first time, Gertie cursed herself for the situation she’d got herself into. Why, oh why, couldn’t she have met somebody else? Anybody else? But it was madness to rail against things she had no control over. Gertie was the sort of person who was led by her heart, and no amount of reasoning over her predicament would ever help. She was in love and that wasn’t going to be vanquished by having a few stern words with herself over the morals of the thing.

  She was just settling the Summer Blush rose into place when she spotted a young man walking over the bridge across the moat. He was tall with blond hair that fell over his face in a messy skein, and he was carrying a large rucksack.

  ‘Lukas?’ Gertie cried in delighted surprise.

  He raised a hand in greeting and they shook hands as they met beside the round rose border in front of the house.

  ‘How are you, Miss Hamilton?’

  ‘Gertie! You must call me Gertie. And I’m very well. How are you? I didn’t know we were expecting you back.’

  ‘Well,’ he said, looking down at his great big walking boots, ‘I wasn’t exactly sure what my plans were but’ – he shrugged – ‘I like it here. I really missed it.’

  Gertie nodded, knowing exactly what he meant: he’d missed Evie.

  ‘So, how is everybody?’ he continued.

  Gertie took a deep breath. ‘I’m afraid I’ve some sad news.’

  ‘Your mum?’

  ‘Yes. She died in May.’

  ‘God, I’m so sorry. How are you all coping? How’s Evie taken it?’

  ‘Badly,’ Gertie said. ‘Good days and bad days.’

  Lukas nodded. ‘I wish I’d been here for her.’

  ‘It was probably best that you weren’t,’ Gertie told him. ‘Anyway, listen; let’s not talk about that now. Tell me, how was . . . where was it you went again?’

  ‘Everywhere,’ he said. ‘I went down to Cornwall for a bit and painted at St Ives. Then it was up to the Lake District and then down to London to visit the galleries.’

  ‘And now back to Suffolk?’

  He grinned. ‘It’s a pretty good place for an artist.’

  ‘Indeed it is,’ she said, remembering earlier discussions they’d had about local boys Gainsborough and Constable.

  ‘Is – erm – Evie around?’ he asked shyly.

  Gertie nodded. ‘I think she’s in the potting shed. Follow me.’

  They walked around the garden towards the little row of sheds in which was kept every kind of tool and contraption with which to deal with roses.

  ‘Evie?’ Gertie called. ‘You’ll never guess who’s here!’

  Evie’s blonde head popped out of the shed and her dark eyes widened and her mouth fell open. ‘Lukas?’

  ‘Hello, Evie,’ he said, moving forwards and planting a kiss on her cheek before she could protest.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Came to see you,’ he said simply, pushing a hand through the fair hair that had flopped over his eyes.

  There was an awkward silence with them both staring at one another, each waiting for the other to speak. It was Gertie who broke it.

  ‘Well, aren’t you going to invite him in for a cup of tea and a bite to eat?’ she asked.

  ‘I suppose so,’ Evie said, sounding horribly put out that her work had been interrupted by an affable and very handsome young man.

  21.

  Evie was crashing pots around as Lukas was trying to talk to her.

  ‘Let me help you,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t need any help,’ she told him.

  ‘But I want to help.’

  ‘We can’t afford to hire you again,’ she said, avoiding eye contact.

  ‘You think I’m here for a job?’

  ‘Aren’t you?’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘I told you – I came to see you.’

  ‘Well, it was nice seeing you again but I’ve really got to work now.’ Evie brushed passed him and walked towards the flower beds, a pair of secateurs in her hand.

  ‘I was thinking I might be able to stay here like last time,’ he said, quick to follow her.

  ‘What?’ she cried.


  ‘Stay here?’

  ‘Impossible,’ she said abruptly.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because we’ve got renovations being done to the house and we’ve already got somebody staying.’

  ‘In my old room?’ Lukas asked.

  Evie didn’t answer. She felt mean because there were several bedrooms which Lukas could easily make use of but she didn’t know how she felt about him hanging around her twenty-four hours a day. She was still getting over her shock at him turning up again.

  ‘I’ll help with the chores,’ he said.

  ‘I’m not sure it’s a good idea, okay?’ The tone of her voice made him visibly flinch and he backed down.

  ‘Okay,’ he said.

  She sighed. ‘Look, Lukas, I don’t know what you’re doing back here but I think you might have had a wasted journey.’

  ‘Isn’t that for me to decide?’

  She stopped what she was doing for a moment, much against her will.

  ‘There’s nothing between us,’ she said in a low voice.

  Lukas cocked his head to one side. ‘But there was, wasn’t there?’ he said, looking genuinely confused now.

  Evie was elbow deep in compost now, which was probably just as well because he wouldn’t be able to see that she was shaking.

  ‘I need some space, Lukas,’ she said.

  ‘Space? But I’ve been away for months,’ he said.

  ‘Please,’ she said, her eyes two great wells of vulnerability.

  ‘Listen,’ he said, ‘I’m really sorry to hear about your mother. I know how much you loved her, and it’s a terrible thing to go through, but you don’t have to go through it on your own because I’m not giving up on you, Evie,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what’s going on here but I know that we had something good. Something really good! Evie? Are you listening to me?’

  Evie shook her head. ‘No,’ she said, ‘and I think you’d better go.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I’ll go. For now. But this isn’t the end, you know? I’m not giving up that easily.’