Cold

  The walls were closing in on the blonde and she suddenly needed to be far away from him, far away from everyone. She pushed past the siblings, running along the echoing hall, not really seeing where she was going.

  Jo resisted the impulse to chase after the distraught woman, and faced her brother. "You always were a fucking idiot, Jerry."

  "Just looking after the family interests. I thought you had outgrown the Sunday tabloids." He shook his head. "Aren't there enough little blonde bitches in London to fuck in those dykey nightclubs you go to? You had to pull some little vagrant off the street?"

  The slap startled them both. Even as children, in the usual fights that kids have, they had never struck each other. "This has nothing to do with her, does it, Jerry?" She advanced on her bother, giving him no option but to take a step back. Before he knew it he was backed up against ancient books, the shelves digging into his back. "You've always been jealous of me. While I was out there having a life, you were being groomed to take on this place. And you hated that, didn't you?"

  "I'm aware of my responsibilities. Maybe you should consider that sometime, Jo."

  She poked him in the chest. "Stay out of my business, Jerry. Or so help me, I'll make your life hell. And believe me, I could do that." She stepped away from him, and he straightened.

  "You've made a lot of enemies, Jo. There are people out there who would love for you to fall flat on your face over this." He straightened his tie.

  Jo folded her arms across her chest. "Okay, who have you been talking to?"

  "Beatrice called me the...."

  "Trixie!?" Jo almost screamed. "You've been taking to that lying bitch?"

  "She was concerned that you were being taken for a fool, and to be perfectly honest...."

  "For fuck's sake, Jerry. The woman is a fucking psychopath!" She wanted to hit something, but everything in the room was priceless, and her brother just wasn't worth the effort. "I don't have time for this," she said, and stormed out of the library, slamming the heavy door as she went.

  Jo started down the long corridor, not really knowing which way Rocky had gone. The whole of the hallway was lit by the lamps, which were on tables between various doorways.

  The further into the house she went, the colder it got. It wasn't possible to heat every room of the huge house through the winter, so the more delicate antiques were stored away before the house was opened in the spring.

  She went from room to room, checking through that part of the house, until she returned to the room she had shared with the blonde the night before.

  Jo pushed the door open, and poked her head around it.

  Rocky was kneeling on a small oriental rug in front of the fire, staring into the flames. The room was in darkness apart from the glow of the fire.

  Jo walked quietly up to her lover and sat crossed legged beside her, facing her. "Hey," she said quietly, her heart almost breaking when the blonde didn't respond. She saw the flames reflecting off the tears that coursed down the blonde's cheeks.

  Rocky's chin dropped to her chest. "I can't take any more." Her voice was small, full of defeat.

  Jo reached for her, but the smaller woman shied away. "Rocky...."

  "I want to go back."

  Jo shook her head. "Back where?"

  "Back to being no-one, back to the place I know."

  "Don't say that."

  "I can't do this, Jo."

  "Let me help you."

  "You've done enough already. Your brother was right."

  "Please, Rocky, don't do this."

  Rocky shook her head, the tears drying on her cheeks. "Just help me get back to London, and I'll be out of your way."

  Jo was silent for a long time, watching the slumped form of the blonde, golden in the firelight. "Okay, but I want you to do something first."

  Rocky looked at her for the first time since she'd entered the room. She nodded, "Okay."

  Jo lifted her chin in challenge. "Tell me you don't love me." A sob escaped Rocky's throat, but Jo didn't move. "Tell me you don't love me, and I'll get the damned Rolls and get Jonathan to drive you there right now."

  Rocky clutched her stomach and bent over, her forehead nearly touching the ground. And the sight of her lover in such pain propelled Jo forward. She gathered the blonde up, and pulled her into her lap.

  They sat like that for a long time, the silence broken only by the crackling of the fire. Jo rocked them both, waiting until the sobs died down, her own tears dripping from her chin onto soft blonde hair.

  "I know it's hard," Jo whispered at last. "But as long as we stay together, we'll get through it." She kissed Rocky's temple. "Okay?"

  The blonde head nodded. "I'm so tired," she said. "It's been so long. All I see are the people that have been hurt." She looked up at Jo. "Because of me." She wiped at her face. "If I'd stayed away, Susan would still be alive."

  "Oh no, don't you go blaming yourself for that." Jo tightened her hold, suddenly realising how much the blonde must have been agonising over her aunt's death. "You can't possibly blame yourself for the actions of a lunatic."

  "But if I'd just stayed away...."

  "No, Rocky. You have as much right to live a happy life as anyone. And I want to be happy." She smiled down at the blonde. "And you make me happy."

  "But your brother, I don't want to cause...."

  "My brother is an idiot, and if Mother finds out about this he'll probably be disinherited."

  "You see," said Rocky, shrugging out of her lover's embrace in her frustration. "I'm causing problems in your family now." She closed her eyes in anguish, pushing damp hair back from her face.

  Jo reached for her hand. "Jerry got a call from Trixie. We'll be fine once we've both calmed down. This isn't our first disagreement, and it won't be the last." She squeezed the small hand in her own. "Please, Rocky. Trust me."

  Two simple words, thought Rocky. Trust me. She looked into the blue eyes of her lover, and knew she could. "I always will," she said, and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet.

  Jo led her to the bed, and they settled on top of the quilt. "Don't scare me again, okay?" Jo whispered as she settled her arms around the blonde.

  "Okay," said the tired voice.

  Part 25

  "Joanna, dear. I'm sure killing your brother would only bring you short term satisfaction." Marianna looked over her copy of Horse and Hounds at her squabbling offspring. Her youngest looked about ready to beat her eldest to the point of death.

  Jeremy was pointedly not looking at Jo as she carried on her tirade. But he felt the weight of her words, and flinched occasionally when she threw her more colourful language in his direction.

  "I have the family's good name and the future of Collingford to consider," said Jeremy, shifting uncomfortably in the plump armchair. His sister's knees touched his own as she stood over him.

  "And we are no threat to that," Jo growled.

  "You are not the eleventh Lord Collingford yet, Jeremy," said Marianna, folding up her magazine and dropping it onto the plush carpet. "And, until you are, you will leave the reputation of the Holbrook-Sutherland name, and Collingford, out of this conversation. Your father and I are satisfied that Michelle has no ulterior motive." She looked up at Jo, who backed away and slumped down onto another armchair. "Now, Jeremy, I wish to talk to your sister. It's late; I'm sure you're tired."

  Jeremy let loose an explosive laugh. "You're sending me to my room?" His eyes found his sister's smirking face.

  Marianna said nothing, and merely smiled at her eldest.

  Jeremy stood. "Very well. Good night, Mother." He turned to his sister. "Joanna."

  Marianna looked across at Jo as the door was shut quietly behind her departing son. "Don’t look so pleased with yourself."

  "Well, he was a jackass," Jo grumbled. "I never said a thing when he got that tart pregnant in '95."

  "Where is Michelle?" asked Marianna, trying to divert the conversation away from her son.

  "She's asleep," sa
id Jo, suddenly finding the crackling fire interesting.

  "She's exhausted." Marianna ducked her head, trying to see into Jo's face. "What is it?"

  Jo sighed, suddenly feeling very tired. "She wanted to go back to London. To be no-one again." Jo looked up at her mother. "After she fell asleep, I went into the bathroom and threw up. I never thought anyone would have that kind of hold on me."

  "You talked her out of it I assume?"

  "Yeah, I did." She shook her head gently. "But if he says another word to her, I swear…."

  "I don't think he will now. He knows how your father and I view family members insulting our guests." Marianna looked up at the clock. "It's nearly midnight. Do you think it's too late to wake Michelle?"

  Jo frowned. "Wake her? What for?"

  "I told you back in London. I have something I'd like you to see."

  Jo rubbed her forehead with the heel of her hand. "I remember." She cocked her head to the side. "You gonna tell me what it is?"

  Marianna smiled and shook her head. "No, I want you to both see it." She chuckled at her daughter's confused look. "It’s nothing spectacular. Just something I thought of the first time I saw Michelle. It's a curious coincidence, nothing more."

  "I'll see if I can wake her, but she was really out of it when I left."

  "That's fine, dear. If you can't, it will wait." She stood and walked to the door with Jo. "Meet me in the library," she said as Jo left her and started to climb the stairs.

  The bedroom was quiet when she re-entered it, save for the soft breathing of the blonde woman on the bed, and the crackling of the dying fire. She walked to the hearth and took a large log, carefully placing it on the glowing embers. Then she made her way to the bed and to the person who had suddenly become the most important thing in her life.

  She had come to realise that as she lay holding the blonde after Rocky had fallen asleep. And her anger had grown at her brother's outburst earlier in the evening. So she'd eased out from beneath her sleeping partner, gone in search of Jeremy, and told him exactly where he could stick his opinions.

  She climbed onto the bed, brushing blonde hair away from the sleeping face. Green eyes opened and focused on her. "Hi," she said to the groggy woman.

  "Hi." Rocky's voice was hoarse, and she cleared her throat. "Is it morning?"

  Jo chuckled. "Nope, just about midnight."

  "Why are you up?"

  "Couldn't sleep." She traced a fair eyebrow, smiling when the blonde's eyes closed dreamily. "I've been talking to mother; she has something to show us."

  Green eyes drifted open again. "She does?"

  "Yep." Long fingers wound in blonde hair, massaging Rocky's scalp. "But if you're too tired, it can wait."

  Rocky smiled, grabbing the hand that was threatening to send her asleep again. "I'd like to see."

  "Okay." Jo slid off the bed, and eased the quilt off the blonde, who was still dressed in sweat pants and a tee-shirt. "Let's go see what it is." She stood, and swayed for a moment, the floor appearing to tilt beneath her feet.

  "Jo?" The blonde was at her side in an instant, easing her into one of the plump armchairs by the fireplace. "Are you okay?"

  "Goodness," said the dark haired woman, holding a hand to her suddenly throbbing head. "Everything phased out there for a moment."

  "Hardly surprising. You've got a hole in your head, remember?"

  Jo screwed her face up, pulling the willing blonde down onto her lap. "Not exactly a hole."

  "It was a nasty cut; if you'd have gone to hospital they probably would have put stitches in." She parted dark silky hair to look at the still angry wound.

  "But we didn't, and it's fine now. It hurts, but it's healing." She pulled Rocky's hand away from her own head and kissed the fingers. "I've got a hard head. I'm just tired…. We both are."

  Rocky nodded gently and stood, reaching a hand down to Jo. "You okay to go now, or do you want to sit a while?"

  Jo took the offered hand, letting the blonde pull her to her feet. "Nope, let's go and see what this mysterious thing is she wants to show us."

  They walked hand in hand through the silent old house, Jo leading the way to the library. When they got there, Marianna was sitting at one of the large reading tables.

  She gestured to two empty chairs. "Sit down," she said, putting on a pair of spectacles. Noticing Jo's lopsided grin she looked at her over the top of the glasses. "Something wrong, dear?"

  Jo shook her head. "Never thought I'd see the day," her daughter said, nodding towards the probably horribly expensive spectacles.

  "The light is dreadful in here," she said, by means of explanation, and turned her attention to a large book she had on the table in front of her. "I brought this with me from Greece. It's very old and very delicate." She opened the book and turned it so that the two younger women could see its contents.

  Each delicate and faded page held a drawing; each drawing was of the same subject.

  Jo looked from the drawings to her mother. "Who drew these?" she asked. She looked at Rocky who was staring at the image looking back at her from the pages of the ancient book. Her own image. The hair was longer, the face a little rounder, but otherwise, it could have been her.

  "The likeness is uncanny, isn't it?" Marianna was watching the blonde carefully.

  "It looks like me, Jo," whispered Rocky.

  "There is some likeness." Jo looked up at her mother. "Who did this belong to?"

  "It belonged to an ancestor of yours called Evelyn. Whether or not she drew the portraits I don't know, but each picture is signed at the bottom with an `E`. There was also a bundle of letters with the book, written in broken English." She pushed the bundle, tied with a piece of faded blue ribbon, towards Jo. "Most of the letters were returned unopened. I did open a couple." She smiled across at the confused looking women. "They are love letters."

  Jo rubbed her aching forehead. "So let me get this right. This person, Evelyn, wrote love letters." She looked down at the sketches in the book. "To her?"

  "I do believe that to be the case. Back then it would have been a terrible scandal. Every effort would have been made to keep them apart." She gestured towards the letters. "One of those letters is in a different hand. It would seem the recipient didn't know they were being sent back without her opening them. She sent a letter to Evelyn, asking her why she hadn't written to her."

  "I don't understand this," said Rocky, looking again at the pictures in the book.

  "Michelle, it would seem that many years ago, a member of my family fell in love with a beautiful, young blonde woman, the woman in those drawings. It would appear that their love was thwarted at every turn. I also believe that Evelyn may have killed herself. My grandmother and my great grandmother would never talk of her." She looked at Jo. "I didn't ever want to see anyone in my family suffer like that." She reached for both the younger women's hands. "I believe in fate. I was given this book and these letters for a reason, by a very wise old woman. As soon as I saw Michelle, I knew why." She reached across and carefully turned the pages of the book, until she found a particular image. The young woman staring from the pages was a mirror image of the young blonde that had first captivated Jo in the gallery in London.

  Jo sucked in a breath. "Have you ever shown me this?" she asked. "When I was a kid or anything?"

  "Never, Joanna. You've never seen this." She smiled at Rocky. "But as soon as I saw you, dear, I thought of this book."

  Rocky pulled the book closer. The face staring out at her was similar to her own. The sketches were obviously drawn with a certain amount of affection. She turned the page and drew in a quick breath at the image she found there.

  Unlike the other sketches, which were just head and shoulders, this showed the subject in full, lying on her back on what appeared to be a bed. A sheet was gathered about her waist, showing her upper body in all its glorious nudity. Her right arm was above her head, her left extended towards the artist, a red rose clasped gently in her hand. This was the o
nly shock of colour in the whole book, the red rose.

  Rocky's trembling fingers traced the delicate lines of the picture. "I think they found love," she said quietly. "I don’t think Evelyn drew this from imagination. This is something she saw." She looked up at Jo, who had moved her chair closer and wrapped a long arm around the blonde's shoulders. "I think she drew this after they'd made love."

  Marianna smiled across at the pair, wondering at the contrast in them. "You both look tired," she said. "You can look again in the morning."

  Rocky carefully closed the book, and slid it back across the table to Marianna. "Thank you for showing us the book; it's beautiful."

  "Yes it is," said Marianna, resting her hand on the old leather cover. "I do hope I'm wrong about Evelyn. Maybe we can go back to my family's home in Greece one day. The family histories are well kept there."

  Rocky leaned into her lover. "Well, I'm going to believe they found a way to be together." She looked across at Jo's mother. "And I'm going to believe they found happiness." Her gaze turned to the woman next to her. "Like us."

  "I do so hope you're right, Michelle." Marianna picked up the book and the bundle of letters. "We'll open these one day," she said, removing her spectacles. "But now, I must go to bed. Too many late nights are catching up with me, and I meet with the estate managers tomorrow."

  "Already?" said Jo. "I thought you didn't do that until the New Year."

  "It is the New Year, dear."

  "It is?"

  Marianna chuckled. "Joanna, it's the second of January; it was the first yesterday."

  "So New Year's Eve was the night…."

  "The night at Joss'," whispered Rocky.

  Jo shook her head. "I completely lost track, what with everything going on. My God." She ducked her head and kissed her companion. "Happy New Year, Rocky."

  "You two go on to bed. We'll talk more in the morning, after my meeting. I'll be sure to leave instructions that you're not disturbed."

  "Okay, Mother, whatever you say," said Jo, getting to her feet and pulling the blonde with her.

  The walk to their room, past walls covered with the portraits of her ancestors, was made in companionable silence. Jo pushed the door open, and Rocky wandered into the room, seeing the fire glowing warmly.