‘How dare you.’ Lorraine’s eyes narrow and her arms shake.
‘It’s true. Stop a moment. Look at yourself. Look inside yourself. Why do you hate me?’
‘I don’t…you know why.’ Lorraine looks away.
‘Ivan.’
Lorraine shudders. ‘I’ve got to make dinner.’
‘Let me help you. We can talk as we cook,’ Deya says.
‘No…I mean…it’s all under control. Why don’t you go and read or listen to some music…or something.’
‘Okay, I’ll sit in the kitchen while you cook. We need to talk.’
‘We really don’t, Freya. There’s nothing to say.’
‘I think there is.’
‘Just go. I can’t deal with this right now,’ Lorraine says.
‘Then when?’ Deya asks.
‘I don’t know,’ Lorraine answers.
‘Now is good for me. I have nothing better to do. If you won’t talk at least you can listen.’
‘Shut up! Get out! You make my skin crawl.’ Lorraine screeches. She holds the palms of her hands over her ears, trying to block Deya’s words.
‘Mum, you’re such a bitch. Listen to me. Listen to yourself. She’s…I’m your daughter. I’m the only one you’ve got.’
‘Yes and I wish every night that wasn’t true.’ Lorraine runs into the kitchen and turns on the tap.
Lorraine bends over the sink, splashing water on her cheeks as Deya approaches.
Anger is an energy. The room crackles with it. Deya cannot believe that her sister has faced such abuse and never hit back. What has been said before? Not enough.
‘I’m your daughter,’ she says. She keeps her voice steady, editing the truth just enough to get her point across. Part of her is this woman’s daughter, but only a tiny part, a breath, a wish perhaps. ‘You don’t get to do this. You don’t have the right to deny your own flesh.’
Lorraine hisses her reply. ‘I don’t. I deny yours and your twisted desires.’
‘I’m young, Mum. Don’t you remember being a teenager? Don’t you remember how crazy hormones can be? I’ve walked away from it. I don’t think of him that way any more. Why can’t you walk away from it to?’
‘I’m warning you.’
‘What, Mum? What are you warning me? What can you possibly do that you haven’t already done. You’ve made me feel ashamed. You’ve made me less than human. I am unloved. I have nothing. I’m hated by my own mother. Why?’
Lorraine looks up from the sink. Her face drips. It is difficult to tell where tears end and tap water begins. ‘I don’t hate you,’ she whispers.
‘Then why do you behave like this? Why won’t you let me explain?’ Deya asks.
‘I can’t,’ Lorraine answers.
‘Why?’
‘I just can’t.’
‘That’s no answer and you know it. Here I stand, pouring my heart and soul out to you. Show me some respect for that at least. Tell me what I need to know,’ Deya says.
Lorraine shakes. She walks unsteadily to the breakfast table and pulls out a chair. With an effort that makes her look ninety rather than forty-eight she lowers herself into the seat.
‘Please,’ Deya begs. ‘What are you hiding?’
Lorraine sighs. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘I think you do.’
‘No!’ Lorraine shakes her head. Her eyes start to glaze.
Deya crosses the room and grabs the mother’s hand. ‘You’re scared because you feel the same, don’t you?’
Lorraine’s face whitens. Red patches mark her cheeks and eyes. She swallows uncomfortably and looks up at the face she believes belongs to her daughter. ‘No,’ she whispers. Her face changes to a strange pale green shade as though she is about to vomit. ‘No,’ Lorraine repeats. ‘No, I’ve never.’ Her head shakes in violent denial. Her whole body shudders with the momentum. The movements grow stronger and stronger until the chair shakes too.
Deya lets go of the woman’s hand and takes a step back. Behind her she hears the front door open.
‘Hey Freya,’ the father’s voice calls from the hallway.
‘Daddy,’ Deya calls without turning around. ‘I think Mum’s ill. Should we call an ambulance?’
As Mike sprints into the kitchen Lorraine falls from her chair and hits her head hard on the wooden floor.
‘Lorraine!’ Mike rushes towards her, knocking Deya out of the way.
Deya stumbles, but quickly regains her balance. She stands watching the frightened man cradle Lorraine in his arms. The woman’s face has the whiteness of paper and she is still shaking.
‘Freya, call an ambulance,’ Mike shouts, his voice full of panic and fear.
Deya uses the telephone in the hallway then rushes back to hover over husband and wife.
‘Is she going to be okay?’ Deya asks.
‘I don’t know, love. What happened?’
‘We were talking. Well I was talking and she was refusing to listen…and then this. I was really scared, Dad. Is it epilepsy?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Mike says.
‘What do you think it is?’
‘We’ll find out when the ambulance arrives…Lorraine, Lorraine sweetheart. Can you hear me? It’s Mike, Love. Can you open your eyes?…That’s right, Sweetheart. No don’t force it. Just stay with me, Baby. Listen to my voice…The ambulance is on its way. You’re gonna be okay. Just stay with me. Listen to my voice. You’re gonna be fine, my lover…Freya could you get me a bag of frozen peas or something and a towel please?…Thanks Sweetheart…Here that feels better, doesn’t it darling? It’s fine. You’re fine, Lorraine. We’ll just wait here for the ambulance.’ The sound of sirens interrupts him and he motions to Deya to open the front door. ‘They’re here, Love. The ambulance is here. You’re gonna be fine.’
Two paramedics hurry through the hallway into the kitchen. They block Deya’s view. As they bend down she sees Mike stand up slowly and step away. A blood-covered towel hangs from his fist. She wishes she could reach him. Hold onto him and tell him his wife’s in good hands, that she’ll be fine. Mike looks across at her and tries to give her a reassuring smile. His shoulders shake. He looks fragile and alone. This man who adores Freya, a kind man who never let Lorraine’s words poison him against his daughter, is wounded. His heart pounds one moment and skips beats the next. If Lorraine dies his heart might break. Deya hopes it doesn’t. She likes Mike.
As Lorraine is lifted onto the stretcher a paramedic asks Mike whether he wants to be in the ambulance. He looks towards Deya.
‘It’s okay, Dad. You go. I’ll call Ivan and we’ll get there as soon as we can.’
She moves out the way to let the solemn parade pass. Mike grabs Deya’s fingers and squeezes them. He kisses her forehead and whispers. ‘She’ll be okay, Love. Don’t fret.’ Then he leaves.
Deya watches the door as the men filter out. She fills the kettle and switches it on. She grabs two mugs from a cupboard, looks again towards the front door and listens as the sirens fade into the distance. She remembers Ivan and phones her brother.
‘Bro, it’s me. Look, Mum’s been taken into hospital. Dad’s gone with her in the ambulance. Where are you? Can you pick me up and we’ll go there together?’
‘What happened?’ Ivan asks.
‘She had a fit and hit her head. I don’t know how bad it is, but Dad seems worried,’ Deya says.
‘Stay there. I’ll be right over.’
‘Thanks, Bro.’
Deya makes herself a cup of tea and sits at the kitchen table drinking it. Beside her a pool of blood reflects light from the window. She should probably clean it up before Ivan gets home but she doesn’t. Instead she stares at the way it glints in the fading light.
She doesn’t hear Ivan’s key in the lock. She doesn’t notice his presence until he stands beside her. He stares at the blood then turns to look at Deya.
‘It looks bad, doesn’t it?’ she says to him.
He nods and we
ts a cloth under the tap. She watches as he rubs in circles trying to clean the floor. He rinses the cloth and reuses the darkening rag again and again. Deya loses count of how many times he bends to wash the blood away.
‘I’m sorry…I couldn’t,’ she says.
Hunched over the floor, smearing blood into the grain, he shakes his head. ‘It’s okay,’ he whispers.
‘Ivan.’
He looks up at her, eyes rimmed with red. He looks vulnerable. She almost embraces him, but stops herself.
‘I’m not sure she’s going to make it. Maybe we should go now,’ Deya says.
He looks back at the floor before answering her. When he speaks it sounds as though the words are being forced through gritted teeth. ‘Of course she’ll make it.’
Deya bends down and takes the cloth from his trembling fingers. ‘Let’s go. We’ll sort out the floor when we get back.’
‘But what if…’
‘He’s already seen it, Ivan. He needs us at the hospital. We should leave.’
Ivan nods and walks to the front door, wiping his face with his sleeve.
‘Are you okay to drive, Ivan?’
He doesn’t speak, but she sees his head nod just before he escapes through the doorway. She hurries after him.
The car journey is a blur. They park carelessly and rush towards the Casualty doors. A nurse ushers them into a waiting room where their father sits chewing his nails. Ivan is the first across the room to embrace Mike.
‘How is she?’ Ivan asks, his voice soft.
Mike shakes his head. ‘There’s some internal bleeding. She’s in theatre now.’
‘When will we know?’ Ivan’s face is wet with tears. He blinks to focus on his father.
Mike shrugs.
‘Can I get you some tea, Daddy?’ Deya asks.
Mike shakes his head. Ivan sits beside him clutching his hand. Deya tiptoes towards the chair on the other side of Mike. She moves silently as if frightened of disturbing a sleeping child.
Mike looks at her as she settles into the seat. The smile he offers her is weak. She reaches for his other hand and squeezes it. Together they sit and wait for news.
‘I wonder how Donna is doing.’ Mike says.
The words are unexpected and it takes a moment for Deya to understand them.
‘We could ask,’ she says and wanders over to the empty desk. A few feet behind the desk is a screened office. Deya leans across, trying to see whether anyone is working within. A voice from behind startles her.
‘Can I help you?’ A male nurse skirts around her and walks behind the desk.
‘I was just wondering whether you had any news on my friend. I think she’s in the burns unit. Donna…McKenzie.’
‘Let me check for you,’ the man says. His smile is pleasant and unforced.
Deya watches his fingers dance across the keyboard. He reaches for the telephone and repeats Deya’s question into the receiver. His eyes study her face while he listens to the answer. She blushes and looks across towards Mike and Ivan. Their heads are bowed as they lean against each other for support, talking.
‘I’m sorry. Your friend hasn’t come out of her coma yet. Shall I make a note of the direct number so you can check again in a few days? Or shall I take your number and ring you if I hear anything?’
‘Are you likely to…hear anything I mean?’ Deya asks.
‘I might do. I work all over the hospital,’ he answers.
‘Okay then,’ she says taking the piece of paper he offers her. She scribbles her name and number on the sheet and passes it back to him.
He smiles and nods then hands her a second piece of paper. ‘Here’s the number of the unit…just in case you need it.’
‘Thank you,’ Deya says.
‘Can I get you guys any teas or coffees? Is that your father? He’s been sitting there a long time.’
‘My mum had an accident. We’re waiting for news.’
‘What’s her name?’ the nurse asks.
‘Lorraine Chaple,’ Deya answers.
‘Let me check…ahhh sorry there’s no update yet. Let me get you some drinks.’
‘Shall I help you carry them?’
He nods and smiles. ‘It would save trying to find a tray or spilling them on the way back.’
She follows him around the corner.
‘Tea or coffee?’ he asks.
‘Teas please. Two with milk and sugar, one black no sugar,’ she answers.
She watches him press the buttons. His wrists and hands are slender. She feels her body warm and looks away again, biting her bottom lip.
He passes the plastic cup to her carefully. Even so, her shaking hands spill hot tea onto her skin. He takes the cup back and grabs a paper towel to dry her.
‘Sorry,’ he says as though it was his fault.
She smiles and shrugs.
‘Look,’ he says. He is shaking now. ‘Can I phone you?’
‘Phone me?’ Deya asks.
‘Umm, it’s not appropriate at all, of course. It’s just…I would like to see you again.’
‘Okay then,’ she says.
He wraps another paper towel around the cup and passes it back to her. ‘My name’s Rob,’ he says.
‘Hi Rob. I’m Freya.’
‘Freya. What a lovely name.’
‘Thank you. It’s Norse. The goddess of…’
He grins. She tries to avoid his eyes and shrugs a little.
‘Come on,’ he urges her. ‘Tell me. What are you the goddess of?’
‘Love and fertility,’ she answers, blushing.
‘I should have known,’ he says, picking up the final two cups and walking ahead of her back to her family.
As Rob approaches, Mike and Ivan rise to their feet. Their eyes widen in expectation.
‘There’s no news yet I’m afraid, but I thought you could use these,’ Rob says handing both men cups of tea. ‘Did I get it the right way round?’
Ivan nods as he glances at his black tea. ‘Thank you.’
‘I’m Rob. If you need anything at all just ask for me, okay?’
‘Thank you. When do you think we should hear something?’ Mike asks.
‘It’s difficult to tell. What I will say is not to worry about how long it’s taking, if that’s possible. In my experience it’s usually a sign that things are going well,’ Rob tells them.
Deya sits down. Rob smiles at her before he turns and walks back to the reception desk.
Chapter 35
Satori carries Donna through the forest. She weighs so little it seems no burden. Donna sleeps. Every now and again Satori looks down at her tortured face to check she’s still breathing. In contrast to her lightness, the weight of responsibility crushes him. Two women, one close to death the other already dead and he needs to save them both.
The forest thins and Satori sees a glorious vista: a waterfall of glittering golden liquid and beside it a city of sparkling white marble.
‘Wake up,’ he urges Donna. ‘You have to see this.’
Her eyes flutter. She tries to pull herself up.
His heart cries for her. She must be in terrible pain but she never complains. He lifts his right elbow to tilt her face. Her gasp of pleasure delights him.
‘What is it?’ she asks.
‘A city.’
‘Should we go there?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t think Star will be there, but maybe there will be someone or something there to help us.’
‘Okay,’ Donna answers and closes her eyes. Sleep drags her down again.
Satori strides towards the buildings, excited to see what kind of creatures might build such structures. They remind him of his own tower although far more magnificent. As he approaches his perception shifts. What he first thought was marble is not. It looks more like ivory. He decides to skirt the city for a while and keep a distance from its walls. He chooses a route that will take him towards the river, telling himself he can always change his mind and visit the city from there
.
No breeze cools his face. Even without a visible sun the place feels hot as hell. Satori is tempted to pull off his jacket, but he has no spare hand with which to carry it and to leave it here when the next realm might be frozen seems short sighted. Sweat drips from his face and soaks Donna’s dress. He can hardly see for the mist of moisture their bodies expel in the heat. He tries to wipe his eyes with his shoulder, but the movement disturbs Donna’s slumber.
‘What’s that smell?’ she asks.
Satori’s face reddens.
‘It’s not you,’ she assures him. ‘It smells…like rotten eggs.’
‘Sulphur.’ Satori smells it too. He wonders why he didn’t notice the sickening odour before.
‘I think it’s coming from ahead of us,’ Donna says.
‘The river?’
Satori gently settles Donna on the ground and wipes his eyes. He stares at the river. At this distance he sees the liquid fizz and spit angrily. The city looks clearer as well. Its walls are neither marble nor ivory. Millions of human bones have been fused together to create the structure. At strategic points skulls have been set with eyeholes as windows.
Gathering Donna in his arms, he hurries in the opposite direction. A staircase leads up the cliff-face to the source of the waterfall. Behind him he hears movement. Stagnant air whistles beneath beating giant wings and the howls of wolves, still some distance away, gains on them. Satori breaks into a run, trying to reach the staircase before their pursuers catch them, hoping desperately that in doing so they might find safety. The hope is slim, but he has come too far to consider the fact that he might die or fail.
Long before he reaches the staircase he hears wings above him. He looks up and sees a creature overhead. He runs harder, hoping at least to reach the cliff and close off one point of attack. The dragon, bird or whatever it might be, keeps its distance. It follows his progress across the landscape in wide circles. Satori knows he cannot outrun it now. Perhaps I can still reach the wall of rock before the wolves?
‘What’s happening?’ Donna asks.
‘We’re…under…attack.’ Satori pants. His lungs beg him to rest.
She opens her eyes. Looking skyward, she gasps.
‘A dragon,’ she says.
‘How…far…away?’ he asks.
Starblood Trilogy Page 38