Trying to process the complexities of our situation for the past few weeks has been hard. The only conclusion that I could reach was the acceptance that the baggage we shared would only get bigger until it was too heavy for the both of us to carry together.
We need to let each other go before we drive each other apart. I won’t let that happen, and that’s why I need to leave.
Tell Ruth to pull her chair close to you and hold your hand.
Have you done it?
I need you to have good people around you, Kate.
The time we were together was the best time of my life. You always saw the best in me. I felt loved for the first time. Never underestimate how important that was to me. I’m so sorry that this has torn us apart.
You see, there’s something else you need to know about Darren Mitchell. He was released from prison in 1997 after serving his sentence. Two years later, he was found dead after taking an accidental overdose.
I’m genuinely sorry that you’ll never get to meet him, but I can’t pretend that the guy didn’t fuck up my life when he took my mother’s.
Now he gets to do it twice.
Ruth, make sure you stay with Kate for as long as she needs you to. You made a promise to support her and I know she’ll be in safe hands.
Kate, don’t ever change just to please someone or to make them like you. You are important. You matter. Be the person you were destined to be without any fear. You’re good enough, more than good enough, and I fucking love you, princess.
Danny.
‘I have to see him,’ I said, tripping over my sobs. ‘I have to know where he is.’
Ruth shook her head. ‘Kate, this must be a lot to take in. Let’s just calm down and talk. You must be shocked—’
‘No, Ruth, I need to talk to him. He can’t be the only one to decide what’s too big for us to carry together. I get a say too.’ My heart was pounding, pounding out of my chest, and everything was ringing sharply in my ears. Darren Mitchell dead. Too heavy for the both of us to carry together. I fucking love you. ‘I need to see him. Please!’ I begged as I held onto the cuffs of her jumper.
‘He’s leaving, sweetheart. I’m sorry, but he’s going,’ she blurted out. ‘I put him in touch with a friend of mine who owns a gallery near the castle. They love his artwork. He sold a few pieces recently, so next weekend they’re holding a small exhibition. All the money will go towards his travelling fund. He plans on leaving in the next month or so,’ she replied, still holding my hand. I gripped it like it was the only thing that was keeping me upright.
‘He’s finally doing it?’ I said, crying and shaking in her arms.
‘He’s finally doing it,’ she whispered.
I didn’t sleep at all that night. Thoughts of Danny pulled me under the surface, and just as I started to drift, I woke up with a jolt and start gasping for air, tugging at the bed sheets like they were wrapped around my body, slowly squeezing me to death. There was nothing else for it. I had to get up and stalk the dark, quiet halls of my parents’ home. As if I didn’t need anything else to make me feel sad and lonely, being the only one awake in the middle of the night was only adding to it. I was sitting eating breadsticks because they were the only food I could find that didn’t require effort to put together, while typing into my laptop: Can you die of a broken heart? Yes. Apparently, you can.
I sent the article as an attachment to Abi with looking forward to it written in the subject line. My phone rang thirty seconds later.
‘Why are you awake at 2 am?’ I asked as I answered the phone.
‘Didn’t you know? It’s my new profession. Straight talk in the middle of the night. One pound a minute.’
‘Better make it quick then,’ I joked weakly.
I heard a sigh. ‘You sent me an email that said you’re looking forward to dying. What am I supposed to do? Leave you to it? Not happening,’ she said. ‘I guess you can’t sleep.’
‘You guessed right.’
‘I’ll send for Darren’s death certificate when I get into the office. You may not want it now, but it’s something to think about. I can always keep it in your file.’
‘Keep it on file, seal it and send it back to archives,’ I snapped. ‘I don’t want anything to do with it.’
‘You don’t need to think about it now. You’ve got enough to think about.’
I held the phone under my chin and reached into the freezer for a tub of ice cream. The spoon was already in my hand. No bowl required. ‘Where’s Jamie?’ I asked as I flung myself back down on the sofa.
‘Fast asleep. Out for the count. Vigorous doggy before bed will do that to a man,’ she replied.
‘Oh God, he’s my manager; don’t say things like that,’ I replied, trying to get the spoon to manoeuvre through the hard ice cream.
‘Don’t come across all prim with me, Miss Orgy.’ I laughed, but my smile dropped when I started remembering Danny’s hands on my body, his dirty words whispered in my ear, the paint across my breasts, the water in my hair and the music pounding through my orgasm.
‘I need to see the exhibition.’
‘If that’s what you need to do, gorgeous, that’s what you need to do.’
Chapter Thirty-Four
Nottingham Castle loomed over me; the giant rock underneath it was dark and damp as the start of winter swept through the courtyard. I pulled my coat together and stepped towards the art gallery. The pavement was cobbled, hurting my feet. The wind howled through the walkway, taking my breath, but everything became brighter when I saw Danny’s paintings in the gallery window. The jellyfish, the tree and the rabbit, the colours lit up from the lights above. I reached into my pocket, pulled out my phone and took a photograph. I was so proud of him. I couldn’t stop smiling as I thought about how excited he must be. I took a few deep breaths and pushed the door open.
The old-fashioned bell clanged above the door as it shut behind me. The gallery was an eclectic mix of traditional paintings in large gold frames, pop art posters behind stark glass clip frames, and more modern paintings like Danny’s.
‘Hi, there, are you looking for anything in particular?’ A man stepped out from another room and smiled warmly. He was wearing a white shirt and black waistcoat, a fedora tipped on his head and round glasses, not unlike John Lennon’s, pushed to the end his nose.
‘I want to buy the painting in the window. The one of the tree,’ I replied. I knew as soon as I saw it that it would be the painting I would want in my home. If I closed my eyes, I could still see us layering the colours together. I wanted to buy it not only so that I would have a piece of us as a keepsake but because it made me happy that I was contributing to his travelling fund. It would be good for him and I wanted to be a small piece of that.
‘Ah yes, that’s a good choice. Such a talented artist,’ the man replied.
‘Yes, amazingly talented. He gave me a few lessons,’
‘Really? You’re an artist too?’ he asked.
‘I like to think so,’ I replied.
‘Well, I’m sure whatever he taught you was valuable.’ I smiled as memories of the painting lessons that turned into lessons in the art of sex flooded my mind. ‘I’ll just get that wrapped for you. Fill out this card with your details.’ I took the card and pen from him and started walking around the front of the gallery as I filled it in. ‘I have more paintings of Danny’s in the gallery behind me; feel free to take a look.’
I walked through the small archway and gasped. Danny was sitting on a wooden stool with a sketchpad in his hands. He was wearing a white T-shirt and black jeans; his hair was longer and had fallen across one eye. His brown eyes caught the spotlight above him. ‘I knew it was you even before you spoke,’ he said. ‘I was in the back doing a few last minute touch ups for the exhibition. I told them not to disturb me but I heard your voice and I just couldn’t keep away. I didn’t expect you to come through and look at the paintings.’
I instinctively clutched my neck as I felt the air leave m
e. I was breathless and shaking, and nothing had prepared me for this moment. ‘You were hoping I’d leave?’
He ignored me and dropped his head. He fumbled with the sketchpad in his hands before standing up and putting it down on an easel. ‘You’re buying a painting?’
I cleared my throat. ‘I wanted to contribute towards your travelling fund. Ruth told me you were finally doing it.’
‘You’d do that for me?’ he asked, his eyes lifting. ‘After…everything?’ I looked at the floor, unable to hold his gaze any longer without collapsing in a heap.
Silence surrounded us.
‘I’m really pleased for you. I know it’s been your dream to travel. Look at what you’ve accomplished. Congratulations.’
‘Which one did you go for?’ he asked as he completely ignored my lie.
‘The tree,’ I replied quietly, my voice hoarse and breathless.
‘I should have guessed.’
I wanted nothing more than to wrap my arms around him and pull him close. There was so much I wanted to say, but at that moment, I couldn’t find the right words. ‘Can you believe you’ve got your own exhibition?’ I said. Everything in my tone was high and clipped and I hated myself for grasping at things to say.
‘All down to Ruth,’ he replied before putting his hands in his pockets. ‘I saw your notes on the whiteboard in her office. Thank you.’
I’d started leaving messages for him. I knew Ruth arranged his counselling sessions for times when I wouldn’t be there. It felt natural to write them because he was the one who had initially started it.
The short time we spent together was worth the time we’ll be apart.
You deserve to be loved.
You’re worth the pain.
Everything I’ve been through in my life has led me to you.
Every word I had written was the truth.
I couldn’t stand the tension any longer; it was fizzing and sparking and there was no taming it. ‘Danny, I’m so sorry that my birth father—’
‘Don’t,’ he cut me off firmly before handing me an envelope. ‘I did this for you. I was going to give it to Ruth before I left but you may as well have it now you’re here.’
I slipped my finger under the flap of the envelope and broke it free. Inside was a pencil drawing. The sob it caused from inside me took him by surprise. I held my hand over my mouth. ‘Thank you; I love it.’
‘Maybe you’ll think about doing it,’ he said as I nodded. ‘A tattoo should mean something.’
‘It does; you know it does.’ I looked at the black lines of the dream catcher he had designed for me as I steadied myself on the wall behind me.
‘It needs to be as beautiful as you are,’ he added.
‘Don’t say that.’
‘Why?’ he asked as I shook my head. ‘Your tattoo needs to highlight the beauty of your body. It should be thought through and designed by someone who knows your body better than anyone, someone who can make it fucking sing.’
‘Danny,’ I gasped, walking forward as he took two steps back. I froze in place knowing that I’d lost him. ‘I need you to know that it doesn’t change anything for me.’ His eyes darted to mine as he took in my words. I wanted to cry when I saw in that look his belief that he didn’t think we could move past this. ‘I’ve fallen in love with you, Danny. I want to make it work between us.’
He scrunched his eyes shut. ‘It can’t work.’ he replied, folding his arms. ‘There’s too much baggage between us. Stop trying, Kate. I’m leaving. Forget about me, forget about us—’
‘I can’t.’
‘Leave me the fuck alone,’ he said before disappearing through a door at the back of the room.
I backed out of the gallery, totally disbelieving his words. As I turned sharply, I bumped into the owner, sending his hat tumbling to the floor. ‘Is everything OK?’ he asked. One look at my face and his hands were stretched out on my arms holding me up. ‘Can I get you a drink, miss?’
‘No, sorry,’ I replied quickly, moving away and aiming for the front door.
‘I need your details, miss; for the painting.’
‘I can’t…I’m sorry…I need to go…’ I pulled the door open, dropping the card and pen on the floor. The icy breeze whipped my face and stung my eyes. The headlights of a car in the distance caught my attention. I headed for them, forgetting where I was and not knowing what else to do.
‘Kate!’ I turned and watched Danny run down the little-cobbled backstreet, stopping a few feet away from me. His chest heaved up and down as he tried to steady himself. ‘You said you were pleased for me. My plans to travel. You said you were pleased. Is that how you really feel?’ he asked between deep breaths. ‘Because your eyes are telling me something different.’
‘What do you want me to say?’
‘I can’t end it like this,’ he said, his voice trailing off.
‘It doesn’t have to!’ I shouted as I wiped my tears with the end of my scarf. ‘The past doesn’t have to define you, Danny. It’s the future that matters.’
‘Fucking hell. We’re not talking about small things here. Your birth father killed my mother!’ he shouted. The bell clanged from the door of the art gallery and the owner stepped outside. Danny turned and held up his hand, gesturing for him to go back inside.
‘He’s dead, Danny. We can’t do anything to change what happened, but why should we let him drive us apart?’
‘How could I tell you what he’d done and that he was dead? It took you everything you had to get access to your records. You hadn’t even decided if you were going to try to trace your birth parents!’ He raised his arms and put his hands on the back of his head. His T-shirt rose up as he did, revealing his No mercy tattoo. I wanted to touch it so desperately.
‘I understand why you left. I get that you run, but what I don’t get is why you’re still running.’
‘My mum, Kate,’ he said, his steel breaking from the inside. He clasped his hand over his eyes to hide himself, but his shoulders rose and fell, telling me that his feelings overwhelmed him. This was real life and all the pain associated with it.
I pulled my coat around myself and shivered as the chill caught my bones. Danny stepped forward tentatively, like he was trying to weigh up if he should move closer, but before I could open my arms granting him permission, he pressed himself against me.
His hand cradled the back of my head. His arm pulled me into the crook of his shoulder. Danny overtook my senses, and before he had time to pull away, I wrapped my arms around his waist and held on for dear life. For those few seconds when he held me in the cobbled courtyard of the castle, the wind sweeping all around us, he was mine. Always mine. Until he broke the dream.
‘I’m sorry this had to end,’ he said, still cradling me and stroking my hair.
‘When do you leave?’
‘Nothing decided yet. Maybe a few weeks. I want to make sure I have enough money to last me a few months.’ He ran his hands down my back. The familiar flicker of goosebumps that I’d missed so much made me feel alive again.
‘Can I see you? Just until you leave?’ I asked, peering up at him. He pulled back, but I clung tightly onto his waist until he joined me again, fitting perfectly against the curves I thought he loved. ‘You still have one more lesson to teach me.’
‘What’s that, princess?’
‘Lesson number five hundred and seventy something,’ I smiled. He clung on tighter. ‘How to keep a man once you find the one.’
Danny laughed lightly. ‘I’m the last person to give you an answer to that one,’ he replied as he pulled back and gently pushed me away from him. His obvious withdrawal had begun, and although I was hoping we had made some progress, I knew I’d lost the fight.
‘I don’t regret a thing,’ he sighed.
‘I do,’ I said, ignoring his wide-eyed look of confusion. ‘I regret everything we’ll never be.’ I stepped back and took a quick breath. ‘Don’t be afraid of love, Danny. That’s what it all comes down to.
It’s always been there. You pushed me away and pulled me back to you the whole time we were together. The sex lessons were just something to hide behind or a label to put on us.’
‘We didn’t need a fucking label!’ he shouted, turning away from me like he wanted to run but turning back because he just couldn’t make the strides. He repeated this pattern until I couldn’t take it anymore.
‘I need to say this because if I don’t, I’ll regret it forever,’ I said, walking towards him and placing my hand on his chest. He looked down and studied my tiny hand pressed against him like it was a feather that would blow away if he breathed too harshly. ‘You’ll always grieve for your mum, but you know what? I’ll grieve for you. The only difference is that you’re here, living and breathing and so full of life. Remember your grief at its worst; that should give you a taste of what I’m feeling now. Broken and hopeless,’ I said, shaking my head. He was still staring at my hand but clinging onto it strongly. ‘I won’t feel this way about anyone else,’ I gasped, biting my lip, praying that I could get out the last few sentences without sobbing. ‘I refuse to believe that we can’t make this work.’
He raised his head. The broken heartbreak that was etched across his face had gone. He let go of my hand and backed away. ‘I’m leaving in a few weeks, Kate. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Fuck, I don’t know if I’ll be back,’ he replied quietly. ‘Aside from that, we’d never work. There’s too much baggage, and baggage leads me to fucking self-destruct. I’ve come too far for that,’ he said, shaking his head. He turned his back on my sobs as they echoed around the walls of the backstreet.
‘Everyone has the power to make someone else happy. You just have to let yourself!’ I shouted fiercely before dropping to my knees as I watched him disappear back into the gallery, leaving me alone once again.
Let Me Be Your Truth (Music and Letters Series Book 3) Page 22