The Beauty of Broken Things

by Victoria Connelly

  ‘He’s the dog version of me, isn’t he, with just the one ear?’

  Luke gave a nervous sort of laugh at Orla’s humour.

  ‘We had that connection, you see. We’re the perfect pair – quite literally – him with no right ear and me with no left. We balance one another out.’ She stood up, brushing the sand from her legs. ‘He’s all I need.’ She gave Luke a resolute look before replacing her sunglasses and he read her message loud and clear.

  Later that evening, as the blue summer sky was slowly fading into a soft pink, Orla ventured out into the garden. She liked this quiet time at dusk, as the birds found their way to bed and the first stars of the night made their presence known in the endless sky above the castle.

  As One Ear poked around the flower beds, Orla walked around the garden. She hadn’t seen Luke since their meeting on the beach that morning. She thought he was probably keeping a diplomatic distance between them. She’d heard the occasional bang of his workman’s tools and had given him some privacy at lunchtime, grabbing a quick sandwich for herself and moving through to the china room. He hadn’t tried to find her and she was glad of that because she’d needed some space and time to think about what he’d said. What he kept saying to her.

  Sitting down on a wooden bench, she looked up at the great stone walls of the castle. They were fading into shadow now, having been lit up in the most glorious pink light a few minutes before. Wasn’t it every little girl’s dream to live in a castle? And a pink castle at that! Orla smiled at the thought, and then she remembered Luke’s words to her: ‘People need people. We’re not made to isolate ourselves.’ Orla knew that, and she knew that Helen had also wanted to reach out and help her, but she still thought it very unfair of Luke to keep bringing it up after what had happened to her. It wasn’t as if she’d always been this way. In London, she’d had lots of friends and she’d gone out to dinners, to the theatre and to parties. She’d loved her life, but everything had changed with the attack. Not only had it taken away the face she’d known, but it had taken away her inner peace – that sense of self – and she’d felt herself withdrawing from the world, shutting out her friends and removing herself from her old routine.

  Orla had done her best not to think about the life she’d lost. Instead, she’d focused on the new life she’d created for herself within the safe walls of the castle – a simple life of collecting beautiful broken things and photographing them. It might sound odd to some people, but it had given her a focus. A safe focus. And it made her happy, it really did. It might not seem fulfilling, but it was to Orla, so why should Luke think that it wasn’t enough? Why was it so important to him that she leave the castle? It was as if he’d become obsessed with the idea, and a part of her couldn’t help thinking that he was burying his own grief for Helen by focusing so fully on her.

  She whistled for One Ear and he came trotting towards her.

  ‘What do you think I should do? Throw him out again?’ One Ear whined as if in understanding. ‘No, I won’t do that. You like him, don’t you? I like him too. So, what should I do? Listen to him? Is that what you think I should do?’

  Orla rested her head on top of One Ear’s and let him lick her hand as her mind spun. Something in her was changing. Perhaps it was having Luke staying in the castle. He was the only guest, other than her mother, who’d ever stayed there, and it had taught her that she genuinely missed conversation – exchanging everyday pleasantries and thoughts and ideas. Luke was a link to the outside world. He’d come into her life because of something so sad and awful, but he’d brought such joy and positivity and Orla found herself drawn to that, even if it went against everything she’d been building for the last few years. But to leave the castle – to venture into the outside world, even if that was just her own village – seemed truly terrifying. She couldn’t do it, could she?

  One thing was for sure, if she didn’t do it now, with Luke’s help and encouragement, she knew she never would.

  Luke had been working on a large section of wall in the great chamber. He’d taken out the old lime mortar and had applied a scratch coat. It was satisfying work, but he would now have to leave it for up to ten days before applying a second coat. That gave him time to start another job and, although he had an idea of what he’d like to tackle next, he found himself drifting around the castle. There was so much he could do with the place, but he quickly reminded himself that Orla had set a tight budget and that his time with her wasn’t unlimited either. He couldn’t stay for ever. Indeed, he’d been wondering just how long her hospitality would hold out for. Probably not long if he kept badgering her about leaving the castle. He’d noticed that she’d kept her distance from him since the morning and he couldn’t blame her for that, but her response had been a little less explosive than the last time he’d dared to broach the subject and there was a part of him that believed he just needed to chip away at the tough wall she’d built around herself a little bit more and she would relent. Yes, indeed – he believed that the wall Orla had built around her heart was as deep and strong as those of the castle she’d chosen to live in.

  Luke sighed, acknowledging the fact that, perhaps, he was using the castle in exactly the same way – as a wall around his own grief. What would Helen make of him staying here, he wondered? It was one thing to deliver Helen’s gift to Orla, but quite another to live under her roof. Would she understand that he’d needed to get away from home for a while? To escape the onslaught of phone calls and sympathy cards and to find a little space of his own? He hoped she would.

  Luke made his way down the spiral staircase, marvelling at the stone construction as he reached the upper first floor and saw the room that would have once been a highly decorated chapel. Orla hadn’t done much in this part of the castle yet. Her living quarters were centred on the second and upper second floors. Now, Luke continued his journey down, venturing into the lower hall and, from there, towards the basement. It was certainly a lot colder in this part of the castle. It seemed to Luke as if the temperature dropped a degree with each step down he took and that the decades and centuries melted away to reveal the bare bones of the past. Well, not literally. At least, he hoped not. But what a privilege it was to see the little alcoves, the arrow-slit windows and ancient graffiti carved deep into the stone walls, although his eye caught plenty of things that weren’t so wonderful, like the great ugly blobs of cement that had been splattered onto the walls and would do more harm than good. Yes, there was certainly a lifetime’s work here for any builder who wanted to take the task on.

  Luke descended further, passing the lower hall and reaching the very bowels of the castle: the basement. He’d only been down to this part of the castle once before and he hadn’t really taken it all in. It had reputedly been the dungeon. He grinned at the thought. Imagine living in a place with its own dungeon. Its own well, too. Luke got his pocket torch out and shone it through the scratched Perspex cover over the well’s opening, marvelling at its depth. He was glad to see that an iron grid had been placed over it to prevent accidents.

  Swinging his torch, he looked around the rest of the basement. There was a section of wall down here that was boarded up and he approached it now. It was modern plasterboard that had definitely seen better days and was probably masking a ton of trouble. It would have to be removed, he decided. No doubt it was harbouring damp; the wall needed to be allowed to breathe. He gave it an experimental tap, wondering what was behind it, and shone his torch at the place where it joined the wall, but couldn’t make anything out.

  ‘Luke?’ Orla’s voice broke into his thoughts, echoing down the spiral staircase. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘I’m in the dungeon!’ he yelled back, and he heard her footsteps hastening towards him.

  ‘What are you doing down here?’ she asked a moment later, looking around as if he might have been up to something without her permission.

  ‘Just scouting for jobs to do while I’m waiting for some plaster to dry in the great chamber, and I ca
me across this. Did you put this up?’

  ‘No, it was here when I bought the castle.’

  ‘I thought it might have been. Do you know what’s behind it?’

  ‘No. Is it something I should be anxious about?’

  Luke rubbed his chin. ‘No, not anxious. But curious maybe. I can’t see any reason why this section of wall would be boarded like this. This column too,’ he said, noticing that one of the stone columns supporting a window arch was concealed. ‘It’s Caen stone, isn’t it? I was reading about it. It’s a hard limestone from Normandy. Beautiful for carving.’

  Orla didn’t seem to be interested.

  ‘Everything okay?’ Luke asked her.

  ‘Yes,’ she told him. ‘No.’

  ‘Can you narrow that down a bit?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Anything I can help with?’

  Orla chewed her lip, looking anxious. ‘I’ve been thinking about what you’ve been saying. I mean, thinking a lot.’

  ‘Okay,’ Luke said, wondering exactly what it was she was referring to.

  ‘And I think it might not be a bad idea. To go out, I mean.’

  ‘You want to go out?’

  ‘Yes!’ she said with a nod. ‘No!’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’

  Luke smiled, thrilled by her declaration. ‘So, where do you want to go?’

  ‘Somewhere not too far away. Somewhere there isn’t going to be people.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘In your van. I’m not walking anywhere.’

  ‘Right. No problem.’

  ‘And I don’t want you putting any more pressure on me. If I don’t want to get out of the van, I won’t, okay?’

  ‘All right.’

  ‘I don’t want you saying that I should or that it’ll do me good.’

  ‘Orla – this can be whatever you want it to be. I’m just happy that you’re even thinking about it.’

  ‘One Ear comes with us,’ she stipulated.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Okay, then.’

  ‘Okay.’

  She gave a little nod. ‘I’ll leave you to . . . whatever you were doing.’

  Luke watched as she disappeared up the spiral staircase, listening to her footsteps on the cold stone, and a huge warm smile spread across his face.

  Chapter 12

  Orla looked around her bedroom in desperation. What did she need to take with her? She hadn’t been anywhere but the beach for the last two years and felt a little lost at the prospect of driving beyond the castle gates and actually leaving the village. What did women take when they went out? Orla tried to think back to her days as a normal woman. What had she had in her handbag? She’d emptied it out long ago and tucked it in the back of her wardrobe but now she brought it out and looked into its cavernous depths with a feeling of approaching doom. She remembered she used to always carry a couple of lipsticks, but she’d dispensed with such things since the attack. What was the point in trying to look pretty? There really wasn’t any, so Orla simply used a clear lip balm for moisture.

  There would have been a hairbrush and a compact with a mirror, but that had been thrown away long ago. The only mirror Orla had in the castle was a tiny one which she kept wrapped in a scarf. It was for fly-in-the-eye-type emergencies only. It wasn’t as if Orla didn’t care about her appearance any more – she kept her long hair tangle-free and washed and moisturised her face – but she refused to venture back to that place where physical beauty dominated. She’d lived in that world mercifully briefly during her time as a model, and it had brought her nothing but pain.

  She popped a lip balm into the bag, and a paperback from her bedside table because you never knew when you might be in need of something to read.

  ‘Purse!’ she cried. She’d almost forgotten the need to carry money with her, seeing as all her transactions were done online these days, including paying Bill, the gardener. Orla had no need for cash and she probably wouldn’t on this particular outing. Not that she was planning to go shopping or anything that adventurous, but it was always wise to be prepared.

  Moving through to the great hall, she caught sight of One Ear and added a handful of dog biscuits to her bag. Her coat pockets were usually full of them, but a few more wouldn’t go amiss. She also added a bottle of water for her and One Ear to share. She always took one with her when walking along the beach and would pour a fountain for her boy after he’d had a good run.

  ‘Keys!’

  Again, Orla tended to keep the keys to her home in her pockets, and it would feel funny putting them into a bag. She then grabbed a couple of tissues and her favourite hand cream.

  Just when she thought she was all set to go, her mobile rang from the table and she realised that she’d nearly left the castle without it. She picked it up, seeing her mother’s name on the screen.

  ‘Darling?’

  ‘Mum! How are you?’

  ‘I was going to ask you the same thing. I haven’t heard from you all week.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’ve been busy.’

  ‘Busy?’ Her mother sounded incredulous. ‘Doing what?’

  Orla bit her lip, knowing that she couldn’t divulge the fact that she had a man staying with her. Her mother would worry herself silly over that.

  ‘Work. My work,’ she said instead.

  ‘I wasn’t aware you were working.’

  ‘My photography.’

  ‘That’s work now, is it? It’s paying the bills?’

  ‘Not exactly.’

  ‘You can’t not work, you know, darling. That cumbersome castle of yours won’t pay for itself.’

  ‘I know. I’ve still got some money left over from the modelling.’

  ‘Yes, well, that won’t last for ever. Not with that big place of yours to restore and run.’

  ‘I know. I will find work at some point.’

  ‘I really don’t know why you lumbered yourself with that old pile.’

  ‘Don’t let’s go through all that again, Mum.’

  ‘But really – it’s such an extravagance! Why couldn’t you just buy a nice little penthouse near me?’

  ‘You know I couldn’t stay in London.’

  She heard her mother sighing. ‘Yes. I know, darling. But it is a pain for me having to hike all the way out to Suffolk to see my daughter.’

  ‘You really don’t need to any more.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean, you’ve got to let me try and take care of myself, Mum. I’m making progress, I really am. This place has been good for me.’

  ‘Well, that’s wonderful to hear, of course, but I think I should see the evidence for myself. You were . . .’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Very fragile when I visited last time.’

  Orla closed her eyes and sighed inwardly. Her mother probably didn’t realise it, but Orla couldn’t help feeling more fragile when her mother was around than when she wasn’t. Bernadette could be a formidable presence and Orla always felt herself slinking away inside herself, becoming the dependent daughter instead of the strong, independent woman she longed to be.

  ‘I’m feeling fine.’

  ‘Are you sure? You don’t sound fine.’

  ‘I’m sure. You don’t need to keep worrying.’

  ‘Well, that’s easier said than done, isn’t it?’ her mother snapped.

  Orla glanced around the room, looking desperately for an excuse to end the call.

  ‘I’ve got to go,’ she said. Again, she wasn’t able to say she was going out because that would raise too many questions and would probably have Bernadette on the first train out of London. ‘I’ll call you later.’

  ‘Make sure you do!’

  Orla quickly switched her phone off in case her mother tried to ring back and breathed a sigh of relief at the silence which greeted her. Bernadette Kendrick meant well, Orla was quite sure of it, but her intentions and the actual effect they had on Orla were two very different things indeed.

/>   ‘Orla?’ Luke called, entering the great hall a moment later. ‘You ready?’

  Orla nodded, glad of the distraction from her mother’s call, although she had huge misgivings about the whole idea of going out. Why had she let herself be persuaded to do this? She took a deep breath. Maybe she was ready. Maybe the time had come at last to put her fears and doubts behind her and step into the wider world, and Luke was the catalyst to help her do that.

  She opened the front door and walked outside. No, she thought, she definitely wasn’t ready.

  ‘It’s okay, Orla,’ he told her, obviously sensing her fear. ‘I’m right here with you. One Ear too.’

  She swallowed hard, closing her front door and locking it and then placing a tentative foot on the first step down to ground level. One step at a time. She could do this, she told herself.

  ‘You’re doing great!’ Luke said in encouragement.

  She glanced at him. He looked so calm and happy to be venturing out. Was that what normal looked like, she wondered? She’d forgotten. She’d closed normal out of her life that day in the park when she’d sunk deep inside herself, trying to find a space where nobody and nothing – not even acid – could touch her.

  With shaky legs, Orla descended the steps from her front door. Normally, she left the castle by the back door, sneaking out into the garden and along the secluded footpath which led to the beach. She rarely, if ever, saw anyone by that route. Now, leaving the castle by the front entrance, she felt horribly exposed. It wasn’t just the village of Lorford that lay beyond the gates, but the whole world – the world that had wounded her so deeply that she hadn’t wanted to have anything more to do with it.

  Suddenly, Orla felt her vision blurring and an icy coldness washed over her skin.

  ‘No!’

  Luke turned around at her cry.

  ‘I can’t.’ Orla was frozen in panic and she felt as if she was going to hyperventilate as her breath became fast and furious.

  Luke was by her side in an instant. ‘It’s all right.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t apologise.’