by Bea Paige
“Wait a second, Rose. If you approach them like this, they might clam up completely. If he’s signed a contract, we can’t ask him outright about it… Ms Hadley is no fool.”
“What do we do then?”
“Let them eat their meal, have some wine. I’ll think of something,” Ivan says.
Anton scrapes a hand over his beard. “At least we know for sure he’s here, that we’re on the right path.”
“Yes, at least we know,” I agree, my heart galloping at the possibility of seeing Erik soon.
We finish our meal, taking time to nurse our coffees and wait for the right moment to approach them. A couple of times I catch the woman’s eye, and she smiles kindly. I force myself to return her smile each time, wondering how nice it must feel to be so open, so warm, even to strangers.
Ivan leans over, whispering in my ear. “Rose, I need you to look really, really upset. Can you do that?” he asks, pulling back.
I’m feeling pretty fucking anxious, so it’s not that much of a stretch, but I don’t say that out loud. “Sure,” I respond instead, wondering what he’s up to.
Anton looks between us both, frowning. “What the fuck are you up to, Ivan?” Anton asks, voicing my thoughts out loud.
“Trust me,” he says, sliding out of his seat. He squeezes my shoulder, and I hang my head. Anton reaches over the table and grabs my hand.
“Hey, Rose, it’ll be okay,” Anton says, loud enough for the couple to hear and even though we’re pretending, there’s a sincerity in his voice I understand. Despite his reservations about whether Erik is actually here on this island, he truly believes it will be okay.
I peer at him from beneath the curtain of my hair, he doesn’t flinch at my stare, just merely runs his thumb over the back of my hand. His touch warms my cheeks.
A few minutes later, the couple head over to our table, a concerned-looking Ivan hovering behind them.
“I’m so sorry, Rose,” he says. “I couldn’t help trying one last time.”
The woman I only know as Love, looks at me with pity. I swallow. But it isn’t her who addresses me, but the man named Tim.
“I’m so sorry to hear about your loss…” his voice trails off, uncertain how to continue.
Loss? I look at Ivan trying to gauge what he’s said, but his face remains impassive.
“Thank you,” I mutter, not knowing what else to say.
“Your friend here told me you were looking for someone who might be a relative of your late father’s. I’m pretty sure he’s describing Ms Hadley…”
“Ms Hadley?” I question, wanting to be sure.
“Yes, that’s right. She owns a farmhouse on the west coast of the island. She doesn’t visit often, keeps to herself mostly. Not many folks realise she’s returned. Not sure there are many now who’d be glad of it either. Still, she’s persistent, I’ll give her that…”
Tim’s wife gives him a nudge, and he promptly shuts his mouth.
“What happened in the past is better off staying there, Tim,” she says, glaring at him before returning her attention to me. “You know what it’s like, small town mentality. Folks talk,” she says by way of explanation.
Talk about what? I wonder.
“Sure,” I respond. Not sure at all, frankly.
“I’ve recently completed some work for Ms Hadley.” He shifts awkwardly whilst his wife places an arm around his waist, her fingers prodding him in his side. Another small gesture to prevent him from saying any more about the work he speaks of, though I notice it anyway.
“I think she may be the woman we’ve been searching for,” Ivan says, the hidden meaning in his eyes clear for me to interpret. She’s a long lost relative for the purposes of this story, which, honestly, makes my skin crawl. Fuck that, I’m positively ecstatic she’s no relative of mine.
“West coast of the island, you say?” Anton asks, because suddenly I’m unable to utter a word as another rush of anger overwhelms me. It’s been happening all day as I think about Erik in his glass cage. How could she willingly encourage her son to lead a life trapped in a prison? She’s a monster.
“Yes. Her farmhouse is located on private land, a little off the beaten track.”
“She doesn’t live in a cottage?” I blurt out, wondering why everyone we’ve asked has only ever pointed us in that direction, not one of them mentioning a farmhouse on the west coast of the island.
I glance at Ivan, his confusion reflecting my own.
“Cottage?” Tim asks, looking just as confused as the rest of us. Next to him, his wife’s cheeks flush red. She pulls on his arm, urging him to leave. He glances at her, a frown creasing his eyebrows. “What?” he asks her.
She looks from him to me, a sudden rash of fear crossing her features. “Tim has only been here the last year, he moved to the island after we married. He doesn’t know the full story… It’s not something people want to talk about.” Her voice trails off. Tim frowns, another question on his lips.
“What do you mean?” I press. I always knew Ms Hadley had secrets, maybe we’re about to find out just what she’s been hiding.
The woman sighs heavily. “Both properties belong to Ms Hadley. The cottage has been left to rot for years now, but she’s always maintained the farmhouse. That’s her home. I’m not sure why people have only mentioned the cottage…”
“More secrets…” I murmur. There are too many questions raised on the back of this conversation. My skin prickles with both the knowledge that Ms Hadley and Erik are here, but also the fact that I was right about her.
“This is a tight-knit community and we protect our own, even the ones who don’t deserve it,” she says with sarcasm.
Ivan’s eyebrows shoot up. Why is the community protecting Ms Hadley, and why is this woman so unhappy about it?
“I suspect they’ve been sending you to the cottage so that you’ll leave, assuming she’s not there,” she explains, glancing over her shoulder at the restaurant owner who’s watching us with interest. “Honestly, I think loyalty should only be given to people who deserve it. I’ve no idea why they still feel the need to look out for her, given everything that happened before,” his wife continues, then slams her mouth shut.
“Everything that happened before?” Anton asks, wanting to understand what she’s referring to just as much as the rest of us, including her husband who seems more than a little perturbed that his wife has kept the full story from him. Whatever that may be.
“I’ve said too much,” she says, her face grim.
“But something happened in the past? What was it?” I press, not willing to let this go.
“It’s not my place to say. Folks round here don’t like discussing it, and I’m not one to spread idle gossip…” she says, a little too loudly, as though trying to throw shade on our conversation. The owner seems satisfied with her response and returns to his duties.
“It sounds like more than just idle gossip,” I say interrupting her, not caring that I’m being rude.
“If you want to know what happened then perhaps you should ask Ms Hadley yourself. Nice meeting you,” she adds, smiling tightly, trying to cover up her sudden unwillingness to share with forced politeness. Just like everyone else, she’s shut down.
“We appreciate your help,” Ivan says softly, shaking both their hands.
I open my mouth to ask more questions, but Anton lays his hand on my arm and squeezes gently. I glance at him and he shakes his head.
“Leave it, Rose,” he murmurs.
“I hope you’re able to find some peace. Losing someone you love is difficult. I hope she’s able to help give you some closure, at least,” Tim says to me kindly, his gaze flicking to his wife who seems far more distant now, the kindness hidden behind a wall.
I know what it feels like to shut off emotion like that; it only comes from being profoundly hurt. I sense her pain, just like I sense it in others.
“Thank you,” I manage to respond.
Just as they turn away, his w
ife reaches out and presses her hand against my crossed arms, stopping them from moving away from us momentarily. She seems just as surprised by this sudden rash physical contact as I am. After a moment’s hesitation, she squeezes my arm gently.
“Sometimes things are best left in the past. Sometimes history has a way of upsetting the present and destroying the future. I appreciate you’re hurting, but just because this woman has a connection to your past, it doesn’t mean to say she’s the answer you’ve been looking for. Secrets are that way for a reason.”
“What do you mean?” I can’t help but press further.
“I’ve said too much already.” She leans in closer, her eyes both fearful and sad. “Just be careful.” She squeezes my arm, gives me an apologetic look and walks away with her husband, leaving me with a heart thrashing inside my chest.
Be careful? Oh, God, Erik.
Ivan glances at me briefly then follows them both, catching them before they leave. After a quick conversation about how to reach the farmhouse, he returns. Everything about this whole conversation has left a bad taste in my mouth, not to mention a shedload of anxiety. I grab my glass of wine and down the last mouthful.
“What the fuck was that all about?” Anton asks, voicing the exact same question I have.
Ivan swipes a hand through his hair. “It looks like Ms Hadley has been keeping one too many secrets from us all.”
“No shit,” Anton grumbles, chucking several notes onto the table to cover the cost of lunch. “It’s time we talk,” Ivan says grimly.
“I agree. We find the farmhouse, confront Ms Hadley and find out just what the fuck happened here. No more secrets,” Anton says, a determined look on his face.
“No more secrets,” I repeat, a feeling of dread creeping up my spine like ivy around a tree.
Chapter 8
Erik, Kirkwall – Summer, 1998
“How did the performance go?” Emmie asks me, her long legs stretching out over my own.
“As well as can be expected when the audience is Ma and Viktor,” I respond with a shrug, far more interested in the feel of her bare skin against mine than reliving the comments they’d made after I’d finished my performance.
“They didn’t like it?”
“It’s not that they didn’t like it…”
“What then?” she asks, twirling her fingers absentmindedly over my stomach. I wish I wasn’t wearing this damn t-shirt. I turn my head to face her, I love the fact that the sun has tanned her skin and lightened her hair even more. She’s naturally beautiful. Wholesome. Perfect.
“It’s just never good enough. No matter how much I practice, the hours I put in and the fucking blood I shed, it’s never enough.”
“I’m sorry, Erik. That’s messed up. You play beautifully.”
“But I’m not perfect, and perfection is the only thing that Ma and Viktor insist on. I’m so fucking tired of it.”
Emmie lifts her hand, cupping my cheek. Her thumb trails across my skin as she moves over me, blocking out the sun high above us.
“Let’s run away,” she suggests suddenly, a wistful note to her voice. She looks down at me, the sun highlighting her blonde hair, messy from the sea salt and wind.
“Well?” she prompts, her cheeks flushing with both embarrassment and the possibility that I might say yes.
I grin half-heartedly, my hands finding her hips, squeezing gently. “If only, Emmie.”
“I’m serious. We could do it. I know someone we can stay with in Manchester,” she says eagerly.
“I can’t,” I groan. “I have a whole future mapped out for me. A place at the Royal College of Music. Viktor pulled a lot of strings to get me in there. I can’t let him down.”
“That’s bullshit. Your talent secured you a place, his money covered the fees. That’s all.”
“Either way, I’m obligated to him.”
“You’re not. You don’t owe him anything.”
“I owe him everything, Emmie. Ma would never forgive me. I can’t let them down.”
Leaning over, she brushes her lips gently against mine. Her tongue gliding tentatively over the seam of my lips.
“Nothing is ever set in stone, Erik. The future is what you make it, not what Viktor or your mother decide,” she whispers against my mouth, before sliding her tongue between my parted lips.
And just like that, all thoughts of my future disperse as she presses her body against mine. Nothing but the taste of her strawberry lips and soft moans fill my thoughts. We kiss for hours as the sun goes down. We kiss until the heat of the day is replaced with the cooler sea breeze as night draws in. We kiss until our mouths are bruised and our hearts are bursting with unexpected but welcomed emotion.
We kiss for an eternity, and not nearly long enough.
“Promise me you’ll think about it,” she asks, drawing back.
“I’ll think about it, I promise.”
Satisfied for now, Emmie stands, hauling me up with her. We take the long route back home, holding hands and falling in love under a starlit sky filled with a million stars, neither of us noticing a figure retreating into the shadows.
Chapter 9
Rose – Present Day
“I think you should wait here,” Anton says as Ivan pulls up outside a large farmhouse situated at the end of a dirt track. It’s pretty in a barren kind of way with whitewashed stone, and a slate roof covered in green moss. Wooden shutters adorn each window, the faded blue paint peeling off in strips. It sits opposite a long stretch of beach, the waves crashing against the shore as a storm rolls in over the Atlantic Ocean. Tim’s directions were very specific, and it’s taken us no time to get here.
“Not happening,” I retort, unclipping my seatbelt and reaching for the door handle.
Anton leans over and catches my hand.
“I get it, Rose. You’re pissed off, but Ms Hadley might be more amenable for us.”
I roll my eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Ivan twists in his seat to face us both. “Let us do this our way first. If it doesn’t work, you’re more than welcome to get all domineering on our arses.” He smiles at that, a heavy dose of desire lighting his eyes.
I huff, drawing another smile from Ivan. Christ, there was a time when he only ever growled at me, now look at him cracking jokes and being all flirtatious. “Fine. You’ve got thirty minutes, max. Then I’m coming in.”
“That’s fair.” Anton pulls his beanie hat tightly over his head then nods before stepping out of the car. He waits by the gate for Ivan. I watch him a moment as he stands staring out at the sea. There’s still a deep sense of sadness surrounding him, and whilst his obsession to see colour has lessened, the knowledge that he’s still struggling weighs heavy on my shoulders. He has a long way to go. Healing isn’t something that happens overnight, it could take months. Years. Sometimes we never heal, sometimes we just find a way to live with the pain.
“You okay?” Ivan asks, serious once more.
“I’ll be better when we’re all back home,” I admit, still unable to drag my gaze away from Anton. I have the sudden urge to get out of the car and pull him into my arms. I can only imagine what it must be like to look at the world through his eyes, but I still maintain there’s beauty in it, so much more than he can appreciate right now.
“Home?” Ivan asks gently, studying my face and drawing my attention back to him.
“I meant when I’m home, and you guys are back at Browlace.”
“I see.”
“What?” I question.
“Rose, if you want it to be, Browlace could be your home as much as it’s ours,” he says tentatively.
“Are you asking me to move in with you?” I ask, my voice sounding sharp even to my own ears.
Ivan scrutinises my face, gauging my reaction before responding. All I know is there’s a sudden whooshing noise pulsing in my ears as my blood pumps ferociously around my body. My gut churns at the complexity of such a simple statement. I don’t want to dive
into the meaning too much.
“Yes,” he says simply.
“Ivan, do you realise what you’re asking? Have you thought about this?”
“I would be a liar if I said I didn’t want you around twenty-four seven. I’m selfish in that respect, Rose. But in answer to your question, I know exactly what I’m asking.”
“And you decide to ask me now, here, just as we’re about to confront Ms Hadley?” I ask incredulously.
He gives me a sheepish grin, and fuck if it isn’t the most adorable thing I’ve seen. Jesus, he’s on form today. I swallow the feeling of anxiety. I mean, moving in with them? It’s too much right now. Way too much for me to even think about, let alone consider.
“Okay, so perhaps this isn’t the best timing. Think about it?” he requests.
“What about Anton? What does he think?” I ask, glancing at him through the window.
Despite myself, I worry enough about Anton lapsing into drugs and self-doubt that being able to keep an eye on him so closely doesn’t sound like such a bad idea. I can’t see him that way again. I won’t. If I’m living at Browlace at least I’d be able to keep an eye on him… What am I thinking, am I really considering this?
“It’s pretty simple, Rose. You’re Anton’s drug of choice now. He needs you to survive as much as I need you to breathe.”
“Ivan…” my skin tingles with his confession and everything that’s left unsaid. Those three words are just a breath away. So simple to some, so fucking complicated for me. How can they hold so much power?
“Look, I might own Browlace but it’s as much Anton and Erik’s home as it’s mine. I wouldn’t even suggest it if I didn’t think it would be good for them too. You’ve done what no one else has, Rose. You’ve saved us from ourselves. Self-destruction is the worst possible kind of heartache. We owe you more than we can ever repay.”
Silence descends as I let his words seep in and consider his offer. Of all the things that I thought would happen today being asked to move in with them wasn’t one of them.