Sneaky Peek chapters of 'Immortal Beloved'
PREFACE
To the East of Eden is a land called Nod. It is a land of dreams and nightmares; a place where the fallen search for their lost souls. Here, the air is filled with ghostly memories; of regrets for things which have been done, and for those which have not. Lies whisper through the air. Tears replace the rain.
When Cain slew his brother, it was to this place that God sent him.
Some myths say that Cain was cursed to be the father of a new breed – a breed of men that lived off of the blood and souls of others. Time has named them ‘vampires’ – creatures of mythology. In truth, the curse was more universal, and affected each of his offspring, generation after generation.
That curse is loss: A hunger that refuses to be satisfied.
Loss breaks your heart. It breaks your mind. In the long, dark hours between the light, it haunts sleep and attacks dreams. For those of us who have lost, The Land of Nod offers no peace or rest.
I’ve become afraid of sleep, afraid of shutting my eyes for longer than a blink, because every time I do, a vision of him unfurls.
Golden. Godlike.
Light shimmers from his body as if he is bathed in the light of his own orbiting sun. He stands in front of a towering obelisk. His eyes, black as night, close to reveal a second pair of painted eyes. It gives the unsettling feeling that he is always watching. He parts his soft, full lips, inviting me in. When I am close enough, they whisper to me in the way that lover’s lips reveal their deepest secrets. It is a single word: A word that fills me with the dizzying nausea of being at high altitude.
“Immortal”
This is when I wake, hot and feverish in panic, as if my mouth has been crammed full of sand and I can no longer breathe.
It is always the same and I am left with an insatiable longing.
Chapter 1. RELICS
Meadowlake was in ruins. Reduced to nothing more than a skeleton of rotting wood and crumbling stone, Blake’s home had been ravaged by time and was past recognition. Impossibly, it was only yesterday that I had last visited: It may as well have been a hundred years ago.
With desperation, I span around on the spot, my mind refusing to believe my eyes. The diamond lake was now choked with reeds and was the colour of decay. The Meadow, usually embroidered with wild flowers and butterflies, was now a scrubland of weeds; beetles and ants crawled over its surface.
Instinct drew me to the turret door. A piece of paper had been tacked to it. Where the rain had rusted the nail, a red streak ran down the page: It looked like blood. Blake’s flowing purple script ran over the page but it was barely readable through the ink-bloom flowers that littered the letters. They obscured the details, but by the end of it I knew all I needed to know.
Understanding hit me with the force of a balled-up fist. They had left me.
They had all left me.
“No! This can’t be!” I screamed into the forest.
I looked down at my hand to check it hadn’t all been some crazy, wild fantasy. The ring, which Blake had given me, sparkled brightly in the early evening gloom. The light was fading fast. I looked back to the ruinous tower. A large, black bird launched out of the building’s corpse and screeched a warning cry.
The forest soaked up my screams until, empty of everything, I fell to the ground and dreamt. Memories tumbled through my mind; each one a stab of sorrow.
Blake Beldevier had arrived with the snow. From the very first moment I’d seen him, I had loved him. It had been like some elemental pull; something magnetic. I’d never believed in love at first sight – believed such a myth belonged to idiots. It’s easy to mock until it happens to you.
Whatever was between us in those first weeks, it set about a chain of events which caused pain to almost all of those we loved. Of course, there was no way we were going to get away with what we did and not be punished. Divine justice would be issued.
When I fell in love with Blake, it broke the heart of my childhood sweetheart, Sam. My betrayal was an act of unforgivable cruelty. It had also led to Sam being trapped in a three month coma full of nightmares.
The events of the last forty eight hours had been our days of judgement. The death of Blake’s brother by his own hand had been a heinous crime against the natural laws of the universe. It was foolish of me to hope the punishment would not be severe. Now it seemed that Blake’s exile to Egypt with Morgan was just the beginning of the losses we would suffer.
It was dark when I woke to find the nightmare of losing Blake and Meadowlake had followed me into the waking world. The twilight hour had spread a misty blue through the trees and had cast a dream-like veil, creating the illusion that everything was draped with spider’s webs.
Fairyland had dissolved, and I had the fearful feeling that I’d disappeared along with it.
Whilst I’d slept, invisible hands had placed a book into my arms, which on waking, I found cradled to me like a child’s comforter. It was leather bound and old – a relic: An object of The Realm. I searched into the shadows of the forest, but whoever had delivered it was long gone.
I flicked through its pages with a desperate hope of finding the answers it promised to contain, but the pages were blank. A red anemone flower had been pressed between the centre pages. It was flat and lifeless. It was not a message I understood.
Stumbling through the forest, book grasped in one hand, the letter from Blake in the other, a deep-rooted homing instinct kicked in. It was as if I was running away from a terrible danger, and I was but the danger was me. Overwhelming impulses jumped out at me from behind every tree. As I ran, I knew Pain was waiting for me, standing in the shadows, biding his time.
The pounding of my running reflected the battleground raging in my head – life versus death, sanity versus lunacy. It was a screaming, violent fight which was almost blinding.
Finally, the trees thinned and I could see home. The back gate nearly cracked off of its hinges as I ran through it. I made it into the house just as a boom of thunder roared and the skies started to fall.
The house was empty.
The stairs slipped from under my feet, my clothes tightened, strangling the air from me. By the time I reached the bathroom, most of the thin, cotton blouse had been torn from my burning body, leaving a confetti trail of buttons and fabric along the stairs.
In the sanctuary of the bathroom, I threw the shower onto its coldest setting and got in, complete with the remnants of my clothes. Ice cold needles hit my skin. The water camouflaged my tears. I slammed my balled fists into the hard, white tiles time after time, until the energy built into a terrible crescendo.
A motion rose through my lungs until all at once, a heaven-cracking scream rebounded off of the tiles, and pinged off of the metallic taps. I was trapped in a ricochet of bulleted emotion, from which there was no escape.
Chapter 2. PARADOX
I moved through an unreal world. Days, hours, minutes, all bled into one great trick of time. Sometimes I’d find myself standing still amongst a blurring speed of motion; the whole world moving at a frightening, almost manic, pace whilst at other times, it was as if everything had moved under water, slow and ghost-like.
During this time, I regularly found myself freaked out and in the wrong place at the wrong time – as if I were living to the tick of a different clock. They were small, insignificant acts in themselves, such as turning up at the canteen after the end-of-day bell or going to the bookshop at six o’ clock on a Sunday morning. Then one Monday, I found myself in a Physics lesson when I took Biology.
“Okay, chaps! Date. Title. Einstein’s theory of relativity. Underline it! Objectives …” Mr Green paused, scrawling the various bits of information onto the white-board. He seemed to forget about the objectives, becoming distracted by trying to get the projector to focus; he had about as much luck with it as he had with his class.
“Hey, Mina, why are you here?” Joe’s hushed tones came from beside me. I didn’t turn to look at him.
“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully.
“Have you seen Daisy this morning?”
I shook my head in response. Daisy was my oldest friend. At one time we’d been inseparable, but our friendship had been another casualty of the Blake affair and we now went whole days without seeing each other.
Joe leant in and whispered, “I bet she’s working on her Head Girl speech. I swear she thinks if she gets it, it’ll mean she’ll own the whole of Sir John Fieldon School.” He let out a laugh which was full of affection.
At last, Mr Green managed to start his lesson. He didn’t notice me, or if he did, he was perhaps just relieved to have someone sitting down and paying attention. And he did have it – entirely.
“Now you all think that one of the great certainties in life is that time and space are an absolute; that they are fixed, and no matter what happens they always will be: WRONG!” His change of emphasis on the last word startled some of the students to attention and at last the room was quiet. “Time and space are not absolute. TIME is NOT fixed: Time is purely a perception.”
I found myself gripping my pen so tightly that the plastic began to stress under the force, desperate to surrender and snap.
From the back of the classroom, James, a boy not half as clever as he thought himself to be, shouted out, “Like when you’re really BOOOORED and time goes soooo slowly, man.”
A small ripple of laughter ran around the classroom before being cut short by Mr Green’s acidic tone,
“No – not really, James!” A tight smile erupted and a sparkle in his eye turned Mr Green from victim to victor. “You see, our understanding of time, our ability to perceive and measure it, all depends on where you happen to be standing at any given point.
“Now we can only understand time if there are things in a relative motion to ourselves; if other things are moving around us. Place yourself in an objectless vacuum, and the motion through time suddenly feels perfectly still – and, believe it or not, seconds on identical watches can tick at a different rate…”
I drifted back into my own world as Mr Green proceeded to give several examples which he hoped would illustrate the point to the sea of bewildered faces.
Time in a vacuum may feel like it is standing still, but outside in the real world, with everyone always travelling forward, moving on – time has no option but to follow.
It was already the beginning of July.
Three months had passed since he had left.
Chapter 3. OBLIVION
Throughout this wilderness time, Delta had taken me on as her personal mercy mission, driving by the house and picking me up to deposit me in various places at allocated times. This way, she ensured the general routine of my life continued; even if I was reluctant to participate.
To call mine and Delta’s relationship a ‘friendship’, would suggest it was conventional – Delta didn’t do conventional. The closest way to describe who we were to each other would be to picture two survivors of a shipwreck stranded on the same desert island.
She’d arrive in the morning to pick me up along with my bag, which she would roughly pack whilst letting out sighs of intense frustration. And when, despite these obvious displays of annoyance, I sat vacant, she’d grab my hand before dragging me downstairs and out of the door. As she did this, she’d shout an overly cheery goodbye to Mum as if exchanging a secret password.
Her handling as she bundled me in the car wasn’t gentle, but it was offered with a weight of love and care which made me suffer it in silence – as if all of it were the most normal behaviour in the world. At the end of the day the process would be reversed, inevitably ending in a whispered conversation between her and Mum. I didn’t understand what moved Delta to do this for me. She wasn’t the sort that struck you as immediately charitable and we didn’t really have a past together, but whatever her reasons where, I was pleased to have her in my world.
This evening it was no different. We opened the door to find Mum cooking dinner. The smell of rich food made me feel sick. Uncle Josef, my fellow sufferer of a broken heart, was sat in the darkening lounge. He was already halfway down a bottle of red wine and it wasn’t yet six in the evening. I looked in on him and he returned a weak smile of solidarity.
I made an unsuccessful dash to the stairs as Delta made her exit.
“Mina?” Mum called from the kitchen.
“Yep, I’m just heading upstairs,” I called back, willing my voice to sound cheery.
“I’m going out shortly. I have dinner with Andrew.”
“Okay,” I said, refusing to give up my foothold on the stairs, “I’ll catch you later.”
“Dinner’s in the oven – make sure Josef eats.”
“I don’t need mollycoddling.” Josef’s flat voice travelled through from the lounge.
It would be a long evening with both Josef and me rattling around in our own private vacuums.
From my room, I listened to Mum singing as she showered and dressed. I realised with irritation that I was jealous. I lay on my bed and turned the volume on my iPod to max, hoping to shut out the sound of her happiness. Within the hour she was gone, leaving the scent of jasmine flowers and vanilla in her path.
I must have had my eyes open and looked awake, because the next thing I was aware of was Josef standing over me like some surreal mime artist, mouthing silent and frustrated words. He flapped his hands around, motioning me to take off my headphones.
“ARE – YOU – HUNGRY?” He shouted at me slowly, not realising I could now hear him perfectly well.
“No.” I shook my head. “You?”
“No – not really,” he said, his volume back to normal. “Could murder a glass of wine though – fancy joining me?”
I nodded and smiled a response.
“Garden. Five minutes,” he said over his shoulder as he left.
I crumbled off the bed, grabbed my thickest cardigan and made my way downstairs towards the garden. It was a beautiful dark night and I was pleased to get out of the stinking house. I looked up at the stars and thought how late it must be for it to be so dark on a summer’s evening.
A blue plume of cigar smoke curled up into the air, revealing Josef’s hideout as being on the bench at the far end of the garden. Now hollowed and rickety with rot, the bench had been positioned by Mum to look straight out onto the night-time forest.
When I was little, I’d gone through a phase of being obsessed with the barn owls that lived in our neighbour’s garage. Mum and I would sit under an old eiderdown duvet, drinking hot chocolate which she’d bring out in a flask. She’d pour out just a little at a time so it wouldn’t get cold. We wouldn’t say much, we’d just sit there and listen to the sound of the owls calling out for a fellow voice in the darkness.
On rare and precious nights, the owls would fly out of the forest like silent phantoms; swoop right by our lookout and onto their killing-fields. On times like these, Mum would tremble and let out a heavy sigh, as if the beauty was so overwhelming it caused her pain. I only truly understood this when I first saw Blake.
‘Owl Watch’ was one of the happiest memories from my childhood. Even as a child I’d looked on my mother, Martha, as something independent from both me and the world. I knew through instinct that the love she had for me was bestowed as a privilege. It wasn’t that she couldn’t love, but she just wasn’t really connected. It was as if human relationships were just simply an unnecessary distraction, a kind of momentary day dream from the fantasy she really lived in. I guessed that this was what grief did to you; it kind of snapped the wire. I was glad that she seemed to be eventually laying Dad’s ghost to rest and had found love with Andrew.
Tonight the skies were empty.
“We’ve got a slight matter of disposing of a casserole before your mother comes home!” Josef’s voice sounded overly large in the darkness. He smiled and it was the first genuine smile I’d seen from him in several months.
I looked up to the sky. It was so clear, I could see to the point of star-sprinkled infinity. Moving amongst the stars the planets and the meteorites falling to earth, the lights of a plane winked. I thought about how close we were to everywhere in the world, and yet how distant we were at the same time. My thoughts turned to Blake in Egypt. I wondered if he would be looking up at the same night sky and thinking of me. Josef broke my thoughts by handing me a glass. The bowl of it sat in the palm of my hand and it felt reassuring solid and potentially fragile all at the same time.
“As I am technically the responsible adult, I’m going to lay down a few ground rules.” Josef spoke with the feigned voice of adult authority and I rolled my eyes in response, clearly expressing that I knew, we both knew, Josef was anything but a responsible adult.
“Don’t look at me like that, Minnie Boo. As your uncle it is my job to ensure you are safe from harm.” He paused, the smile slipped from his face and his voice took on a more serious tone, “From all harm…” he fixed me with his eye, “… including from yourself.
“You know, it’s not always weapons or diseases that kill – sometimes what kills you is the darkness: The light in your heart fades and everything turns cold, as if someone has put out the sun.”
For the first time since Blake had left, I looked straight into someone’s eyes and made a brief connection with the living world – but like a poor reception on a rescue radio, the hope flickered out, leaving me with nothing but static and the knowledge of being completely alone and uncertain of survival.
“I’m sorry,” I said with embarrassment.
“Sorry! What is there to be sorry about? It’s about feeling sad and it’s okay to feel sad – it’s even okay to cry – unless you’re a boy, then it’s not okay.” He shook his chin in mock disapproval and let out a gentle laugh.
I took a seat next to him as he topped my glass up with a generous slug of wine.
“If you think getting off your face will help, then go ahead – give it a go, but I tell you now, it won’t help as much as you hope it might,” said Josef.
Incredulously, I looked at the wine bottle then back to him before responding with a laugh-talk, “Interesting parenting approach, Josef. And where, for the love of God, did you pick up the term, off your face?”
“Firstly, I’m not your parent – thank goodness, and secondly, have you failed to notice how impossibly cool and down with it I am?” He winked. “But seriously, there is actually a point to this exercise. If you are going to be stupid anywhere, then we’re doing it here, and we’re doing it together so I can look after you. I’ve a lot of practice at reckless behaviour.” His tone had a serrated edge. “The only deal is that you are in bed before your mother gets home. She certainly will not agree with my innovative approach.”
I drank down the wine. It was slightly too chilled, giving it a rough edge, but nevertheless it felt good; nourishing, as if my soul was taking a satisfying drink. I understood instantly both the pleasure and danger of wine.
Josef crushed the tip of his thin, continental cigar into the gravel with his foot, before draining his wine and pulling out the cigar tin from his shirt pocket. Flipping it open, he had a fresh one lit within two deft movements. He caught me watching.
“Want one?” He held open the tin in invitation.
I hesitated before replying, “No thanks.”
“Good girl – wise decision.” He slipped the tin into his shirt pocket before giving it a tap and smiling, “They’ll probably be the death of me.”
Uncle Josef had aged ten years in the last six months. In my mind he’d been forever young – a man who refused to let go of his adolescence – full of laughter and dramatic, often flamboyant, sulks. Gerad, the man Josef had finally grown up for, had not only conned Josef out of his entire life’s work, his home and fortune, but also his heart.
There was probably nobody else in the world better placed to understand how I felt about losing Blake. Out of nowhere words tumbled out of me,
“I don’t think Blake is coming back and I love him.”
Josef was taken by surprise as much as me and didn’t have a response prepared. I filled the awkward silence, “I didn’t know love would hurt this much.”
A nipping pain in my ring finger drew my attention to the fact I’d been viciously twisting my ‘engagement’ ring. Even in this light, the diamonds and moonstone shone with a magical luminosity. Maybe it’s time to put you away, I thought. When Vivien had advised me to wear it, she told me it would help me cope with the time apart from Blake. She hadn’t known about the letter – the one which Blake wrote in order to ‘set me free’.
Josef reached out a hand and patted my knee, speaking softly he whispered, “I know, darling girl...I know.”
And I knew that he did. “Maybe this is a punishment – a punishment for hurting Sam and Mum. Do you think maybe it is?” I searched out Josef’s eyes in the dark.
“It doesn’t work like that – honestly it doesn’t.”
I looked into the darkness of the forest. I could only just see the outlines of the border trees; the rest was a black void. How could this not be a punishment? I fixed my eyes on the furthest point, refusing permission for my tears to escape.
“When Blake left, it was as if someone plunged their fist into my chest and tore out my heart. Now the pain has stopped, the shock is over, but something worse has replaced it – a great gaping hole that seems to have no edges…it’s like a swallowing nothingness. It’s worse because I know I’m hurting everyone who loves me.”
“Only time can heal that kind of injury, Minnie Boo – only time.”
We sat in the cooling night, both wandering around our own internal chambers; busy salvaging the remains of any feelings we had. I knew Josef was right, ‘time would heal’ and somehow, that might almost be worse because it would mean I’d let him go.
An owl hooted and I turned my attention to the woods. I hadn’t set foot in them since my flight from Meadowlake and I’d missed them. I made a silent vow; Tomorrow, I’ll walk, face the loss and let go.
“So, did you manage to finish the project in Paris?” My question broke the heavy silence which had grown between us.
“The Glasshouse?” Josef exhaled a curling plume of smoke. “Yes, the Glasshouse is finished – everything in Paris is finished.” His double meaning was clear.
“Strangest project I’ve ever undertaken, some form of observatory,” he continued. “The only briefing I was given was a whole list of mathematical equations by which the client insisted the structure should be built. The only other requirements were that it was to be made of glass and it had a roof that would open up. With such specifics, it kind of built itself.”
“Bizarre! What was the client like?”
“I don’t know – I never met them. All communication went through a personal assistant, and when I asked anything slightly personal, I got the impression I was asking dangerous questions. The only explanation I got was the client was a keen astronomer, and that the Glass House was to be some form of observatory.
“Pretty place it was – a small chateau on the outskirts of the city, hidden away in the woods.”
Josef retrieved his iPhone from his pocket. After several seconds of expert scrolling, he handed the screen over to me showing me a photograph. “I wasn’t meant to take any photos but…”
It was a beautiful structure, more like a sculpture than a building. Standing independent of the chateau, a tall cylinder of glass erupted from the grass. Wrapped around it were metal ribbons of copper, almost as if they were free standing. At the top they flared outwards, presumably to take the weight of the opened roof.
“Wow – that’s amazing! I’ve never seen anything like it. But where’s the door?” I asked.
“Another curiosity – although the observatory was to be attached to the main building through a subterranean tunnel, it was to give the illusion of being completely freestanding; appearing to have no way in…or out. It wouldn’t be allowed here as it contravenes every ruddy building regulation set out.”
“It’s stunning, Josef – you’re very talented.”
He snorted a pained laugh, “It’s a monument to pure folly; mine and the client’s.” He took the phone back and tucked it in his pocket. “I suppose life is about taking chances though, isn’t it? Sometimes you win and sometimes you lose.”
We sat quietly, each of us thinking about the games we’d lost.
Chapter 4. NOSTALGIA
We got away with it. Mum never knew a thing about how we sat in the garden and wasted ourselves to oblivion. Or how later, Josef had held my head over the toilet bowl and forced me to put my finger down my throat, ordering me to vomit out the alcohol and reduce the risk of me dying in my sleep – a frighteningly real possibility.
Mum never knew how he’d held my sobbing head under the cold shower to make sure I was in no danger of slipping into unconsciousness, and then got me into the safety of my own bed, confident I’d feel nothing but a mild hangover in the morning.
She would’ve gone absolutely ape if she’d known. We’d both been seriously irresponsible and were making a habit of it. But rightly or wrongly, my evening with Josef set about a process of recovery.
I became increasingly aware of my daily pattern; no longer needing Delta to come and gather me up in the morning, I would now wait at the end of the path for her, my bag already packed and in hand. I fell into an easy routine, distracting myself continually by focusing on the next necessary task to be done. I got up, showered, dressed, went to college, ate, came home, studied and then went to bed. The worst times were the weekends, when lacking structure, I’d find myself moving from seat to seat; from bed, to the sofa, to bookshop chair, to garden bench, to the swing in the park, all without actually doing or thinking anything in particular. I was a fading echo trapped in the stony cavern of my own heart.
Mum had given up asking Josef and me if we were okay. She’d grown used to living in a house with two ghosts and tried to escape as often as she could, taking shelter in her own love affair with Andrew. I could tell she found it difficult to be feeling so loved around two people who were so miserable but, seeing I was making some form of return to normal, she seized on it, deciding Sam’s birthday should not pass by uncelebrated.
He was one of the few left in our year group who hadn’t yet had their seventeenth birthday. In this way, like all others, we seemed to stand at different ends of the spectrum, mine having been one of the first.
I’d seen very little of Sam since our break up over Blake. It wasn’t surprising he’d kept his distance seeing as besides having his heart broken, he’d very nearly been killed in the process. When I broke up with Sam, I didn’t just break apart our relationship but also his home.
My mum had been a mother to him since the day we’d started secondary school together as ‘first day buddies’ and I’d brought him home to see my fossil collection. She’d known by motherly instinct that he was a neglected child, and encouraged me to invite him around for tea every night. When his father didn’t buy him school shoes, or pay for the school trips, my mum did. Over the years we’d fallen into a family unit and Sam had practically lived at ours.
Even though Mum hadn’t told me, I knew she still met with Sam for coffee once a week. I’d also seen how every meal time she made an extra portion and boxed it up to put in the freezer; the boxes disappeared on the day they met up. I didn’t have a right to feel this was somehow disloyal given the circumstances.
At college, I’d kept my distance from Sam and the boys, living mostly in the library, sitting at the same desk I’d sat with Blake. Ms Minerva, the librarian, had taken pity on me and on most days a cup of fresh coffee and a shortbread biscuit would arrive on my desk. Before she left, she’d pat me on the shoulder and give me the kind of smile which told me she too had been heartbroken. I wondered if I’d end up like her; misunderstood, kind of batty and locked in a library. Maybe I was already halfway there.
Out of an entirely misguided love for all of us, Mum made the maddening decision that everybody needed cheering up and a party was just the thing to do it.
“Do you really think this is a good idea – do you think Sam really wants to spend his birthday with his ex-girlfriend, Mum?”
“Possibly not, Mina, but he might want to spend it with the group of people who are the closest thing he has to a family. You know his father won’t do anything about it. You’ve no idea how hurt that boy is – and not just over what you did to him.”
I was about to argue but her words cut deeply. In the end I responded by looking out of the window in silent protest.
“If you don’t like the idea, Mina, then I am happy for you to make your excuses and find somewhere else to go.”
I turned to her and couldn’t help but flash her the look of hurt-hatred that ignites in the eye when someone you love kicks you in the stomach. I had no words in response to Mum’s choice of Sam over me, mainly because I knew no matter how hurtful it felt, she was right.
When I complained bitterly to Josef about Mum’s madcap and totally unfair plans, we both agreed we’d much rather lock ourselves in a cupboard with a starving Boa constrictor. But wise as ever, he made me realise it was the least I owed Sam.
Mum had become so excited that neither Josef nor I had the heart to continue being awkward about it. Josef even faked interest and accompanied her to the party shop. Later he confessed it was an attempt to rein her in. It failed.
The car came home crammed with helium balloons, packets of streamers and other silly party items, all of which had been brought in an attempt to buy us small moments of an enforced happiness. Mum had spoken to Daisy and asked her to invite the usual group round, which included Matt.
I’d not told Mum about the events at the social; the time Matt and I had nearly murdered each other on the dance-floor. I partly feared whose side she’d have been on.
The dreaded day of the party arrived and I dutifully hung up the banners and bunting, made up jugs of lemonade, buttered bread for the sandwiches, and polished glasses. All of this, I did with a heavy heart. The thought of all our friends coming together in my own home felt like a cruel trick of time sent to further punish me.
I knew deep down Mum hoped it might act as a reminder as to how good life had been before the Blakequake, and I knew she’d pinned high hopes on it being an event which would help reunite me with Sam in some fairytale ending. Unfortunately Mum didn’t understand that in reality, fairytales often ended badly.
I couldn’t really blame her for her complete lack of understanding; it wasn’t her fault. She had no insight into the way I really felt about Blake, neither had she any idea as to what had happened between us. This was entirely my own failing – I was the one who’d pushed her away and kept her sidelined, so I could hardly turn round now and complain that her mothering was insensitive and misguided.
Mum rounded the corner, her arms full of rolled up bunting. “Mina, they’re going to be here in a minute, go and get dressed.”
“I’m already dressed,” I said looking down at my black jeans, white t-shirt and black cardigan.
She clicked her tongue and gave that nod of the head which seems to perfectly communicate every definition of the phrase ‘continual disappointment’.
“Mina, I don’t want us to have a row before everybody arrives, but I think you really aught to try and look like you’ve made an effort, rather than this all being some form of inconvenience to your day.”
Her words came out sharper than she’d probably intended, but they revealed her increasing frustration towards me. I wondered if she was fully aware of how true her words were.
“You want me to get dressed up?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“No, I just want you to make a bit of effort.”
“Why?”
“Don’t be a pain in the ass, Mina. Please, just go and do something with your hair and put on a prettier top.”
I hadn’t got the energy to argue so after a pointed and very noisy protest march up the stairs, I threw open my wardrobe, desperate with the hope that something might spring out at me and land itself on my body. It didn’t. I pulled out a black chiffon blouse which had a slight ruffle on the front and slung an opera length set of pearls around my neck before grabbing my hair and twisting it up into a chignon. I completed my effort by outlining my eyes with eye-liner and slipping on my silver ballet pumps. I hoped that this was enough effort to appease Mum.
“Better?” I asked as I pushed by her. She’d been waiting at the bottom of the stairs to inspect me.
She rolled her eyes. “It’s a little on the jolly side for a funeral but I suppose it’ll have to do. Here, put these nibbles on the garden table.”
Mum had arranged for everybody to arrive at about half past four so they’d be there in time for Sam arriving at five. It was a warm afternoon which meant we could spread into the garden. Josef was doing his best to escape by cleverly being so involved and helpful, that he was too busy to talk with anybody. I envied him this stroke of genius.
Daisy and Joe arrived together, hand in hand with a bottle of wine and a bunch of flowers. They looked happy and although I was pleased for them, jealousy pinched me.
Daisy skipped over to me, the flirty skirt of her yellow sun dress dancing around her sun-brown legs reminding me of a summer butterfly; everything about her shouted how in love she was. Planting a kiss on my cheek, she offered me a brilliant smile before saying,
“Hi! You look…lovely.”
The slight pause in her speech confirmed my mother’s opinion on my dress.
Daisy and I had gone a long way in the last few months in repairing some of the damage which had been done during the spring, but it was still a badly smoothed-over crack and it would need much longer to heal.
“Hi!” I smiled back but she’d already skipped off into the garden to follow after Joe.
Standing there, I felt like a moon circling around a living, vibrant planet full of people, all getting on with their lives. I was out in space – with no relative motion for company.
By five o’ clock Sam arrived to a busy, bustling house, full of people who smothered him in love and excitement.
Mum had arranged for Andrew to come and pick her up at seven and Josef had a date with his newly acquired quiz team at the pub. We’d been given the house to ourselves but this wasn’t as liberal as it sounded; it was an attempt to recreate last summer, when the house was often the base of impromptu parties and sleepovers – a reminder of happier times.
Andrew arrived early and introduced himself to the crowd. I liked him. He was kind and soft and most of all, he had a gentle and dry humour that showed a quirky sense of intelligence. I genuinely hoped it would work out for them. I liked the idea that maybe he would be in our lives for a long time to come.
Mum came down the stairs in a flap, caught out by Andrew’s early arrival. She needn’t have worried as he was quite happy drinking a beer in the garden and talking to Sam and Joe.
Love clearly made you beautiful, made you shine from the inside and my mother was no exception – she looked stunning. She’d pinned her usually wild hair up, exposing her high, smooth cheekbones. She wore her grandmother’s earrings; pearl droppers that dangled from a small rope of diamonds. They drew the eye to her slender, elegant neck. I’d never really thought on how pretty she was until this point. Suddenly seeing her through Andrew’s eyes, I saw how she was quite captivating – eccentricity and all. She came flapping over to me, motioning for me to help finish zipping up her new navy dress, whilst half-mindedly handing out her well practiced instructions,
“We’ll be back at about midnight; Josef the same. Just make sure you cut the noise down from ten-thirty. I don’t want the neighbours complaining, so make sure you are all in the house before eleven. Don’t let anyone smoke in the house and if you need any help, you know where Josef is.”
“We’ll be fine, Mum – have a good night.” I planted a kiss on her cheek. “You do know I’m cool about Andrew staying over,” I said with quiet embarrassment.
“Mina!” she exclaimed. A blush spread over her cheeks. “Thank you sweetheart,” she said more softly.
Whilst I’d been talking with Mum, several more of our friends had arrived and were now sprawled out on rugs in the back garden. There was a relaxed mood and I felt sad that it did all remind me of happier times.
I stood in the frame of the French windows, looking out across the garden to the boundary of the woods. Sam looked over at me from a distance and smile apologetically. His smile made me sad and painfully aware of how things had changed. Clearly he felt as awkward about it all as I did.
“Penny for them?” Delta’s voice came from behind me. Relief swept over me; Delta was mine and mine alone. With her, there were no complications of loyalty or need to pretend. I turned to look over my shoulder at her. She was looking out onto the garden, trying to see the world through my eyes. It wasn’t until I saw her from this angle, away from the direct gaze of her usually over analytical eyes, the kind of eyes that made you instinctively look away in submission, that I really saw her.
Somewhere far back in her American heritage, the Irish Celt nestled. Her skin was the colour of full cream, her hair, which she always wore in a high pony tail and with a heavy straight cut fringe, was so dark brown as to be almost black. Her almond shaped, heavily lined eyes were the colour of seas on a stormy day.
“You really don’t want to know.” I turned back to the scene on the lawn. “I’m pleased you came,” I said taking hold of her hand.
I felt the warmth from Delta’s body as she moved closer and lined it up with mine. Her hand reached forward to pull back an unruly curl of my hair. I caught it mid-move and placed her hand to my cheek. She leant in, whispering in my ear, making the flesh tingle under her breath.
“Did you honestly think I’d leave you to face this ridiculous pantomime on your own?”
I closed my eyes, taking a moment to indulge in the warmth of another human being I loved. It was an intimate gesture, the first intimate contact with somebody in over three months, and it felt like the warmth of the sun after a long winter.
When I opened them, I saw Daisy was in my direct line of vision and looking at me with a sliding face of disorientation. I blushed to suddenly think on how Delta and I might look like lovers. I looked away, turned back to Delta and tracked her gaze, seeing that she too had registered Daisy’s reaction. I stiffened in her arms and she started to move away, but not before she leant in, never breaking Daisy’s eye contact, and planted a lingering kiss on my cheek, whispering,
“Now, Crazy Daisy really has something to worry about! I’ll go and get us some drinks.”
I smiled to myself, and then flinched to find my hand caressing the spot where Delta had kissed me.
Despite all of the weirdness, the party was a good one. One of the boys had managed to get the fire-pit lit and most people were gathered around it toasting marsh-mellows. Sam had been in and switched on the fairy lights which now usually hung redundant, giving the garden back its magic.
Inevitably towards the end of the evening, Sam and I found ourselves alone. He was relaxed and seemed happy. Selfishness crept over me as I thought about how well, and how quickly, he seemed to have gotten over the end of our relationship.
“How are you?” he asked softly.
“Not so bad,” I lied.
“Have you heard from Blake?”
His question chipped at my heart and dignity. “No. Not yet.”
“Oh…sorry.”
He shuffled on the spot, put his hands deep in his pocket then out again, and then back in again. I braced myself for what he was about to say.
“There was something I wanted to talk with you about; something I want to run past you before anybody else says anything.”
A small worm turned in my stomach. I thought back to Blake’s assurance that Sam would find love sooner than I’d like.
“Erin.” He fidgeted, letting out a nervous cough.
“Yes? Spit it out,” I said with more irritation than I’d have liked.
“I want to ask her out.”
“And you’re asking me – why?” I shrugged my shoulders trying to show that I thought it had nothing to do with me and I didn’t care whether he asked her out or not – even though I did.
“I just thought it would be the polite thing to do.”
“Polite?” I laughed. “So that’s what we’ve come to – an exchange of manners? It’s fine. Of course it’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be?” I hoped I sounded more convincing than I felt.
I was grateful our conversation was brought to an abrupt stop by Daisy and Joe, who threw their arms around us having snuck up on us from behind a bush.
“There you both are. We were wondering where you’d got to. Everybody’s asking after you.”
I let Sam be taken away by Joe, knowing full well it was Sam who was being missed and not me.
“Sooooo, what’s the story with Delta?” Daisy asked, pouncing on the opportunity of having me alone. “I didn’t know you were such good friends.” She arched her eyebrow, unable to hide her disapproval.
“Well we are – she’s been there for me,” I said sharply before softening at the look of hurt on her face. “Look, I’ll catch you up later. I’d better have a bit of a tidy before Mum gets back.”
I walked off, leaving Daisy alone and cradling her arms in sudden response to a chill breeze. As I walked back to the house, I realised that although Daisy and I had set off on life’s great journey together, we were at a fork in the path, each wanting to travel a different road and unwilling to quite accept it.
In the kitchen I did a quick damage assessment, and was relieved to find that some kindly fairy had been in and done the washing up. It meant I could go to bed and avoid the late night mellowness; the time when regrettable things happened.
*
Delta had made an earlier escape into her pyjamas and was already fast asleep despite the iPod dock playing ‘Mumford & Sons’ loudly and on repeat. I recovered my sleepover pyjamas from the drawer and after pulling them on, got in beside her. I flicked off the music with the remote and let my hand seek out hers through the dark.
PREFACE
To the East of Eden is a land called Nod. It is a land of dreams and nightmares; a place where the fallen search for their lost souls. Here, the air is filled with ghostly memories; of regrets for things which have been done, and for those which have not. Lies whisper through the air. Tears replace the rain.
When Cain slew his brother, it was to this place that God sent him.
Some myths say that Cain was cursed to be the father of a new breed – a breed of men that lived off of the blood and souls of others. Time has named them ‘vampires’ – creatures of mythology. In truth, the curse was more universal, and affected each of his offspring, generation after generation.
That curse is loss: A hunger that refuses to be satisfied.
Loss breaks your heart. It breaks your mind. In the long, dark hours between the light, it haunts sleep and attacks dreams. For those of us who have lost, The Land of Nod offers no peace or rest.
I’ve become afraid of sleep, afraid of shutting my eyes for longer than a blink, because every time I do, a vision of him unfurls.
Golden. Godlike.
Light shimmers from his body as if he is bathed in the light of his own orbiting sun. He stands in front of a towering obelisk. His eyes, black as night, close to reveal a second pair of painted eyes. It gives the unsettling feeling that he is always watching. He parts his soft, full lips, inviting me in. When I am close enough, they whisper to me in the way that lover’s lips reveal their deepest secrets. It is a single word: A word that fills me with the dizzying nausea of being at high altitude.
“Immortal”
This is when I wake, hot and feverish in panic, as if my mouth has been crammed full of sand and I can no longer breathe.
It is always the same and I am left with an insatiable longing.
Chapter 1. RELICS
Meadowlake was in ruins. Reduced to nothing more than a skeleton of rotting wood and crumbling stone, Blake’s home had been ravaged by time and was past recognition. Impossibly, it was only yesterday that I had last visited: It may as well have been a hundred years ago.
With desperation, I span around on the spot, my mind refusing to believe my eyes. The diamond lake was now choked with reeds and was the colour of decay. The Meadow, usually embroidered with wild flowers and butterflies, was now a scrubland of weeds; beetles and ants crawled over its surface.
Instinct drew me to the turret door. A piece of paper had been tacked to it. Where the rain had rusted the nail, a red streak ran down the page: It looked like blood. Blake’s flowing purple script ran over the page but it was barely readable through the ink-bloom flowers that littered the letters. They obscured the details, but by the end of it I knew all I needed to know.
Understanding hit me with the force of a balled-up fist. They had left me.
They had all left me.
“No! This can’t be!” I screamed into the forest.
I looked down at my hand to check it hadn’t all been some crazy, wild fantasy. The ring, which Blake had given me, sparkled brightly in the early evening gloom. The light was fading fast. I looked back to the ruinous tower. A large, black bird launched out of the building’s corpse and screeched a warning cry.
The forest soaked up my screams until, empty of everything, I fell to the ground and dreamt. Memories tumbled through my mind; each one a stab of sorrow.
Blake Beldevier had arrived with the snow. From the very first moment I’d seen him, I had loved him. It had been like some elemental pull; something magnetic. I’d never believed in love at first sight – believed such a myth belonged to idiots. It’s easy to mock until it happens to you.
Whatever was between us in those first weeks, it set about a chain of events which caused pain to almost all of those we loved. Of course, there was no way we were going to get away with what we did and not be punished. Divine justice would be issued.
When I fell in love with Blake, it broke the heart of my childhood sweetheart, Sam. My betrayal was an act of unforgivable cruelty. It had also led to Sam being trapped in a three month coma full of nightmares.
The events of the last forty eight hours had been our days of judgement. The death of Blake’s brother by his own hand had been a heinous crime against the natural laws of the universe. It was foolish of me to hope the punishment would not be severe. Now it seemed that Blake’s exile to Egypt with Morgan was just the beginning of the losses we would suffer.
It was dark when I woke to find the nightmare of losing Blake and Meadowlake had followed me into the waking world. The twilight hour had spread a misty blue through the trees and had cast a dream-like veil, creating the illusion that everything was draped with spider’s webs.
Fairyland had dissolved, and I had the fearful feeling that I’d disappeared along with it.
Whilst I’d slept, invisible hands had placed a book into my arms, which on waking, I found cradled to me like a child’s comforter. It was leather bound and old – a relic: An object of The Realm. I searched into the shadows of the forest, but whoever had delivered it was long gone.
I flicked through its pages with a desperate hope of finding the answers it promised to contain, but the pages were blank. A red anemone flower had been pressed between the centre pages. It was flat and lifeless. It was not a message I understood.
Stumbling through the forest, book grasped in one hand, the letter from Blake in the other, a deep-rooted homing instinct kicked in. It was as if I was running away from a terrible danger, and I was but the danger was me. Overwhelming impulses jumped out at me from behind every tree. As I ran, I knew Pain was waiting for me, standing in the shadows, biding his time.
The pounding of my running reflected the battleground raging in my head – life versus death, sanity versus lunacy. It was a screaming, violent fight which was almost blinding.
Finally, the trees thinned and I could see home. The back gate nearly cracked off of its hinges as I ran through it. I made it into the house just as a boom of thunder roared and the skies started to fall.
The house was empty.
The stairs slipped from under my feet, my clothes tightened, strangling the air from me. By the time I reached the bathroom, most of the thin, cotton blouse had been torn from my burning body, leaving a confetti trail of buttons and fabric along the stairs.
In the sanctuary of the bathroom, I threw the shower onto its coldest setting and got in, complete with the remnants of my clothes. Ice cold needles hit my skin. The water camouflaged my tears. I slammed my balled fists into the hard, white tiles time after time, until the energy built into a terrible crescendo.
A motion rose through my lungs until all at once, a heaven-cracking scream rebounded off of the tiles, and pinged off of the metallic taps. I was trapped in a ricochet of bulleted emotion, from which there was no escape.
Chapter 2. PARADOX
I moved through an unreal world. Days, hours, minutes, all bled into one great trick of time. Sometimes I’d find myself standing still amongst a blurring speed of motion; the whole world moving at a frightening, almost manic, pace whilst at other times, it was as if everything had moved under water, slow and ghost-like.
During this time, I regularly found myself freaked out and in the wrong place at the wrong time – as if I were living to the tick of a different clock. They were small, insignificant acts in themselves, such as turning up at the canteen after the end-of-day bell or going to the bookshop at six o’ clock on a Sunday morning. Then one Monday, I found myself in a Physics lesson when I took Biology.
“Okay, chaps! Date. Title. Einstein’s theory of relativity. Underline it! Objectives …” Mr Green paused, scrawling the various bits of information onto the white-board. He seemed to forget about the objectives, becoming distracted by trying to get the projector to focus; he had about as much luck with it as he had with his class.
“Hey, Mina, why are you here?” Joe’s hushed tones came from beside me. I didn’t turn to look at him.
“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully.
“Have you seen Daisy this morning?”
I shook my head in response. Daisy was my oldest friend. At one time we’d been inseparable, but our friendship had been another casualty of the Blake affair and we now went whole days without seeing each other.
Joe leant in and whispered, “I bet she’s working on her Head Girl speech. I swear she thinks if she gets it, it’ll mean she’ll own the whole of Sir John Fieldon School.” He let out a laugh which was full of affection.
At last, Mr Green managed to start his lesson. He didn’t notice me, or if he did, he was perhaps just relieved to have someone sitting down and paying attention. And he did have it – entirely.
“Now you all think that one of the great certainties in life is that time and space are an absolute; that they are fixed, and no matter what happens they always will be: WRONG!” His change of emphasis on the last word startled some of the students to attention and at last the room was quiet. “Time and space are not absolute. TIME is NOT fixed: Time is purely a perception.”
I found myself gripping my pen so tightly that the plastic began to stress under the force, desperate to surrender and snap.
From the back of the classroom, James, a boy not half as clever as he thought himself to be, shouted out, “Like when you’re really BOOOORED and time goes soooo slowly, man.”
A small ripple of laughter ran around the classroom before being cut short by Mr Green’s acidic tone,
“No – not really, James!” A tight smile erupted and a sparkle in his eye turned Mr Green from victim to victor. “You see, our understanding of time, our ability to perceive and measure it, all depends on where you happen to be standing at any given point.
“Now we can only understand time if there are things in a relative motion to ourselves; if other things are moving around us. Place yourself in an objectless vacuum, and the motion through time suddenly feels perfectly still – and, believe it or not, seconds on identical watches can tick at a different rate…”
I drifted back into my own world as Mr Green proceeded to give several examples which he hoped would illustrate the point to the sea of bewildered faces.
Time in a vacuum may feel like it is standing still, but outside in the real world, with everyone always travelling forward, moving on – time has no option but to follow.
It was already the beginning of July.
Three months had passed since he had left.
Chapter 3. OBLIVION
Throughout this wilderness time, Delta had taken me on as her personal mercy mission, driving by the house and picking me up to deposit me in various places at allocated times. This way, she ensured the general routine of my life continued; even if I was reluctant to participate.
To call mine and Delta’s relationship a ‘friendship’, would suggest it was conventional – Delta didn’t do conventional. The closest way to describe who we were to each other would be to picture two survivors of a shipwreck stranded on the same desert island.
She’d arrive in the morning to pick me up along with my bag, which she would roughly pack whilst letting out sighs of intense frustration. And when, despite these obvious displays of annoyance, I sat vacant, she’d grab my hand before dragging me downstairs and out of the door. As she did this, she’d shout an overly cheery goodbye to Mum as if exchanging a secret password.
Her handling as she bundled me in the car wasn’t gentle, but it was offered with a weight of love and care which made me suffer it in silence – as if all of it were the most normal behaviour in the world. At the end of the day the process would be reversed, inevitably ending in a whispered conversation between her and Mum. I didn’t understand what moved Delta to do this for me. She wasn’t the sort that struck you as immediately charitable and we didn’t really have a past together, but whatever her reasons where, I was pleased to have her in my world.
This evening it was no different. We opened the door to find Mum cooking dinner. The smell of rich food made me feel sick. Uncle Josef, my fellow sufferer of a broken heart, was sat in the darkening lounge. He was already halfway down a bottle of red wine and it wasn’t yet six in the evening. I looked in on him and he returned a weak smile of solidarity.
I made an unsuccessful dash to the stairs as Delta made her exit.
“Mina?” Mum called from the kitchen.
“Yep, I’m just heading upstairs,” I called back, willing my voice to sound cheery.
“I’m going out shortly. I have dinner with Andrew.”
“Okay,” I said, refusing to give up my foothold on the stairs, “I’ll catch you later.”
“Dinner’s in the oven – make sure Josef eats.”
“I don’t need mollycoddling.” Josef’s flat voice travelled through from the lounge.
It would be a long evening with both Josef and me rattling around in our own private vacuums.
From my room, I listened to Mum singing as she showered and dressed. I realised with irritation that I was jealous. I lay on my bed and turned the volume on my iPod to max, hoping to shut out the sound of her happiness. Within the hour she was gone, leaving the scent of jasmine flowers and vanilla in her path.
I must have had my eyes open and looked awake, because the next thing I was aware of was Josef standing over me like some surreal mime artist, mouthing silent and frustrated words. He flapped his hands around, motioning me to take off my headphones.
“ARE – YOU – HUNGRY?” He shouted at me slowly, not realising I could now hear him perfectly well.
“No.” I shook my head. “You?”
“No – not really,” he said, his volume back to normal. “Could murder a glass of wine though – fancy joining me?”
I nodded and smiled a response.
“Garden. Five minutes,” he said over his shoulder as he left.
I crumbled off the bed, grabbed my thickest cardigan and made my way downstairs towards the garden. It was a beautiful dark night and I was pleased to get out of the stinking house. I looked up at the stars and thought how late it must be for it to be so dark on a summer’s evening.
A blue plume of cigar smoke curled up into the air, revealing Josef’s hideout as being on the bench at the far end of the garden. Now hollowed and rickety with rot, the bench had been positioned by Mum to look straight out onto the night-time forest.
When I was little, I’d gone through a phase of being obsessed with the barn owls that lived in our neighbour’s garage. Mum and I would sit under an old eiderdown duvet, drinking hot chocolate which she’d bring out in a flask. She’d pour out just a little at a time so it wouldn’t get cold. We wouldn’t say much, we’d just sit there and listen to the sound of the owls calling out for a fellow voice in the darkness.
On rare and precious nights, the owls would fly out of the forest like silent phantoms; swoop right by our lookout and onto their killing-fields. On times like these, Mum would tremble and let out a heavy sigh, as if the beauty was so overwhelming it caused her pain. I only truly understood this when I first saw Blake.
‘Owl Watch’ was one of the happiest memories from my childhood. Even as a child I’d looked on my mother, Martha, as something independent from both me and the world. I knew through instinct that the love she had for me was bestowed as a privilege. It wasn’t that she couldn’t love, but she just wasn’t really connected. It was as if human relationships were just simply an unnecessary distraction, a kind of momentary day dream from the fantasy she really lived in. I guessed that this was what grief did to you; it kind of snapped the wire. I was glad that she seemed to be eventually laying Dad’s ghost to rest and had found love with Andrew.
Tonight the skies were empty.
“We’ve got a slight matter of disposing of a casserole before your mother comes home!” Josef’s voice sounded overly large in the darkness. He smiled and it was the first genuine smile I’d seen from him in several months.
I looked up to the sky. It was so clear, I could see to the point of star-sprinkled infinity. Moving amongst the stars the planets and the meteorites falling to earth, the lights of a plane winked. I thought about how close we were to everywhere in the world, and yet how distant we were at the same time. My thoughts turned to Blake in Egypt. I wondered if he would be looking up at the same night sky and thinking of me. Josef broke my thoughts by handing me a glass. The bowl of it sat in the palm of my hand and it felt reassuring solid and potentially fragile all at the same time.
“As I am technically the responsible adult, I’m going to lay down a few ground rules.” Josef spoke with the feigned voice of adult authority and I rolled my eyes in response, clearly expressing that I knew, we both knew, Josef was anything but a responsible adult.
“Don’t look at me like that, Minnie Boo. As your uncle it is my job to ensure you are safe from harm.” He paused, the smile slipped from his face and his voice took on a more serious tone, “From all harm…” he fixed me with his eye, “… including from yourself.
“You know, it’s not always weapons or diseases that kill – sometimes what kills you is the darkness: The light in your heart fades and everything turns cold, as if someone has put out the sun.”
For the first time since Blake had left, I looked straight into someone’s eyes and made a brief connection with the living world – but like a poor reception on a rescue radio, the hope flickered out, leaving me with nothing but static and the knowledge of being completely alone and uncertain of survival.
“I’m sorry,” I said with embarrassment.
“Sorry! What is there to be sorry about? It’s about feeling sad and it’s okay to feel sad – it’s even okay to cry – unless you’re a boy, then it’s not okay.” He shook his chin in mock disapproval and let out a gentle laugh.
I took a seat next to him as he topped my glass up with a generous slug of wine.
“If you think getting off your face will help, then go ahead – give it a go, but I tell you now, it won’t help as much as you hope it might,” said Josef.
Incredulously, I looked at the wine bottle then back to him before responding with a laugh-talk, “Interesting parenting approach, Josef. And where, for the love of God, did you pick up the term, off your face?”
“Firstly, I’m not your parent – thank goodness, and secondly, have you failed to notice how impossibly cool and down with it I am?” He winked. “But seriously, there is actually a point to this exercise. If you are going to be stupid anywhere, then we’re doing it here, and we’re doing it together so I can look after you. I’ve a lot of practice at reckless behaviour.” His tone had a serrated edge. “The only deal is that you are in bed before your mother gets home. She certainly will not agree with my innovative approach.”
I drank down the wine. It was slightly too chilled, giving it a rough edge, but nevertheless it felt good; nourishing, as if my soul was taking a satisfying drink. I understood instantly both the pleasure and danger of wine.
Josef crushed the tip of his thin, continental cigar into the gravel with his foot, before draining his wine and pulling out the cigar tin from his shirt pocket. Flipping it open, he had a fresh one lit within two deft movements. He caught me watching.
“Want one?” He held open the tin in invitation.
I hesitated before replying, “No thanks.”
“Good girl – wise decision.” He slipped the tin into his shirt pocket before giving it a tap and smiling, “They’ll probably be the death of me.”
Uncle Josef had aged ten years in the last six months. In my mind he’d been forever young – a man who refused to let go of his adolescence – full of laughter and dramatic, often flamboyant, sulks. Gerad, the man Josef had finally grown up for, had not only conned Josef out of his entire life’s work, his home and fortune, but also his heart.
There was probably nobody else in the world better placed to understand how I felt about losing Blake. Out of nowhere words tumbled out of me,
“I don’t think Blake is coming back and I love him.”
Josef was taken by surprise as much as me and didn’t have a response prepared. I filled the awkward silence, “I didn’t know love would hurt this much.”
A nipping pain in my ring finger drew my attention to the fact I’d been viciously twisting my ‘engagement’ ring. Even in this light, the diamonds and moonstone shone with a magical luminosity. Maybe it’s time to put you away, I thought. When Vivien had advised me to wear it, she told me it would help me cope with the time apart from Blake. She hadn’t known about the letter – the one which Blake wrote in order to ‘set me free’.
Josef reached out a hand and patted my knee, speaking softly he whispered, “I know, darling girl...I know.”
And I knew that he did. “Maybe this is a punishment – a punishment for hurting Sam and Mum. Do you think maybe it is?” I searched out Josef’s eyes in the dark.
“It doesn’t work like that – honestly it doesn’t.”
I looked into the darkness of the forest. I could only just see the outlines of the border trees; the rest was a black void. How could this not be a punishment? I fixed my eyes on the furthest point, refusing permission for my tears to escape.
“When Blake left, it was as if someone plunged their fist into my chest and tore out my heart. Now the pain has stopped, the shock is over, but something worse has replaced it – a great gaping hole that seems to have no edges…it’s like a swallowing nothingness. It’s worse because I know I’m hurting everyone who loves me.”
“Only time can heal that kind of injury, Minnie Boo – only time.”
We sat in the cooling night, both wandering around our own internal chambers; busy salvaging the remains of any feelings we had. I knew Josef was right, ‘time would heal’ and somehow, that might almost be worse because it would mean I’d let him go.
An owl hooted and I turned my attention to the woods. I hadn’t set foot in them since my flight from Meadowlake and I’d missed them. I made a silent vow; Tomorrow, I’ll walk, face the loss and let go.
“So, did you manage to finish the project in Paris?” My question broke the heavy silence which had grown between us.
“The Glasshouse?” Josef exhaled a curling plume of smoke. “Yes, the Glasshouse is finished – everything in Paris is finished.” His double meaning was clear.
“Strangest project I’ve ever undertaken, some form of observatory,” he continued. “The only briefing I was given was a whole list of mathematical equations by which the client insisted the structure should be built. The only other requirements were that it was to be made of glass and it had a roof that would open up. With such specifics, it kind of built itself.”
“Bizarre! What was the client like?”
“I don’t know – I never met them. All communication went through a personal assistant, and when I asked anything slightly personal, I got the impression I was asking dangerous questions. The only explanation I got was the client was a keen astronomer, and that the Glass House was to be some form of observatory.
“Pretty place it was – a small chateau on the outskirts of the city, hidden away in the woods.”
Josef retrieved his iPhone from his pocket. After several seconds of expert scrolling, he handed the screen over to me showing me a photograph. “I wasn’t meant to take any photos but…”
It was a beautiful structure, more like a sculpture than a building. Standing independent of the chateau, a tall cylinder of glass erupted from the grass. Wrapped around it were metal ribbons of copper, almost as if they were free standing. At the top they flared outwards, presumably to take the weight of the opened roof.
“Wow – that’s amazing! I’ve never seen anything like it. But where’s the door?” I asked.
“Another curiosity – although the observatory was to be attached to the main building through a subterranean tunnel, it was to give the illusion of being completely freestanding; appearing to have no way in…or out. It wouldn’t be allowed here as it contravenes every ruddy building regulation set out.”
“It’s stunning, Josef – you’re very talented.”
He snorted a pained laugh, “It’s a monument to pure folly; mine and the client’s.” He took the phone back and tucked it in his pocket. “I suppose life is about taking chances though, isn’t it? Sometimes you win and sometimes you lose.”
We sat quietly, each of us thinking about the games we’d lost.
Chapter 4. NOSTALGIA
We got away with it. Mum never knew a thing about how we sat in the garden and wasted ourselves to oblivion. Or how later, Josef had held my head over the toilet bowl and forced me to put my finger down my throat, ordering me to vomit out the alcohol and reduce the risk of me dying in my sleep – a frighteningly real possibility.
Mum never knew how he’d held my sobbing head under the cold shower to make sure I was in no danger of slipping into unconsciousness, and then got me into the safety of my own bed, confident I’d feel nothing but a mild hangover in the morning.
She would’ve gone absolutely ape if she’d known. We’d both been seriously irresponsible and were making a habit of it. But rightly or wrongly, my evening with Josef set about a process of recovery.
I became increasingly aware of my daily pattern; no longer needing Delta to come and gather me up in the morning, I would now wait at the end of the path for her, my bag already packed and in hand. I fell into an easy routine, distracting myself continually by focusing on the next necessary task to be done. I got up, showered, dressed, went to college, ate, came home, studied and then went to bed. The worst times were the weekends, when lacking structure, I’d find myself moving from seat to seat; from bed, to the sofa, to bookshop chair, to garden bench, to the swing in the park, all without actually doing or thinking anything in particular. I was a fading echo trapped in the stony cavern of my own heart.
Mum had given up asking Josef and me if we were okay. She’d grown used to living in a house with two ghosts and tried to escape as often as she could, taking shelter in her own love affair with Andrew. I could tell she found it difficult to be feeling so loved around two people who were so miserable but, seeing I was making some form of return to normal, she seized on it, deciding Sam’s birthday should not pass by uncelebrated.
He was one of the few left in our year group who hadn’t yet had their seventeenth birthday. In this way, like all others, we seemed to stand at different ends of the spectrum, mine having been one of the first.
I’d seen very little of Sam since our break up over Blake. It wasn’t surprising he’d kept his distance seeing as besides having his heart broken, he’d very nearly been killed in the process. When I broke up with Sam, I didn’t just break apart our relationship but also his home.
My mum had been a mother to him since the day we’d started secondary school together as ‘first day buddies’ and I’d brought him home to see my fossil collection. She’d known by motherly instinct that he was a neglected child, and encouraged me to invite him around for tea every night. When his father didn’t buy him school shoes, or pay for the school trips, my mum did. Over the years we’d fallen into a family unit and Sam had practically lived at ours.
Even though Mum hadn’t told me, I knew she still met with Sam for coffee once a week. I’d also seen how every meal time she made an extra portion and boxed it up to put in the freezer; the boxes disappeared on the day they met up. I didn’t have a right to feel this was somehow disloyal given the circumstances.
At college, I’d kept my distance from Sam and the boys, living mostly in the library, sitting at the same desk I’d sat with Blake. Ms Minerva, the librarian, had taken pity on me and on most days a cup of fresh coffee and a shortbread biscuit would arrive on my desk. Before she left, she’d pat me on the shoulder and give me the kind of smile which told me she too had been heartbroken. I wondered if I’d end up like her; misunderstood, kind of batty and locked in a library. Maybe I was already halfway there.
Out of an entirely misguided love for all of us, Mum made the maddening decision that everybody needed cheering up and a party was just the thing to do it.
“Do you really think this is a good idea – do you think Sam really wants to spend his birthday with his ex-girlfriend, Mum?”
“Possibly not, Mina, but he might want to spend it with the group of people who are the closest thing he has to a family. You know his father won’t do anything about it. You’ve no idea how hurt that boy is – and not just over what you did to him.”
I was about to argue but her words cut deeply. In the end I responded by looking out of the window in silent protest.
“If you don’t like the idea, Mina, then I am happy for you to make your excuses and find somewhere else to go.”
I turned to her and couldn’t help but flash her the look of hurt-hatred that ignites in the eye when someone you love kicks you in the stomach. I had no words in response to Mum’s choice of Sam over me, mainly because I knew no matter how hurtful it felt, she was right.
When I complained bitterly to Josef about Mum’s madcap and totally unfair plans, we both agreed we’d much rather lock ourselves in a cupboard with a starving Boa constrictor. But wise as ever, he made me realise it was the least I owed Sam.
Mum had become so excited that neither Josef nor I had the heart to continue being awkward about it. Josef even faked interest and accompanied her to the party shop. Later he confessed it was an attempt to rein her in. It failed.
The car came home crammed with helium balloons, packets of streamers and other silly party items, all of which had been brought in an attempt to buy us small moments of an enforced happiness. Mum had spoken to Daisy and asked her to invite the usual group round, which included Matt.
I’d not told Mum about the events at the social; the time Matt and I had nearly murdered each other on the dance-floor. I partly feared whose side she’d have been on.
The dreaded day of the party arrived and I dutifully hung up the banners and bunting, made up jugs of lemonade, buttered bread for the sandwiches, and polished glasses. All of this, I did with a heavy heart. The thought of all our friends coming together in my own home felt like a cruel trick of time sent to further punish me.
I knew deep down Mum hoped it might act as a reminder as to how good life had been before the Blakequake, and I knew she’d pinned high hopes on it being an event which would help reunite me with Sam in some fairytale ending. Unfortunately Mum didn’t understand that in reality, fairytales often ended badly.
I couldn’t really blame her for her complete lack of understanding; it wasn’t her fault. She had no insight into the way I really felt about Blake, neither had she any idea as to what had happened between us. This was entirely my own failing – I was the one who’d pushed her away and kept her sidelined, so I could hardly turn round now and complain that her mothering was insensitive and misguided.
Mum rounded the corner, her arms full of rolled up bunting. “Mina, they’re going to be here in a minute, go and get dressed.”
“I’m already dressed,” I said looking down at my black jeans, white t-shirt and black cardigan.
She clicked her tongue and gave that nod of the head which seems to perfectly communicate every definition of the phrase ‘continual disappointment’.
“Mina, I don’t want us to have a row before everybody arrives, but I think you really aught to try and look like you’ve made an effort, rather than this all being some form of inconvenience to your day.”
Her words came out sharper than she’d probably intended, but they revealed her increasing frustration towards me. I wondered if she was fully aware of how true her words were.
“You want me to get dressed up?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“No, I just want you to make a bit of effort.”
“Why?”
“Don’t be a pain in the ass, Mina. Please, just go and do something with your hair and put on a prettier top.”
I hadn’t got the energy to argue so after a pointed and very noisy protest march up the stairs, I threw open my wardrobe, desperate with the hope that something might spring out at me and land itself on my body. It didn’t. I pulled out a black chiffon blouse which had a slight ruffle on the front and slung an opera length set of pearls around my neck before grabbing my hair and twisting it up into a chignon. I completed my effort by outlining my eyes with eye-liner and slipping on my silver ballet pumps. I hoped that this was enough effort to appease Mum.
“Better?” I asked as I pushed by her. She’d been waiting at the bottom of the stairs to inspect me.
She rolled her eyes. “It’s a little on the jolly side for a funeral but I suppose it’ll have to do. Here, put these nibbles on the garden table.”
Mum had arranged for everybody to arrive at about half past four so they’d be there in time for Sam arriving at five. It was a warm afternoon which meant we could spread into the garden. Josef was doing his best to escape by cleverly being so involved and helpful, that he was too busy to talk with anybody. I envied him this stroke of genius.
Daisy and Joe arrived together, hand in hand with a bottle of wine and a bunch of flowers. They looked happy and although I was pleased for them, jealousy pinched me.
Daisy skipped over to me, the flirty skirt of her yellow sun dress dancing around her sun-brown legs reminding me of a summer butterfly; everything about her shouted how in love she was. Planting a kiss on my cheek, she offered me a brilliant smile before saying,
“Hi! You look…lovely.”
The slight pause in her speech confirmed my mother’s opinion on my dress.
Daisy and I had gone a long way in the last few months in repairing some of the damage which had been done during the spring, but it was still a badly smoothed-over crack and it would need much longer to heal.
“Hi!” I smiled back but she’d already skipped off into the garden to follow after Joe.
Standing there, I felt like a moon circling around a living, vibrant planet full of people, all getting on with their lives. I was out in space – with no relative motion for company.
By five o’ clock Sam arrived to a busy, bustling house, full of people who smothered him in love and excitement.
Mum had arranged for Andrew to come and pick her up at seven and Josef had a date with his newly acquired quiz team at the pub. We’d been given the house to ourselves but this wasn’t as liberal as it sounded; it was an attempt to recreate last summer, when the house was often the base of impromptu parties and sleepovers – a reminder of happier times.
Andrew arrived early and introduced himself to the crowd. I liked him. He was kind and soft and most of all, he had a gentle and dry humour that showed a quirky sense of intelligence. I genuinely hoped it would work out for them. I liked the idea that maybe he would be in our lives for a long time to come.
Mum came down the stairs in a flap, caught out by Andrew’s early arrival. She needn’t have worried as he was quite happy drinking a beer in the garden and talking to Sam and Joe.
Love clearly made you beautiful, made you shine from the inside and my mother was no exception – she looked stunning. She’d pinned her usually wild hair up, exposing her high, smooth cheekbones. She wore her grandmother’s earrings; pearl droppers that dangled from a small rope of diamonds. They drew the eye to her slender, elegant neck. I’d never really thought on how pretty she was until this point. Suddenly seeing her through Andrew’s eyes, I saw how she was quite captivating – eccentricity and all. She came flapping over to me, motioning for me to help finish zipping up her new navy dress, whilst half-mindedly handing out her well practiced instructions,
“We’ll be back at about midnight; Josef the same. Just make sure you cut the noise down from ten-thirty. I don’t want the neighbours complaining, so make sure you are all in the house before eleven. Don’t let anyone smoke in the house and if you need any help, you know where Josef is.”
“We’ll be fine, Mum – have a good night.” I planted a kiss on her cheek. “You do know I’m cool about Andrew staying over,” I said with quiet embarrassment.
“Mina!” she exclaimed. A blush spread over her cheeks. “Thank you sweetheart,” she said more softly.
Whilst I’d been talking with Mum, several more of our friends had arrived and were now sprawled out on rugs in the back garden. There was a relaxed mood and I felt sad that it did all remind me of happier times.
I stood in the frame of the French windows, looking out across the garden to the boundary of the woods. Sam looked over at me from a distance and smile apologetically. His smile made me sad and painfully aware of how things had changed. Clearly he felt as awkward about it all as I did.
“Penny for them?” Delta’s voice came from behind me. Relief swept over me; Delta was mine and mine alone. With her, there were no complications of loyalty or need to pretend. I turned to look over my shoulder at her. She was looking out onto the garden, trying to see the world through my eyes. It wasn’t until I saw her from this angle, away from the direct gaze of her usually over analytical eyes, the kind of eyes that made you instinctively look away in submission, that I really saw her.
Somewhere far back in her American heritage, the Irish Celt nestled. Her skin was the colour of full cream, her hair, which she always wore in a high pony tail and with a heavy straight cut fringe, was so dark brown as to be almost black. Her almond shaped, heavily lined eyes were the colour of seas on a stormy day.
“You really don’t want to know.” I turned back to the scene on the lawn. “I’m pleased you came,” I said taking hold of her hand.
I felt the warmth from Delta’s body as she moved closer and lined it up with mine. Her hand reached forward to pull back an unruly curl of my hair. I caught it mid-move and placed her hand to my cheek. She leant in, whispering in my ear, making the flesh tingle under her breath.
“Did you honestly think I’d leave you to face this ridiculous pantomime on your own?”
I closed my eyes, taking a moment to indulge in the warmth of another human being I loved. It was an intimate gesture, the first intimate contact with somebody in over three months, and it felt like the warmth of the sun after a long winter.
When I opened them, I saw Daisy was in my direct line of vision and looking at me with a sliding face of disorientation. I blushed to suddenly think on how Delta and I might look like lovers. I looked away, turned back to Delta and tracked her gaze, seeing that she too had registered Daisy’s reaction. I stiffened in her arms and she started to move away, but not before she leant in, never breaking Daisy’s eye contact, and planted a lingering kiss on my cheek, whispering,
“Now, Crazy Daisy really has something to worry about! I’ll go and get us some drinks.”
I smiled to myself, and then flinched to find my hand caressing the spot where Delta had kissed me.
Despite all of the weirdness, the party was a good one. One of the boys had managed to get the fire-pit lit and most people were gathered around it toasting marsh-mellows. Sam had been in and switched on the fairy lights which now usually hung redundant, giving the garden back its magic.
Inevitably towards the end of the evening, Sam and I found ourselves alone. He was relaxed and seemed happy. Selfishness crept over me as I thought about how well, and how quickly, he seemed to have gotten over the end of our relationship.
“How are you?” he asked softly.
“Not so bad,” I lied.
“Have you heard from Blake?”
His question chipped at my heart and dignity. “No. Not yet.”
“Oh…sorry.”
He shuffled on the spot, put his hands deep in his pocket then out again, and then back in again. I braced myself for what he was about to say.
“There was something I wanted to talk with you about; something I want to run past you before anybody else says anything.”
A small worm turned in my stomach. I thought back to Blake’s assurance that Sam would find love sooner than I’d like.
“Erin.” He fidgeted, letting out a nervous cough.
“Yes? Spit it out,” I said with more irritation than I’d have liked.
“I want to ask her out.”
“And you’re asking me – why?” I shrugged my shoulders trying to show that I thought it had nothing to do with me and I didn’t care whether he asked her out or not – even though I did.
“I just thought it would be the polite thing to do.”
“Polite?” I laughed. “So that’s what we’ve come to – an exchange of manners? It’s fine. Of course it’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be?” I hoped I sounded more convincing than I felt.
I was grateful our conversation was brought to an abrupt stop by Daisy and Joe, who threw their arms around us having snuck up on us from behind a bush.
“There you both are. We were wondering where you’d got to. Everybody’s asking after you.”
I let Sam be taken away by Joe, knowing full well it was Sam who was being missed and not me.
“Sooooo, what’s the story with Delta?” Daisy asked, pouncing on the opportunity of having me alone. “I didn’t know you were such good friends.” She arched her eyebrow, unable to hide her disapproval.
“Well we are – she’s been there for me,” I said sharply before softening at the look of hurt on her face. “Look, I’ll catch you up later. I’d better have a bit of a tidy before Mum gets back.”
I walked off, leaving Daisy alone and cradling her arms in sudden response to a chill breeze. As I walked back to the house, I realised that although Daisy and I had set off on life’s great journey together, we were at a fork in the path, each wanting to travel a different road and unwilling to quite accept it.
In the kitchen I did a quick damage assessment, and was relieved to find that some kindly fairy had been in and done the washing up. It meant I could go to bed and avoid the late night mellowness; the time when regrettable things happened.
*
Delta had made an earlier escape into her pyjamas and was already fast asleep despite the iPod dock playing ‘Mumford & Sons’ loudly and on repeat. I recovered my sleepover pyjamas from the drawer and after pulling them on, got in beside her. I flicked off the music with the remote and let my hand seek out hers through the dark.
