I can make sure she has a bottle of water in case she gets thirsty. I can provide food that she probably won’t eat even though her body is literally starving right now.
I can hold her hand.
That might be the most useful thing I can do right now, as insane as it sounds. I can be here.
I stand behind her, a hand on her shoulder as she tells her mum how much she loves her one last time. She promises to look after Thomas and Tia. She promises to tell Thomas that his mummy loves him every single day.
She makes a long list of promises that I know she’ll do her best to keep.
I find myself wishing that I’d known Ella sooner so that I could have met her mother. I would have liked that. I find myself wondering if she would have liked me or tried to scare me off.
Hours later, I drive Ella home and the difference between the girl beside me now and the girl I made love to earlier is stark. She’s like a walking zombie.
Everything I say to her gets lost somewhere in the space between us and she doesn’t hear it.
It’s not until we get to the house that she speaks.
“I’m not ready to go in.”
“Okay,” I say with a nod.
Then the silence returns. I don’t know how long we sit there. It can’t be that long but I’m so at a loss for what to do or say that it feels like an eternity.
“How do I tell him?” Her question catches me off guard. “How do I tell him his mum is dead?”
“I don’t know.”
I won’t lie to her and make out I have even the foggiest idea of what she should do. I’m so far out of my comfort zone that my brain has turned off in protest.
“I’m not sure there is a right way,” I say after a moment. “No matter what you say or how you say it, it’s going to hurt like hell.”
She nods, staring at the house through her window. Then abruptly she unplugs her seatbelt and opens her door, leaving me scrambling to catch up.
Clara and Andrew are waiting for us in the living room.
“Where’s Thomas?” Ella asks as soon as she walks through the door.
Clara is quick to answer. “He’s asleep.”
Ella nods.
“That’s good.”
The tension in her bones doesn’t dissipate though and she starts pacing. She turns to them for a brief second.
“Thank you for looking after him.”
“You’re welcome,” Andrew responds. “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll fetch you a cuppa tea. You must be exhausted.”
She nods and obediently sits, but immediately her foot starts tapping anxiously. She’s completely wired with anxiety and excess emotion.
I approach her and sit on the coffee table in front of her, reaching out to take her hand in mine.
Her foot stills and her eyes snap up to mine. I don’t speak and neither does she. We don’t need to.
It’s only when Andrew returns with the tea that I drop her hand so she can take the cup he offers her. I leave her with Clara and walk into the kitchen with Andrew on my heels.
“I’m going to take tomorrow off to look after her and Thomas,” I tell him.
It’s not up for discussion and he seems to understand that, fortunately.
“Very well. Is there anything you need us to do?”
He doesn’t seem to question why I’m playing the part of boyfriend instead of boss and for that I’m grateful because I wouldn’t have the patience to explain it right now.
I shake my head.
I can’t think straight enough to work out if there is anything we need. All I know is that Ella and Thomas are quickly becoming my family and it’s my job to keep them safe.
“Very well. If you think of anything, just call. Night or day.”
His words are earnest.
“Thank you,” I respond.
“I’ll take my wife home then.”
He glances back into the next room where Ella and Clara are sat together.
“I imagine Ella won’t sleep well tonight but she should try. You should too.”
I walk Clara and Andrew to the door and wish them a safe journey home, thanking them again for their help before closing and locking the door behind them.
When I return to the living room, Ella is once more pacing the room. She turns on the spot and gives me a stern look.
“You should go too.”
Her words force all the air out of my lungs.
“Not going to happen, Sweetpea.”
“I need to start doing this on my own,” she rambles on. “My mum is gone. My sister is gone. I’m on my own and I’m going to have to get used to it. You should go.”
I frown before striding towards her, pulling her tightly into my arms.
“There’s not a chance in hell, I’m walking out that door right now.”
“I…”
I silence her with a finger to her lip.
“You are exhausted. I’m putting you to bed and then I’m going to come and sleep on the couch.”
I put a ridiculous amount of force into my words. There is no room for negotiation. She either does as she’s told or I’ll make her because I damn well love her.
“But…”
“No buts. You’re in shock. It would be negligent of me to leave you alone.” Never mind the fact that I need to be here, I want to be here.
“Okay.”
She finally slumps against me, all fight gone.
She allows me to guide her up the stairs. I help her change into her pjs before tucking her in under the covers. I lean down and kiss her forehead, wishing I could tell her something, anything that might make her feel even a tiny bit better, but there are no words powerful enough to get through the haze of grief that currently surrounds her.
I go to leave but she grabs hold of my hand and pulls me closer.
“Please stay.”
I can’t refuse her and even if I could, I definitely wouldn’t.
Chapter Seventeen – Ella
I’m lying in bed, embraced in a pair of arms that make the world seem to drift away and yet for the first time since I first fell into them, they seem to be failing to give me the peace that I so desperately crave.
It’s coming up for the time that Thomas usually wakes up and I’ve spent a restless night trying to think up the best way to tell him.
Tristan has held me and comforted me as I silently shed tears, but he’s not said more.
It’s as if he knows that him just being here with me is enough.
“He’s going to be awake soon,” I say quietly, without lifting my head from his chest where it’s stayed all night.
“Yeah,” he replies gently, his hand drawing a soothing pattern on my back.
“I don’t know how to tell him.”
“I know.”
I’m grateful that he doesn’t try and give me an answer.
We’re quiet for a few moments, neither having anything particular to say.
“Thank you for staying,” I whisper shyly.
I’m angry with myself for trying to push him away the night before. Even though a part of me still wants to push him away, a much greater part wants to hold him tighter.
There is a bang from the room next door and the sound of a small pair of feet scurrying across the wooden floor.
My body tenses as dread overwhelms me.
I scrunch my eyes closed, wishing I could avoid the conversation I’m about to have.
I hear my bedroom door creak as Thomas opens it slowly. My eyes are still closed. I feel like a child, scared of a monster approaching but I can’t face him.
I can’t tell him.
“Ella?” His small voice echoes around the room as he pulls at my arm.
I take a deep breath and open my eyes to look down at the angel whose world is about to be sent of its axes. I sit up and pull him up and on to my lap.
Tristan has the good-naturedness to pretend to be asleep, his way of giving me and my brother space at the same time as showing me his
continual support. He won’t leave me.
“Mummy is dead, isn’t she?” The bluntness of his question shocks me and leaves me stunned. I have no clue how to respond.
“Yes,” I whisper.
Trust my brother to make this easier for me, the selfless little tyke. He wraps me in his small arms and clings to me.
“I’m sorry, Big Sister Ella.”
“It’s okay,” I say even though it’s not.
“Me and Tristan will look after you,” he tells me sweetly, “I promise.”
He’s saying the things I should be saying to him. I’m supposed to be comforting him, not the other way around.
I give him the biggest smile I can muster. He turns to Tristan and gives him a nasty poke in the rib. Tristan grunts into the pillow.
“Isn’t that right, Tristan?”
“Hmm… yeah…” he says as he sits up to join our conversation. “I’ll look after both of you.”
The sincerity in his tone brings tears to my eyes. He pulls us both into a massive bear hug, before promising to make us breakfast. He knows I probably won’t eat it, but he’ll do everything in his power to make me.
Days pass, the rest of the world is restless with excitement at the prospect of Christmas. We still haven’t even put a tree up. The funeral is arranged and Tia is finally on her way home.
I’ve yet to return to work but I know I can’t put it off much longer. Every day, I wake up with the intention of going in but I just can’t bring myself to get ready. Instead, I sit in bed and watch as Tristan gets ready.
He’s barely left my side since the day my mum left us.
Thomas hasn’t been to school in about a week and I know that I’m failing him. We spend most of our days watching cartoons in bed with intermittent bouts of crying.
Today, I have to get up.
It’s a Saturday and we’re all going to the airport to pick up Tia. I’m tempted to leave her there. I’m struggling not to resent her.
Thomas is excited that she’s coming home.
That’s the only reason we’re picking her up, I keep telling Tristan. He has very wisely kept his opinion on the matter to himself.
Thomas is already dressed and ready to go when I finally allow my toes to hit the cold wooden floor in my bedroom. I don’t want to get out of bed.
“Come on, Ella.”
Thomas has both my hands in his and is trying with all his might to drag me out of bed. Tristan is stood by the door, arms crossed, laughing merrily to himself.
“I don’t want to,” I complain.
“Time to go, Sweetpea.”
Tristan steps forward, a look in his eye, daring me to disobey.
“I don’t want to,” I say again.
“Do you want to go to the airport in your pyjamas?”
He smirks at me. I pout in response,
“Hurry up and get dressed or we’ll be late.”
“I don’t care.”
Tristan strides to my wardrobe – the one that now contains his clothes as well as mine – and pulls out something for me to wear.
Tristan has as good as moved in, we haven’t discussed it. My only fear is that he’s only here because I need him.
What if he’s just being a nice guy, looking after the grieving girl and her kid brother?
“Come on, Thomas. We’ll wait downstairs.”
Thomas follows Tristan out the door without another word. The two of them have become as thick as thieves. Their a pair of horrors when they are together but they are also the only two people on planet earth who seem to be able to make me smile these days.
Chapter Eighteen – Tristan
Tia proves to be a handful. She was a blubbering mess the day we picked her up. She seemed to think she was the only one grieving. She had barely met me and yet she literally flung her luggage at me, expecting me to carry it.
She demanded to sit in the front seat, a demand I refused to meet.
“No,” I’d said in a firm, authoritative voice that hopefully demanded respect.
“Why?” she asked.
“Your sister is sitting there.”
I was not about to have this bint sitting in the front seat of my car. I knew I shouldn’t dislike her on impulse but after all the different occasions she’d refused to come home, breaking her sister’s heart and increasing her sister’s burden, there was no chance of me liking her.
Ella didn’t even bat an eyelid at her sister’s behaviour, apparently this was normal for Tia Winthrope.
The day of the funeral was no better. She had acted as if she was the one who was looking after everyone, instead of Ella.
I’d had to stop myself snapping at her countless times over the few days she bothered to stay. Her mother’s body wasn’t in the ground more than forty-eight hours before she was back on a plane and out of our lives, thank fuck.
Both Ella and I sighed with relief as we waved her goodbye at the airport. All the fight Ella had left seemed to leave with Tia. That day was the last day she got out of bed for well over a week.
It was fast approaching the 20th of December and the world outside was festive but our home was bleak and lifeless. We still hadn’t put up a tree or bought any presents.
I had no idea what to do or how to make our dire situation better.
Each day I would go take Thomas to school, go to work, come home to try and talk Ella into eating something, go back to work, pick up Thomas from his childminder’s, go home, cook dinner, try and force Ella to eat again, put Thomas to bed, go to bed myself only to be woken up in the early hours by Ella as she tidied and cleaned the house.
She was depressed and I had no idea how to make her feel even the slightest bit happier.
The girl I’d first met when I joined TRW was long gone and I was left with just a husk. I was scared I might never get her back, but I couldn’t admit that aloud.
I had to keep faith, not only for myself or for Ella, I needed to keep father for Thomas because I was all he had left.
I needed a solution but everything I tried failed. Nothing I said made even the slightest impression. Nothing I did got a response.
It was Thomas who formulated a plan.
He’s even given it a name; Operation Fix Ella. His plan is the reason that I’m currently standing in the freezing cold, picking a real tree. I’ve never bothered to get a real tree before, mostly because I’m allergic but I don’t want to ruin the plan so there is no world in which I’m telling Thomas.
“Not that one,” Thomas says. “It’s too small.”
“This one?”
“No. It’s lop sided.”
He’s seriously fussy for a five-year-old. When I was five I would have just picked the biggest one, but not Thomas.
“This one?”
My hands are about to drop off from the cold. We’ve looked at over fifty trees and not one has lived up to the small child’s standards.
“Yes!”
He nods his head seriously.
Thank fuck!
I pay for the tree before he has time to change his mind and then we’re back in the car where I can finally warm up.
“What’s next?” I ask.
He’s the mastermind behind the plan to fix his sister, I’m just the investor.
“Decorations.”
Ella refuses to help us decorate the tree. At first, she refuses to leave her bed but I don’t leave her much choice when I hoist her over my shoulder and carry her downstairs.
I plonk her on the sofa so she can at least watch us decorate it.
“You’ll regret it if you don’t join in,” I whisper in her ear, but she isn’t moved.
I make us all a mug of hot chocolate in an attempt to increase the festivity inside the house and Thomas takes Ella’s phone, connecting it to the house speaker system. Before I return from the kitchen with the hot chocolate he has the most ridiculously jolly playlist playing.
He’s even jumping around the living room, in what I imagine is his idea of dancing. He
doesn’t ask Ella to join him but he watches her for any sign of reaction.
None comes.
Thomas and I make quick work of the lights, getting ourselves tangled up in them in the process. I look up at Ella occasionally, but she is just staring into space, completely devoid of life.
Once we’ve placed the lights, tinsel and baubles, Thomas picks up the angel. He wanders over to his sister and gives it to her.
“Please put the angel on the tree.”
I wonder briefly if she’ll refuse him. I pray silently that she won’t.
“Why?” she asks, her voice rich with unexpressed sadness.
“I need you to,” Thomas tells her, so I can get my Christmas Miracle.”
“She’s already gone.” Her words are blunt yet cutting.
“You’re my miracle,” he says before pulling his big sister into a hug.
Chapter Nineteen – Ella
I’ve failed. I don’t know how to be what either of them needs. It’s the day before Christmas and they are both trying so hard to make me smile. Every time I don’t, I fell like I’m failing them all over again.
I’m supposed to be the one looking after Thomas, and yet I’m leaving that responsibility to a guy who barely knows him.
It’s Christmas. This is supposed to be the happiest time of the year and I can’t even put a fake smile on my face for the people I love.
Tonight, they are dragging me out carolling. Apparently, I have no choice. Every time I want to say no I hear Thomas’s voice in my ear, you’re my miracle.
Some miracle I am… I’m making a right pig’s ear of this. I’m currently sat on the edge of my bed allowing Tristan to put my coat on for me, like I’m the child in the house not Thomas. He wraps a scarf around my neck, plonks a hat on my head and begins to put my hands into my gloves.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him.
It’s the first time I’ve voluntarily spoken in god knows how long.
“I know.”
His eyes seem to see right through me. I get the feeling he knows me better than anyone, that he sees me better than anyone. I don’t know any man that would stick around for this.
A Bleak December: Hanleigh's London (The Fate Series Book 4) Page 6
