by Billy London
He had the briefest vision of smashing his guitar into the floor. A potentially wonderful release to counter the frustration of his condition. It was a stupid idea. If he destroyed his guitar, he’d have to explain to the trustees why he needed a new one. It was his fault. To think of all the wasted opportunities, times where he could have avoided this situation altogether, was all, in retrospect, pretty pointless.
Charlie arrived within the hour. “Paced it, my son,” he laughed, blinding white teeth in his dark face. He gave Auden a welcoming hug. “Bring me a beer, boy.”
“You’re not allowed to drink,” Auden warned, relieved at his counsellor’s presence. How different a human being would he have been if Charlie Sarpong had been his father?
“My daughter doesn’t know everything. A little raised blood pressure doesn’t mean I should change my whole lifestyle. Smart arse.”
Auden laughed and gave him a slap across the shoulder blades. “Come to the kitchen.”
Charlie sat at the table. Auden skidded a bottle of beer to him. “Aren’t you going to tell me I shouldn’t have alcohol in the house?”
“I don’t need to tell you anything, Auden. Besides this is non-alcoholic.” Charlie’s dark eyes fixed on him. “Talk, boy.”
Auden closed his eyes for a moment. “Just…wishing for a time machine. Make different choices, be a different person. Not be in certain places at certain times.”
“A man should not strive to eliminate his complexes but to get in accord with them, for they are legitimately what directs his conduct in the world,” Charlie quoted. “In the words, of another more eloquent man, ‘to thine own self be true.’”
“I am what I am, right?”
“Of course.”
He rubbed his palms over his scalp. “It’s hard to trust that when people are very helpful in telling you how much you need to change.”
“Out of everything you’ve heard, that’s what you think?”
Auden sighed. “Well, yeah. I mean look, I did stupid things when I was younger. Who didn’t? But I have a curfew, I can’t touch my own money, and my family moved to the other side of the world. It’s all pointless.”
“That’s not changing your character, that’s changing the decisions you make. Regaining your autonomy. That’s what we want for you.”
Romely doesn’t, he thought, bitter frustration rising in his chest again. “I made one decision, Charlie. That’s what I’m being endlessly punished for.”
“I think you’re looking at it the wrong way, son,” Charlie said with the effervescence that made Auden love the man. “You’re accounting everything to one decision, rather than seeing it as an opportunity to embrace something new. You can only look to the past for so long. You can be who you were without any artificial enhancement, without relying on dangerous drugs or activities. What do you have to do work-wise?”
“I’ve been told to perform at a company retreat.”
Charlie clapped. “Good! Where else will you find such hope? You can help uplift those in need of cheering up and do the same for yourself.”
“With booze on tap.”
“It’s all about choices,” Charlie warned. “You’ve been clean and sober for some months now. Don’t you feel ready to be around genuine emotions? Test yourself?”
His head began to ache with being pushed. He’d called Charlie here, but he didn’t want to think about it, let alone talk about it. “It’ll pay a tax bill I forgot to sort out. I’ll end up singing shit by bands I can’t fucking stand…sorry, Charlie…but a change of scene will always help me write.”
Charlie gave a gentle smile. “You sound positive.”
“Nah. Realistic.”
“As long as it isn’t negative, we’ll take what we can. Have you thought any more about speaking with the trustees? You haven’t had a manic episode for a while, there should be no reason why they shouldn’t give control of your wealth back.”
Auden couldn’t agree with him more, but it wasn’t as if he could say anything about it.
Charlie inclined his head. “Don’t push yourself to make that decision if you don’t feel ready, but it’s what I’ll be recommending.” He glanced at his watch.
“Do you want me to put on Sky? Football’s about to start.”
“You’re a god amongst men.” Charlie sighed.
Auden rummaged in the cupboard for some of Charlie’s favourite snacks and prompted his counsellor into the living room. What Auden missed more than his family was the company. He hadn’t been alone in his whole life, and he regretted that he had ever wished for the opposite.
Chapter Three
Helena didn’t want to keep her sister waiting at the restaurant. Just because Ophelia looked like Snow White didn’t mean she couldn’t take a man apart with her bare hands. It was a relic of being adopted at the hardened age of thirteen from a mother who’d been addicted to cocaine and a father who hadn’t acknowledged her existence. When the Sarpongs adopted Ophelia, Ophelia and Desdemona fought like cats. The clash of personalities was titanic but Ophelia protected Helena instantly. All she’d missed growing up was a pair of sunglasses, a black suit, and an ear piece.
Ophelia had happily accepted a complete change and everything else she’d been bestowed with by their parents, including her name—anything to separate her from the life she’d simply survived in. The new name gave her an instant family and helped her accept that even fighting with Desdemona was something normal and loving. Sharper than a katana sword, Ophelia hadn’t quite erased the East end accent, despite being educated at the best secondary school and the best university in London. Neither had she lost the tendency to f and blind at anything that grated on her nerves. While Charles and Victoria Sarpong couldn’t be prouder of their daughters, they did wince every time Ophelia opened her mouth. Helena really did love her sister. She simply had a healthy respect for avoiding being slapped.
Helena got to the French restaurant, just as Ophelia was heading inside.
“There you are!”
Ophelia gave her a kiss on the cheek and then snapped her fingers at the waiter. “Let’s go! Hungry bitches here.”
Oh God. Helena always readjusted her sense of shame when Ophelia was in the vicinity. Within seconds they were seated and Ophelia had ordered an obscenely expensive bottle of wine and two steaks, medium well.
“You’ve got to come with me,” Ophelia blurted.
Helena sighed. “Can’t I just have a moment first before you make demands on me?”
“Look, I have to go to this team building retreat. It’s ridiculous. As if there aren’t a million things we need to spend money on. Oh no! We need to stick together in these turbulent times. It’s bullshit. A bribe to make sure we don’t jump fucking ship and sue them all for constructive dismissal. Do not make me go solo to this crap.”
The wine arrived and Helena watched her sister take the bottle from the waiter and pour most of it into both her glasses, emptying her water into Helena’s wine glass. “Why do you want me to be around people I don’t know?”
Ophelia snorted. “They’re my colleagues. I spend more time with them than I do you. The idea that I have to spend enforced time with that bunch of absolute over-privileged knobs really pisses me off. I cannot go alone. It’s in the middle of nowhere.”
“What’s the middle nowhere?”
“Kent.”
“Fee, Kent isn’t the middle of nowhere,” Helena chided.
“That’s because you drive. Are there any tubes linking Kent to London? No. Middle of Fucking Nowhere. On a country estate,” Ophelia grumbled through gulps of wine. “Come on. Please. I’ve already bought you something to wear for the evening do. McQueen.”
“Clothing of the gods,” Helena murmured in awe. She had the perfect pair of McQueen heels to go with that. “No I can’t. I don’t fancy it.”
Her sister’s eyes narrowed. “Three letters for you. G.M.C.”
Oh, that was out of order. “I wasn’t self-medicating!”
> Helena had been caught out by the most hideously bitchy practice manager ordering a set of sleeping tablets that hadn’t been prescribed for any other patients. Short of explaining that she had a near prophetic manner of diagnosing her patients because of the “m” word, she’d been left with little else but to confirm that the tablets had been for herself. In a strange way, she was only proving her late aunt right. Helena was indeed a witch. But her powers were for the “greater good.” Chlamydia could be detected with a handshake. Cancer by the pitch of tone. Bronchitis separated from a simple cough. No one knew and that was how it would stay.
The toll on her sleep came from her experiences as a child. No medication had any effect on her. Lucky for her, Ophelia was ridiculously connected through little else but an admiration of her sheer hard work. Helena received a slap on the wrist for ordering the pills, but her practice manager was keeping a beady eye on her.
“Good thing we proved it for you. Now. This is your dress,” Ophelia pulled up the website. It was beautiful, but horrifically upstaging.
“How is that a team building outfit? It’s more Saturday night meat market.”
“How dare you refer to McQueen as a meat market?” Ophelia grinned then chose another email, “This is what the estate looks like.”
“I’m getting a separate room, right?” Helena risked a glance upward. Dammit, Ophelia would know what that meant.
“Why do you need a separate room?” Ophelia asked with an abnormal delicacy.
“I mean I wouldn’t want to disturb you in your team building and I know how you are about personal space…”
Her sister shook her head. “You’re not sleeping again. Are you?” Helena twisted her mouth, searching for the lie that wasn’t going to come. “Fuck’s sake, Hells. You need to talk to Dad. Whatever drug cocktail you are on, it’s not working!”
“It’ll go away,” Helena assured her. “It stopped for years. It’ll stop again.”
Ophelia’s mouth twisted. “What does Josh think?”
Whoa, not talking about him. “It doesn’t really concern him.”
“He’s the selfish cunt who is supposed to be your boyfriend,” her sister replied. “Dump him already.”
“He dumped me. And you shouldn’t be dictating my sex life,” Helena warned. Ophelia was too goddamn bossy sometimes—just because she was the oldest. It brought out the “fuck you” in Helena.
“I’m just—”
“Don’t. Care.”
Ophelia’s eyes widened. “Fine! You were too good for him anyway. What happened?”
Helena stared into her water. Josh is the perfect example as to why I should stay away from men. “I was interrupting his night time sleep schedule. He said he spoke to you about it.”
Ophelia half spat her wine back into her glass. “Did you give that cunt my mobile number?”
“No.” Helena sighed. “Don’t be silly. I wouldn’t do that to you. I actually like you. I knew he was lying, so I don’t know why I let him wind me up.”
Possibly to disprove his theory that she was devoid of human sentiment. Poor Josh, she did pity him. He wanted her to feel something for him that she wasn’t entirely sure she was capable of. She considered whether a text message apologising would help.
Ophelia went in for the kill. “Then coming to Kent will be the best thing. You’ll get out of London—relax, go to the spa for a bit, walk. Eat some Michelin star food.” Helena wavered as their food arrived. Her sister lost her temper. “Look, are you coming or not?”
“This is the last favour I do for you.”
Ophelia cut into her steak with the barest lift of her eyebrow. “Oh-kay then.”
Chapter Four
The eight p.m. train to Ashford hadn’t taken long at all and Helena felt an immediate sense of relaxation that came with the quiet. Ophelia had grunted in the direction of her colleagues before demanding room service. Helena’s room was connected by a single door, for which she was both relieved and disappointed. A separate bedroom at least gave her some distance, but the door meant Ophelia would hear her if she had disturbed sleep. Guaranteed Ophelia and her Vulcan-like hearing would notice.
Once she’d eaten copious amounts of food, Ophelia announced it was past her bedtime and was asleep within minutes, leaving Helena twiddling her thumbs. A glance at her watch told her to do something more useful than attempting to bore herself into exhaustion. Taking a walk seemed like a good idea. She’d be perfectly safe doing so as she was hardly walking through Hackney. Making her way from the estate, she ended up on what was supposed to be the main road, but instead looked like a country path.
It was pitch black outside and gloomy grey clouds looked heavy with rain. She took a brief look around before she rubbed her palms together and separated them; smoothing her hands before the sky until the clouds evaporated. The sudden silvery glow of the moonlight gave an eerie feeling to the area. She half expected to see fairies dancing from leaf to leaf, fireflies circling the air, elves hunting for herbs and concoctions.
Kent got such a bad rap for being boring, but to Helena, it was simply beautiful. No sleep though. It was also her first weekend Josh-less. The sweetness of silence, unmarred by his command for her to not disturb him... She asked herself if she really was going to text him or was it a blatant lie? It needed to be done, at least for her own peace of mind. Tomorrow. Definitely, she’d text him tomorrow. He’d need a little space from her first.
She tugged on the heel of her ballet flats, securing them on her feet and started to walk briskly. Soon enough the hotel was far behind. With a deep breath of fresh air, she bent down to feel the blades of grass between her fingertips, the roughness of bark on the trees, the sap dripping from the leaves, the physical touch feeding into her whole body, sharpening her sight and intensifying her sense of smell.
Helena glanced up and her heart nearly exploded in fear. There was an animal in the distance. Holy God on earth, it was huge! It trotted toward her. Nothing could have forced her to move, she was utterly rooted to the ground. Fear held her still as the animal—a lion of what could only be genetically mutated proportions—came to stand before her.
Like a friendly tomcat, he butted his head into her tummy, nearly knocking her over. She giggled abruptly. He blinked, all huge violet eyes in straw-coloured fur. Intrigue made her crouch to look at him, and in response, he touched his cold wet nose to her own. Laughing she trailed her fingers through his mane, a silvery blond that slipped through her digits like water.
How bizarre, she thought, noting the leopard-like markings over his nose. They could be mistaken for freckles. The lion suddenly flopped to his side and stretched out, his paws extending as he yawned. She sat beside him, the length of his body a furnace at her back and began petting him, his purring sending tremors through her arm.
“Where did you come from?” she asked softly. Helena wasn’t a small woman by any man’s standards but this beast simply dwarfed her. Why was he so tame? The lion turned his head to look at her and put a paw over his eyes as if slapping his forehead which made her laugh again.
“Okay, I get it. Don’t ask silly questions. Can I take you home with me?”
He rolled his body against her and closed his eyes again, laying his head on his paws. She’d never felt so warm. There was no way this could be happening, she had to be dreaming. Or else how could she possibly be sitting at the side of the road in Kent with a lion snoring behind her? Was he snoring? That had to explain the earthquake tremors beneath her bottom. He smelled like warm sand and salt.
“I’ve got nowhere to go and it’s not like I’ll be sleeping properly. I can stay where I am.”
The lion gave a grunt of assent before resting back on his paws. “Nice to know you agree with me.” He was so very warm…
***
“Miss?”
Helena snorted awake. The ground was cold and wet and evidently lion-less. An elderly man leaned over her. His dog frantically sniffed around her and he struggled to keep his p
et under control.
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She scrambled to her feet, shivering. “Yes, I’m fine. You don’t know what time it is, do you?”
“Just going quarter past eight.”
Her jeans and top had wet grass and fallen leaves stuck to them and God only knew what her face looked like. “Thank you. Sorry I disturbed you.”
His frown deepened. “Our GP runs a Saturday service until one in the afternoon. Maybe you should pop in.”
“I’m just here for the weekend,” she excused. Telling him she was a GP herself would only make things worse. “Thank you for waking me.”
She turned and hurried back to the estate, zipping past some guests who were already awake and alert for a divine smelling breakfast and ran straight to her room. Ophelia perched on her bed, her iPad on her knees, an imperious look on her face. “Where were you?”
“I went for an early morning walk,” Helena lied.
Ophelia’s eyebrow raised. “In what you wore last night?”
“I didn’t want to waste the clothes I’ve brought with me for just a walk.”
“Did you roll down a hill as well?”
“Fee, leave it out. I’m not a child. Go away, let me have a shower and I’ll meet you downstairs for breakfast, all right?”
Fee closed the cover on her iPad. “Obviously that walk didn’t do anything to improve your mood. If you come downstairs, you better behave. I’ve only got you to talk to, so it’s best we don’t piss each other off.”
Helena clutched her head. She was going backwards again. Why was she dreaming about lions and going sleep walking? Fucking, sodding Kent.
Chapter Five
Ophelia was putting the fear of God into everyone. The fact that she was a dark-haired, pale skinned white girl with Sarpong as her surname inevitably confused people. When she introduced Helena as her sister, after looking at all six feet of Helena and taking in her nut-brown skin, the automatic response was, “Oh, your adopted sister?”
