The Vine

by C. A Ellis

  I shake my head in disbelief as I see their dad raise his eyes to the ceiling, as if he can’t quite believe what just came out of his son’s mouth. I hear Jean shout, “Cole!” as I look to Lucas, whose eyes are steely. Boy, when he looks like that, no one should ever want to cross him. I see Cole shrug as if he doesn’t know what all the fuss is about.

  I interrupt Lucas’s stare off with Cole, “Calm down a bit; you still need your rest. It’s still very early in your recovery, and I’ll explain what Cole means about Lizzy.” I see his mum nod in agreement.

  “I know she’s gone. Cole isn’t telling me anything I didn’t know,” Lucas croaks.

  Jean quickly says, “Dad and I will come back and see you laterlater darling. We’ll leave you to talk things over with Katy.” Lucas nods and weakly smiles at her; as she leans forward and kisses him tenderly.

  I can tell she doesn’t really want to leave, as the tears of her complete happiness that her eldest son is going to be fine well up in her eyes; her husband takes her hand and leads her out. Smyth, after saying how happy he is Lucas is okay, makes a joke about the business not running itself and leaves, pulling Cole with him. “Yeah, see ya, man!” Cole shouts as he’s hauled out the door, probably to get an earful from Smyth. I have seen so many sides to Cole over the last few days; who knows the man he really is?

  “We do need to talk, Lucas, but if you’re tired and want me to come back later, I will,” I say sympathetically.

  “Jesus, Katy, I’ve been in a coma. How much more rest do I need?” he huffs.

  “Yes, Lucas, a coma you have just come out of this morning. You need rest and relaxation to recuperate,” I scold.

  “I don’t want you to go, Katy. I want you to stay and help me come to terms with what’s happening with Lizzy. I know she’s been here; I was aware of her presence. I’m just in tune with her like that; I’m always aware of her presence. I was also aware of you shouting at me that Lizzy was gone and we need to find her. And now Cole’s just admitted what I was hoping was just a bad dream.”

  “They said you were going to die. She thought you were going to die; she would never have left if she had any inkling you would recover. She obviously just couldn’t take it. You know what she’s been through, what a mess she once was. She loves you too much, and I think she just knew she couldn’t survive watching you die and not being able to do a damn thing about it.” I am babbling, trying to protect and stand up for Lizzy’s actions like only a true friend would. I hand Luke my letter from Lizzy to read.

  He reads it through silently, and then looks up at me. “Where is it?” he asks.

  “Where is what?” I ask, slightly confused.

  “The letter—it says here that she wrote me a letter that was to be buried with me. I want to see it,” he clarifies. “Oh, it’s here,” I say as I jump up. “This was all here too when I arrived—the shoes, the necklace and bracelet, with your letter, and then the police added your belongings they found from the accident—your phone, keys…” I trail off before I say, “oh, and the ring. Where is the ring, by the way?” Lucas opens his hand and I see the box still in it. I smile as I say, “You’re not letting that go then?”

  “No, they had to pry it out of my hand to do the scans—said I was pretty strong for someone who had just come out of a coma.” He smirks, and then I see his face turn serious as he continues, “I’ve lost one beautiful thing; I’m not about to lose another.” Lucas’s amazing eyes stare straight into mine as he says, “I will find her, you know; I have to.”

  I nod unsurely as I ask what I know Lucas does not want to hear, “What if she doesn’t want to be found? And how and where would we even start?”

  “I’m telling you now, Katy; if I have to search the whole world for Lizzy, I will. I’ll leave my job and dedicate my whole life to finding her; she is my life. I know I will find her one day, and I will put that necklace around her beautiful neck, that bracelet around her tiny wrist and this ring on her elegant finger—you mark my words.”

  “I hope you are right, Lucas. I need my best friend back; I miss her already. I’ll come back tomorrow and we can discuss how or where we’re going to start our search. I will write a list of any possible places where she could go. You just rest and make a full recovery, because I’ve got a feeling you’re going to need your strength.”

  I hand Lucas his letter and I leave. He needs to be alone for whatever he is about to read, because I think when he reads it, he’ll probably feel his heart break a bit, just like mine had.

  Chapter Seventeen – Lucas

  I watch Katy leave, and then I instantly open my letter from Lizzy—a letter that was meant to have come with me to my grave. I hold the paper to my nose; it smells heavenly, like my glorious Angel. I open it out and start to read Lizzy’s last words to me:

  To my darling Luke, my beautiful man,

  My hands are violently shaking as I write this, because my mind and body are in complete shock and turmoil.

  This is the hardest thing I have ever had to do. I feel like I’m leaving you, when we both know I could not have ever done that. I would never have the want or the strength to leave you. It is, in fact, you who have left me, although not by choice, baby—I know that. You promised you would never leave me, and believe it or not, after years of trusting no one, I absolutely trusted you one hundred percent.

  Life simply took you away from me without giving you a choice, and that is what is so cruel to both of us…we never had a say in the matter.

  You’ve probably realised over our precious time together I am not really a strong person. Lately, you’ve been my strength, and the thought of watching you die is simply not an option for me. I am weak and it would have been too much, which is why I fled the situation instead of facing it head on. If I watched you die, I know I would’ve had no choice but to end my own life. Ending it all has crossed my mind, but it is bad enough I will leave with you thinking I am a coward; I just couldn’t cope with your disappointment too.

  I hope in death you can forgive me, as I’m sure you would have forgiven me of anything in life. You are my angel now. The six glorious months we’ve shared have been the best of my life, but I feel with our time together being cut so short there was still so much I didn’t do and didn’t tell you that I wish I had. I’m sitting here with questions—not questioning my love for you, because I loved you more than anything in the world—but I’m thinking of how every day you told me you love me; did I tell you enough? You told me I was your world; did I ever tell you that you were mine? Because you are. You held me close whenever you got the chance; did I hold you enough?

  Our relationship was a loving one—no one can deny that—but I just wish I would have told you more, shown you more how much I loved you and how much you meant to me. I hope you knew.

  This is my goodbye to you my beautiful man, I cannot believe all the things that I’m not going to have or feel again—your body close, your mouth against mine, your gorgeous smile when I wake up, your unconditional love, your care and protection. I’m hurting so bad, and I miss you so much already.

  The Sun will not shine in my life, as you were my sun,

  The Moon will not light my night, as you were my moon.

  The Stars will not accept my wishes, as you were my stars,

  My Heart will not love again, as you are my heart.

  Always & Forever,

  Your Angel X

  I finish reading, and then I do something I have never done; I sob—great heaving man sobs I never even knew I had in me. Be a man, Dad always instilled in us boys, crying is for girls. Straighten your back, hold your head up high and get on with life. But at this moment in time, I don’t care. I’ve just lost the absolute love of my life and I’m hurting. I’m hurting so bad and I need to let this shit out, or where the car crash failed, this will kill me.

  As I look at Lizzy’s letter, I just feel sad she’s had to go through this, and is still going through it alone. I can even see the ink is smudged where
her tears have fallen while she wrote it. My baby must have been so distraught, and all the pain she is enduring is because of me. I slowly pull myself together as I think, Yes, I will bloody cry, but then it stops here. Any energy I put into crying is strength and energy I will need to put into finding my girl, and I don’t care how long it takes; I will find her. Otherwise, the car crash might as well have taken me, as my life is not worth living without her in it. As sleep takes me again, it’s with thoughts rushing through my head of where I will start my quest of finding my lost Angel.

  Chapter Eighteen – Lizzy

  I wake to the sun streaming in through a crack in my curtains, and as I blink myself awake, I wonder yet again where I am. And then it hits me all over again—the nightmare that is my life. I glance over to the bedside clock. Wow, I think to myself when I see it’s 9:10am, I slept for almost fifteen hours.

  I call reception to ask if there is any breakfast available. Just as the receptionist is explaining breakfast finished at 9am, I can hear her being shouted at in Italian, and she immediately changes her tact, saying there is a continental breakfast available, and asks if I would like it brought up.

  “That would be great, thank you,” I say confused, but happy I now won’t have to go and sit in a room full of diners on my first morning in Italy.

  I am washed and dressed by the time breakfast arrives. There are some of the most beautiful pastries adorning the plate, but all I can manage is some fruit, yogurt and a coffee. I leave the tray outside my door and call reception to let them know it’s there, and then I make my way to my appointment.

  As I enter the salon, I am amazed at how plush it is. I had asked reception yesterday for the number of a local hair salon, and they had kindly booked me an appointment and given me directions, but I certainly wasn’t expecting this.

  This is a high-end salon, no doubt about that. I approach the front desk and give the receptionist my name; within seconds, there is a flurry of people around me asking how I am, removing my jacket and taking my drink order. I have never had this much attention in a hair salon in my life, but then I’d only ever been in for trims as I’d been growing my hair forever. I am then escorted through the salon, past ornate chairs and basins and taken through to an even more exquisite back room, which has its own chair and basin, and the most amazing artwork adorning the walls.

  Seated and finally left alone by the ample staff that had escorted me, I sit here for a few moments just taking everything in. Suddenly, the red, velvet curtains fly open and the most flamboyant Italian man I have ever seen strides out from behind them. “Buon giorno, Bella, I am Stefano Salvatore,” he loudly introduces himself in the most over-the-top Italian accent.

  “Hello,” I say, which is almost a whisper in comparison to his booming voice.

  “Ah, you’re English?” he enquires, slightly quieter than before, but still in his extremely strong accent.

  “Yes, I’m from London.”

  He then leans down to my ear, and in the most cockney voice I think I have ever heard, he whispers, “Good, so am I,” and then laughs hysterically.

  I am gobsmacked at first, but as the shock wears off, I start to laugh. “So all of that,” I say as I wave my hand toward the curtain, “is an act?”

  “Yep, afraid so,” he laughs, “but it’s our little secret, eh?”

  “Of course.” I smile.

  “So, doll-face, what are we doing with these luscious locks then?” he asks, raking his fingers through my long hair.

  “I want it all cut off,” I state firmly, like I had made my decision and it was final. At my statement, he stops playing with my hair; in fact, he stills completely, and then repeats slowly back to me, “You want it all cut off?” like he can’t quite believe what he is hearing.

  “Yes, I want it all cut off short,” I repeat.

  “Okay, would you like to look at some pictures first, so you can show me what exactly it is you require?”

  “Nope, I would just like you to cut it all off, thanks.” I sarcastically smirk at him at this point, wishing he would just do as I ask. It’s been a hard decision for me to make, so now that I have made it, I just want him to get on with it.

  “Okay, doll, I’ll do as you require, but I have to say before I do, these luscious locks are beautiful, and he must have been a real bastard to make you want to lose this gorgeous mane,” Stefano says while brushing his fingers through my hair like it’s made of fine strands of precious gold. I’m lost for words; the thought of Luke being thought of as a bastard has sent me reeling, and I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes.

  “What makes you think having my hair cut off is because of a man?” I try to ask normally, but my voice breaking gives me away.

  Stefano puts his hands on my shoulders reassuringly, saying, “I didn’t mean to upset you, baby girl; it’s just from my experience, when a young, beautiful woman wants a complete hair transformation that makes no sense, it’s normally because of a guy, or they are running away from something.” I lightly gasp at how accurate Stefano is. “Anyway, it’s not my place to judge, but if you’re sure you want this drastic change, then I’m your man. So leave it to me and I’ll make you look a million dollars.” He smiles.

  Although I nod pretty unconvincingly, he takes my hand and leads me over to the basin. I hug the towel he has placed around me and lean back. I feel somehow special, as I know he probably never normally washes his clients hair; he’d have a junior who does that, but for some reason, I’m getting this special treatment, and once again I want to cry, which seems the norm at the moment for any acts of kindness shown to me. While he washes and conditions my hair, he tells me his life story. He was born in Italy, and then his mum and dad had moved to London for his dad’s work when he was promoted, and so he was brought up there. He had always wanted to be a hairdresser, had trained and worked in the best salons in London and then moved back to Italy to open a world-class salon because there was a market for it. But the type of clientele he had would never accept him with his cockney accent, so he created this alter-ego, and he could switch from one to the other as required.

  Stefano leads me back to my seat and brushes out my hair; he then puts it in a ponytail and holds his scissors up to it. “This is your last chance, doll; are you sure about this?” I nod, so Stefano places the shears against the rope of hair and cuts the whole ponytail off. I wince, thinking, No going back now.

  He hands me the ponytail and I take it, stroking the hair Luke and I had loved so much, but now it just reminded me too much of him when I looked in any mirror or caught my reflection somewhere, and the searing pain I got every time it happened was getting harder and harder to live with. So it had to go, along with Lizzy.

  We chat easily while Stefano works his magic. He asks where I’m staying, and when I tell him, he seems to be impressed. We gossip like old friends until he finally steps back and I hear him say he’s finished. I’d been looking at him through the mirror the whole time that we’d been talking, but now I focus purely on myself. “Oh, my God,” I say, shocked.

  “Is that a good oh, my God, or an I’ve-made-such-a-huge-mistake oh, my God?” I hear Stefano say.

  “It’s absolutely amazing! This cut is a work of art, and to top it off, you’ve even made me look quite pretty,” I answer, still in shock of how amazing he’d made me look.

  “Baby girl, you are gorgeous anyway; this haircut just highlights that fact,” Stefano soothes. He holds a mirror up so I can get a good look at the back. I study it, still in shock, but absolutely amazed. It’s all tapered in at the back, accentuating my long, slim neck, and the front…well, the front just looks spectacular. It is a young, trendy, fashionable pixie cut that looks like it is straight off of the cover of Vogue, and it accentuates my small elfin features to the max. It makes me wonder why I had hidden myself behind all that hair for all these years; although deep down, I know why—Elizabeth was not a confident girl, and she preferred to be hidden away, rather than be noticed or stared at.
Admittedly, that had changed dramatically when I’d met Luke, because suddenly I felt whole, and he gave me confidence. I could not go back to that wallflower again; I wouldn’t allow it. Ella Castel would be strong and confident; it’s what Luke would have wanted. It’s also what Mum and Dad would have wanted, and now I know it’s what I want.

  Stefano wants me to have lunch with him, but I feel I need a bit of time to myself, so I take his card and tell him I will definitely meet him for lunch or dinner in a week or so. He makes me laugh as we head to the front of the salon and he goes back to his dramatic, over-the-top accent, using his arms to accentuate every word he is saying. He then kisses me on both cheeks bellowing, “Ciao, Bella,” and winking at me as he waves me off. Katy would have loved him, I think.

  I go and sit outside a café in the main square, and as I peruse the menu, I wonder if it is socially acceptable to have a glass of wine. I decide since it’s past lunchtime and I’m in Italy, it’s fine. I sit there with my large glass of chilled white wine and people-watch, thinking up stories and wondering if anyone’s tale is as tragic as mine. Before I get maudlin again, I start to think how lucky I’ve been here in Italy since I arrived. After all, I have been here less than twenty-four hours and I have been fortunate enough to not only meet one, but two people who have looked out for me, and who could—at some point, when I am ready—possibly be my friends. I sit at the café for ages, having another couple glasses of wine and eventually a salad, which I play with more than eat.