Heart of Ice

by Sk Quinn

  I can feel Bertie shaking a little.

  ‘How are you feeling, Bertie?’ I whisper.

  He doesn’t answer me.

  Blake pulls up in front of us and climbs off his bike, holding a hand out to Patrick.

  Patrick grudgingly takes it, and the two men roughly shake hands.

  Blake is wearing motorbike leathers from head to toe, and creaks a little as he moves.

  ‘Look – I know you don’t want me here,’ says Blake. ‘But this is for the little guy. Right?’

  He kneels down to Bertie. ‘All right little lad?’

  Bertie frowns.

  Blake does a pretend frown back. ‘Very serious!’

  ‘He’s allowed to be serious if he wants,’ barks Patrick.

  ‘Okay, okay.’ Blake holds his hands up. ‘Calm down. Just having a chat. That’s all.’

  Bertie says: ‘Will you bring Mummy back here?’

  Blake’s face falls. ‘Is that why you wanted me? To get your mummy back?’

  Bertie nods.

  ‘I’m not sure about that Bertie.’

  ‘I have a plan,’ says Bertie. ‘Can I tell you about it?’

  Patrick and I exchange glances. This is news to us.

  What plan?

  ‘Tell you what,’ says Blake. ‘Let’s go inside. You’ll get cold out here. You and I can spend some time together. And you can tell me what it is you have planned.’

  ‘Okay,’ says Bertie, moving towards the castle door.

  Patrick and I follow.

  28

  In the entrance way we find Zara, all done up – bright red lipstick, tight dress and high boots, with a big fur coat around her shoulders.

  ‘Blake!’ she says, her eyes widening. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’

  ‘Is that the welcome I get?’ says Blake, running a hand through his brown hair. ‘After all you and I have been through? You’re looking hot. Where are you going, all done up like that?’

  ‘None of your business. What the hell are you doing here? After everything that’s happened with Anise. You should be ashamed of yourself.’

  ‘Hey. I didn’t do anything. Regan’s behind this whole thing. It has nothing to do with me.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Zara fires back. ‘You didn’t do a thing. When Regan took her—’

  ‘Regan didn’t take anyone,’ says Blake. ‘Anise went to him of her own free will.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ I say. ‘Anise told me. She said he took her at first. And then she realised it was all for the best.’

  Blake frowns, and a deep line appears across his forehead. ‘Not what Regan told me. Not what he told me at all. You have to watch him – that brother of mine.’

  ‘And what about Bertie?’ I say. ‘Didn’t you care that he was away from his family?’

  Blake laughs, showing nice white teeth. ‘He was with his family. His mum, me, Regan and Riley.’

  Bertie nods.

  ‘But if what you’re saying is right …’ Blake scratches his head. ‘I need to have a word with Regan, that’s for sure.’

  ‘When you see him, give him a good, hard slap around the face from me,’ says Zara, stalking past us.

  ‘Why don’t we go upstairs to the music room?’ I suggest. ‘Bertie likes it there and there’s room for Patrick and me too.’

  ‘Sure thing,’ says Blake. ‘Lead the way.’

  29

  Up in the music room, I meet the new housekeeper. Her name is Louise, and she’s tall with bobbed blonde hair. She’s very smiley, and does everything super quickly – talking, talking, talking as she serves us scones, blackcurrant jam and clotted cream.

  I like her straight away.

  ‘So.’ Blake takes off his leather biker jacket. ‘You asked me here. What exactly is it that you want?’

  ‘I didn’t ask you here,’ says Patrick. ‘Bertie did.’

  Blake nods. ‘You have some grand plan do you Bertie? To get your mother back? Are you ready to share it with us?’

  ‘You phone Mummy and tell her you’re here,’ says Bertie. ‘And then Mummy will come back too. She wants to be a family.’

  ‘But with Regan,’ Blake points out. ‘Not with me.

  ‘NO!’ Bertie yells. ‘She wants a family. With my daddy. And you’re my daddy.’

  ‘I might be, Bertie,’ says Blake. ‘But I’m no father figure. I learned that a long time ago. When you were a baby. You’re better off with your Uncle Patrick.’

  ‘Don’t want him,’ says Bertie. ‘Want you.’

  Blake laughs. ‘You don’t, Bertie. Trust me. You’re too young to understand. But I’m not the best choice. But listen – I’ll come and see you whenever I can. We can have fun. Just don’t ask me to be the dad of your dreams. Because that I cannot do. And don’t ask me to bring your mum back either. Because that I definitely can’t do.’

  ‘Have you … seen Anise?’ I ask.

  ‘Not much. She spends most of her time in Regan’s bedroom.’

  I sense the fury coming from Patrick in waves.

  ‘Bertie wants to see her,’ I say. ‘Please. Help us. He just wants to see his Mum. Can’t Regan persuade Anise to come here? To see Bertie?’

  Blake laughs. ‘He could. But he won’t. He’s got a nice little set-up going. A rich girlfriend who does everything he tells her to. Possibly a little bit of cash from her dad. The only way you’re going to get Bertie to see Anise is if you bring him to our farm.’

  ‘Forget it,’ Patrick snaps.

  ‘Patrick.’ I put a hand on his arm. ‘Couldn’t we at least consider it? I mean … Bertie needs his mother.’

  ‘The way Anise is right now, it could do more harm than good,’ says Patrick.

  ‘But Patrick—’

  ‘No.’ Patrick holds his hand up. ‘That’s exactly what Regan wants. My nephew in his clutches.’ He glares at Blake. ‘I trust you, Blake. But I don’t trust your brother. If Bertie goes over to your farm, who’s to say Regan won’t try to hold onto him? To poison his mind? No. It’s absolutely out of the question.’

  ‘I WANT MUMMY!’ Bertie shouts.

  I watch him helplessly. ‘Bertie, your mum is at Thornburn farm right now. With Regan. And we can’t go there, because Regan took you away from us. And he might again.’

  ‘I WANT TO GO BACK!’ yells Bertie. ‘I want to go back to Regan.’

  I feel my face go white. I steal a glance at Patrick. His jaw is tight.

  Oh holy Jesus.

  I remember again what May said. That we’d lost Bertie to the Thornburns. That his body was with us but his mind was elsewhere.

  ‘Bertie.’ I kneel down. ‘Regan isn’t a nice man.’

  ‘Careful there,’ says Blake. ‘That’s my brother you’re talking about.’

  ‘Watch it Thornburn,’ says Patrick. ‘Just watch it.’

  ‘Christ Patrick, you never could take a joke.’

  ‘It didn’t sound funny to me.’

  ‘I’m not threatening your girlfriend,’ says Blake lightly. ‘Don’t you worry. I like her way too much to upset her.’ He winks at me.

  Patrick steps forward, and I shoot out my hand to hold him back. ‘Hey,’ I yell. ‘Calm down. Okay? He’s just … don’t take it seriously.’

  ‘Just a bit of banter, mate,’ says Blake. ‘Although your girlfriend is pretty gorgeous. What is it with you Mansfields? You get all the best-looking girls. What happened to that girlfriend of Jamie’s – what was her name again?’

  ‘Clarissa,’ says Patrick, his voice hard.

  ‘The lovely Clarissa, wasn’t it?’ Blake continues, as if he hasn’t heard Patrick. ‘Beautiful. Bit snooty, though. Not like Seraphina here.’

  ‘Who says I’m not snooty?’ I counter.

  ‘I do,’ says Blake, hitting me with his soft brown eyes.

  ‘Look, we need to sort out something for Bertie,’ I say. ‘He needs to see his mother one way or another. No matter what frame of mind she’s in. This isn’t fair on him. Patrick. Listen –
if you and I have to take him to the Thornburn farm, then … maybe that’s just how it has to be.’

  I shudder at that thought, though. Seeing Regan again …

  ‘Absolutely not,’ says Patrick.

  ‘I’m not dangerous mate,’ says Blake lightly.

  ‘No,’ says Patrick. ‘But you’re loyal to two men who are.’

  ‘How about I take the little lad to see his mother?’ says Blake.

  ‘Yes,’ says Bertie. ‘You take me.’

  ‘Bertie—’ I begin. But Blake cuts me off.

  ‘You have my word I’ll take care of him,’ says Blake. ‘And I’ll bring him back here too. All in one piece. Regan won’t go against me. He might get mad sometimes, but we respect each other. If I tell him I’m bringing Bertie on a day trip, he won’t stop me taking him home again.’

  ‘What makes you so sure?’ I ask.

  ‘He’s my brother. I’ve never been surer of anything. And you know Patrick that I’m a man of my word.’

  ‘I do know,’ says Patrick. ‘You’re wasted as a Thornburn. There have been times I’ve thought you should have been a Mansfield, as a matter of fact.’

  ‘Steady on,’ says Blake, smiling. ‘I’m not quite a bow-tie wearing, wine-drinking nancy just yet.’

  To my relief, Patrick smiles too.

  ‘I haven’t forgotten what you did for Jamie all those years ago,’ says Patrick. ‘I trust you. But … to let my nephew go alone to your farm …’

  ‘Come with us then,’ says Blake. ‘At the very least, it’ll give me a good laugh – seeing the look on Regan’s face when you turn up.’

  ‘I can think of better ways of having a laugh,’ says Patrick.

  ‘Seriously, mate,’ says Blake. ‘You bring Bertie. Leave Seraphina here. I mean, that’s what you’re worried about isn’t it? That you can’t look after both of them.’

  ‘I can look after both of them,’ says Patrick darkly. ‘But bad things might happen in the process. Irreversibly bad things.’

  ‘Whoa there,’ says Blake, frowning. ‘They’re still my family Patrick. Just watch how you talk about them. All right.’

  The two men glare at each other.

  ‘Can you two calm down?’ I say. ‘This is getting us nowhere. Patrick – would you, I mean … do you think that’s a good idea?’

  ‘Perhaps,’ says Patrick. ‘But Blake is right – it’s best you don’t come. Safer that way. For Blake’s brothers.’

  ‘Bertie are you sure about this?’ I say, crouching down so I’m eye level to him.

  He looks sad and a little frightened. But he nods firmly.

  ‘I want to see Mummy.’

  My heart sinks. But I take his hands and manage a smile. ‘Listen, Mummy isn’t herself right now. Okay? Seeing her … I don’t think it’s for the best.’

  ‘Regan said you’d do this,’ Bertie fires back.

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘He said. When me and Mummy stayed with him. He said Uncle Patrick would stop me seeing Mummy.’ He begins to cry. ‘I want to see my mummy. I want to see her!’

  I sigh. ‘Bertie, you have to understand. Mummy isn’t well.’

  ‘I don’t care,’ says Bertie. ‘She’s still my mummy.’

  He’s right there. I glance at Patrick. ‘We’re stuck, aren’t we?’ I say.

  Patrick nods.

  ‘If we tell Bertie he can’t go, he’ll resent us. And think we’re against him. If he does go … Anise isn’t in a fit state … Oh what do we do, Patrick? What do we do?’

  ‘We let him see his mother.’ Patrick’s words are hard.

  ‘You think that’s the best thing?’

  ‘No. There’s no best thing here. But better than the alternative. That he starts to resent us. To see us as the enemy.’

  I nod. ‘You’re right. May already thinks we’ve lost him. We can’t risk him thinking we’re against him.’ I turn to Bertie. ‘Okay Bertie. Listen. If you really want to see Mummy then Uncle Patrick can take you. He’ll look after you, I promise. But I can’t come.’

  Bertie nods again.

  I don’t feel happy about that at all. I wanted him to beg me to come. To say that he wouldn’t go without me.

  I have a horrible sense that I’m losing him. That perhaps, like May said, I’ve already lost him.

  No. I can’t believe that. I won’t believe it.

  But he does need his mother to get better.

  That I know for sure.

  And who knows – maybe seeing Bertie will help with that. I mean, it can’t hurt. Right?

  30

  Afternoon comes around and I’m dreading Patrick and Bertie leaving.

  I trust Patrick completely. But I’m so afraid.

  I don’t want Bertie to be anywhere near Regan Thornburn. The thought of it makes me sick. And yet I have a feeling, deep down, that Regan won’t hurt him.

  The Thornburns are loyal to one another. That’s for sure. And Bertie is half Thornburn, even if we don’t know which brother that half comes from.

  I wonder if Dirk Mansfield knows how the kidnapping ended. That Patrick saved us. And that Regan couldn’t convince Bertie to lie.

  I suppose he must do.

  Will Regan try to get into Bertie’s mind again?

  Not with Patrick there. And anyway, he tried before. And failed.

  God – there’s so much to think about. To worry about.

  I hear a fast car shooting over gravel and peak out of Bertie’s bedroom window.

  Bertie and I have been playing computer games. It was the only thing I could get him to do – he wasn’t interested in going into the woods. Even when I said we could shoot some clay pigeons.

  Wila is with us, watching the Nutcracker on Patrick’s iPad. She’s practising the dance moves as she watches it. I know she’s itching to get back to her ballet. But the doctor said she should rest for a while. Take a break.

  Bertie is sort of indifferent to her. She’s tried to say hello. Play with him. Be nice. But he’s not interested in a new person right now. And I understand why.

  It’s Grey’s car.

  The red Ferrari zooms up the driveway, and I see Grey’s handsome face and tousled blond hair behind the wheel.

  There’s someone in the passenger seat – a man.

  He’s about Grey’s age, with brown hair and a slightly crooked nose.

  There’s a bandage around his head and under his chin.

  Suddenly I realise who it is.

  Oh my god.

  Danny.

  31

  ‘It’s our brother,’ I tell Wila, in a soft voice. ‘It’s Danny.’

  ‘What?’ Wila looks up from the iPad.

  Bertie carries on playing Xbox, jumping over boulders and searching for clues.

  He may want to play computer games, but there’s no way I’m letting him play the violent stuff he did before. It wasn’t good for him.

  ‘Danny,’ I say again, pointing to the window.

  ‘No way!’ Wila jumps up and follows my gaze. ‘How did … I mean, what’s he doing with Grey?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ I say. ‘Can you stay here with Bertie for a minute? I’m going to find out.’

  By the time I get out the front door, Danny and Grey are already climbing out of the car.

  Danny is sort of doubled over and limping a little. But when Grey tries to help him he waves his hand away.

  He’s wearing his old donkey jacket. And looks pretty pale.

  ‘Look who we’ve had flown in from London,’ says Grey, sliding his hands into his wool-coat pockets. ‘Brother Harper. Now we’ve got a complete set.’

  ‘Not quite a complete set,’ I murmur, thinking of Mum and Dad.

  ‘Sezza,’ says Danny, his voice all hoarse. ‘Do you know this guy? He seems to think I’m related to him.’

  The way Danny says it I know he’s joking around. I mean, if they’ve driven together from the airport they’ve had a while to get to know each other.

  ‘Yes, I know Grey
only too well,’ I say. ‘In fact, pretty soon we’ll all be related to him too. For better or worse.’

  ‘Where’s the king of the castle?’ Danny asks.

  ‘I’m right here,’ says a deep voice.

  I turn and see Patrick.

  ‘Welcome to Mansfield Castle,’ Patrick says, sticking out a hand to Danny. ‘Seraphina’s family are honoured guests here.’

  ‘Honoured guests?’ says Danny, with a sly smile. ‘Well blimey. I’ve never been called that before.’

  ‘Well you have now,’ says Patrick.

  Uh oh.

  I sense a clash brewing. Patrick doesn’t take any nonsense. And my brother talks nothing but nonsense.

  ‘He’s something of a character, your brother,’ Grey tells me. ‘Isn’t he?’

  ‘Yep,’ I say. ‘How are you feeling Dan?’

  I would hug him, but I think it might hurt him.

  ‘All right sis, all right.’ Danny limps towards me.

  ‘Patrick thought it would be better to bring Danny here to the castle,’ says Grey, wrapping his coat around himself. ‘Safer, first and foremost. But also a better place for him to recover.’

  ‘I wasn’t having any of it at first,’ says Danny, throwing a sideways smile at Grey. ‘He’ll tell you. But … he can be quite persuasive, this one. Can’t you mate?’

  ‘I can indeed,’ says Grey.

  ‘Indeed!’ Danny jokes. ‘Christ, Sezza. How did you get mixed up with this posh lot?’

  ‘I’m not that posh,’ says Grey. ‘Not as posh as Lord Patrick, anyway. My mum was a commoner.’

  Patrick raises an eyebrow. ‘Funny, Grey. Because you’ve always seemed very at home with a cocktail in your hand …’

  Grey laughs. ‘What’s wrong with cocktails?’

  ‘Real men drink beer,’ says Danny.

  ‘I drink beer,’ says Grey. ‘As long as it’s chilled and in a crystal glass.’

  We all laugh.

  ‘So what persuaded you to come?’ I ask Danny.

  ‘I want to get better,’ says Danny, suddenly serious. ‘As soon as possible. So I can look after my boy. And up here … Grey said it would be a good place. I can’t look after little Danny junior if I can barely stand up. Grey promised me good doctors. A safe place to rest. Didn’t you mate?’

  ‘The very best,’ says Grey.