by Sk Quinn
Then Patrick pulls back.
He climbs on top of me, his hardness slipping between my thighs.
He pushes my legs further open and inches little by little inside of me.
I feel him fill me up.
The moon shines on his bronzed back as he begins to move back and forth.
I wrap my legs around him and we look into each other’s eyes, moving together.
Patrick is gentle and patient, moving and moving and moving until my legs start to tighten again.
I let my head drop back and moan.
He moves faster and harder.
A soft, gentle orgasm creeps up from my ankles to my thighs and then all the way around my naval.
‘I love you Patrick,’ I moan. ‘I love you.’
I cling to him as I come, and he comes too, pushing his pelvis right up against me and letting out a low moan.
He grips my buttocks and pushes himself deep, deep inside me.
Then he rolls us onto our sides, me still clinging to him, our arms wrapped tightly around each other.
His fingers lightly caress my arms, back, neck, hair … everywhere. For a long time. Until I fall asleep.
78
What was that noise?
A knock at the door.
It’s early morning, I realise. Very early morning. Way before Bertie gets up.
With a flash I realise that I’m getting married tomorrow.
Just one more day …
But who is that at the door?
Patrick is in bed next to me, propped up on one elbow. Frowning.
‘Who is it?’ he barks.
‘Pardon me sir,’ says Louise’s voice. ‘It’s the housekeeper. You have a visitor.’
‘A visitor?’ Patrick’s frown deepens.
‘I’ve shown her into the long gallery. I hope I did the right thing.’
Patrick leaps from the bed and throws on cargo trousers and an army jumper. ‘I’ll be right there.’
‘Um … they’ve requested Miss Harper too,’ says Louise.
‘Me?’ I ask.
We hear Louise’s footsteps fade away.
I get out of bed too, pulling on new clothes I bought with Hugo – black skinny jeans and an oversized cashmere sweater. I slide new bright-pink ballet pumps onto my feet, and hurry to Patrick’s side.
‘Who could it be?’ I ask.
‘I have no idea. But we’re about to find out.’
79
The Long Gallery is a floor up from our bedroom. It’s a long, thin room decorated with oil paintings of the Mansfield family.
Pink silk sofas line the walls, their white wood legs carved with cherubs and roses.
On one sofa sits our guest.
Oh holy Jesus.
I stumble against Patrick, and he steadies me with his arm.
‘Mum,’ I say.
My mother is dressed in a flowing rainbow cardigan, brown corduroy trousers and Doc Marten boots. Her short, cropped hair is dyed bright pink and her elphin face is smiling eagerly.
‘What on earth are you doing here?’ I turn to Patrick. ‘Did you invite her? After our talk last night?’
‘No. But I’m delighted to have your mother visit us. She’ll always be welcome here.’
There’s a cloth rucksack by Mum’s feet with badges sewn all over it. Oh god. She’s planning on staying a while.
‘Hey kid.’ Mum smiles. ‘Fancy seeing me here. Right?’
‘You can say that again.’
‘Thought it was high time I paid you a visit.’ She looks so tiny in this huge room.
‘Why are you here?’
‘Can’t a mother see her daughter once in a while?’
‘You never saw the need when I lived in London,’ I say. ‘So why when I’m all the way up here in Scotland?’
‘I missed you, kid. It’s been too long.’
‘Someone’s told you about the wedding tomorrow. Haven’t they?’
Mum gives a guilty smile. ‘I may have heard something about it.’
‘Good to meet you, Miss Harper,’ says Patrick, reaching out his hand.
Mum throws him a dazzling smile. ‘Miss Clacton, actually. But you can call me Dita.’
‘Good to meet you Dita.’ Patrick shakes her hand warmly.
‘How did you even get here?’ I ask Mum. ‘It’s like … six o’clock in the morning.’
‘I took the train last night. Got in early.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?’
‘Oh, you know I like surprises.’
‘Well I don’t like surprises.’
Mum does her hurt face. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do anything wrong. I mean, I came all the way up here to see my little girl … are you saying you don’t want to see me?’
‘Don’t be silly Mum. Of course I want to see you. But …’
‘Then who cares how I got here? Or why?’
‘You must be hungry after your trip,’ says Patrick. ‘Can I get you some breakfast? Or a cup of coffee perhaps?’
‘Coffee sounds great,’ says Mum, beaming at Patrick.
I roll my eyes.
Here we go again.
80
Patrick leads us down to the great hall.
Vicky is already pottering in the kitchen and claims its ‘no trouble’ to get Mum coffee and toast. Even though I can see she’s right in the middle of her own breakfast.
‘I didn’t have time to book a hotel.’ Mum takes a sip of coffee. ‘Are there any nice B&Bs round here?’
‘You can stay in the castle with us,’ says Patrick. ‘There’s plenty of space.’
‘How long are you planning on staying for Mum?’ I ask pointedly.
‘Oh … just as long as I’m needed.’
‘I think I have everything under control,’ I say. ‘And what about lover boy? Won’t he be getting lonely?’
Mum’s face falls. ‘I have no idea.’
Uh oh.
‘Have you two broken up again?’
‘He … he walked out on me yesterday.’
‘Yesterday,’ I say. ‘Of course he did. And let me guess. You booked your train ticket right around the same time?’
‘If a mother can’t come to see her daughter—’
‘Oh don’t give me that mother crap,’ I snap. ‘You’re not here to be a mother. You’re here because you’re having relationship dramas.’
Mum’s big eyes go all wide and tearful. ‘Honestly, Seraphina. This is so painful for me. I love you so much. Don’t you know that?’
‘You have a funny way of showing it,’ I say.
‘Seraphina, that’s no way to talk to your mother,’ says Patrick.
‘You don’t know what she’s like,’ I say. ‘She does this, Patrick. She makes you feel sorry for her.’
‘Look, if I’m not welcome here I’ll just get a train back to London,’ says Mum. ‘And go back to the flat on my own. It’s very frightening there when you’re by yourself.’
I sigh. ‘Okay, okay. Stay here then. You’ll go running back to London anyway. As soon as he rings you.’
‘No I won’t,’ says Mum quietly.
‘Really?’ I say, my voice loaded with disbelief.
‘No. Not this time. He’s left me, Seraphina. For good.’
‘You always say that—’
‘But this time I mean it. And I don’t even want him back. I’ve had enough. Enough of the drugs. The lies. The arguing. It’s time I got all that out of my life.’
‘I’ve been telling you that for years. What’s made you decide it for yourself all of a sudden?’
‘He’s got another woman pregnant. She’s not much older than you, either.’ Her voice breaks. ‘How could he do this to me? After all the years I’ve given him? After all the things I’ve forgiven?’
‘Because he’s an arsehole Mum,’ I say. ‘We’ve been telling you for years. But you wouldn’t listen.’
‘You’re right, you’re right. I was stupid. Selfish. But I was so lo
nely. You don’t understand how hard it was for me. Children to bring up. Men aren’t interested in women with baggage.’
‘You can do better,’ I say.
‘Dita, you’re welcome to stay here at the castle as long as you need to,’ says Patrick. ‘We have staff here. They can take care of everything. As I said to your son, Seraphina’s family are more than welcome.’
‘Danny’s here?’ Mum asks.
I nod. ‘He got in a spot of bother down in London. So he’s staying for a bit.’
‘That sounds like Danny.’
I check my watch. ‘Bertie will be awake soon. I should go get him. But …’
I SO don’t want to leave Patrick alone with my mother. She has a very clever way of getting people to like her. Patrick will start thinking she’s some super mother, and I’m a spoiled headstrong daughter.
‘You don’t need to babysit me, if that’s what you’re worried about,’ says Mum, taking a swig of coffee. ‘I’ll be fine with Patrick.’
‘I’m happy to stay with your mother,’ says Patrick. ‘Get to know her a bit better.’
‘That’s what I’m afraid of,’ I mutter.
81
I find Bertie sat up in bed gripping the duvet with his little white fingers.
‘Did you have fun with Grandma Daphne yesterday?’ I ask him.
He nods.
‘I’m glad. Hey – guess what? I saw your mummy at dinner.’
Bertie looks at the bedclothes.
‘Listen Bertie. She still loves you very much. Even if she’s not acting … like usual.’
‘I had a bad dream.’
‘Oh?’
‘About Grandpa Dirk.’
‘Do you want to tell me about it?’
‘I was at Grandpa Dirk’s house. You kept asking me to say what he did. But I couldn’t talk. So then Grandpa Dirk came to get you and Mummy and Uncle Patrick.’
‘Bertie, you don’t need to worry about Grandpa Dirk. Patrick will keep us all safe, okay? No matter what happens.’
Bertie’s hands begin to shake. ‘But they’re going to let him out. If I don’t talk, they’ll let him out.’
‘Just remember that no matter what happens, Patrick will protect us. I trust him. And you should too.’
‘I don’t want Grandpa Dirk to be allowed out,’ says Bertie. ‘I can’t talk. I can’t.’
‘You can Bertie. We’ll be with you. I believe in you.’
Bertie looks away from me.
‘Let’s just focus on the wedding for now,’ I say. ‘Only one day to go. It’ll be fun. You’ll get to wear a suit. There’ll be lots of people. A big church. Are you looking forward to it?’
‘Will Mummy be there?’
‘Yes. She’s going to be one of my bridesmaids. Probably.’
‘I want to see her.’
‘I know you do Bertie. I know.’
82
I take Bertie down to the great hall for his breakfast.
Dad, Danny and Grey are sitting with Mum and Patrick.
‘Good morning,’ Grey bellows. ‘My, my Seraphina. We’ve been hearing all about you.’
Oh god. What are they talking about?
‘Morning!’ I say brightly, squeezing in beside Patrick so Mum has to shift along. ‘Mum. This is Bertie. Patrick’s nephew. And the little boy I look after.’
‘Good morning Bertie,’ says Mum, smiling and shaking his hand. ‘Seraphina’s told me all about you.’
No I haven’t, I want to say. But I keep quiet.
‘Me and Mum were just telling Patrick about when you were little,’ says Danny. ‘And how you used to dress up your Barbies in my action man doll clothes. You always did like soldiers. Even then.’
I go bright red. ‘Shut up Danny!’
‘Sorry Sezza, but it’s the brother’s job to embarrass his sister.’
I glare at him.
‘And she used to play with pocket knives too,’ Dad tells Patrick. ‘She liked to carve things in apples and so on. Always the little artist.’
‘I’m getting an education on you this morning, Seraphina,’ says Patrick.
‘Haven’t we got anything more interesting to talk about?’ I say.
‘Talking about you is a lot of fun,’ says Danny. ‘Hey. Do you remember the time you took all your clothes off and jumped in the fountain at Trafalgar Square?’
‘DANNY! I was only four. You make it sound like—’
‘I remember that day,’ says Mum, buttering some toast. ‘This is a fantastic breakfast. Best I’ve ever eaten.’
‘You can thank Vicky for the breakfast,’ says Patrick.
‘Some of us have already,’ says Grey, winking at Vicky through the serving hatch.
I eat my breakfast super fast, helping Bertie as best I can.
He manages quite a bit of boiled egg.
The second he puts his spoon down, I say: ‘Right! Come on then Bertie. Let’s take a walk in the woods. Patrick? Will you come with us?’
‘Why the hurry sis?’ Danny asks. ‘Are you trying to get Patrick away from us? Don’t worry – after tomorrow you’ll have him all to yourself again.’
‘Not at all,’ I lie. ‘I just fancied some fresh air. That’s all.’
‘I’ll come too,’ says Danny. ‘I could do with a smoke.’
‘Can I join you too?’ says Dad, pulling his lumberjack shirt straight. ‘A walk in the heart of Scotland. I can’t think of anything better.’
I sigh. ‘Yes, fine.’
‘Walking?’ says Mum. ‘Not really my cup of tea, but … if you’re all going I suppose I’ll have to as well.’
‘You really don’t have to,’ I say, a little too quickly.
‘I don’t want to stay here all on my own,’ says Mum. ‘I’ll put some warmer clothes on first though.’
‘I’ll have some walking clothes sent up to your room,’ says Patrick.
‘Will you know your way to your room?’ I ask. ‘This castle can be a bit of a maze.’
‘Louise can accompany your mother,’ says Patrick.
‘No, I’ll be fine,’ Mum insists. ‘I can find my way.’
‘What if she gets lost?’ I ask Danny.
Danny shrugs. ‘You worry too much. She’s your mother, not your daughter.’
‘Someone should have told her that,’ I fire back. ‘When I was paying her rent.’
83
We gather outside the castle, waiting for Mum.
The Thornburns are racing their quad bikes around the lawn, making big, ugly tyre marks.
Anise leans against the castle wall watching them. She looks freezing.
Danny runs over and offers her his gloves.
She seems frightened and shakes her head. Then she slips her pale hands under her armpits. But her eyes stay on Danny as he walks back across the lawn.
Suddenly, the front door clatters open.
‘Thanks for waiting.’ Mum is wrapped up in her big wool duffel coat. She’s wearing her parachute trousers and Doc Martens.
‘Why didn’t you change into the walking gear Patrick sent up for you?’ I ask. ‘Those trousers will get ripped to shreds on the brambles.’
Mum wrinkles her nose. ‘I’m not old just yet. I’d rather die than wear those sensible clothes.’
‘So what took you so long?’
‘Oh nothing, nothing. Just … well, finding my way around.’
‘You mean you got lost?’
‘No. No, not lost exactly. Just a little detour.’
I glance at Danny and know we’re both thinking the same thing.
Yeah right.
84
We start walking, and almost straight away Mum starts to complain.
‘It’s so cold out here. I didn’t realise there’d be so many sharp brambles. The rocks are hurting my feet.’
I point out that if she’d put on proper walking gear, she wouldn’t be feeling cold. Or brambles. Or rocks.
But I can tell it’s going in one ear, out the other.
> ‘Danny, give us one of those cigarettes will you?’ Mum says.
Danny hands her a cigarette and helps her light it.
‘That’s a filthy habit, you two,’ says Dad.
‘Oh don’t start,’ says Mum. ‘I had enough of that when we were together.’
‘But not enough to make you stop your bad habits,’ says Dad.
‘Give it a rest,’ says Mum.
Patrick slips his hand into mine.
‘Families hey?’ I whisper. ‘Don’t you just love them?’
‘I love you. And that’s all that matters.’ Patrick frowns at the sky. ‘You know we’d better get back. There’s a storm coming.’
85
Patrick’s right about the storm.
We’re barely back in the castle when rain starts lashing the windows.
We all have lunch together in the great hall.
‘I hope Hugo’s electric car can make it through this rain,’ says Patrick, forking shepherds pie into his mouth.
‘Hugo?’ I ask, taking a sip of water.
Patrick nods. ‘He’s coming over this afternoon to do your final dress fitting.’
‘But what about everyone else?’ I ask. ‘Bertie. And my mum and dad. I can’t go swanning off for a dress fitting.’
‘It’s fine.’ Patrick chews and swallows. ‘My mother will take Bertie to the village library. And I’ve organised an excursion for your parents and brother. A tour of Edinburgh Cathedral where the wedding is taking place.’
Mum, Dad and Danny are very happy with that idea. And Bertie seems okay about being with Daphne. So after lunch, I head to the parlour for my dress fitting.
‘Your car made it then?’ I say, when I see Hugo waiting.
‘Of course it did!’ Hugo laughs. ‘It’s electric, not made of sugar.’
There’s a younger lady with him – she’s short and cute with bronzed skin, tumbling black hair and chipmunk cheekbones.
‘This is Gallelee,’ says Hugo, gesturing to the woman. ‘Your seamstress. The seamstress, I should say. The best in all of Scotland. So. Are you ready to try on your dress again?’
86
As I slide into my wedding gown, I get goosebumps.
I’m getting married.
To Patrick.
