The Book of Eve

by Julia Blake

  I stayed, the sun warm on my face, thinking about the last two days and how much my life had changed. Eventually, Scott returned and found me, dropping down to sit on the ground beside me, his hand running gently through my curls.

  ‘I need to go somewhere this afternoon,’ I began and he nodded.

  ‘Ok, where are we going?’

  ‘No, I need to go somewhere alone,’ I continued, saw the old uncertainty in his eyes. ‘I need to go and see my parents; they don’t even know I’m back yet.’

  ‘I don’t mind coming,’ he said. I leant forward and gently kissed him.

  ‘Scott, I will give you the rest of my life, but today belongs to my parents, I owe them so much, they’ve done everything for me, yet for the past ten years I’ve done nothing but shut them out of my life.’ I saw in his eyes he understood.

  ‘What are you going to tell them?’ he asked, and I took a deep breath.

  ‘The truth, I’m going to tell them the truth.’

  Epilogue

  It had been a mild winter, a bright and early spring. I thought how well the little tree had established itself in the eight months since it had been planted. It had become my favourite spot in the whole garden and Scott had one day surprised me by arranging to have a large comfortable bench placed beneath it, so I could sit in comfort and visit with Annaliese, always feeling her spirit was somewhere close by when I listened to the wind rustling the leaves, saw sunlight gleaming on its silvery trunk.

  My book had been published. In my hand I held a copy of it which I’d brought to show Annaliese and my fingers were constantly drawn to the smooth brightness of its cover, tracing gently my name picked out in gold.

  In a strangely reflective mood, I found my mind turning over the events since her funeral last September. I had visited my parents that afternoon, realising in their relief at my safe return how selfish I’d been to simply vanish, leaving them with nothing more to cling to than the odd emailed message to remind them of my existence. I’d allowed my mother to fuss, for once not being annoyed by it, waiting patiently until the small things had been settled, and we were all sitting with cups of tea and biscuits. Then, I told them everything.

  It was a long tale, dusk had fallen before I’d finished. At the end of it, my mother had tears in her eyes and my father looked dumbfounded his daughter could have had such happenings in her life he’d been completely unaware of.

  Much to my surprise, my mother had been deeply sympathetic towards Caro. ‘She was raped at fourteen, Melissa, had no counselling and no help to overcome that, she simply had to get on with life, yet all her choices had been taken away. She cannot be blamed for what she did, for being afraid, rather she’s to be pitied.’ I heard my mother’s words, understood their meaning and felt shame at my attitude to Caro, vowing to be kinder, to try to build bridges with her.

  At the news I was engaged, my mother became very excited and started twittering in that way I suppose all mother’s do at the thought of their little girl becoming a bride. Despite her protests it was too soon, we were married six weeks later in the small church in which Annaliese’s funeral had been held. Both Scott and I had known and liked the vicar for eight years. When we’d visited him, requesting he perform the ceremony, his smile had been broad and avuncular. He’d be only too happy too, he stated, continuing that he knew Annaliese would have been pleased, as she’d once confided to him her hopes for us.

  Walking home together afterwards, Scott had commented wryly. ‘Did everyone know we were supposed to be together except us?’

  The wedding was simple, stylish. When I walked down the aisle of the church packed with all our friends and family, my hand resting lightly on the dark blue sleeve of my father’s best suit, feeling the smoothness of my creamy silk gown rubbing against my skin, I’d felt such a moment of sublime happiness it had seemed too intense to be borne.

  Scott had turned to watch me approach, his face wearing its habitual mask of indifference, yet I knew the signs to look for now. The slight muscle that moved at the side of his mouth, the tension in his shoulders and the look that burnt deep behind his eyes. I knew I was much loved, that this day was one both longed for, but never imagined possible.

  As he took the rings from Mimi, who, much to her surprise and delight, Scott had asked to be his best woman in memory of Andrew, and slipped the band of gold onto my finger, I had felt his hand tighten over mine, the power of his emotions trembling under the surface.

  I had arranged the honeymoon and took him to Jamaica for a month, renting Reg’s beach house which had been my refuge. I took him to the restaurant where I’d worked, introduced him to Reg, held my breath when the two men silently sized each other up. Then Reg’s perfect teeth had flashed in a smile of welcome and I’d known everything was going to be alright.

  During the first week, I’d watched as he relaxed, allowed himself to believe this was real, that I was there, with him, and would never allow anything to part us again. I showed him my island, re-visiting places and people who had become part of my life during my year of exile.

  Gradually, the pace of the island crept into his soul and I saw him discover the joy of trusting in another person. By day we swam, scuba dived and explored the island by jeep. By night we made long passionate love, our bodies making up for so much lost time. He and Reg found a mutual enjoyment of chess, and I would lie in the sun, watching through sleepy eyes as never ending games became intense, both players evenly matched.

  On our first night on the island, lingering contentedly over a delicious meal of fresh local fish, he’d commented just because he didn’t drink, it was no reason for me not too, that he really wouldn’t mind if I wanted some wine with dinner. But I’d simply smiled, shook my head and sipped my fruit punch.

  I can still remember the look on his face later that evening, after we’d finished our delicious meal and wandered back along the beach to our little nest to make lazy love together, when we lay sprawled on the bed and I told him my news. I suppose it shouldn’t really have surprised him, that on the very same day we bade goodbye to Annaliese new life had been created within my womb. But it took much reassurance from me before finally he believed, his self-control cracked and he almost cried for joy in my arms.

  His surprise though, was nothing compared to my own, when we went for our first scan, eager to see pictures of our much wanted baby and saw not one, but two little shapes moving together on the screen, listened to twin heartbeats, throbbing quick and fierce.

  I shifted uncomfortably on the bench, hand rubbing automatically at the vastly extended bulk of my stomach. Even though Scott thought it beautiful and amazing and cherished my swollen body, I’d had enough of being fat and cumbersome. I longed for the twins to be born, growing impatient to hold them in my arms. Their names had already been chosen and the whole Hall had been turned upside down in preparation for the arrival of Samuel and Annaliese.

  A postcard had arrived only that morning from Robert and Ferdie. They were in Italy, planned to travel back next week to ensure their presence for the all important arrival. I smiled, thinking about the worldwide travelling those two had embarked on, sending back postcards and gifts from every corner of the globe, their love and happiness in each others company apparent.

  I glanced up at the tree, thinking how pleased Annaliese would have been.

  Before he’d left, Robert had placed mine and Scott’s names on the deeds to the Hall, had reassured us it was our home forever. Returning from honeymoon, tanned and happy, we’d started our married life here together. We both loved the Hall, feeling it would be almost impossible to consider living anywhere else, were delighted to have such a wonderful home to raise our children in.

  The courtship of Miles and Mimi had progressed upon much more sedate and gentle lines than that of our own, yet they seemed to find much joy in each others company. Although I felt Mimi would probab
ly never love as wildly and passionately again as she had with Andrew, I knew she loved Miles very much. Only that morning at breakfast, I’d seen a secret look pass between them and Miles’ hand rest gently on her stomach, so I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a little announcement from them this evening.

  And what of my relationship with Scott? I knew there were many who considered my husband to be a cold fish, completely devoid of emotion, unable to love. I’d heard the mutterings of those who wondered exactly why I’d married him. They don’t see the look he gives me when he believes himself unobserved, the subtle touch of his hand each time I’m near to him. They cannot know the love that burns and throbs behind the closed door of our bedroom.

  Sometimes, I would compare Scott’s love for me to a well made up fire, which, on the surface, appears cold and dead, only, move the coals slightly and see underneath the glow of a fierce, ever burning fire, constant and sure. It is enough for me. It is more than enough.

  I know I am the blood which courses through his veins, the reason his steadfast heart continues to beat. I am a woman who is confident in the knowledge she is loved, wholly, completely, passionately, and, in return, his heart has been given into my safekeeping.

  I move uncomfortably again on the bench, feeling a sensation I’d never before experienced, but, with the instinctive knowledge of woman, recognised immediately and knew my due date of some three weeks hence was one I would be pre-empting.

  In the distance I saw Scott, coming from the Hall to bring me in, smiled at the ease I saw on his face, knowing with a few quiet words I would soon be changing that expression to one of tightly controlled panic, but that he would then simply do what he did best and cope, taking me quickly and without fuss to hospital so our babies could be born.

  I struggled to my feet, the strong urges bearing down through my body and gently placed a hand on my stomach, feeling it surge and ripple beneath my touch. With my other hand I grasped the tree, bending my forehead to the smoothness of its trunk.

  I closed my eyes and for a moment simply stood, feeling the silent communion, then a rogue breeze rippled through the slender branches, rustling the leaves with a joyful sigh. I smiled, feeling Annaliese so strongly it was like she was there, beside me, her hand caressing my cheek, her loving gaze embracing me in its warmth.

  ‘Thank you,’ I whispered, and waited, for the next chapter of the book of my life to begin.