Don't Be Afraid

by Daniela Sacerdoti

  “Please, Isabel. Don’t make yourself regrets for when your time comes,” Clara said, and her words seemed to come from long ago, from far away. “Make yourself memories,” she murmured beside me.

  And then it was all too much, and I felt dizzy and I wanted to get back – but I’d done it, I’d done it.

  I’d gone outside.

  I was not surprised when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a blue butterfly fluttering between Clara and me.

  53

  Maze

  I shall place

  All my songs

  In your hands

  Angus

  I blinked once, twice – a cold, white light was seeping through a gap in the curtains. Where was I? My head was sore.

  All of a sudden, I remembered what happened last night with Bibi.

  We’d sat together and talked, for a long time, while the rain pounded on the windows. We were both tipsy – both lonely, I suppose.

  She’d leaned against me, her face close to mine, looking for a kiss.

  She was beautiful, and her scent, some expensive, complicated perfume, went to my head. Her body felt warm against mine.

  And then, just when I was about to fall, I’d turned my face away.

  “I need to go back now, Bibi,” I’d whispered.

  “Why? Why can’t you stay here with me?” she’d said in a voice that was like a caress. I was only human, and desire and nearly three long years of loneliness and worry and pain weighed on my heart. To just be with her. To rest and lose myself in her, for some peace, some relief. Some happiness.

  But I still got up and stood in front of the door.

  “I need to go,” I repeated.

  She looked astonished, like she couldn’t believe what I’d just said.

  “I thought . . .”

  “Bibi, please. Please just let me go, okay? I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

  She was beautiful, perfect. And she understood what it was like to live for music.

  But she wasn’t Bell.

  And so I woke up alone, and was infinitely relieved to be so. If I thought of what I’d almost done . . . If I thought of how easy it would have been to slip . . . I hated remembering Bibi’s face, the dismay and disappointment as I stood up from that sofa and told her I had to go. I shouldn’t even have accepted her invitation. The hard bit was that, for a moment, she’d looked very young and very hurt.

  I’d asked myself why I had gone to her flat, alone.

  Because I had been tempted, because I had played with fire.

  Because the offer of some comfort, of sharing the burden I carried, had seemed irresistible. Yes, I had played with fire. And I’d nearly got burnt.

  I wondered how she was. If she was disappointed, or sad, or if she’d deleted me from her memory already – if that day, at rehearsals, she’d pretend I didn’t exist.

  I grabbed my phone from the bedside table – I always kept in on, in case Bell needed me. Suddenly, just as I was looking at the screen, an email from her appeared.

  From Isabel.C.Ramsay@gmail.com

  To AngusRamsay@gmail.com

  Good morning my love!

  I have news for you.

  I stood for a few minutes in our garden and oh, it was amazing. Like I’d never felt air on my face before. I went all the way to the rose bushes, can you believe it? I can’t wait for you to come back and we can go for a stroll.

  I love you, I love you, I love you.

  Yours,

  Bell

  I was ashamed of my tears, but for once, they were tears of happiness.

  From AngusRamsay@gmail.com

  To Isabel.C.Ramsay@gmail.com

  Dear Isabel,

  I wrote this for you.

  You are on a journey on foot. You started some time ago and you are now quite far along the road, so far that when you look back you can no longer see where you started. The path is long, but you know where you are going and you are at peace. Each day all you need to do is make that one step and you will get there. Part of this journey is to accept that until you have made many, many steps and found your path again you will sometimes experience a little pain and a little discomfort, like a stitch in your side. It’s not enough to make you stop, but it reminds you that you need to pace yourself and take a breather once in a while. Sometimes the journey will take you through forests with shadows and hidden darkness and sometimes it will take you along meadows where friends will walk with you and the sun will shine and birds will sing. However, the path is the path and each step takes you closer to where you are going. It is a good place, with people you love and happiness and freedom and joy. Even though you know that the journey sometimes seems long, you know that you will be happy when you get to where you are going. Whenever you feel tired and think perhaps it’s better to stop, you will see a wooden sign upon which is written the name of your destination and those thoughts will disappear. In the evening when you are resting, the deer will stand guard and watch over you while you sleep. You feel their soft breath on your face and you sleep deeply and dream of happy times.

  When you arrive, you will be filled with happiness and feel proud that you kept going, and you will know that you have earned the happiness you feel. You will not be able to stop smiling. You will look back at the road you have come along and it will no longer be there.

  All my love,

  Angus

  54

  These days are mine

  The moment you hold my hand anew

  Because you never stopped

  holding my heart

  Angus

  It snowed during the night, and a few snowfakes were still falling on me as I walked to rehearsals. I couldn’t wait to get home; I couldn’t wait to see Bell standing in our garden. When we were finished, I practically ran out of the hall, quickly saying goodbye to the conductor and to my colleagues, mumbling something about a family occasion and having to be there. That morning, practice had been endless – four hours felt like four days. On my way out, I saw Bibi out of the corner of my eye, sitting with some fellow musicians – I waved to them and they all waved back. All except Bibi, who turned away, pretending not to see me. As she turned, I caught a glimpse of her face and I saw sadness in her eyes. But it couldn’t give me anything more than a small pang of guilt, as I rushed home to my Bell.

  I drove probably a little bit faster than I should, the snow getting thicker and thicker as I headed north, and I was there at lunchtime. Our garden was covered in a blinding, beautiful carpet of snow, and everything was shining.

  I stopped the car and, for a moment, I sat there, my heart beating fast. Hope was wrecking me, tearing me apart, because I could not bear to be disappointed. Not again, not any more.

  I wanted to come in and see a smile for once. I wanted to come in and see Bell with her hands stained with paint, or busy in the kitchen, or simply lying there reading a book, relaxed, happy. The way it used to be.

  I would have loved that with all my heart – because for a long time all that I had seen were tears, and all that I’d had was tension, and the shell of what my wife used to be sitting by the window, staring at the night, or cleaning obsessively, too anxious to stop. That was the way my life had been – Bell’s distress rippling all around us, destroying her, destroying me.

  That morning, after her joyous email, I had the feeling this time it would be different coming home. It would be coming home like it used to be.

  But I was scared.

  I was scared, all of a sudden, that things might have changed in the few hours it took me to arrive; that maybe that happy email was just for my benefit, that she was putting on an act for me. I had a million fears.

  I stepped out of the car.

  55

  Undying

  At night I don’t belong

  To the shores of time

  Torcuil

  I stopped in my tracks. There they were, Angus and Izzy – Isabel – holding on to each other, as close as they could be. On the
doorstep of their home.

  It was their moment.

  I left and walked back to Ramsay Hall, joy and some other feeling I could not name wrestling in my heart.

  56

  Snow angels

  The Mystery of you

  Inside my soul

  Angus

  A woman was standing there, wrapped in her bright-red jacket, her long, long hair loose on her shoulders. It couldn’t be her, so free and brave, standing alone in the snow – but it was. I knew my wife’s body, and I knew the way she stood, the way she moved.

  And then the woman turned around and I saw her face – yes, it was Bell, her cheeks bright red in the freezing air and a smile on her face. She threw herself into the snow, arms and legs like a windmill, and stayed there.

  I wanted to call Bell and wave my hands and run to her, and lie beside her in the snow, but a part of me didn’t want to interrupt what seemed like a miracle. So I advanced slowly, in silence, my boots sinking at every step. The snowy driveway was like an aisle, and the trees were white and lacy, like brides.

  Bell sat up and crossed her legs. She threw her head back to look at the sky and a million snowflakes fell onto her face.

  “Bell!” I called, and finally ran up to her. Her face lit up when she saw me. She threw herself into my arms. We couldn’t quite believe what was happening. This was us, Isabel and me, outside, laughing and hugging and kissing like old times.

  “You did it on your own! I can’t believe it!”

  “I’m not on my own. Clara is here. Clara?” Bell turned around, left and right. “She was here a minute ago. She must have gone inside.”

  “I can’t believe it,” I said for what felt like the hundredth time. “I can’t believe it.”

  “I can’t believe it either.” She looked down. “I don’t know. It just happened. The snow was so beautiful. And I . . .” She shrugged. “I think I forgot to be afraid. I just forgot. And then I was halfway down the garden before I realised what I’d done. I’m so glad you came back, so you could see me.”

  After that, I couldn’t speak any more. I could only kiss her mouth, her cheeks, her eyes, hold her tight, hide my face in her sweet-scented hair. She held me back, her embrace sweet and heady. She smelled of honey. And then she let me go.

  “Oh, Clara, there you are!” Bell said then, and I turned around to greet Clara. She was standing just behind me, a smile on her face. I noticed she was only wearing a cardigan and her shoulders were wet from the falling snow, but she didn’t seem to mind. I was about to say hello to her, but the words died on my lips. All of a sudden there was something different about her, something I couldn’t quite pinpoint – a radiance coming from her. Her eyes shone impossibly green and her contours seemed to blur, like there was a light shining just behind her. Was it the glare from the sun? But there was no sun – it was hiding behind the grey clouds filling the sky.

  “Well done, pet,” she said to Bell, and I felt Bell’s hand slipping into mine.

  And then something incredible happened, and I realised that Torcuil was right when he’d told me he’d felt something strange, something special about Clara. Of course, he always knew. I need to tell him, I thought confusedly as a miracle unfolded in front of me, in front of my disbelieving eyes.

  57

  Isabel

  Nobody will give me freedom

  I have to take it

  For myself

  Isabel

  I looked up to the sky and a million snowflakes kissed me. Finally, I had made it. I was outside, and not walking slowly, anxiously, holding Clara’s hand – but unafraid, and standing on my own.

  The walls of my prison had broken open, at last.

  I was free.

  Clara stood there. There was a strange luminosity coming off her body, like a warm, golden glow. I thought it had to be the reflection of the snow, shining white and dazzling – it took me a few seconds to realise it was her, that the glow was coming from within her body. And then she turned around, and all of a sudden, I recognised her.

  All of a sudden a memory emerged from the depths of my soul, the memory of a beloved face, a scent, a voice – it all came back to me.

  And her eyes.

  Those eyes that were so similar to mine, moss green.

  “Well done, pet,” she said to me in her tranquil, soft voice.

  I knew who she was. I knew who she was, and my lips opened to say her name, to call her, but nothing came out, because before I could say anything, she disappeared into a soft, sweet light.

  I stood, watching her dissolve, holding Angus’s hand, still and silent.

  “What . . . what happened?” Angus murmured when we were alone. A bird flew from a snow-covered tree, in a flurry of wings.

  I told him who she was, and he held my hand tighter, his eyes wide in disbelief.

  The snow was falling, falling, falling on us both.

  58

  Love Eternal

  What a chrysalis believes to be the end

  Is just the beginning

  Clara

  I shed Clara’s body and my soul is bare again, translucent and naked like a sea-creature out of its shell. It breaks my heart to be away from my Isabel, but now she is free, and so am I. And now soft yet mighty ripples of wings and light surround me.

  There will be no more wandering for me, no more eternal loneliness. They hold me in an embrace of light and I feel their love, and the love I feel for my daughter melts into it, and I’m full of joy.

  I’m ready to finally go.

  59

  Warmth

  The great silent battle

  In the sprouting of a seed

  Isabel

  That night, Angus and I lay on the sofa wrapped in a throw, watching the flames dance in our fireplace and the snow fall outside the black window. We didn’t speak much. We didn’t mention Clara at all, not yet, though we knew the time would come to do that.

  For now, it was all too strange, too raw for me.

  I knew she wasn’t coming back. I also knew she’d been there when I needed her most.

  She hadn’t abandoned me.

  All of a sudden, an intense desire, an intense need took shape inside me.

  I stood up without saying a word and wrapped myself tighter in my woollen cardigan, as the air got colder away from the flames.

  “Where are you going?” Angus said lazily, trying to hold on to the folds of my cardigan. I placed a gentle kiss on his forehead and said nothing. There was a call I had to make, and I couldn’t talk about it, not yet.

  In the semi-darkness of the kitchen, I dialled a number, and a familiar voice answered the phone.

  “Hello, Gillian? It’s me.”

  To Isabel.C.Ramsay@gmail.com

  From JSimpson@artistcom.com

  Hi Isabel,

  Just wanted to say, Marina from Usborne is delighted with your illustrations for Scottish Legends. They say they’re a bit dark, but very beautiful. And something else; they want Chrysalis too! Will write to you with all the details as soon as they’re finalised. Good job, Isabel. It’s great to see you doing so well and I hope I’ll see you at the London Book Fair this year.

  Joanna

  60

  The truth about love

  When all there is about you and me

  Is wrapped in just a moment

  Isabel, four months later

  After our freezing dip, Emer and I sat wrapped in the same blanket on the sand, shivering and drinking our scalding coffee, made on a camping stove. We’d just been for a dip in the freezing sea, and I felt so alive, after the cold water had made my cheeks rosy and my blood run faster. Fatina lay beside us, mellow as ever.

  We were in Connemara, not far from Emer’s house in Galway. I’d been to visit my sister, after years of not seeing her, and I’d finally met my nephews.

  It was all like a dream, having my life back.

  “You’re doing so well. I’m in awe of you, Isabel,” Emer said, taking my hand with her sand-
covered one. Her unfocused blue eyes looked somewhere towards the sea, and her black hair, wet and hard with salt, blew across her lovely face.

  She was in awe of me? With all the challenges she faced?

  “What? In awe of someone who used to be too scared to leave the house? Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Because you had one hell of a monster inside you. And you fought it,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The wind danced on our faces. “You know, I often think of what is normal. To be healthy, to be sorted. To have a job and a house and stand on your own two feet. Not all of us can do that . . .” Her hand went to Fatina, stroking the dog’s wet fur. “Some of us need a lot of help. Some all throughout their life, like me. The ones who manage to stand on their own are rare.”

  “Are you about to burst into song?” I teased her to hide my emotion. It wasn’t like Emer to be so sweet; usually she made a joke of everything.

  She laughed. “Call Angus for a tune. I’ll sing my heart out.”

  Angus was still in the sea with Donal and his fiddle rested in its case in our tent. As if he’d sensed us mentioning him, he waved and called.

  “Hey! Come back! It’s wonderful in here!”

  We laughed and shook our heads; we were too happy with our warm coffees and our blankets to get back into the cold again. I gazed at Angus’s lean body and his auburn hair like a little flame in the grey of the sea. I could never express in words or even images, though it was my trade, how much I loved him. How loyal he’d been when I was ill. And I looked at Donal, and smiled, thinking of all the years he’d pined for Emer and how everything had worked out for them.