Forget Me Not (The Ceruleans: Book 2)

by Megan Tayte

  I struggled upright, hands scrabbling for purchase in the wet mud. Pushed the engulfing hood from my eyes. And saw:

  Luke.

  42: LET ME

  I watched him come, this boy in trainers and jeans and a battered black jacket, struggling up the hill, hair sodden and matted to his head, cheeks flaming with effort, eyes locked on me.

  The most beautiful sight in the world. So much better than the tiger.

  Halfway up the hill he slipped and went down on his knees, and I smiled at the sight of him scrambling back up, his trainers finding no traction on the boggy ground. Finally, he was upright again, and climbing up, and lurching to a halt just a little downhill so that our eyes were level.

  I drank him in, every detail of his face, from the angle of his jaw to the curve of his lashes to the silver scar across the bridge of his nose. He was perfect, a masterpiece. Perhaps dying wasn’t so bad after all, if these were the kinds of hallucinations I could expect now.

  ‘Luke,’ I said. ‘I missed you.’

  ‘I missed you.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘I love you.’

  ‘God, I love you.’

  And then he was throwing himself across the gap between us, and his hands were clutching my coat, and his lips were on mine. They were warm, impossibly warm.

  I pushed him back and stared at him. ‘You’re real! You’re here!’

  ‘Of course I’m real. You thought… oh, Scarlett.’ His voice cracked on my name, and he wrapped his arms around me and hugged me to him fiercely.

  My mind wouldn’t work; I didn’t understand.

  His hold loosened and he started to move back, away.

  ‘No!’ I said, clinging to his jacket. ‘Please...’

  ‘I’m here,’ he said. ‘I’m here. I’m going nowhere. But we need to get out of this rain.’

  I’d have quite happily sat there forever more, but apparently that wasn’t an option – Luke was on his feet and, with an arm around me, was coaxing me up.

  ‘Can you walk?’

  ‘Of course!’

  ‘Down the hill then – careful now...’

  He kept his arm clamped around me as we took our first steps. But the sheeting rain had made the hill a slide, and my feet went out from under me just a fraction of a second before his. He tried to hold on to me, but it was impossible, and we crashed onto the mud and slithered down the slope. It was a quick ride to the bottom, and a graceless one.

  When we petered out on the level ground Luke scrambled to my side. ‘Are you okay?’ he demanded.

  There was mud on his cheek, a thick smear of it, and it didn’t tally with his worried expression. A giggle escaped me, and fast grew to a laugh. His lips curved, and I saw the beginnings of a grin emerge. Then, abruptly, it was gone, and he was pulling me up again.

  ‘Come on. You can’t be out here, soaking wet.’

  He started out across the field, heading for the gate, but as we walked I tugged his hand to guide him to the side.

  ‘What –’

  ‘Trust me,’ I said.

  Something softened in his eyes and he nodded.

  Running perpendicular to the gated fence was a copse of trees. There, the ground was firmer and the branches filtered out at least some of the rain. I led him to the heart of the little woodland, to a very old, very big oak tree. Nestled in its lowest branches was a treehouse. In its day, it had been magnificent – a large and sturdy hideaway crafted to be reminiscent of a fairytale castle. Now, it was a little neglected, a little ramshackle. But it would do, I hoped. At least here we would be alone.

  We climbed up the creaking steps and Luke shouldered open the door. Inside, I was surprised to find the space not neglected after all. It was neatly swept out. It was patched up to stay dry. It was even kitted out with camping gear: sleeping bags, a storm lantern, bottled water. Someone, clearly, had been using the space. Kids from a neighbouring property, perhaps.

  Luke wasted no time: he slammed the door shut, switched on the lantern, stripped off my coat and his own, sat me on the floor and wrapped me in a blanket.

  ‘You’re shivering,’ he said. ‘What were you thinking, being out in this?’

  I grabbed his hand, which was reaching for another blanket, and held it to my cheek.

  ‘Stop,’ I said. ‘Just stop.’

  He stilled. ‘Scarlett,’ he whispered. Then he collapsed to his knees and looked at me with such yearning I couldn’t think straight.

  ‘How is this possible?’ I breathed, stroking my fingers down his cheek that was so hot, so red. ‘How are you here?’

  ‘Your mother told me you’d be up here. She pointed me in the direction.’

  ‘That’s not what I mean. How can you come to me – look at me like that – after…’

  He crushed me to him and kissed me, deeply, desperately. When he broke away, he touched a hand to my hair, as if he had only just noticed the length had gone.

  ‘Luke,’ I said. ‘What’s happened?’

  Taking my hands in his, he began:

  ‘I called you. Over and over. And I went to the cottage twice. You were gone.’

  ‘Did you think I would stay? You said we were done.’

  ‘Not forever! I was angry. I had reason to be, I thought. But I was never going to let that be it. I wanted to know what happened. You were trying to tell me it wasn’t what I thought. I wanted an answer. I figured you’d be here. I didn’t know where else you would go.’

  ‘So you came here to get an answer.’

  ‘No, Scarlett. I came for you.’

  ‘But that’s... why would you want me? I hurt you horribly.’

  ‘Jude hurt me. Us. Not you. He told me, Scarlett. He told me everything.’

  My heart stuttered in my chest and all I could get out was a strangled, ‘What?’

  ‘He turned up at the house last night. First I knew of it was some commotion at the door. When I got there Cara was whacking him with an umbrella from the coat stand. He said he had to talk to us. Said you needed our help. He looked terrible – like he’d been through hell. We let him in. Sat in the living room. And he spilled it. The truth.’

  What truth? I wanted to shout. All of it? Some of it? Or none of it – more lies?

  Carefully, I said, ‘What did he tell you?’

  ‘That it was a setup. That bastard set you up. You didn’t get into bed with him. You didn’t even know he was there until I woke you up, did you?’

  Stunned, I shook my head.

  ‘I knew it. I should’ve bloody known it at once. I’ve never liked Jude, never trusted him. I should’ve taken one look at him and...’ His face twisted like he was in physical pain. ‘No – no. I should have taken one look at you, Scarlett, and known you’d never do that. I know you. I should have trusted you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’

  He was apologising to me? This was madness.

  ‘Jude said he did it to break us up. He said it’s what you wanted, but you were too frightened to do it yourself. Cara lost it with him then. She didn’t buy that. I didn’t either. I knew something was off – I’d known it all week. That’s why I was looking for you.’

  I was so confused. ‘Why did he tell you all this?’

  ‘So I would bring you back.’

  ‘Why does he want me to go back?’ That made no sense at all. Why would Jude want me to return to Twycombe? And why not just come and find me here himself? I’d been half-expecting him to turn up here all week.

  ‘So you’re home. So you’re where you belong when… when…’

  He collapsed into me, wrapping his arms around me fiercely and burying his face in my hair. His shoulders shook with sobs he tried to silence.

  Instinctively, I rocked him while I tried to find order in my jumbled thoughts. He knew. He knew I was dying. What else did he know?

  He sat back abruptly, rubbing his eyes with the sleeve of his jumper. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I promised myself I’d be str
ong.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ I told him.

  ‘No, it’s really not.’

  I had to know what exactly was causing his pain. ‘What did Jude tell you, Luke?’

  He took a deep breath, and intoned into the outward huff: ‘Brain tumour. Terminal.’

  If the eyes are the windows to the soul then the look in his told me his soul was in torment. Anger rose up in me suddenly, violently. What the hell was Jude doing, playing God with my life? Look at the pain he had wrought.

  ‘Damn it!’ I said. ‘He had no right.’

  I felt sick, hot with fury, and I moved to shake off the blanket around me, but Luke caught it and held it tight around me.

  ‘He was right to tell me, Scarlett. I am your boyfriend – no, more than that, I am the person who loves you more than anyone else in the entire world. I love you. I love you. I should know. Why didn’t you trust me with this?’

  ‘It wasn’t about trust. It was about protection. I didn’t want you to hurt. I didn’t want you to lose me like that.’

  ‘So you kept it from me. For how long? The zoo – that was when you found out?’

  I hesitated and his eyes widened.

  ‘Before then? You’ve been walking around with this on your shoulders and you’ve said nothing to me? How long? How long?’

  ‘My birthday,’ I whispered.

  ‘Weeks. Weeks! Every minute we’ve been together, all that time, you knew it was finite?’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  Comprehension dawned on his face. ‘All the things you wanted to do – all that energy. You were bucket-listing.’

  I nodded.

  ‘I don’t know whether to shake you or hug you! How could you keep it from me? How could you go through all that alone? But no, wait, you weren’t alone. Jude knew. He told us – Sienna had it; he guessed you had it too. You were honest with him, but not me.’

  ‘Only because I could talk to him without hurting him. Because he doesn’t care about me like you do.’

  He seemed to struggle with that, but then he shook it off and returned to the matter at hand: ‘So when then? When were you going to tell me?’

  ‘I wasn’t. I was going to go away.’

  He let go of me and rocked back. ‘You were running out on me. That’s how much faith you have in me?’

  ‘No!’ I caught his hand. ‘No, Luke, please – I wanted to protect you.’

  ‘By taking away my choices? How is that any better than what Jude tried to do?’

  Miserably, I hung my head, but a thumb under my chin lifted it up.

  ‘You listen to me now,’ said Luke intently. ‘I am staying with you. I will be with you through it all. You don’t get to push me away, you don’t get to protect me. I want to be with you. I love you.’

  He kissed a tear from my cheek. And another. And another.

  ‘I love you,’ he said. ‘And love isn’t just a feeling, it’s an action. So let me do it. Let me love you. No more running. No more lying. Let me love you for every minute we have left. Give me all of you – everything you have left.’

  I couldn’t speak; all I could do was nod while my heart beat Luke, Luke, Luke.

  This time, it was he who cast off the blanket. And our coats. And our shirts. When he saw the teardrop pendant lying still below my throat, he touched it and said, ‘Never take this off.’

  ‘I won’t,’ I said. ‘I promise.’

  He sealed my promise with a kiss.

  The wind pushed at the treehouse. The rain hammered on the roof. Outside, the storm raged on. But inside our little fairytale castle, we lived happy ever now.

  43: NOW OR NEVER

  The rain had eased up by the time we creaked back down the wooden steps and made our way through the trees, across the field and towards the house. Still, Luke kept tugging my hood up, fighting a losing battle with the wind that was intent on sweeping it off. I joked that he was trying to hide my new – dramatically shorter – haircut.

  ‘No,’ he said seriously. ‘I quite like that. I’m just trying to keep you warm. Come on, your mother’ll be wondering where we’ve got to.’

  ‘She’ll be fine. She’ll be happy. She likes you.’

  ‘Does she… she doesn’t know?’

  ‘No.’ I lurched to a halt. ‘And she mustn’t, Luke! She lost Sienna. It’s too much.’

  ‘She’s your mother, Scarlett. She has a right to know, to say goodbye.’

  I shook my head vehemently. ‘You can’t tell her – please – you have to promise –’

  ‘Okay, okay!’

  We walked on.

  ‘But you can’t keep it from her forever,’ he added gently.

  I said nothing. The thought of my mother – lying to her, leaving her – made me wretched. Reflexively, I raised a hand and rubbed it across my forehead.

  Luke’s arm was around me in a flash. ‘Are you all right?’

  His eyes bored into me, wide and worried. This was exactly what I hadn’t wanted – him anxious and jumpy and obsessed with a hood.

  ‘I’m okay, Luke.’

  ‘Are you in pain?’

  I opened my mouth to dismiss the idea, but then checked myself. I had decided: no more lies. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I have a bit of a headache. But there are pills back at the house that will help.’

  ‘The pills the hospital doctor gave you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Okay.’

  He stepped up the pace a little.

  *

  Mum was, as I’d anticipated, delighted to see us enter the hallway holding hands, and she gave each of us a tight hug before ordering us upstairs and into hot showers and clean clothes. Nachos were abandoned in favour of something more warming for two frozen souls, and within half an hour Mum and Luke and I were sitting at the kitchen table dunking home-baked bread courtesy of Marnie into steaming bowls of vegetable soup.

  I was worried that Luke would be awkward and sombre, letting on to Mum that something was wrong. But the atmosphere was light and warm, and we talked quite easily together – me jesting Luke about wearing my father’s old hunting gear; Luke telling Mum about the bread-making course we’d done; Mum telling us about a careers fair at London Earl’s Court she was planning to attend the following weekend. Sometimes, though, I’d turn suddenly and catch Luke watching me, and before he could smile or say something interesting or witty, I’d see it, the grief in his eyes, and it ripped me apart.

  ‘Will you stay tonight, Luke?’ asked Mum as we cleared away the dishes. ‘You’re very welcome to. We’ve plenty of rooms, or Scarlett’s bed is a double…’

  ‘Mum!’

  She held up her hands. ‘Sorry!’

  ‘We’re not staying,’ I told her. ‘We’re driving back to Twycombe. Tonight. Now.’

  ‘Oh.’ Her face fell for a moment, and then she recovered her smile. ‘Well good. That’ll be good for you both. I’ll find some of those cupcakes for you, for the journey…’ She wandered off into the pantry.

  Luke ditched his dishtowel and reached for me.

  ‘We can stay,’ he said. ‘Another night won’t hurt.’

  ‘No. We have to go back now.’

  ‘What’s the urgency?’

  ‘I’ll explain when we get there.’

  He frowned. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes. The tablets helped. Stop worrying.’

  ‘I can’t do that. I can’t bear the thought of you in pain.’

  ‘Got them!’ sang Mum, sweeping into the room. ‘And look – little cartons of juice. That’ll see you through the drive. Now, Luke, Marnie’s washed your clothes and they should be dry now. You’ll find the laundry room down the hall, on the left.’

  ‘Thank you.’ He gave my arm a squeeze and then left the room, leaving Mum and me alone for the first time since he’d arrived.

  ‘Everything all right now, darling?’ she asked me. ‘All forgiven?’

  ‘It will be,’ I said. ‘Soon enough.’

  ‘What about New York?’ />
  I thought about it. ‘I’ll cancel the tickets. For now.’

  ‘Good idea. But keep the option open. Even if you and Luke are back together, there’s no harm in having a little time apart if you decide you’d like that. He’ll be waiting when you get back, I’m sure.’

  She was busy packing a tote bag with items to send me off with. Along with the cakes and the juice I’d seen her slide in a rom-com DVD we’d planned to watch that night and a travel guide to New York. Now, she was attempting to squeeze in a bone china teapot she’d bought in the gift shop of the Tate Modern.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I said. ‘You love that teapot.’

  ‘Which is why I want you to have it.’

  I stared at the teapot. It was quirky and odd and I had no idea what I would do with it – its price tag alone made me nervous to handle it, let alone chuck a teabag into its depths. But my mother had loved it on sight; she had been so excited in the shop and had talked most of the way home about its designer, the artist Yinka Shonibare. The memory of that day together made this teapot unspeakably precious and beautiful.

  I went to her and put my arms around her. ‘Thank you, Mum.’

  She squeezed me tight, and then released me and said earnestly, ‘Thank you, Scarlett.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For giving me a second chance.’

  That was it: the tears I’d been holding back surged up in a tidal wave, threatening to engulf me. I grabbed her again and hugged her hard, like I could press into her everything I wanted her to know, to understand.

  ‘Darling,’ she said, rubbing my back. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Nothing,’ I whispered. ‘I love you. That’s it. That’s everything.’

  ‘I love you too, darling. Always have done. Always will.’

  Always, I mouthed.

  And then Luke was walking into the room, and I stepped away smartly.

  ‘We could stay a while longer,’ he suggested.

  ‘No. It’s time to go.’

  I picked up my coat and began wrestling it on. When my fingers kept fumbling on the zipper Mum stepped in to help.

  ‘I can manage...’ I told her, but she smiled and said:

  ‘Let me.’ She slid the zipper right up to my chin. ‘Don’t want you catching cold.’