“Maybe I should have left with him when he asked me to,” she muttered to herself biting her lip.
“Why didn’t you?” Fern asked.
“At the time, everything was happening so fast. I had my mother pulling me one way and Shane the other. I just wanted them all to go away and give me some space to think.”
“Well, I would have gone with him.”
“I bloody well wouldn’t have,” Dara answered her sister.
“Maybe you should go over there,” Fern suggested.
“Are you crazy? My cousin isn’t running down no man. His backside should be over here knocking down her door with his tail between his legs, not the other way around.”
“I wouldn’t have voiced it in quite the same way as Dara, but I agree with her. I’m not the one at fault here. If he wants me, he knows where and how to find me.”
“Lord help me—there speaks Gwendolyn Buchanan’s offspring!” Fern moaned.
~~~
Crystal was so worried about Shane she felt as though she was losing her mind. She lasted two days before she went around to his home. As she was leaving and having left a note as a last resort, Ollie arrived.
During their brief conversation, he told her that after the confrontation at her party, Shane had decided he needed a break. In her heart, she knew he wasn’t telling her the truth. Short of calling him a liar, she had to take Ollie at his word. At least Shane would find her note when he finally returned and realize how badly she needed to speak to him.
But as the days passed and she heard nothing, her worry dissipated. In its place was an ever growing resentment at his callous treatment of her.
Crystal ignored her mother for as long as she could, which amounted to three days. Under threat of Gwendolyn descending on her, she gave in. She was late arriving for dinner at her mother’s house because she had stopped at Shane’s flat for the umpteen time. That her note was gone gave her no reassurance because she had still heard nothing from him.
Crystal hated these dinners her mother insisted on. Thank goodness she only had to attend once a month. And each time she couldn’t ignore the feeling of being stuck in a loop of déjà vu.
Seated at her mother’s dining table, they made small talk throughout the starter of pumpkin soup. When Gwendolyn placed the main before her, she knew her time was up. Looking down at her plate, she saw that duck was on the menu. She hated duck and Gwendolyn knew it. This was her mother’s way of telling her that things were not rosy in Judge Buchanan’s land.
“After what that young man put me through on Saturday, the least I would have expected was a telephone call from you,” Gwendolyn broached the subject hanging over their heads since her arrival.
“I’m sorry you feel that way.”
“It that it, Crystal-Grace—is that all you have to say?”
“Yes.”
“That young man struck you in front of me. Then he went on to speak to me with such blatant disregard that frankly, I found it staggering. And you have nothing to say about it. Well, I want you to tell me right this minute whether you intend to continue seeing him.”
“I don’t know.”
“What don’t you know? Please speak in sentences that I can understand. God knows your education cost me enough money.”
As she pushed her food around her plate, Crystal heaved a soundless sigh. This was how it always was between them. Gwendolyn making demands and she meeting them. This type of situation was exactly why she had taken the first opportunity that presented itself to move out of her childhood home.
“Well, I’m waiting.”
Something inside Crystal snapped. She’d had enough of Gwendolyn meddling in her life. She loved her mother and she knew the feeling was reciprocated, but they just didn’t know how to get along, let alone show their affection.
Somewhere along the way Gwendolyn had lost her joy of life. Crystal suspected it had something to do with her father. Her mother never spoke about him. Whenever she asked questions about Stanley, Gwendolyn would shut down. The only thing she would say is – your father loved you. Crystal always took that to mean that Stanley didn’t love her mother.
She had also asked the same questions of her usually open aunt. Met by the same barriers as the ones presented by her mother, in the end, she had stopped asking.
The only information she had was from the pieces of overheard conversations her cousins related to her. Her father had left her mother and a short while later he had a heart attack and died.
“Crystal, are you deliberately trying to goad me?”
Reacting to her mother’s voice, Crystal studied the older woman. As always, Gwendolyn was immaculately dressed. Nothing was out of place. It was at that moment she knew if she wasn’t careful, in twenty-five years she would become a replica of her sophisticated but cold mother.
“No, I’m not deliberately trying to annoy you. I just don’t have anything to tell you. I know you don’t like Shane and you treated him badly on Saturday night. In all honesty, I probably did as well. He hasn’t spoken to me since.”
“Well, what did you expect? The moment he’s unmasked, he tucks his tail between his legs and disappears. I knew that boy didn’t have a backbone. You’re better off without him. Maybe now you will give up on this ridiculous idea of a design business and apply your mind to that law degree I spent thousands of pounds paying for.”
Crystal had heard it all before. The home I’ve given you. The money I spent on your education. The money I’ve spent dressing you, making sure you had the best of everything.
“I know you spent a lot of money on me and I thank you for it. I’ve always thanked you for all that you’ve done for me. I just wonder when you’re going to accept my gratitude and move on. Surely any parent who has the means would have done the same for their child.”
“How dare you attempt to reprimand me. I supported you because I want the best for you, and Shane Tierney doesn’t come close. His family are worthless and so is he. The least you could do is show some appreciation instead of sitting in judgment of me.”
“Well, I learned from the best, didn’t I, Mother?”
“How dare you speak to me like this!”
“I guess you’re happy now. In fact, I’m sure that Shane refusing to talk to me makes you ecstatic. Sometimes I think my unhappiness appeals to you.”
“You will apologize for your rudeness or leave this house!”
“I think I’ll leave your house.”
The shock on Gwendolyn’s face gave her no satisfaction. In fact, for a brief moment she almost recanted her words. Then memories of the scene outside her party came rushing back. She had to make a stand. This was her life, and if she didn’t wrest control from her mother, she would forever live in her shadow.
Giving Gwendolyn one last look, Crystal gathered her belongings and left.
Chapter 7
“Call her, again!” Came the barely audible whisper.
“I’ve called her so many times, I’m never going to forget her number.”
“Do… it…”
Every word Shane spoke sent spasms of pain shooting through his throat. The doctors had told him to remain as still as possible. But his agitation grew with the realization that his friend was keeping something from him.
Frustrated that he couldn’t get his mouth around enough words, he slammed his fist against the bed, and immediately regretted his display of irritation. What started out as a means of gaining Ollie’s attention, turned into a grip on the hospital bed covers to stabilize his pain.
“Okay, just calm down, I’ll call her again!”
Shane’s mobile phone along with his wallet had been stolen on the night of his attack. Otherwise, he would have found a way to text or called Crystal himself. As he was in a room with other critically ill patients, Ollie left Shane’s bedside to make the call. When he returned, he shook his head in the negative.
“She’s still not answering.”
He had already spent four days in
the hospital and had heard nothing from her. His mind repeatedly vied between two rationales as to her continued absence. One, she was still angry with him. Or two, she had been calling him, and concluded he was deliberately ignoring her.
Since the start of their relationship, they had never gone this long without speaking to each other. He was worried. Stuck in his hospital bed, Shane’s frustration continued to grow. Throughout his jumbled thoughts at their lack of communication, he realized there was a vital flaw in his thinking. Crystal couldn’t be intentionally ignoring him because he had lost his phone, and she wouldn’t have recognized Ollie’s number.
Closing his eyes, he tried to shut out memories of his attack. As his pain ebbed, for the first time he recalled the words he had heard just before losing consciousness. It was a warning to keep away from Crystal. That she wasn’t for him.
Three days later there was still no sign or word from Crystal. However, he got a visit from the police. Informed of his attack, the doctors had refused to allow them to question him until now.
Throughout the interview, he could tell they knew who he was. They probably thought what had happened to him was due to some form of retribution. But he couldn’t have cared less about their assumptions. In the end, they had gone away dissatisfied. He’d never trusted the police and he wasn’t about to start now. As far as he was concerned the less they knew, the better.
After the interview with the police, he told his nurse he was ready for a mirror. The doctor had already confirmed that he would carry the evidence of his attack for the rest of his life. Now, he was ready to see what that meant.
The doctor removed the bandages, while the nurse held up the mirror. He didn’t immediately look at the damage the blade had inflicted. For some reason, he started at the top of his head. Due to the protective bandages and having not washed his hair in nearly a week, his jet black locks were matted, greasy, and plastered down.
After a few moments, his gaze traveled down his face. One of his eyes was puffy and surrounded by unusual shades of black, yellow and green. He moved on. Knowing that avoiding looking at the wound wasn’t going to make it disappear, he turned his attention to his scar.
He shifted his head to the side so the stitches were on full display. He had never seen anything like it. A row of black sutures was interspaced from the bottom of his left ear, along his jaw and down across his throat. His attacker had only managed to miss his jugular vein by sheer luck, or if one believed in fate—it just hadn’t been his time to die.
Shane wasn’t angry at what he saw. In fact, he felt nothing. It was as though all his emotions had disappeared and all that remained was a feeling of numbness. Seeing everything he wanted to, he placed the mirror face down on the bed and looked at the doctor.
“Do you have any questions for me, Mr. Tierney?” Doctor Imran asked.
“How much longer do I have to stay here?”
“I’m afraid you’ll be with us for a while longer. That cut was very close to being fatal. We need to make sure that the stitches hold and that you don’t contract an infection. Once we’re satisfied that you’re in the clear, we can discuss your leaving us.”
Shane wanted to swear at the doctor, her false look of sympathy and the way she dragged out her words were driving him crazy.
“What if I just get up and leave?”
Doctor Imran frowned at him and he held her gaze with a stubborn unwavering look.
“Of course if that is what you choose to do, I or my colleagues could not stop you. However, I strongly recommend that you remain with us for a while longer, okay.”
“Will ya stop talking about this place like anyone in their right mind would want to stay here longer than they bloody well had to!”
“I understand how upsetting this must be for you–”
“Ya don’t understand shit about me, so why don’t ya just piss off!”
“Mr. Tierney, I under… I can only imagine how upset you must be at seeing your injury for the first time. However, neither my staff nor I will tolerate abusive behavior.”
That she spoke to him as though he were a wayward child stopped him from saying anything else. There was no point. He wasn’t angry at the hospital staff. He wasn’t even angry at his attackers. His only emotion was a growing fury at Crystal and her continued absence. Taking it out on the people who were helping him wasn’t going to change his situation.
“Okay, I hear ya.”
“Good, now if there’s nothing else I can help you with…” The doctor trailed off without asking a question.
“Nothing.” Shane responded tonelessly.
“We’ll speak again later, Mr. umm…” the doctor broke off and glanced at her chart. “Mr. Tierney. Try not to worry, I can assure you, your wound looks healthy. Just keep resting and you should be out of here shortly.” Looking over at the nurse, doctor Imran offered up a slight movement of her lips that could be interpreted as a smile. “Nurse, umm… the nurse will replace your dressing and I’ll see you soon. Okay?”
About to pat his hand, he moved it out of her reach. And he was just in time to see the nurse roll her eyes at the forgetful doctor.
Throughout the redressing of his wound, Shane became increasingly uneasy. The nurse did nothing overtly inappropriate. However, he was getting a vibe from her that he didn’t like. When she stepped back after her task was completed, he breathed an inaudible sigh of relief.
“There you go. Now that’s all done, how about I give you a bed bath?”
“Are you fucking joking me,” Shane raged through clenched teeth. “I’ve been bathing meself for the last two days!”
“Please keep your voice down,” the attractive nurse pleaded, pulling back the curtains to see if anyone was paying attention to his raised voice.
“If you’re that desperate to see me dick, this ain’t ya lucky day!”
“Mr. Tierney, I’m a professional, please remember that!”
“Well, bloody well act like it then. Why don’t you just piss off and leave me alone instead of trying to push your tits in me face!” By the time he finished speaking, Shane knew his shouting had been a mistake. He could feel the pain returning. He needed some more medication, but he wasn’t about to ask her for any. Closing his eyes, he gritted his teeth and rode his discomfort until sleep finally claimed him.
~~~
Oliver Sinclair was five-feet-ten and of a slim build. He had fair hair and blue eyes, and he went to great lengths to promote himself as the quintessential English gentleman. The truth was, he was a sadistic spoilt bastard who would do anything to get his way.
He came from a wealthy old English family. The only child of privileged parents, who throughout his formative years had pandered to his every whim. Or more aptly, anything money could buy. By the tender age of six, his self-importance was a part of his DNA.
His father divorced his mother when he was seven. Out of nothing but spite, Abbott Sinclair had refused his mother custody of him. Lisa Sinclair hadn’t put up much of a fight to change her husband’s mind. He knew this because she’d had the half-hearted argument in front of him.
As soon as his mother left, his father packed him off to boarding school. Ollie remembered how lost and alone he’d felt when he’d first been sent away. He’d pleaded with his father to allow him to come home. But no matter how much he cried and begged, Abbott had left him where he was.
His boarding school hadn’t been anything like the schools portrayed on TV and film. For him the whole experience had been a living nightmare.
One of his first and lasting memories was when he’d refused to get into the freezing showers, some of the older boys had been ordered to hold in under the water. This meant that they’d had to go through the morning ritual twice. They’d all had to say under the spray for fifteen minutes.
By the time they were allowed out, they were blue and well on their way to hypothermia. For that, the older boys had caught him when he was alone and beat him until he threw up.
T
he beatings continued until he in turn began hurting others smaller and weaker than himself. He used any means at his disposal to subjugate his school mate and get his way. And before long, Ollie found that he enjoyed inflicting pain on others.
After being sent away, he rarely saw either of his parents. When in their company, they ensured he learned one lesson well, he came from aristocracy, and he should never forget that important fact.
At first he didn’t understand their arrogance. But as time went on he began to imitate their actions. They were right of course. If one projected an air of superiority others invariably believed it, and tended to react accordingly—namely with deference.
Ollie took to his role of wealth and advantage well. However, he made slight adjustments to the way his parents behaved. Times had changed, and he at least acknowledged that brilliance came from all walks of life.
His charm and good looks usually got him what he wanted. If they failed, his money more often than not became the deciding factor. For the first time in his adult life, with Shane, his charm and supposed wealth failed him.
Ollie had heard of Shane through the motoring grapevine. Everyone assured him that he was the man to talk to regarding restoring vintage car engines. Ollie had put him to the test.
Four Years Earlier
Oliver Sinclair checked his watch again. By the time the lion shaped knocker echoed against the front door, everything was in place.
When his guest was shown into the sitting room, the first thing that struck him was that Shane was much younger than he had expected. He was twenty-four and the youth standing before him couldn’t have been long out of his teens. The second notable point was that he was so handsome, Ollie had to fight to keep his body under control. He had a particular weakness for dark-haired young men and Shane seemed almost tailor made.
“Mr. Tierney, so pleased to meet you, do come in,” Ollie greeted Shane hoping he had managed to hide his surprise and attraction as he held out his hand in welcome.
Shane looked down at his hand for so long Ollie thought he was going to ignore it.
Crystals Page 8
