The Song, The Heart

by Jade Winters

  ‘You do! How? Where?’ Morgan’s heart rate shot off the charts.

  Chanel grinned. ‘Izzy said she’s a hundred per cent sure she’s gone home.’

  Morgan latched on to that sentence and breathed a sigh of relief. Skye was safe, and that was all that mattered. ‘What’s she doing at home?’

  ‘Apparently, her dad’s not well.’

  ‘Her stepdad? I didn’t know he was in the country.’

  Chanel shrugged and rose to her feet. ‘That’s all I know.’

  Morgan’s brow creased in confusion. There had to be more to it than her stepdad being ill. What was all the secrecy about?

  ‘Why the hell didn’t she just tell me? I could have taken her?’ she asked, more to herself than Chanel.

  ‘Dunno. That’s all Izzy told me. She’s the person to ask if you want to know anything else.’

  Morgan shoved the pile of papers in front of her into a folder, opened a drawer and dropped it in. She reached behind for her jacket. ‘Will you be alright watching things here for a while?’

  ‘Why, where are you going?’

  ‘First to talk to Izzy. Then to see Skye. I need to find out what’s going on.’

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Skye was becoming more despondent. She and her mum had been traipsing the streets from the early hours of the morning to the late afternoon, looking in people’s gardens, sheds and any other hole her dad could have collapsed into. Even as the sky turned dark, she wanted to continue, but May had insisted they return to the house to grab a bite to eat and rest. Skye had resisted, but in the end, she was too weary and had given in.

  Now indoors in the warmth of her home, Skye could only think of her dad out there somewhere in the freezing cold. As she closed her eyes, she remembered that Bea had seen her dad hanging around Pembury Estate. Why the hell didn’t we go there?

  She sprang to her feet, tiredness forgotten.

  ‘Mum, Mum!’ she yelled, running to find May in the kitchen.

  May looked alarmed. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I’ve thought of another place to look. If he’s not there, I think we should call the police.’

  ‘Like they’ll be interested in a junkie.’ When Skye gave her a disappointed look, she shrugged. ‘To you, he’s your dad, but to them, he’s another low-life loser with a drug habit.’

  Skye was well aware of the attitude of certain members of the police service, but if someone was in danger, it was their job to help, regardless of their opinions.

  Half an hour later, as they neared the concrete jungle full of tall, grey high-rise flats, Skye didn’t hold much hope of returning home unharmed. They encountered a group of young men huddled in a corner, eyeing May’s handbag.

  ‘What you looking at, bitch?’ one of them mumbled.

  Skye lowered her gaze to the ground, thinking that at any minute, they would come after them.

  ‘Hey you!’ a voice called out behind them.

  May tightened her grip on Skye’s arm, and the women quickened their pace as heavy footsteps ran behind them.

  ‘Hey, lady! I’m talking to you.’

  Sinewy fingers gripped Skye’s shoulder. She stopped suddenly, causing her mother to stumble before righting herself. Her eyes shifted from side to side. Would anyone come to their aid? Nobody moved from their posts. So that’s a no, then.

  She would have to deal with the man herself. Turning her head, Skye saw the sheer terror in her mother’s eyes and gave her a reassuring smile as her hand gripped her bag more firmly. If she could give him a quick blow to the head that would knock him off balance, it would give them a few valuable seconds to escape—or at least attempt to.

  Taking a deep breath, she started to turn, lifting the bag as she did, but she dropped her arm when she recognised the man. He had visited their house on numerous occasions.

  ‘You looking for your old man?’ he asked, his gaze bouncing between them.

  ‘What? Yes, we are.’

  ‘He’s down there,’ he said, nodding towards a dark alleyway.

  Skye and her mum followed the direction of his eyes, and then looked at each other. She had no doubt her mother was having the same thoughts as her: he was either telling the truth, or it was a ploy to get them out of the open and somewhere he could rob them—or worse.

  Skye remained where she was. ‘What’s he doing down there?’

  ‘He’s clucking bad, man.’

  Skye looked to May for a visual clue as to what to do next, but was met with a look of uncertainty. This one was on her. Refusing to let her paranoia win, she went with her gut feeling. Oliver could be in need of serious help while she was stood there, faffing about.

  ‘Believe me, if I wanted to do something to you, I could do it right here.’ He snorted. ‘You think any of these bums would give a shit if I raped you right here and now? They’d probably rob you while I was doing it.’

  Skye looked around and saw two men standing across the street, eyeing them curiously. He was probably right.

  ‘Okay, but I’m warning you, I’m a black belt in karate, so don’t try anything funny.’

  His grin said he knew she was talking bullshit. ‘Follow me.’

  Walking tentatively behind him, her mum whispered, ‘This wasn’t how I imagined the end.’

  Skye squeezed her hand. ‘It’ll be alright.’

  She flashed the mobile phone in her hand, set to speed dial the police. If he tried anything underhanded, she could at least scream out his physical description. Her mum didn’t seem the slightest bit impressed with Skye’s strategy.

  They neared the entrance of the alleyway and stopped. Ahead, Skye could just about make out a body slumped against the wall under a dim light. She spent a few seconds observing her father from afar, watching as he stared blankly into the distance, scratching at his skin and mumbling nonsense. Every time he muttered a syllable or slapped at bugs he only imagined were there, Skye grew sadder and sadder. Her father had lost everything over the years: his job, his wife, his money and, most importantly, his dignity. With a deep breath, she approached him, alone and without a word.

  As if sensing her presence, his bloodshot eyes found hers. ‘Skye, please … help me.’

  His chin slumped against his chest, and he began to sob. Skye knelt down in a muddy patch, the water seeping through her jeans. She pulled her dad’s body into her arms and held him. They stayed in that position until her mum’s hand came to rest on her shoulder.

  ‘Come on, Dad,’ Skye said, gripping him under his armpits and hauling him to his feet. ‘I’m here for you. Let’s go home.’

  With her mum supporting him from the other side, they managed to walk him home. Under the cover of the night, a car with its engine running was parked outside their house. For one frightful moment, Skye thought a drug dealer had come looking for her dad. After a few seconds, she recognised the car as Morgan’s. The driver’s door opened, and Morgan stepped out with a smile.

  ‘Skye,’ Morgan began cheerfully, but then her expression clouded when she noticed Skye’s father.

  Morgan, what are you doing here? Skye’s head reeled out of control. What should she do? In a split-second decision, Skye pulled her dad closer to her, like a prized possession. It took all of her strength to maintain an emotionless expression as Morgan came around the side of her car and waited for them to get closer. Morgan’s eyes lingered over Oliver, analysing his bedraggled appearance and no doubt realising what Skye had been keeping from her the entire time.

  ‘Skye?’ Morgan said. ‘What’s going on?’

  Skye was ashamed, not of her father but at herself for lying.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said as she continued to walk purposely past Morgan. ‘My dad’s withdrawing from heroin. I need to get him inside.’

  Her father’s wellbeing outweighed everything—even Morgan.

  Morgan looked at her with a pained expression, clearly baffled by the situation. Seconds later, Skye caught one last glimpse of Morgan hurrying back in
to her car before speeding off. Holding back her tears, she guided her father inside and did her best to make him comfortable as she waited for May to search through his phone to call his dealer. They had to buy Oliver methadone to help him through his withdrawal. Skye couldn’t sit there and watch him suffer. Once he levelled out, they would move on to Plan B.

  Skye sat on the floor near the edge of the sofa for over an hour, holding his hand as he seized and suffered through unimaginable pain. Finally, the tears flowed heavily from her eyes.

  Gripping her father’s hand, Skye begged, ‘Please stop doing drugs, Daddy. Please stop doing this to yourself.’

  Things couldn’t get any worse. She closed her eyes and saw the heartbreak on Morgan’s face. Her secret was out, and she wondered if there was any hope of salvation. She wished she could go back in time and tell Morgan the truth. She had hurt herself with her own lies and betrayal, and worse, she had hurt the only woman she’d ever loved. Her mum rushed inside the room, armed with a small bottle of methadone. Skye stood by as her mum confidently measured out the correct dose and spoon-fed him.

  When Oliver was subdued and somewhat more comfortable, Skye retreated to her room to call Morgan. She looked in the mirror as she lifted the phone to her ear, staring blankly at her pathetic-looking reflection. She used her index finger in a futile attempt to wipe the smudged mascara from under her eyes, feeling an unnecessary need to look presentable when Morgan answered. The phone rang endlessly until the line finally connected to Morgan’s voicemail.

  ‘Hey,’ the recording said. ‘You’ve reached Morgan. Leave a message, and I’ll get back to you.’

  Skye’s heart sank. She disconnected the call and tried again. This time, the phone rang once.

  ‘Hello,’ the recording repeated. ‘You’ve reached Morgan—’

  Skye threw her mobile phone across the room. The single ring meant Morgan had purposely rejected her call.

  Skye fell onto her bed, sadness and guilt overwhelming her. Could all of this have been prevented with honesty? But had she told the truth, Morgan may never have given her a chance at all.

  She found herself reviewing every detail of their relationship. What could she have done to prevent this? Why had Morgan suddenly shown up outside her house? Only one person could have given her the address: Izzy. Curling into a foetal position, she wondered why nothing ever went her way. She suddenly understood her father’s need to numb his emotions after experiencing countless losses in life. Turning her face toward the heavens, Skye prayed that all of this was a bad dream, as reality was once again cruel and uncomfortable. How could she have been so stupid to believe she deserved the life Morgan had offered her? Her brain pounded against her skull until the spinning room forced her into a restless slumber. She dreamt of singing at Morgan’s club and of the times they had enjoyed together. Each time she awoke, she relived the pain of knowing she may have lost her love forever.

  A phone ringing stirred her into consciousness. Was it Morgan? Excitement turned to disappointment when she saw the caller’s name flash up on the screen.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Izzy asked with the utmost concern. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘At home,’ Skye replied.

  ‘You shouldn’t have run off like that,’ Izzy said, her voice rising. ‘What the hell were you playing at? Do you know how irresponsible this looks? Morgan’s been worried sick about you. So have I.’

  ‘Everything is ruined.’ Skye could barely get the words out. ‘Morgan saw my dad.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Oh? Is that all you can say after ruining my life?’ Skye said, fighting back the tears.

  ‘Ruining your life? Are you fucking kidding me?’ She sounded furious. ‘You wanna blame someone, look closer to home. So he snapped his fingers again and you went running—’

  ‘It’s different this time. If he doesn’t get help ASAP, I think he’ll die. I’ve never seen him this bad before.’

  Something in her tone must have revealed the seriousness of the situation to her, because when she spoke again, Izzy’s voice contained a hint of compassion. ‘He’s been walking the line for years, Skye. Have you tried calling Morgan?’

  ‘Yes. She cut me off.’

  ‘Well,’ Izzy started, ‘just try and put her out of your mind for a few days to look after your dad. I’m sure once she’s had time to calm down, everything will be fine.’

  ‘I hope so. I really do.’

  Skye shook her head and disconnected the call with no formal goodbye. She slid out of bed and shuffled to the kitchen, mustering the energy to fry an egg and toast a slice of bread for breakfast, but when she sat down in front of her plate, she found it impossible to eat. Moseying into the living room, Skye found her father sitting upright and awake on the sofa, watching the TV screen more attentively than usual.

  He glanced at her as she sat beside him.

  ‘I can’t live like this, Skye.’ He retrieved the remote with a shaky hand and muted the TV. ‘I don’t want to do this to you anymore … or me. I want to know what it’s like to see the world through sober eyes again, and I want to know what it’s like to be present in my own daughter’s life.’

  ‘Only you can make it happen.’

  Oliver’s eyes welled with tears and he continued, ‘I know I’ve been a terrible father and you’ve done everything in your power to keep me alive, even when I didn’t want to be. I can’t keep putting you through this. I want to be here for you. I want to be the father you deserve,’ he said, pulling Skye into a hug. ‘You’ve given me more than I ever deserved, and I love you so much, sweetie.’

  Skye burst into tears in her father’s embrace.

  ‘Oh Dad,’ she said through the tears. ‘I’m so happy, and I believe you can do this. I always have. I’m so sorry for ever doubting you.’

  Finally, it had happened, the moment she’d been waiting for. Oliver was asking for help rather than her being on his case, insisting he seek it. But how could she afford to put him in rehab? She couldn’t get a larger loan because she didn’t earn enough at the restaurant. A thought struck her: What if she couldn’t get her old job back? She would be in deep trouble. Her dad would have to take methadone. Could he abstain from drugs long term and not be tempted back into his old ways?

  She rubbed her temples with the tips of her fingers.

  ‘What’s the matter, Skye?’

  ‘Nothing for you to worry about. You just get better, and everything will be worth it.’

  Even losing Morgan? Skye dared not answer that question.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Morgan didn’t know whether she was delirious from the lack of sleep or so angry with Skye that she was incapable of thinking straight. She stormed into the bar area of Harrington’s, relieved to find it empty. The crowds hadn’t arrived yet, which was a good thing. People would no doubt want to see Skye, but her star attraction was at home, miles away, nursing her drug-addict father. Jesus Christ. I’m so fucking stupid. How didn’t I see she was lying to me? Bloody aunt my arse.

  ‘A brandy, please. Make it a double,’ she called out to Chanel, who was stacking glasses.

  Chanel stopped and looked at Morgan. ‘Excuse me? Brandy for someone who is basically teetotal? I take it the visit didn’t go well.’

  ‘Just pour me a drink, please. And no, it didn’t go well. In fact, it couldn’t have gone any worse if I’d found her in bed with someone else.’

  Chanel let out a low whistle. ‘Jeeze, it must have been bad.’

  She retrieved a bottle of brandy from behind the bar and poured two measures. She slid one over to Morgan, who took it and drank it in one go. The heat and strength of the drink nearly knocked her off her seat, but she ignored it, determined to get drunk and put the last few hours out of her mind—if that was even possible.

  ‘Can you believe it?’ she said more to herself than Chanel.

  Chanel rolled her eyes. ‘I dunno. Maybe if you tell me what happened, I’ll let you know.’

  ‘Her
dad …’ She had to force the words out. ‘He’s an addict.’

  Chanel leant on the counter, eyeing Morgan with intense interest. ‘Addicted to what? Sex?’

  Morgan snorted. ‘Yeah, he’s ill ’cause his dick’s fallen off from overuse. No, he’s not a bloody sex addict. It’s drugs.’

  ‘Drugs, that should make for a pleasant Christmas dinner.’

  ‘I’m glad you find this amusing. There won’t be any Christmas dinners or anything else with that woman.’

  “That woman”? The same woman you fell madly in love with?’

  Chanel poured another two drinks and handed one to Morgan.

  ‘Yes, that one. The very woman that lied to me when she knew how I felt about drugs.’ Morgan lifted the drink to her lips, but Chanel put her hand over her wrist and lowered her arm.

  ‘Seriously, do you blame the poor kid? Look at the state you’re in. Would you have told you the truth if you were in Skye’s shoes? I bet you made your feelings pretty clear on the subject before she had a chance to say a word.’

  ‘I … um,’ Morgan sputtered. ‘That’s not the point.’

  ‘I think you’ll find it’s exactly the point. She obviously didn’t want to get on your wrong side. Love kind of does that.’

  ‘Love! Huh, don’t make me laugh. If she loved me, she never would have lied to me.’

  Even as the words came out of her mouth, she knew they didn’t ring true to her heart. She knew Skye loved her; she could never deny that. She only had to look into her eyes to see how much. And look how you’ve treated her. Instead of being there for her, you hide and ignore her calls.

  She thought of their first dinner together, remembering the hateful way she’d spoken of drug addicts, and immediately felt ashamed. Her judgemental attitude had been an instinctive response to one man who she had wrongly blamed for something he didn’t do. In her heart of hearts, Morgan didn’t hate anyone—only what they did and the consequences of their actions.

  She closed her eyes feeling utterly miserable. Why was she punishing Skye for something that had nothing to do with her? Had she lost her senses? During these past few years, she had been so wrapped up in her hate for Thomas—an innocent man—that it had caused her, as Skye had put it, to tar everyone with the same brush.