by Grace Lowrie
‘Yes. Poor Uncle Anton, I can’t imagine what it must have been like for him, I can’t imagine ever losing …’ Celeste’s voice cracked and she closed her eyes.
I squeezed her hand as tears escaped down her cheeks.
She swallowed hard and resumed. ‘I couldn’t cope. I didn’t cope. I stopped talking, stopped eating … Uncle Anton didn’t know what to do, couldn’t deal with me, and the doctor decided I should go into hospital for treatment …’ Celeste looked at me, her glassy eyes reflecting mine. ‘I was in the hospital for eight months. It was an asylum really but they don’t call it that anymore. I had lots of counselling and they put me on loads of different drugs.’ She wiped her nose with the back of her free hand. ‘They were very good to me, really,’ she nodded as if reassuring me. ‘But it’s not something I’d wish on anyone,’ she added grimly. ‘And they wouldn’t let me have visitors – for six whole months they wouldn’t let me see Sebastian!’ she exclaimed, her face flushed. ‘It must have been so awful for him – I abandoned him just when he needed me most. I wish I could go back and change the way I handled things, be there for Sebastian, like I should have been …’
I lifted my fingers to her face as if to stem the tears. ‘No, Celeste, it wasn’t your fault, you couldn’t help it.’
‘I should have replied to your letter, it really meant the world to me, but the later it got, the less I knew what to say …’ she murmured.
‘It doesn’t matter now.’ My own tears fell.
‘Why are you crying?’ Celeste asked. ‘Don’t feel sorry for me.’
I snorted. ‘Of course I feel sorry for you, Celeste – you were just fourteen years old! I feel sorry for Sebastian too, and for me. I lost my best friend – I had to go through high school, through adolescence, without you. I know it’s nothing compared to what you and your brother went through, but I was lost without you, Celeste …’
‘Really?’ Celeste whispered, a small smile teasing her swollen mouth.
‘Really. Celeste, please don’t leave me again.’ My request sounded insubstantial, but it weighed heavily in my chest, profoundly leaden with fear.
Celeste leaned forwards, her fingers in my hair, and kissed me softly on the mouth, her lips salty and moist. ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ she whispered.
Chapter Fifteen
It was almost noon when I woke the next day, surprised at the time. I wasn’t normally one for lying in, but the sun had started to rise by the time we’d finally retired. It was hot and stuffy in Celeste’s bedroom and a halo of light around the curtains brightly accused us of wasting the day. I rolled over onto my back in the vast bed, to find Celeste still fast asleep beside me, with one arm flung up above her head looking baby-faced and carefree.
Yesterday, after Celeste had kissed me, she’d quickly changed the subject – keen to counteract the raw honesty of our conversation with lively, cheerful frivolity. She had started by conjuring up a summer fruit trifle – dancing around the kitchen barefoot, in a loose silk slip, while I helped her make the custard and jelly. But she soon grew impatient waiting for it to set and before the night was out she’d embarked on a raspberry Pavlova, regaling me with tales from Paris as we drank Schnapps and energetically whisked meringue into fluffy white peaks.
But for all Celeste’s natural optimism and luminous spirit, I was discovering a vulnerability about her that I didn’t yet understand. As fragments of our daybed conversation surfaced in my mind, I realised that she was still grieving and I wondered, not for the first time, why I hadn’t seen a single photograph of Philip and Lucille anywhere in the twins’ grand house.
Celeste stirred, smiled at me, and stretched contentedly like a cat, before checking the time. Abruptly she cursed in French and scrambled out of bed, accidentally kicking an empty wine bottle and sending it skittering across the floorboards.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I can’t believe the time, I’m gonna be late!’ she said, disappearing into the dressing room.
‘It’s Sunday!’ I called after her, bemused. ‘Late for what?’ but the shower was already on and she couldn’t hear me. I flopped back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. Sunlight was refracting through the central chandelier and spots of light danced slowly across the cornicing. I wondered if I should get up too – she’d said ‘I’m going to be late’ not ‘we’ but I had no idea where she was going.
Fifteen minutes later Celeste reappeared, transformed; immaculate, every inch the successful fashion designer.
‘Sorry, darling, I have a charity fundraiser. I have to be there for the start to co-ordinate the cat walk and auction, make sure everything goes smoothly, but I’ll escape as soon as I can.’
‘OK, anything I can do to help?’
‘No, thank you, darling. Stay, make yourself at home, help yourself to clothes, food, whatever you want …’ Celeste glanced at her watch.
‘Don’t worry I’ll be fine.’
‘Thank you,’ she said again, kissing me lightly on the cheek, carefully, so as not to smudge her makeup. I smiled – I couldn’t remember seeing Celeste flustered before, it was reassuringly normal.
‘I must just get my briefcase,’ she muttered as she strode across the hallway and into her office. I slid out of bed, pulled on Celeste’s bathrobe from behind the dressing room door, and met her again in the hallway as she re-emerged, briefcase in hand.
‘Have you got everything, dear?’ I teased.
The tension in her face faltered and she giggled. ‘Yes, I think so.’ She hugged me quickly and then headed down the stairs. ‘I’m not sure what time Seb’s due back – he’ll probably stay overnight with his lady friend and then fly back tomorrow but you never know …’ Celeste called over her shoulder.
‘Lady friend?’ The words escaped before I knew it.
Celeste had reached the landing and was facing me ‘Yeah Maria … no, Mariella – rich, glamorous, and boring,’ Celeste shrugged. ‘I’ll see you later?’
‘OK, I’ll be here, bye!’ I called as Celeste disappeared out of sight. The door slammed shut loudly behind her and I stood in the receding echo as Celeste’s words stabbed painfully through my head. Of course Sebastian had a girlfriend, of course she was rich and glamorous, and that was exactly as it should be. Why did I feel so jealous? I shook my head to dispel my creeping disappointment and sloped back to Celeste’s bathroom for a shower.
Once I’d blown my hair almost dry, I drew the heavy silk-embroidered curtains back from the bay window and approached Celeste’s elegant bureau in search of a hairband. Opening the top right hand drawer I was astonished to see familiar faces grinning back at me. Nestled among some silk scarves, and looking every bit as dog-eared as my own copy, was the photograph that Sebastian had taken of Celeste and me in disguise in Brighton. Tears immediately pricked the back of my eyes. I gently picked it up and turned it over but the back was as anonymous as mine – no message, no names, no date or location, they weren’t needed.
I was about to return the photograph to the drawer when something else familiar caught my eye – a shabby, discoloured envelope addressed to Celeste in my own fourteen-year-old handwriting – further proof that she had never forgotten about me. I hugged myself and looked out the window in an effort to prevent my emotions spilling over into tears. If only I’d known at the time, If only I could go back and reassure my fourteen-year-old self that things would work out, that Celeste and I would find each other again … Being with her had always felt natural to me, vital in some way, but now it occurred to me, after our discussion the day before, that she might feel the same way about me. The idea filled me with a warm glow. I didn’t need to open the letter to remember what I’d written and I didn’t want to explore the drawer any further – it felt like snooping. Instead I found a hair clip, applied some sun cream, and set off for the kitchen to find some lunch.
I spent the afternoon by the pool, lying limply in the shade as the humidity increased. It was so muggy I was almost tempted to move insi
de into the cool interior of the house, except that it seemed like such a waste. We so rarely got weather like this. Celeste’s iPod was sitting just inside in a dock with small, powerful speakers so I put it on to shuffle in the background, a cheerful mix of pop and modern rock tunes. I tried to read but I couldn’t concentrate; thoughts of Sebastian and Celeste wove through my mind – various conflicting emotions interlaced with memories from our childhood and recollections of our brief time in Brighton. It was bewildering and the sultry heat didn’t help. Every now and then I swam about listlessly in the pool to cool down but it didn’t distract me from my thoughts. Back on the sun lounger I dozed in and out of a restless sleep. I dreamt of a sexy, popular minx called Mariella who wrapped herself around Sebastian and Celeste like seaweed, all laughter and smiles.
When I jolted awake, I was sweaty and disorientated but relieved that I had only been dreaming. A storm was brewing; the sky had clouded over, the birds were eerily quiet, and the wind whispered through the trees. It had just gone 7 p.m. and Celeste was not back yet. I rose to my feet, stretched out my limbs, and yawned loudly. I decided to have one last swim before the rain started, but as I moved towards the pool the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I turned to find Sebastian leaning in the doorway watching me from beneath his dark brow.
His shirt was open at the collar; the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his bag, jacket, and tie abandoned on the kitchen island behind him.
‘Natasha,’ he nodded.
‘Hey,’ I gasped. ‘You made me jump; I didn’t think you’d be back until tomorrow,’ I added defensively.
‘I told Celeste I’d be back today …’
‘She thought you might stay an extra night with your girlfriend.’ I shrugged nonchalantly but I felt my traitorous cheeks heat.
Sebastian frowned, his eyes sweeping up over me and I suddenly felt self-conscious in such a small bikini while he was fully dressed. ‘I don’t have a girlfriend,’ he said quietly.
‘Oh, OK.’ Had Celeste got it wrong? I shrugged again for good measure. ‘How was your trip?’
‘Good, thanks; tiring but worthwhile I think.’ Sebastian started to unbutton his shirt and stepped out onto the terrace. ‘How was your weekend?’
‘Good thanks … relaxing.’ Sebastian removed his shirt and draped it over the back of a chair while I tried not to look at his chest.
‘Where’s Celeste?’
‘She’s at a charity fundraiser, but she should be back soon.’
Sebastian nodded in acknowledgment. He had pulled off his shoes and socks and was now removing his trousers. My mouth had gone dry. I heard a rumble of thunder in the distance.
‘I’ve been looking forward to getting into the pool all day – there might just be time before the weather breaks,’ he said, stepping closer. He was wearing only boxer shorts now. ‘You coming in?’ I realised I was staring rigidly at Sebastian’s face.
‘Yes, I … I was just about to do the same thing,’ I said.
‘Good,’ he said simply, suddenly scooping me up and jumping feet first into the pool. I gasped and clung to his neck and before I knew it we were in the water and I was giggling like a school girl.
Sebastian released me and systematically swam lengths of the pool while I floated on my back in one corner, just bobbing on the rhythmic waves he created. I tried to dismiss the thrill I’d felt as his body briefly held mine; the mouth-watering scent of his skin; the resulting ache in my loins. A clap of thunder much louder than before pulled me out of my reverie and Sebastian came to a halt just three feet away. The air hummed with electricity and I told myself it was just the storm.
‘I guess we should get inside,’ Sebastian said, his voice low, droplets of water glistening on his skin and in his hair. I nodded in agreement but neither of us moved to leave. Sebastian’s eyes held mine. They were a dark, bottomless blue; a clear summer sky just as day turns to night, or deep water at the foot of a cliff luring me in. I knew we mustn’t go there, I was sure he was thinking the same, but the tension crackling between us was hard to disregard.
As if on cue the heavens opened, dousing us with cold water like a sign from above. We both laughed, partly in relief, and Sebastian helped me out of the pool. We ran for the house grabbing clothes, books, and towels on the way and pulling the French doors closed as large rain rebounded off the stone terrace, splashing the floor inside.
‘Thanks,’ Sebastian breathed once everything was secure. ‘I’m just going to go change.’
Sebastian disappeared upstairs and I hurriedly slipped back into my sundress in the changing room next door. He was back in a matter of minutes, in shorts and a T-shirt, his hair still wet.
‘Have you eaten?’
‘No, I’m starving.’
‘Me too,’ Sebastian said wryly. ‘Let’s see what we’ve got …’
Sebastian and I were tucking into a salmon linguine when we heard Celeste come through the front door. The rain was still hammering down outside, the wind whipping through the trees.
‘Down here,’ Sebastian called up the stairs. It was only when Celeste flounced into the room that I realised how dark it had become. She joined us in the pool of light at the breakfast bar and slumped noisily onto a stool with a sigh.
‘Bloody torrential out there!’
‘I could’ve picked you up, why didn’t you call me?’ Sebastian asked.
‘I didn’t know if you’d be back,’ Celeste pouted.
‘You still should have called,’ Sebastian chided.
Celeste glared at him but didn’t reply. She looked tipsy, her eyes unfocused.
I smiled at her. ‘Are you hungry? There’s more linguine …’
‘No thanks, darling … I’ll have some of that wine though.’
‘Sure.’ I slipped off my stool and fetched a glass from the cupboard.
‘Haven’t you had enough already?’ Sebastian asked gently.
Celeste tutted. ‘Only a little champagne, darling, there’s always champagne at these things and it’d be rude not to join in.’
I could hear the slurring in Celeste’s words and realised Sebastian was probably right, but I poured her a glass anyway and she took it gratefully.
‘So, what have you two been up to?’ Celeste demanded.
I fought to keep my expression neutral. Did she suspect that something had happened between Sebastian and me?
‘I’ve only just got back,’ Sebastian said. ‘The meeting went well though – I think they’re going to sign the contract.’ Celeste looked reassured by this and I realised that her brother and I must have looked deceptively cosy when she walked in. She’d probably just felt left out.
‘I’ve hardly done anything at all,’ I admitted. ‘Just dozed by the pool – shameful really.’
‘Not at all, darling, you deserve some time off.’
‘How did the fundraiser go?’ I asked.
‘Great! It was wonderful …’ Celeste smiled and waved her hand. ‘We raised a lot of money for children’s charities, I don’t know the total amount yet but I think it was over three million.’
‘Wow!’ I said, genuinely impressed.
‘Well done,’ Sebastian added warmly with one of his heart-melting smiles.
We chatted companionably while we finished our meal but as soon as Sebastian cleared the dishes Celeste lurched to her feet.
‘I’m off to bed, Tasha, are you coming?’
‘Um …’ I glanced at my watch it wasn’t yet 9 p.m. ‘Yes, I can do …’
‘I can make up one of the guest rooms for you if you’d rather,’ Celeste added.
‘No, no, I don’t mind sharing.’
‘Great. Goodnight, Sebastian darling.’ She kissed Sebastian on the cheek with a flourish.
‘Goodnight, ladies,’ he said.
Before I knew it Celeste and I were showered and changed and tucked up in her bed. Celeste was already asleep. Passed out might be a more accurate description. Just how much did she drink?
After half
an hour of listening to the rain dash against the windows and counting Mississippis between the flashes and rumbles, I was still wide awake; my mind restless. I couldn’t help wondering if Sebastian was still downstairs. I quietly got out of bed, wrapped a silky blue robe around me, and tiptoed down the stairs.
Chapter Sixteen
‘Trouble sleeping?’ Sebastian’s warm deep voice got me every time. He was watching TV, reclining in an armchair, his bare feet up on the coffee table. I hadn’t noticed the plasma screen before, neatly mounted on the wall.
‘Yeah,’ I said sinking into the sofa, which was softer and comfier than it looked. ‘I don’t know how Celeste does it – out for the count the second her head hits the pillow.’
‘I think copious amounts of champagne probably helps.’ Sebastian lowered the volume, it looked like he was watching The Godfather.
‘Mm, I think you’re right. But she’s always been able to sleep, even when we were kids.’
Sebastian nodded. ‘Unlike you, if I recall.’
‘Yep,’ I answered his infectious smile with my own. So he did remember our late-night chats. ‘Do you still play guitar?’
‘Yeah, now and again. You still play the piano?’
I cringed. ‘No, I gave that up years ago, my heart wasn’t really in it.’
Sebastian gazed at me, one eyebrow raised, but made no comment.
‘What about Depeche Mode, do you still listen to them?’
‘Yeah sometimes. Actually some of their new stuff’s pretty good, have you heard it?’
‘Yes, some.’ I had every album.
‘But it’s not the same – their older albums really fitted how I felt at the time.’
‘I remember. ‘I Feel You’, I added dryly.
Sebastian laughed. ‘God, I was such a dickhead.’
Making Sebastian laugh gave me the same euphoric sense of satisfaction that it had when I was fourteen and sat beneath his window. ‘Don’t worry – I think we all were back then,’ I said with a smile.
I tucked my feet underneath me and settled into the corner of the couch. We watched the film for a while, quietly absorbed by a young, enigmatic Al Pacino.
