by Grace Lowrie
We walked briskly back to the house and Sebastian closed and locked the French doors behind us as I removed my coat.
‘Sebastian? Look at me. Are you alright?’ I asked gently.
Sebastian paused, considering, his face still lined with tension. ‘I am now.’
His reply did little to reassure me. What if I hadn’t come looking for him? Would he have stayed out there all night? As I opened my mouth to speak Sebastian suddenly lunged forwards and clamped his hand over my mouth as he pulled me close.
‘Please don’t,’ he muttered as he towered over me his eyes hard.
I was startled by Sebastian’s raw strength as he gripped me, the solid power bunched in his muscles as I stood trapped in the circle of his arm. It didn’t hurt – I knew Sebastian would never hurt me. Obviously he didn’t want to talk and as I felt the warmth of his body seeping into mine, I realised that I didn’t want to talk either, I suddenly felt tired. The knowledge that I was going to leave and hurt the people I loved weighed heavily on me. Being strong for Celeste and for Sebastian was exhausting and I was weary. Tears of emotional self-pity sprang to my eyes and Sebastian’s expression softened. He slowly, cautiously lowered his hand from my mouth and as my body started to sag he gently, silently swept me up in his arms.
Without a word Sebastian carried me off into the den next door. He carefully laid me down on a large, plum velvet sofa in the flickering light of the movie screen. As I lay back and watched, Sebastian calmly, systematically removed my clothes and then his own until I was aching for his touch. His burning gaze heated my skin as his dark eyes roamed my body, closely followed by his hands, his cherishing touch, and his sinfully skilful mouth. I loved this man. Sebastian knew what I needed. He took control; took me completely with confidence and devotion, quietly, breathlessly filling me with himself and with his love until there was no room left to think; no space to worry about the future; no place for anxiety and fear …
Chapter Forty-eight
Arriving home later than usual on a drizzly Friday night, I was met by loud music, as if a party was in full swing. It was the last thing I needed. I felt nauseous and I was in no mood for entertaining. Tonight was the night I was going to break the news to the twins that I was leaving them. My suitcase was packed for a weeklong trip to Scotland, but before I went I needed them to know that it wasn’t just a holiday – it was a reconnaissance; I couldn’t allow myself to get side-tracked.
I let myself in at the front door, left my briefcase and coat in the hall, and followed the music and the disconcerting smell of burning down the stairs. The breakfast room was slightly hazy with smoke but festively strung with fairy lights, which vibrated to the loud drum and bass. The table had been set with a baffling array of edible delights – cakes, biscuits, puddings, tarts, truffles and pitchers full of potent-looking cocktails, as if for a tea party – the Mad Hatter’s perhaps. The kitchen itself looked like the scene of a localised whirlwind. Each surface was crowded with bottles, dishes, baking trays, utensils, half-empty packets, and assorted ingredients; the sink overflowing. Celeste (the whirlwind) was noisily mixing a bright purple concoction of some kind in a large blender while she enthusiastically swayed her hips in time to the music. She was wearing a very short, lavender blue dress, impossibly high stiletto heels, and frilly silk flowers in her hair. She was alone.
I stepped over to the music system and turned down the volume slightly.
‘Tasha, darling! You’re home!’ Celeste called, switching off the blender and skipping over to me, her arms wide. I could instantly tell she was sloshed. She hugged me tightly and kissed me warmly on the lips, her mouth sticky with grenadine.
‘What’s going on?’ I asked bemused, as I wiped icing sugar from her cheek and carefully pulled something brown and squashy out of her hair. On further inspection I decided it was a sultana.
‘This,’ Celeste proudly indicated the table with a sweep of her arm, ‘is a party! For you – a send-off!’
‘Celeste …’
‘I was going to make you dinner but I can’t really cook – I can only do sugary things so …’
‘It looks wonderful, thank you.’ I kissed her again, powerless to resist her innate sweetness.
‘I wanted to do something for you, before you go tomorrow – something memorable.’
‘It looks amazing, really, Celeste …’ I did a double-take as I glanced through the open French doors. ‘Have you taken the cover off the pool?’
‘Yes, I’m heating it – I thought we could go for a swim before you go.’
‘In this weather?’ I laughed.
‘Yes, why not?’ Celeste pouted.
‘OK. Is anyone else coming to this party?’ I asked casually.
‘No, but I can call people if …’
‘No, no. I’d rather it was just us,’ I smiled, relieved. ‘Where’s Sebastian?’
Celeste sighed, shrugged and returned to the blender.
‘Celeste?’
‘He’s probably upstairs,’ she said without looking at me.
The twins were barely speaking to each other nowadays, and I was more certain than ever that I was right to leave.
‘I’ll go and get him,’ I said as I left the room.
Celeste didn’t respond.
Sebastian was working at his computer in his office. He looked focused but relaxed. He had swapped a shirt and tie for a grey T-shirt but he was still wearing his smart trousers. In the doorway I stole a moment to admire him before he noticed me.
‘Hey, angel, you should have called me, I’d have picked you up,’ he said as he stood and wrapped me in a warm hug.
‘That’s OK, I wasn’t sure what time I’d finish.’
Sebastian kissed me softly at first and then deeper before breaking away with a groan. ‘I’m going to miss you so much.’
‘I’m going to miss you too,’ I said, my heart quietly breaking. ‘Are you coming downstairs?’
Sebastian scowled slightly. ‘I think Celeste would rather I didn’t, and anyway, I haven’t got much of a sweet tooth.’
‘Please, it’s my last night and I want to talk to you both, together.’
Sebastian looked at me curiously but didn’t ask me to elaborate. ‘OK,’ he said kissing me on the nose. He switched his computer to hibernate before following me back down the stairs.
At the table Sebastian and I politely loaded our plates with goodies while Celeste poured out glasses of something red with orange peel in the top. I took a sip on my straw to calm the anxiety that was building in my stomach but the drink was surprisingly bitter, making me grimace.
‘Campari,’ Celeste said by way of explanation. ‘It grows on you,’ she added.
The twins exchanged a look, briefly united in their shared amusement at my expense and as I picked up a pink cupcake with bright blue frosting I felt strangely like a part of Alice in Wonderland.
Half a Campari cocktail and several bites of cake later I decided I must say what I needed to soon, or I was in danger of getting too inebriated to speak – that or slipping into a diabetic coma. The music had stopped, the twins were making unnaturally stilted small talk, and I realised it was now or never.
‘I need to tell you something,’ I said suddenly, interrupting speculation on the weather. ‘I’ve got a job interview lined up at the Scottish National Gallery next week.’
There was a sickening silence.
‘Why?’ the twins said in unison.
‘Because I’m thinking of moving up there, to Edinburgh, to live.’ I picked up a glass of water, unable to look at them, my hand shaking slightly as I took a noisy gulp.
‘Whatever for, darling?’ Celeste asked incredulous.
‘Because this isn’t working – the three of us – together,’ I said.
‘Don’t be silly! Of course it is! Look at us – we’re having a great time!’ Celeste laughed, but it was forced, tinged with fear.
‘No, Celeste,’ I said taking her hand and looking into her big beauti
ful eyes. ‘You know it’s not right. You two barely speak to each other anymore.’ Celeste tried to interrupt but I spoke over her. ‘Sharing me is hurting you both – destroying your relationship with each other. I can’t let that happen. I’d rather end things now while we are all still friends,’ I said, my voice weakening on the last word as emotion threatened to undermine me.
Sebastian was ominously quiet, just watching me.
‘What, so you’re just going to leave?!’ Celeste exclaimed, standing suddenly, knocking the table with her hip and making our glasses wobble.
‘Just for a week to start with – to see if –’
‘I thought you loved me!’ Celeste interrupted, her eyes full of tears.
‘I do! I love both of you,’ I added turning to Sebastian who was now staring at the table. ‘That’s why I’m –’
‘I’m not listening to this!’ Celeste sobbed as she turned and ran from the room, swiping a large bottle of vodka from the breakfast bar on her way past.
As I listened to Celeste clatter up the stairs and slam a door behind her, it felt like my heart was literally throbbing with pain in my chest. Unbidden tears were clouding my vision despite my determination to hold it together.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said to Sebastian.
He looked at me his eyes filled with bottomless blue sorrow. ‘I know,’ he said, his voice low. ‘But you mustn’t be. You’re probably right,’ he added.
Sebastian’s gentle compassion and understanding was almost my undoing. But I knew that if I let go now, surrendered to the overwhelming grief and self-pity that threatened to drown me, I’d never make it to Scotland.
I nodded, took a deep breath, and stood as Sebastian rose too; there were crashing noises coming from upstairs.
‘I need to make sure Celeste is OK,’ I said.
‘I’ll come with you.’
Celeste wasn’t in her bedroom – for some unknown reason she had locked herself in her studio and wouldn’t come out. It sounded like she was trashing the place, like a child throwing a tantrum.
‘Celeste, please let me in!’ I called through the door. She wouldn’t answer, but I heard something else triumphantly crash to the floor.
‘I’ll try the other door,’ Sebastian said quietly before heading back along the corridor and disappearing into her office.
‘Please, Celeste, this is childish, please let me explain …’ I begged, hammering on the door.
‘Fuck off, Tasha! Just leave if you’re going to!’ she yelled.
‘Please, Celeste,’ I repeated.
Sebastian returned, the shake of his head telling me the door between her studio and office was also locked.
‘I knew you would!’ Celeste declared. ‘I knew you’d leave me.’
‘I don’t want to leave you, I just can’t see any other way. Please, Celeste open the door,’ I tried again.
Celeste didn’t reply. I could hear her sobbing, and the sound of smashing glass made the hair on the back of my neck prickle. Sebastian and I glanced at each other with concern.
‘Stand back,’ Sebastian said gruffly. I stepped aside as he violently kicked at the door, once, twice, and on the third attempt the wood split suddenly and the door swung open, loudly rebounding against the wall.
The room was in chaos. Celeste had knocked over the various mannequins, lighting rigs, and crates, creating a tumultuous sea of haberdashery – assorted fabrics, ribbons, buttons, and zips were strewn across the floor. Celeste was attempting to unlock the door to her office and escape as Sebastian and I burst into the room, but she was bleeding – a crimson streak of blood was visible on the white doorframe. Sebastian reached her first, just as she got the door open.
‘What have you done, Celly?’ he muttered, taking her hand and scrutinising the cut. As I got closer I felt the crunch of broken glass under my shoes, glimpsed parts of the bottle still intact, and smelled the vodka as it puddled between the floorboards.
‘It’s just a scratch!’ Celeste bitterly wrenched her arm out of Sebastian’s grasp. Her face was swollen and streaked with mascara, her eyes wild with anger.
‘Try to calm down,’ Sebastian said gently.
‘Calm down!? Why should I? You’ve ruined everything!’ she screamed at him.
Sebastian opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again.
‘It’s not Sebastian’s fault,’ I said quietly.
‘Yes it is!’ Celeste yelled. ‘Of course it is! Sebastian could have had anyone! Any woman he wanted – but no, he had to have you! My oldest friend! He knew how important you were to me! And now look – it’s all over!’
‘I’m sorry, but I’ve loved Natasha just as long as you have,’ Sebastian said calmly. ‘Since we were at school –’
‘Bollocks! You never even spoke to her back then,’ Celeste said.
Sebastian sighed. ‘We talked for hours, Celeste, while you were asleep.’
‘What? When?’ Celeste glared at me accusingly.
I cautiously stepped closer to Celeste as if she was a cornered wild animal. ‘In the summer holidays.’ I shrugged as nonchalantly as I could. ‘We just talked.’
Celeste momentarily looked confused and betrayed before she turned back to her brother, furious. ‘How could you do that to me? Your own sister! How could you be so selfish?’ she screamed in his face, hysterical.
‘I’m selfish?’ Sebastian snarled back, his control slipping. ‘What about you? Who are you to decide Natasha’s future?’
Celeste paled and started backing away into her office as Sebastian followed her, his eyes blazing.
‘What if she wants to get married, have children?!’
‘Please stop! Both of you, this is my fault – please don’t blame each other.’ I stepped in between them, taking one of their hands in each of mine as they glared at one another. ‘Please,’ I added, squeezing their hands hard, urging them to look at me.
Sebastian returned his attention to me first, his anger subsiding, reverting back into a raw sorrow that was hard to witness.
‘Celeste, sweetheart …’ I pleaded in a whisper through my tears. I could tell she was digesting what Sebastian had said, wondering if it was true.
Suddenly with a sob she pulled away from me, wrenched open the glass doors, and propelled herself out onto the roof terrace. Sebastian and I moved to follow.
‘Please, wait here a minute,’ I said quietly to Sebastian. ‘Let me talk to her alone.’
He gazed into my face, his eyes bottomless and then nodded, resigned.
‘Thank you,’ I whispered lifting his hand to my lips and kissing it before letting go and stepping out into the night.
The air smelled dank as if a storm was on the way and Celeste’s opulent daybed, once the scene of such happy memories, looked damp and uninviting. As my eyes adjusted to the gloom I saw that Celeste was standing up on the built-in seat at the far edge of the terrace, staring down to the garden two storeys below. Fear slithered through me at the sight of her balanced precariously close to the edge, legs swaying slightly in her impossibly high heels. She looked so vulnerable; so alone.
‘Celeste?’ I called gently, moving closer until there were only a few meters between us; I didn’t want to startle her.
‘Maybe this is the answer,’ she said quietly, calmly.
‘Don’t be stupid, Celeste,’ I hissed, my fear making me angry.
‘No, seriously,’ she said suddenly turning towards me. ‘If I wasn’t around, you and Sebastian could get married and live happily ever after.’ The wind was picking up, gusting through the trees and flapping the hem of Celeste’s dress like a flag out at sea.
‘That’s not what I want.’
‘Really?’
‘Really,’ I stressed.
‘Are you sure?’ she mocked in an eerie sing-song voice, her eyes darkened with alcohol and emotion.
‘Of course, Celeste – I love you, you know that. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.’
Celeste turned back
to the garden, her heel slipping slightly on the wet timber, making my heart lurch in my chest. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to jump,’ she said, laughing. ‘Although I reckon I could make it into the swimming pool from here,’ she added, spreading her arms to steady herself.
‘Please don’t,’ I whispered. I could sense Sebastian quietly, anxiously moving out onto the deck behind me.
‘So you’re moving to Edinburgh?’ she said.
‘Yes, I thought that might be best.’
‘And what? We just never see each other again?’ Celeste asked, staring away across London in the distance.
‘I think it would hurt too much to stay in touch.’
Celeste shivered, hugged herself, and nodded thoughtfully.
‘Please can we go back inside, Celeste, you’re making me nervous standing there.’
‘I said I wouldn’t jump,’ she said petulantly.
‘OK,’ I sighed.
Celeste was quiet for a while lost in thought as I listened to the breeze swelling in the trees and the sound of a police siren in the distance. ‘What if I promised to change?’ Celeste began.
‘I don’t want you to change.’
‘Let me finish!’ Celeste admonished, wheeling around to face me again. If she knew Sebastian was in the shadows behind me she didn’t acknowledge him.
‘OK, go on,’ I said patiently.
‘What if Sebastian and I got on better, what if we worked out some sort of arrangement so that we could all stay together?’
‘But isn’t that what we’ve been doing, Celeste – trying to make this work?’ I said gently.
Tears escaped down Celeste’s face.
‘It just doesn’t work,’ I said sadly.
‘It worked in Antigua,’ Celeste said ruefully.
‘Yes, Antigua was wonderful – but that was just one week, Celeste; a holiday, it wasn’t real.’
‘It was real!’
‘That’s enough, Celly,’ Sebastian said calmly, moving to my side. ‘You’re both getting cold, let’s go inside.’
‘I don’t want to,’ Celeste said stubbornly.
‘Don’t be so melodramatic,’ he said, taking a step towards her.
‘Don’t!’ she shouted, turning away. As she did so a gust of wind caught her slightly off balance, she stepped to the side to compensate, but her heel slipped on the wood beneath her feet and the balustrade at her calf did nothing to steady her. Suddenly, as Sebastian and I lurched towards her, Celeste fell backwards out of reach, dropping over the edge and into the inky night, out of sight.
