by Gayle Curtis
‘Oh?’ She held his gaze, showing him she was far more forthright than Cecelia.
‘I take it you know where I’ve come from?’
‘Yes . . .’
He leant forward on the counter and she held her breath.
‘I’m not going to hurt you.’ He could see the symmetry of her face even more clearly from this angle – the perfect matching brows and almond-shaped eyes. He reached round to the side of her and picked up the case of the CD that was playing quietly in the background.
‘Do you work here every Saturday?’
She swallowed and he stepped away from the desk, giving her space to breathe, allowing her to see that he wasn’t the monster she thought he was.
‘Most Saturdays, yes, and in the school holidays, too . . . look, I shouldn’t –’
He cut her off.
‘I don’t suppose they’ll be too many more of those left; you must be nearing exams.’
‘Yes . . . I’m in my last year.’
‘Radiohead.’ He nodded. ‘One of my favourites.’
‘Are they? I love them.’
He nodded again.
They chatted for a while, Sebastian searching for more common ground. It turned out that Caroline was studying art as he had done in prison.
‘I’d better go. It was nice to meet you, Caroline.’ He used few words, but he cleverly dripped them along the counter to make her feel guilty for brushing him off. He hadn’t been the image of the person she’d painted in her head and, presented with an intelligent, well-dressed man, he knew he had confused her, especially as Cecelia had hidden her meeting with him from her family.
‘Nice to meet you, too . . . will we see you again?’
Sebastian opened the door of the bookshop and as the bell tinkled he cast the hook of words she would bite onto.
‘Yes, if you want to.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
Each minute that passed by saw Cecelia changing her mind about whether to meet Sebastian later that morning or not. She was still in her pyjamas and was staying occupied by cleaning the house from top to bottom, an activity she was obsessed with. Samuel’s funeral business was situated not far from the house and it always made her feel unclean – the thought of him washing bodies made her shudder. Disinfecting everything regularly settled her anxiety and the anger that always seemed to be brewing near to the surface. When had their marriage changed? How had they shifted in their relationship from feeling confident and forthright, to anxious and unworthy? She often pondered this, tried to be more assertive, show some confidence. It never lasted; her mental state was always the main consideration. She couldn’t be upset or cross or annoyed without it being perceived as a symptom, so little was said in response. This irrationality will pass, was always clear across Samuel’s face. So they never really had a discussion about anything, her opinions couldn’t be true because her emotional state was out of balance. She wanted to scream, she couldn’t get out, felt trapped within the confines of herself and, beyond that, if she ever managed to claw her way to the surface, the solid walls Samuel had created to keep her safe. Even her involuntary muteness, which didn’t occur very often now, made her feel suffocated, caused her to panic.
They’d had a bad night, the pair of them. Probably brought on by Cecelia’s impending meeting with Sebastian, not that she’d told Samuel where she was going. He liked to keep tabs on her movements. I don’t care what you do or where you go, he would so often say, just tell me where you are. But she couldn’t tell him about this. There was an underlying jealousy over Sebastian. The tone of his voice changed if she ever mentioned him and he asked a lot of questions she’d answered before. She’d seen it in him before Sebastian went to prison. He was envious of their closeness, their understanding, their symmetry.
Too much bleach on the cloth she was using had begun to burn her hands. She never wore gloves as she liked the smell of the detergents on her skin when she’d finished as proof that she’d cleaned. She was finding it increasingly difficult to decipher reality from dreams. She scratched at her pale and cracked sore hands, which reminded her of the fragile state her mind was in. The sleep-deprived night had put everything out of kilter; the entire day wouldn’t slot into its rightful place until it magically altered during the small hours.
Cecelia had seen a ghost. It was something she was certain of. She could see now, though, that announcing this at dinner probably hadn’t been the best move. Caroline had kept her head down and stared at the food on her plate as she so often did when she felt uncomfortable, whilst Samuel had calmly told her it must have just been someone amongst the crowd. But she’d seen the child again, several times since she had appeared across the road from the bookshop, and she wasn’t mad enough not to know what was real and what wasn’t.
Their reaction had caused some indignation, old familiar feelings rising immediately to the surface, making her voice reach a higher pitch than usual. Why couldn’t she stay calm, stand firmly by her convictions without getting upset or irate. She felt like an outsider in her own home. This was like the green suitcase on the purlin again. The green suitcase that she remembered so well. The green suitcase that had caused her to leave her bed in the small hours of the night in search of it. She needed to find out what was inside – she knew that it was somehow linked to Yvonne. This was something that happened quite regularly, although Cecelia didn’t always remember it. Sometimes she would wake up with leaves and mud stuck to the bottoms of her feet with no memory of how they had got there. There was an element to this sleepwalking that gave her a sense of freedom, of balanced control, knowing her mind could steer her body to go somewhere she didn’t know anything about. Occasionally she would wake up in the garden or down the track that led to their house, sometimes she would find herself in the cellar. Cecelia knew she was always in search of the suitcase and on the edge of remembering each time she surfaced. The need to know what was in the suitcase had dispersed briefly when her mother had appeared all those years ago, but the urge had quickly returned. It was important to her, even though she didn’t know why.
Last night was different though because she knew she hadn’t been asleep this time and she hadn’t been looking for the suitcase.
The little girl had started appearing by the side of her bed many years ago. She would always whisper a few words in the cold sharp darkness and lead her by the hand. They would get halfway down the stairs when Samuel would switch the light on and frighten her away. Cecelia hated him for that.
CHAPTER NINE
The café was fairly full when Sebastian arrived. There was a slightly embarrassing moment when he realised that Cecelia was already sitting down across the room from where he had sat, searching for him as he was for her. Then a few awkward moments as they sorted out some tea and coffee.
‘So, we might as well start from the beginning. What’s been happening since I’ve been away? Give me a quick run-down of your life.’ Sebastian stirred his coffee as he tried to make Cecelia look at him.
‘I’d really rather you didn’t talk to Caroline unless I’m with her.’
Sebastian leaned back in his chair and frowned, slightly confused by her hostility towards him. An image from almost two decades ago entered his head of Roger lying on the stairs, Cecelia, semi-naked, holding a gun in her hands.
‘Hello, I’m Sebastian, your twin brother.’ He awkwardly half raised himself from his seat and held out his hand for Cecelia to shake.
‘Don’t be an idiot, Sebastian.’ She shook her head and stared down at the table.
‘Sorry, I just thought you had mistaken me for someone else.’ Sebastian turned to look behind him. ‘Because, you do remember I was in prison for many years?’
Cecelia shifted uncomfortably in her seat, unable to look at him for more than a few seconds.
‘I’m not good at all this . . . all this . . .’ she gestured with her hands. ‘Meeting up with people from the past. I’m not the person I used to be . . . you
don’t know me anymore . . . you’re expecting me to be the same person I was then, but I’m not.’
‘Wow, so many clichés in one sentence . . . I know you’re not the same, Cece, how could you be after all these years? But did you ever think that maybe I’m not the same person either?’
‘I know . . . but I can’t feel something that isn’t there . . .’ Cecelia looked at him properly for the first time. ‘I’m sorry . . .’
Sebastian leant forward on the table, squeezing his hands in his lap, as if he’d been physically winded. Sighing heavily, he sat up and pulled his dark blond hair through his fingers.
‘Listen, Sebastian –’
‘Do you want to go and watch a film?’ He interrupted her, not wanting her words to do any more damage. ‘At the cinema, where we used to go . . . I saw it was still open.’
Cecelia frowned. He could see she was unsure where the question had come from. They were completely out of sync with one another, he realised. There had been a time when they’d have thought of the idea together. That’s what he was trying desperately to do – re-align their relationship.
‘No, Sebastian. I’m not going to the cinema with you, I’m not going anywhere with you.’ She was already lifting her bag onto her lap, getting ready to leave.
‘Please don’t do this, Cece.’
‘I’m not doing anything, Sebastian. I just want you to let me get on with my life, for you to get on with yours.’ She was looking right at him, stony faced, her entire demeanour completely altered. It was as though a stranger was sitting across from him. ‘We’ve led different lives; we’ve been apart now for longer than we were together.’
Sebastian watched her face drain of any emotion she might have had for him when they first sat down in the café.
‘I’m glad you’ve managed to convince yourself that you did nothing wrong. It must fit in very nicely with your perfect life. I served eighteen years for you.’ Sebastian’s words skidded across the table, landing straight in Cecelia’s lap. He could almost feel the sharp edges cutting her hands.
‘Eighteen years? Oh come on Sebastian! Your sentence was extended because of your bloody temper; you’d have been released a lot earlier if it wasn’t for that. So don’t try to make out you served all those years because of me. You should be grateful.’
‘You make it sound like I owed you!’ said Sebastian.
‘That’s because you did.’ The beautiful face he had thought about non-stop for all those years had altered almost beyond recognition as she hissed at him across the table. ‘If I hadn’t stopped Roger that night, he’d have killed you. Maybe not right then but eventually.’
‘Perhaps you should have let him.’
‘You’re being ridiculous, Sebastian. We’re quits; let’s just leave it at that.’
Sebastian sat back in his chair as Cecelia picked up her bag ready to leave. A few people had turned to look at the sound of raised voices.
‘I need you, Cece.’ He realised that returning her spite wasn’t going to keep her there and he was desperate to make her stay.
‘No you don’t, you’re just obsessed with someone who doesn’t exist anymore.’ She laid some money on the table and began pulling her coat on.
Sebastian waited for Cecelia to close the café door and then he followed her, quickly falling in step alongside her. She tried to ignore him, staring straight ahead, but he kept up with her the entire time until she eventually stopped walking and turned in the opposite direction.
‘I don’t owe you an explanation, Sebastian. Leave me alone.’
As she walked away, Sebastian grabbed her arm hard and pulled her sharply against him.
‘Nothing is that simple, Cece.’ He spat the words in her ear, making sure they were tucked deep inside her head before he let go of her so abruptly that she stumbled into the gutter.
CHAPTER TEN
Cecelia froze when she saw Sebastian coming through the shop door; she felt as though her body had been suddenly halted after travelling at high speed and she was waiting for her vital organs to settle, to begin working again. It had been a month or more since she’d seen him at the café. Every day thereafter, she’d felt quite unsettled, worried that he might appear at the shop or, worse still, come to her house again. It hadn’t been difficult for him to find out where she lived as they had never left Samuel’s childhood home, the foster home where she and Sebastian had lived after Roger died.
A tiny part of her had wanted to see him again. Memories of how they’d once been with one another had filled her mind ever since their meeting and the familiarity of him was drawing her to him. There was something about the safety of someone knowing her as well as he did, even though she’d tried to convince him she’d changed. She’d expected to feel that familiarity with Samuel one day. All those years ago, when they’d first got together, she had thought the feelings would develop as time went on, but she had never felt the same way about him as she did her brother. She had a confusion of emotions for Samuel that she could never decipher or understand. The only reason she’d been aware of it was because she watched Samuel express those emotions about her, telling her things Sebastian once had. It had left her feeling displaced, upside down almost, about why she should have feelings like that towards her brother and he for her. Over the years she consoled herself with the explanation that they were twins and all twins felt that way about one another. Being separated for eighteen years had hardened her resolve; his absence hadn’t made her heart grow fonder, it had squeezed it almost to death and that’s how it must stay.
‘Sorry, what did you say?’ asked Cecelia, snapping out of her thoughts.
‘Mum has been taken to hospital; she’s had a heart attack.’
Cecelia and Sebastian stared at one another.
‘A shock, I know. I called through and the nurse I spoke to says she’s stable but we need to get over there right away.’
All Cecelia heard was I, I, I. Her attention was slightly distracted by Caroline sitting to her right and Sebastian, whose eyes kept straying to her. They were smiling at one another.
Cecelia turned to look at Caroline, wondering when she and Sebastian had become so familiar with one another. Her daughter’s face was flushed pink and she seemed nervous around him. Cecelia looked back at Sebastian and then her daughter again. She’d known he’d been to see Caroline when she was working in the shop and they’d bumped into one another a few times outside school. Caroline had also bombarded Cecelia with lots of questions about him. Questions she hadn’t been interested in before she’d met him because she had just seen him as her mum’s brother that she didn’t have anything to do with. But now Caroline was obviously seeing something different.
Caroline attempted to stand up just as Cecelia put her arm out to gently stop her. It was a small movement magnified by the silence, and, like a fine spray, awkwardness descended.
‘Caroline, go and wait for me at home and tell your dad I’m going to be late . . . in fact, don’t tell him, I’ll call him.’
Caroline nodded and Cecelia noticed that her daughter was unable to look at Sebastian. Cecelia and Caroline knew each other too well, as any parent and child know each other, but Cecelia had always felt like she was looking at another version of herself when she looked at Caroline. And she knew her down to every fibre of her sinew. Cecelia had asked Caroline to meet her at the shop after school because she was becoming suspicious about where she’d been going at the end of each school day. Her daughter had become secretive and had been withdrawing from the family, and Cecelia had an idea why.
Having tried and failed to keep Caroline away from Sebastian, she’d decided to fill her time instead so that she was too busy to see him.
‘Go on, off you go.’
Caroline slid off her stool. ‘It’ll take me ages to walk and it’s raining.’
‘We could drop her off on the way to the hospital.’
Cecelia glared at Sebastian. ‘The hospital’s in the opp
osite direction. No, the fresh air will do her good. Caroline, you’ve been stuck in a classroom all day. Off you go and I’ll see you later. I won’t be long.’ She looked pointedly at Sebastian.
‘Can’t I come with you?’
‘Home. Now!’ Cecelia turned her glare to Caroline, who tutted and left the shop. Cecelia couldn’t help feeling like the outsider in this group of three.
Instead of going to pick up her bag, coat and keys, Cecelia walked over to the coffee machine and poured herself a cup and offered one to Sebastian. She didn’t feel like rushing to the hospital.
Sebastian took the mug from her hand and placed it on one of the shelves. ‘We don’t have time for that. Let’s go.’
Cecelia reached for the cup and walked slowly back to her seat. She looked at him thoughtfully. ‘I don’t close for another half an hour. And anyway, I’m not sure I’m going to go to the hospital.’
Sebastian put his hands in his coat pockets to retrieve his cigarette tin. ‘I’ll go and have this outside. You get sorted, lock up and we’ll go.’
Ignoring him, she continued. ‘My immediate reaction was to rush over there but then I thought, why would I do that? Why would I go running to the woman who deserted us when we were children and never apologised?’
‘What?’
Cecelia tipped her head to one side; she was becoming exasperated at his fake naivety.
‘I asked you to leave us alone, Sebastian, but you seem to have struck up a relationship with my daughter.’
‘Explain to me why you have so much hatred towards our mother?’ Sebastian reverted back to the previous conversation. ‘She did the best for us under the circumstances. What has she got to apologise for?’
Cecelia breathed deeply. ‘You’re right. How arrogant of me to expect her to apologise for leaving us with our psychotic father. Silly me.’
