by Gayle Curtis
‘Cecelia, are you really so petty as to hold a grudge for all these years? Does it really matter now in light of recent events?’
She wanted to slap him really hard. She saw the knife on the window sill at home glinting in her mind’s eye. It was always there on the surface. A deep breath and the anger peered round the corner of her emotions, prodding her with a sharp stick, daring her to release it.
‘It matters to me!’ She stabbed her chest with her finger, desperately trying to keep a grip on what was happening at that moment, but she could feel herself slipping again.
‘Look, Cecelia, Mum is in hospital and she’s asked to see us. We should go – whatever you think of her, she’s still our mother. One thing I learnt in prison was that holding onto the past doesn’t help anyone.’
Her skin tightened in irritation. ‘Oh, well done you.’ She sipped her coffee, dampening her dry throat. ‘We were never a real family. We just happen to be related but we don’t think the same or have the same morals as other families do. Like my family does.’
‘Whatever she has and hasn’t done, she always wanted the best for us and, looking back, she probably protected us from things we never knew about.’
‘Oh really? That’s all a bit convenient, isn’t it? Does it make you feel better, believing that?’
‘I’m not arguing with you, Cecelia, just saying how I see it.’
‘Well, you would see it like that, wouldn’t you? I mean, you’ve never known a real family, not like I have. When you have children of your own, you’ll understand how important it is to be a proper parent, a united team.’
Sebastian lifted his head and stared at her beneath his half-closed lids, another trait that irritated her, displaying how much she’d hurt his feelings.
‘Very touching, but I still think you should come with me to see her. How would you feel if she died and you hadn’t seen her one last time?’ He leant both hands on the wooden counter and stared at the floor, causing his blond hair to flop forward. She could hear a slight noise, as though he was muttering to himself.
‘Pardon?’
Sebastian looked up abruptly and tapped both hands on the counter.
‘Come on, let’s get going’
There was a long silence where they both defiantly stared at one another.
‘If I decide to come, that is the end of it. I need you to understand that, Sebastian. She is nothing to me.’ As she heard her harsh words she felt a jolt deep within her. She couldn’t work out in her mind whether she really felt nothing for Yvonne, or if she still hated her. She felt like she was tricking herself; saying one thing, feeling another. She’d received a letter a short while ago – something she wasn’t prepared to talk to Sebastian about at this time – telling her that Yvonne had legally transferred the farm to her and Sebastian. This had only made Cecelia even angrier. The farm reminded her too much of Roger and all that had happened there over those years. She was astounded that Yvonne hadn’t realised how painful that would be for her. Cecelia wouldn’t care if the farmhouse went up in flames; she didn’t want anything to do with the past. She’d moved forward and now there were too many hands pulling her back.
Now she had to break the control she felt her mother was trying to drape over her. There had been no clause in Yvonne’s letter or the subsequent one from her solicitor, no stipulations as she would have expected. And for her this was all wrapped up with whether or not she should visit Yvonne in hospital. Deep inside, she wanted to visit her, show her what she’d become without any parental support, gloat in some way. But this was all a lie, one she knew her mother would see through.
Sebastian was outside with his back to the window, smoking a cigarette. She quickly rummaged through her bag for her tablets and took one with a swig of her coffee that had turned cold along with her insides. The doctor had told her that they would calm and balance her. Taking a deep breath she flicked the lights, grabbed her things and left, much to the apparent surprise of Sebastian.
Most of the journey was made in silence apart from Sebastian pointing out things that had changed – shops and businesses that had been replaced with new ones – which irritated Cecelia further. She didn’t answer him, just left him with his wistful observations. All she wanted to think about was getting parked at the hospital, visiting Yvonne for an acceptable amount of time, dropping Sebastian off and getting back to the sanctuary of her home.
There were all sorts of things trying to push their way into her mind, one of which was her need to talk to Samuel properly about Sebastian, in a calm and considered way, so that he understood why she didn’t want anything to do with her twin. As well as a need to explain to Caroline, without giving away too much, why she wasn’t allowed to see her uncle. Turning to look at Sebastian as they paused at some traffic lights, she was becoming acutely aware of how much of a threat he was. He wasn’t hiding anything, well not that she was aware of, but he knew things about her she’d never told anyone. She needed to keep him separate from her world, and her sanctuary. She didn’t want anybody to intrude on that, especially not her brother. The problem was, she was losing control of Caroline and had very little influence over what she was doing. The most important thing for Cecelia right now was that Sebastian didn’t find out anything else about their lives – that could only put her in a vulnerable position. Without prompting, Sebastian brought up the conversation himself, as though he were reading her mind.
‘What are we going to do with the farm?’
‘You received a letter too?’
‘Yes, but Mum told me a while ago.’ Sebastian pulled his seat belt away from him, turned in his seat and leant his head against the window, facing her side on.
Cecelia’s jaw clenched in unison with her hands on the steering wheel. She was now wishing she’d taken more than one tablet. She needed it, dealing with Sebastian. ‘I didn’t know you’d seen Mum since you got out.’
‘I never knew you lived with her.’ He seemed to get comfortable in his seat as his eyes burnt into the side of her face. She was now beginning to regret her decision to go to the hospital.
‘Briefly . . . it didn’t work out.’ She wanted to say more but the words tripped and fell from her lips, skidding on her lap, landing under the pedals of her car. She pressed her foot down on the accelerator. She needed to keep her balance.
‘How long have you been with Samuel?’ Sebastian knew the answer but he wanted to make a point.
‘Long enough. Stop looking for something that isn’t there.’
‘I’m just interested, that’s all.’
‘When did you see Mum? How do you even know she’s in hospital?’ Cecelia slowed the car, wondering if he was lying about the whole thing.
‘I live with her. In your old rooms actually.’
The noise of the handbrake as she parked the car split the crackling atmosphere between them.
‘What?’
‘Where did you think I lived?’
Sebastian chuckled to himself, irritating her further. She had to get a grip on this situation. She could feel herself stepping into the other side, the place she had left and didn’t want to return to.
‘I don’t care about any of that; I just want you to stay away from Caroline. She doesn’t need you in her life.’
They both stepped out of the car. The rain was beginning to fall harder.
‘Caroline is eighteen, I can’t stop her doing what she wants to do . . . believing what she wants to believe. She asks a lot of questions . . .’
‘She’s seventeen, actually, and she’ll do what I tell her.’
‘What are you going to do, Cece? Call the police?’
‘Do you understand what I’ve said?’ The words skidded across the rain-soaked roof of her car splashing at his feet.
‘Over and out.’ He saluted, angering her, mocking her.
Assuming she was taking the lead and he was following her she made her way up the hill towards the dirty whitewashed building, the rain pelting t
hem both. Instead of going through the main entrance, Cecelia led Sebastian round the back towards the mortuary, a place she knew well, having driven Samuel there to collect bodies on many occasions.
‘Where are we going?’ Sebastian easily matched Cecelia’s forceful, angry strides.
As they reached the back entrance she led him under a covered area normally frequented by smokers.
‘I didn’t know you smoked, Cecelia.’ He grinned at her, firing up her temper further as he reached for his tobacco tin.
With all her physical strength she grabbed his face and rammed his body against the wall.
‘Listen to me, you cunt. Keep your mouth shut and stay away from my family. Because if you don’t . . .’ she banged his head against the wall to emphasise how much she meant what she was saying. ‘. . . because if you don’t . . . I’ll kill you.’
She let go of his face, her temper subsiding, adrenalin and her medication flooding her veins, the peak of the vent having been released.
Sebastian didn’t move, he just stared at her, and within the depths of his shock at her outburst she could see a look that was all too familiar, a hint of adoration.
Rubbing his cheek where she’d grabbed it, she expected him to say something, at least make a comical reference to the language she’d just used. But he didn’t, he just stared, considering her as he rolled a cigarette.
Having said what she needed to and with no apparent retaliation, Cecelia moved away from him, but as she turned Sebastian grabbed her by the arms and rammed her against the adjacent wall, knocking the breath out of her. Her mouth opened as she gasped for breath and he quickly covered it with his own. She struggled, pressing the back of her head into the rough brick wall, desperate to get away from him. She managed to pull her face to one side, breaking their mouths apart, but in doing so causing him to run his tongue across her face. He held her there for a few moments; she could feel his hot breath in her ear, as she began to shake against him. Once he released his grip she hit him repeatedly around his head, his shoulders, anywhere she could as he tried to restrain her arms. Getting the better of her he pushed her against the wall again, trapping her with his forearm across her neck, choking the air from her lungs.
‘You will never speak to me like that again,’ he seethed at her, leaving more spittle on her face.
As soon as he let go of her she began frantically wiping her face and mouth with the sleeve of her jacket, the brown leather mixing with the taste of his saliva, which was now mixed with her salty tears.
Out of breath she watched him light his cigarette, completely unfazed.
‘What you need to remember, Cece, is that I love you. And everything I’ve ever done has been because of that.’
His ice-encrusted words made the skin across her shoulders and up the back of her neck prickle.
‘But the thing is, Sebastian,’ she sobbed, ‘that I hate you.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The stark, crudely lit hospital corridor seemed to close in on Sebastian as he looked for the room where his mother was being treated. Cecelia had left without visiting Yvonne. He was not in the best of moods but he was satisfied that he’d finally managed to raise so much emotion from his sister.
Eventually finding his mother, Sebastian entered the room and pulled a chair up to the side of her bed and sat down. Yvonne seemed to have aged rapidly since she had been brought into hospital. She looked dehydrated and even her hair seemed to have turned grey overnight. She was also very out of breath. ‘You need to quit those fags, Mother.’ He reached for her hand.
‘Hark, who’s talking. Do you know, I don’t think I would smoke now even if I could?’ Yvonne lifted her head slightly and breathed in. ‘You smell of paint.’
‘No flies on you, even when you’re ill. You know you’ll need to take better care of your health when you get out of here?’
‘I won’t be coming out of here, Sebastian.’ Yvonne leant back into her raised pillows.
‘Don’t talk daft. You’re just tired.’
‘I need to talk to you about something.’
‘Sounds very serious.’ Sebastian shifted uncomfortably on his chair.
‘I want you to know I don’t care what you or Cecelia do with the farm as long as it doesn’t involve me.’
‘I didn’t even know you still owned the farm until you told me . . . why have you kept it for so long?’
‘I don’t know, son. Memories, I suppose. I didn’t feel right getting rid of it too quickly. Thought one of you two might need it, or that you’d want to get the farm working again after you were released. I see now that’s not something you would want to do. It’s strange, but I just kept thinking Roger would come back and would need somewhere to go, even though I know he’s dead. I suppose it was because I wasn’t there when he died. Do you understand what I mean?’ She gripped his hand tighter. ‘But it’s time for me to let go.’
‘Whatever you want to do, Mum.’
‘I don’t know what Cecelia’s going to say about it. Whether I gave her half or not, I’d be doing the wrong thing.’
‘I’ll talk to her about it, try not to worry.’ Sebastian was pleased he had another excuse to visit Cecelia.
‘You’ve seen her?’
‘Of course I have. She’s my twin sister.’
Yvonne searched his face, waiting for him to tell her more, expand on what he’d said.
‘Do you know, when you were children, I always thought it was you who was the strange child.’
‘What made you think that?’
‘I don’t know, just a feeling I suppose. Have you met Caroline?’
‘Yes, I’ve had coffee with her a couple of times after school.’
‘Oh. You never said . . .’
Sebastian realised he was making his relationship with Cecelia and Caroline sound better than it actually was, but he didn’t want Yvonne to think there was a problem. And he wasn’t really lying – he had spent some time with Caroline after school, it was just that Cecelia didn’t know about it.
‘She’s a stunning girl – very confident, grownup for her age. A more defined version of Cecelia, I think.’
‘I wouldn’t know; it’s been quite a few years since I’ve seen her properly. I always thought she was more forthright than her sister.’ Yvonne’s voice was becoming distant, weak.
Sebastian frowned, unsure of what he’d heard. The words repeated in his head. ‘Sister? Cecelia has more children?’
‘Had. Caroline was a twin. Lydia died when they were nine. She was involved in an accident outside the school. I’m surprised Cecelia didn’t mention it when you saw her.’
‘I’m surprised you didn’t mention it when you visited me in prison.’ Sebastian was trying to absorb the information that Caroline, like him and Cecelia, had been part of a pair.
‘There’s a lot I didn’t tell you when you were in prison. I didn’t want to upset you.’
‘That’s quite a big piece of news to keep from me. To not know my sister gave birth to twins and then one of them died.’ He ran the name Lydia through his head, counting the letters, trying out the name. ‘What happened to her?’
‘It was an accident,’ Yvonne said again.
‘I know, you said. What sort of accident?’
‘She was hit by a car outside the school. Died on the way to hospital.’
‘Oh. That must have been really hard for Caroline to cope with . . . Cecelia too.’
‘Yes, it was hard for everyone. Cecelia hasn’t ever come to terms with it, I don’t think. Blamed herself, you know? Maybe she’s started to move on now. But then, you can never tell with Cecelia. She’s always been a temperamental creature.’ Yvonne shifted in the bed, trying to get comfortable.
‘What happened between the two of you? It must be pretty bad for you not to have spoken to one another for all these years.’
‘It’s Cecelia who has the problem with me, not the other way round,’ Yvonne snapped.
‘It doesn’t matter who’s got a problem with whom – the point is you don’t talk to one another.’
‘She’s never forgiven me for leaving you two all those years ago – it’s as simple as that.’
‘There’s more to it, surely?’
‘No, there really isn’t.’ Yvonne closed her eyes, shutting herself off from him, not wanting to talk about the past.
Sebastian suddenly stood up and kissed Yvonne’s forehead. ‘Night, Mum.’
‘Night, son,’ Yvonne said to him as he reached the door.
Halfway down the corridor Sebastian passed someone he recognised. Both men stopped walking and turned to look at each other.
‘What are you doing here?’ Sebastian said to a slightly shocked Samuel.
‘I’m here to see Yvonne.’
‘What for?’ Sebastian moved defensively towards him. Samuel was greyer, thinner than he’d remembered from the glimpse of him he’d got in the garden.
Samuel shifted uncomfortably on the spot. ‘I just need to talk to her about something.’
‘Yvonne’s asleep. Let’s go down to the café, there’s something I’d like to talk to you about.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
It was the first time in quite a few years that Cecelia had visited the farmhouse, the place she’d spent the first fifteen years of her life. Fifteen years under Roger’s rule with a pathetic Yvonne floating in the background. She thought of her now, weak and sickly in her hospital bed. It was beyond Cecelia why she was hanging on to her life so fiercely when she’d spent so much of it so unhappy. Then she thought of her own relationship with Samuel and realised she was possibly doing a similar thing under a different set of circumstances. Another fraction of information that she stored in the various drawers of her mind that she didn’t wish to delve through.
Cecelia sighed as she stood outside the old green chipped front door of the farmhouse. She looked around at the garden, which, despite being full of buds, had always felt bleak, even in the summer.
The house was still the same – she didn’t know why this surprised her since there was no one living there to alter it. The patchwork fields loomed in the distance. She was always shocked by the stark flatness of the Fenlands and much preferred living across the border in Norfolk where even in the midst of winter it felt cheery and welcoming. Alive, somehow, compared to the flat energy she always felt when she visited the old farmhouse. It felt more like that today. There was a finality about the atmosphere as she unlocked and opened the door with her old set of keys.
