Once the Clouds Have Gone

by KE Payne

  Now, despite the apple trees all gone and replaced with roses, the cottage remained more or less as Tag had remembered it. Happy memories tailspinned around her mind as her car crunched up the track. Warm fires. Cocoa. Soft lighting. And apples. Always lots of apples. Tag rang the doorbell and stepped back. How long had Blair and Ellen lived there? A good while, if the lived-in look was anything to go by. A railway lamp dangled from the porch in front of the door, sending out just enough pools of light to allow Tag to see a few flecks of white paint peeling from the window frames and the remnants of last summer’s clematis, which still clung messily but valiantly to the trellis that arched over the front door. Mrs. Marshall wouldn’t have been pleased, Tag thought with a wry smile.

  The tall boy who answered the door to her a few minutes later eyed her with a mixture of suspicion and shyness.

  “You must be Magnus,” she said. “Last time we knew each other, you were about this tall.” She held her hand out above the ground. Lame. Didn’t she just used to hate people saying that to her when she was Magnus’s age? He didn’t seem to mind, though. He stepped aside to allow her to come in and mumbled something incoherent which Tag took to be an offer to take her coat. No doubt prompted by his mother who was standing in the doorway to her kitchen, an amused look on her face. Tag took her coat off and handed it to him. She stood, awkwardly, in the hallway.

  “Don’t expect him to speak.” Ellen came over to Tag and spoke in a lowered tone. “And don’t take it personally. He’s gone to the grunting stage now. We’ve had barely a word from him since before Christmas.”

  “He’s grown.” Tag immediately felt stupid. “I mean, of course he’s grown. I guess I didn’t expect him to be so tall already.”

  Magnus disappeared into the lounge and fell back onto the sofa.

  “He’ll be fourteen soon.” Ellen signalled for Tag to follow her into the kitchen. “Scary, huh?”

  Fourteen? So many years missed. Tag’s heart sank.

  “Thank you again for inviting me over.” She followed Ellen into the kitchen. “I must admit, the thought of spending the evening alone in my room at the B & B didn’t exactly fill me with much joy.”

  “I figured that,” Ellen said. She opened a cupboard door and pulled out a bottle of red wine. “Let’s face it, it’s been a hell of a day for you. The journey up here, the funeral, and then having to face everyone at the wake, all in the space of a few hours. You must be exhausted.”

  “I am.”

  “It’s been a horrible day for everyone, one way or another. But the last thing you needed was to be alone with your thoughts all night.” Ellen held up the wine bottle and waggled it at Tag. “Not tonight of all nights.”

  “Don’t suppose you have beer, do you?” Tag asked sheepishly. “If you don’t, it doesn’t matter.” Never one to look a gift horse.

  “Never did have you down as a wine sort of girl.” Blair’s voice sounded behind her. Tag swung round. He sauntered past her and went to the fridge and pulled out two bottles, then swiftly pulled the cap off one and handed the bottle to Tag. All without another word. Before she’d had a chance to thank him, Blair had walked from the kitchen again and joined Magnus on the sofa, playfully slapping his legs to make him move over so he could sit down.

  Tag looked at both Blair and Magnus from the doorway. There had been a time when she’d been incredibly close to both of them, but now? Her nephew didn’t even know who she was, and her brother could barely bring himself to say two words to her.

  “He will come round.” Ellen put her hand on Tag’s arm, reading her mind. “You know Blair as well as I do. His pride won’t let him tell you he’s happy to see you. He needs to keep up this pretence of being angry with you, but it won’t last forever, trust me.”

  “I want to make amends,” Tag said. She took a drink from her bottle. “I want to get to know him again.”

  “He wants to get to know you as well,” Ellen said. “But that can only happen if you stick around.” She grabbed an oven glove from the kitchen table and went to the oven. “You are staying on, aren’t you?”

  “I already said.” Tag took a piece of raw carrot from a saucepan and nibbled the end off it. “I’m not eighteen any more, Ellen.”

  “I’m just checking.” Ellen held her oven-gloved hands up. She opened the oven door and pulled out a tray. The piece of beef in it, with potatoes nestled around it, sizzled and spat angrily. “I hope you haven’t gone veggie since we last saw you.” Ellen looked back over her shoulder, her face masked by the steam.

  Tag shook her head. She rested her hip against the sink and took another drink from her beer. “After I left Balfour,” she said slowly, “I thought of you all a lot, you know.” She dwelt on her words. “Especially Magnus. I was always very fond of him.”

  “He adored you.” Ellen closed the oven door. She uncorked the red wine she’d just taken from the cupboard and poured herself a glass. “And I’d be lying if I said you leaving like that didn’t affect him.” She sipped at her wine. “But kids can be resilient creatures. He asked about you for a while, then suddenly one day he didn’t ask any more.”

  Tag’s eyes misted. That hurt. But what did she expect? That he’d spend his entire childhood crying for her?

  Ellen walked past Tag, pulling on her arm as she passed. “Come and talk to them both.”

  Tag followed Ellen into the lounge. She sat down in a chair next to the woodstove, sensing Blair glance at her from the sofa as she did so. He didn’t speak. Instead he chose to bury himself in his newspaper while Magnus played on his phone. But after a well-aimed kick from Ellen hit its target, Blair finally put the newspaper down and looked at Tag properly.

  “So,” he said. He picked up his beer bottle from the floor by his feet and took a long drink from it. He looked at Tag again.

  “So,” Tag repeated. She mirrored Blair’s action of drinking from her bottle. Anything to deflect from the clunky atmosphere.

  Blair held his bottle in his hand and studied the label carefully. Tag sat in silence and watched him as he occasionally picked at it with his index finger, all the time avoiding eye contact with her.

  “For goodness’ sake, Blair!” Ellen exhaled loudly, breaking the silence that Tag didn’t think she’d be able to bear a second longer. “Talk to her.”

  “And say what?” Blair’s head snapped up. “What can I possibly say to her after all this time?”

  Magnus shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his eyes fixed resolutely on his phone.

  “You could start by asking her how she is,” Ellen replied. “She did just bury her father today, you know. You weren’t the only one.”

  “The father she didn’t care about when—”

  “I did care about him.” Tag wasn’t having that. “Of course I did!”

  “Yeah, felt like it.”

  “I don’t want to argue with you, Blair.” Tag sat forward in her chair. She rested her elbows on her legs, beer bottle clasped in both hands, and stared down at the rug by her feet. “I came here tonight to catch up with you, to talk about the mill, and perhaps to start making amends for the past.” She glanced at Magnus. “And to try and get to know Magnus all over again.”

  Magnus lifted his eyes at the mention of his name. He stared straight back at Tag, then back at his phone again.

  Tag swallowed and entreated Magnus to look her way again. He didn’t.

  “I’m here for a few weeks,” she continued. This time she looked at Blair. “I thought it would be neat if you, me, and Magnus could hang out together one day while I’m here. Just for old time’s sake?”

  She sensed a flicker of something pass across Blair’s face. Regret? Hope?

  “Hang out, huh?” Finally Blair spoke. “We’re honoured. Don’t you have another life somewhere else that you need to get back to though?” Tag leaned away from her brother as she sensed his resentment seeping from him.

  “I do, actually.” Tag ignored his sullenness. “Along with a mountain of paperwo
rk to sift through.”

  “Beats having to get up at four every morning, I guess,” Blair said bitterly.

  “You still do that?” Tag raised her eyebrows. “You still get up and light the ovens every morning?” That had been his job all those years ago, when he’d just been a teenager. The same job her father insisted she take over when Blair turned twenty. Surely he wasn’t still doing it after all these years?

  Blair shook his head. “The head baker took that on a handful of years ago.” He chewed on his lip, his brow furrowing. “It’s his responsibility now. I just stick to what I know best.”

  “Which is?”

  “Growing the crops and managing them,” Blair said. “Crop rotation and harvesting. That sort of stuff.” He glanced at Tag. “All the things I always loved doing.”

  “So you get to drive that fabulous John Deere now?” Tag asked. “I’m jealous.”

  She saw the hint of a smile play on Blair’s lips, even though he hadn’t answered her. Instead, he drained his drink and stood. He held his hand out for her bottle and waited while she too drained it, then took it from her and went back to the kitchen. Bonus.

  Ellen caught her glance and nodded in encouragement at the question in Tag’s eyes. Steadying herself, Tag got up and followed Blair into the kitchen. He retrieved two fresh bottles from the fridge and handed her one.

  “Was it quick?” Eventually Tag spoke. She needed to know. “Dad? Was it quick?”

  Blair pulled the cap off his bottle. He nodded and drank back some beer. Tag waited for him to speak.

  “The only good thing about a heart attack like that,” he said, wiping his mouth, “is that it’s a blessing that it’s over fast. Paramedics reckon he was gone before he hit the floor.”

  Tag’s breath hitched. Needles pricked at her eyes. She pulled the cap from her bottle and chugged her beer back. She hoped Blair hadn’t sensed either her tears or the flush that she knew was rapidly spreading across her neck as she fought the tears back. She thought about saying something more. What more could she say? Nothing that would sound right or proper. Not yet. Instead, she and Blair stood at opposite sides of the kitchen, quietly sipping at their beers and avoiding eye contact with one another.

  “Dinner,” Ellen said, marching into the kitchen and breaking the silence, “is the usual Ellen Grainger feast of I plonk it on the table and you all help yourselves.” She handed her empty wine glass to Blair for him to refill for her as she passed him on her way to the oven. “Otherwise known as a free-for-all.”

  Tag had finally managed to have something resembling a conversation with her brother. She was relieved. No, grateful. It had been a start. She busied herself laying the enormous scrubbed wooden kitchen table. He’d spoken to her at least, and had told her about Dad. Anything after this would be a plus. Tag took the place mats and cutlery that were now being passed to her by Blair and set them in some sort of order around the table. And who knew with Blair? Two words today. Three tomorrow? Tag nodded to herself. Slow and sure. That’s all she could hope for right now.

  She looked around her, to Ellen, busy with the food, her wine duly replenished. To Blair, helping her, occasionally running a hand down her arm. They were so in love, Tag thought. Even after so many years. A twinge of jealousy snapped at her. She’d never had what they had, the companionship and love that Blair and Ellen still had. The jealousy intensified. She had made it to the age of twenty-seven without ever knowing what true love felt like; now, seeing Blair and Ellen, so in love with one another, so tactile and caring towards each other, made her desperately miss something she didn’t even realize she’d missed until now.

  Tag sensed Magnus behind her. He was hanging around by the kitchen door, so Tag sauntered over to him. The kid was shy. She got that. Talking games always helped combat shyness, she figured. “So what games have you got on your phone?”

  Magnus shrugged. “Basic stuff,” he said. He looked down at his phone still in his hand. “But then it’s a basic phone, isn’t it?”

  “You seen this game?” Tag reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out her iPhone. Magnus’s eyes widened. She ran her thumb over the screen until she found the game she was looking for and handed it to him. “Now, this is addictive.”

  “You’ve got an iPhone?” Magnus accepted her phone and held it as though it was a piece of china. “Respect.”

  “It’s supposed to be for work.” She bumped his arm. “But if you look at my awesome high score, you’ll see that I use it for other things as well.”

  “No way.” Exaggerated surprise. Way exaggerated surprise. It was cute, Tag thought. “Seventy-eight thousand? For real? Best I could get was about forty thousand when I played it on my friend’s iPhone.” Magnus jabbed his finger on the screen and narrowed his eyes. “You’ve got this game too? That’s mental.” He held the phone to Tag. Approval from near-fourteen-year-old obtained. Result.

  “You got Perdition on here?” He frowned down at her phone.

  “Yes, I’ve got Perdition,” Tag said. “I like it. It’s good.”

  “Mm, it’s good, except…”

  “Except?”

  “Well, every time I get as far as the watchtower on it, I get shot.” Magnus screwed up his nose. “You got past that stage yet?”

  “Past stage eighteen?” Tag asked. “I passed that stage ages ago. I’m on at least stage thirty now.”

  “Nah, you’re messing with me.” Magnus made big eyes. “How?” He glanced down as the phone rang, and handed it immediately back to Tag. “It says Anna on there.” He shrugged.

  “Cheers.” Tag clamped the phone to her ear. She mouthed an apology to Ellen, who was stirring something in a saucepan, and walked into the lounge. “Hey.” She spoke quietly and glanced over her shoulder.

  “How was it?” Anna’s voice sounded at the other end of the phone. Tag could hear loud voices and music in the background, followed by a woman’s voice nearby.

  “Where are you?”

  “The Loft. So…how was it? The funeral, I mean.”

  The Loft? So Anna wasn’t bothered about taking her new girlfriend there, after everything? The same place she and Tag used to go? Their own private hideaway? Tag tried to feel something—anything—at the thought of Anna being there with someone else. But there was nothing.

  “Okay,” Tag said. “Glad it’s all over, though.”

  “Cool,” Anna said. A pause. “I was thinking about you today.”

  “Were you?” Tag felt a coldness. “Cheers. But no need.” She swivelled round. No one was waiting for her so they could start eating.

  “I still care,” Anna said. “I know you don’t believe me, but—”

  “You cared so much you left me for…what was her name again?” Tag knew damn well what her name was. “Caroline? Was that it?” It still pained her to say her name, even though it had been months. Betrayal did that to a person, even if you thought you had no more pain left in you. Tag shivered, remembering.

  “Don’t.” Anna’s voice hardened.

  “No, let’s.” The beer in her empty stomach had emboldened Tag.

  “I also rang to tell you there’s some e-mails coming your way tomorrow,” Anna said. “I didn’t ring for us to have an argument.”

  Tag pinched her eyes shut. Anna wanted to talk work? Today of all days?

  “Sure.” Tag sighed.

  “Stills for the Milton project for you to choose,” Anna continued. “A decision by next Monday would be good.”

  “I’m on it.” She so wasn’t.

  “Right, I have to go,” Anna said curtly. “He’s waiting.”

  “Stefan, huh?”

  “Yeah,” Anna said. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” Tag said. “I didn’t care about Stefan when we were together. Even less so now.” She looked back over her shoulder. “Anyway, I’ve got my brother and everyone waiting for me in the kitchen so I better go.”

  “Happy families? Quaint.”

  “Not quite.”


  “Well, I’m glad the funeral went all right,” Anna repeated. “Look, I’ve really got to go.”

  “Sure.”

  Anna cut the call without replying. Tag tried to ignore the return of her loneliness. She put the phone back in her pocket, painted a smile on her face, and went back into the kitchen.

  Yes, she had family waiting. So why did she still feel so alone?

  *

  “Everything okay?” Ellen placed a steaming tray in the middle of the table and pulled her oven gloves off.

  “Yeah. All good.” Tag lifted her phone to Magnus. “You have to take out the Black Goblin first,” she said. “He’s the War Lord’s sniper. Take him out before you do anything else and you stand a better chance of getting to the top of the watchtower.”

  “The Black Goblin?” Magnus sat back in his chair and threw his arms out. “I thought he was his servant, that’s all.”

  “Nuh-uh. He pays him to take out intruders.” Tag approached the table and sat opposite Magnus. “That’s why his money level goes down during fights if he doesn’t make enough hits.”

  “For sure?”

  “Trust me.”

  “I have no idea what you two are talking about.” Ellen placed a large spoon in the tray and held her hand out for Tag’s plate. “But if it involves any blood and gore, then I don’t want to know.”

  Magnus caught Tag’s eye, a she never understands expression on his face.

  “Can I go eat in my room?” He passed his plate to his mother.

  “You have homework?” Ellen filled his plate and handed it back to him.

  “Yuh-huh.”

  “Okay, scram.”

  Blair was quiet. Tag’s eyes flickered over her brother’s face, noticing properly for the first time the worry lines carved into it, the shadows under his eyes.

  “You look done in,” she said to him.