Swept Off Her Stilettos

by Fiona Harper

  I pulled the ice cream tub out of the freezer, clutched it to my chest, and then closed the freezer door, turned around and slid down it until I was sitting on the kitchen floor.

  Why did it still hurt? Why did it hurt more? I hadn’t made the fatal mistake of following him. I was doing the right thing, wasn’t I?

  Suddenly I got really angry. I dropped the ice cream and stumbled to my feet with all the grace of a new-born giraffe, kicking off the uncomfortable black heels as I did so, and ran into the living room to stare at the picture of my mother, back in its proper place on the mantelpiece.

  ‘It’s all your fault!’ I screamed. ‘You did this to me. This is your legacy and I don’t want it! I don’t want it!’ I picked up the frame and hurled it across the room. It hit the fake zebra skin rug and shattered. I made a horrible gurgling noise down in my throat—it could have been the word no, trapped by the raw swelling there—and then ran over to the frame. Shards of glass lay on the floor, but the wood was still intact. I smiled. And then I cried. And then I cried harder.

  Carefully, I bent down to pick it up and shook the loose glass onto the floor. Then I held it in both hands, my knuckles paling, and stared down at her. Although the laughing face never changed, her expression seemed to sober. I searched her eyes out and locked on to them. Laughing eyes, I reminded myself. Happy eyes. I didn’t want to see anything else.

  But even that didn’t work. Clouds passed over the eyes too. It was as if she was looking back at me, trying to send me a message.

  Don’t be a fool like I was. Don’t make the same mistakes I did.

  ‘I’m trying not to,’ I whispered, my voice thin and high. ‘But it’s not working. I just feel … I feel …’ I closed my eyes and wept silent tears. There was no point in denying it to myself any longer. No point in trying to wedge my blinkers back on my stubborn head.

  I was in love with Adam and I always would be.

  But it wasn’t in my genes to balance. Two-way street? Hah! Anyone who knew me understood that I hogged the road and behaved as if I had my own personal police escort when I drove. And it would be no different in love. As whole-hearted as I’d been at bending the world to my will and making it serve me, I’d show the same total commitment to loving Adam.

  I knew I could give to him and never stop giving. Never stop until I was a grey shadow of myself, just as my mother had been. And then I wouldn’t be the woman Adam had fallen in love with any more. That’s when the rot would set in.

  Oh, he’d stay at first. I didn’t doubt that. Adam didn’t disappoint, after all. But we’d stagnate, grow to hate each other, and he deserved so much more. So much more than a woman who would always be waiting for the moment when she found the note on the mantelpiece, when she found a dent in the pillow but the bed cold and empty.

  If there was one person I couldn’t be Left Behind by, it was Adam. So maybe it was better that I’d taken fate into my own hands and chosen the moment we’d part, rather than having it thrust upon me years from now, when I’d been lulled into a false sense of security.

  I risked a look at Mum. She was smiling again, eyes laughing. Had I imagined the rest?

  Couldn’t you have found a nice man? I whispered mentally. A good man who wouldn’t have abandoned you and sucked you dry? A man with a safe pair of hands to hold your heart? Then you might still be here. I might have had you long enough to—

  A safe pair of hands.

  Oh.

  I wasn’t sure whether I was frowning or smiling, and a nerve in my cheek worked overtime as it tried to decide which one.

  I was just like my mother, but it had taken me up until now to understand all that that meant. All that it could mean.

  Perhaps my red suede ballet pumps hadn’t been the way to go. I know the boat driver had recommended sensible footwear, but for me this was sensible footwear. I’d heard Langwaki was a tourist hotspot, so I’d expected it to be quite cosmopolitan, but I hadn’t realised just how many islands there were in the archipelago. While some had bustling resorts, the island I was speeding through a turquoise sea towards was apparently home to only one hotel.

  My hair, however, had lived up to expectations, so I wasn’t totally wrong-footed.

  I soon forgot all about the frizz, though, because the scenery was stunning—full of mountainous islands covered so completely in rainforest that only a sliver of pale yellow at the water’s edge broke up their unrelenting green caps. I turned to look out of the other side of the boat, not wanting to miss a thing, and realised we must be nearing our destination. Rather than skimming past the closest island we were heading straight for it. As we rounded a jutting headland the resort came into view. I think I may have stopped breathing.

  This was no ordinary hotel. It wasn’t the rough, wooden, tree-hugging backpackers’ base I’d imagined either. No, this … this was more like an exotic fairytale.

  As far as I could see along the shore were wooden chalets on stilts, their legs in the water, some of them more than one storey, all with pointed red-tiled roofs. From the midst of the cluster of waterborne buildings a walkway jutted out towards us, with a larger structure on the end. The boat docked beside some steps that led up to what I now realised was a reception area, and the other passengers began to disembark.

  I let them flow around me.

  This was obviously a luxurious and well-established resort. Was I really in the right place? I checked the name with the boat driver and he nodded emphatically. I had no choice but to ascend the stairs and carry on my journey.

  I arrived in the reception area and headed straight for the wide, glossy, dark wood reception desk. A young woman in a smart collarless red jacket smiled at me. I cleared my throat.

  ‘I’m looking for Adam Conrad? He builds—’

  ‘Ah, yes. Mr Conrad. I will arrange for someone to take you to him.’

  She clapped her hands twice and a lad in the same uniform appeared from nowhere and motioned for me to follow him. I trailed along behind him, listening to his commentary in accented English on the hotel, its history, the fauna and flora of the island, and how excited everyone was about the new eco-friendly treehouse development on the resort. I just nodded vacantly as I followed him through a maze of walkways that linked the chalets and then finally led onto dry land, over the top of a silky white beach and on into the jungle into a section of the resort that wasn’t yet open to visitors.

  After a few minutes we stopped at a plank bridge strung over a small ravine, which led to yet another stilted wooden chalet on the other side. But where the other chalets had been a traditional Malaysian design, this had a flowing, organic shape. Modern, yet beautiful.

  My guide pointed across the bridge and nodded, then scampered away back towards the ocean.

  I inhaled, then gently planted my ballet pumps on the bridge. It didn’t lurch or swing and I picked up speed. The canopy of leaves high over my head let in pale golden light. I knew the jungle was probably the same here all year round, but to me everything looked fresh and recently sprouted, ready to bud.

  As I reached the chalet I saw it was merely another mini-reception area. From this point the bridges and walkways headed off into the trees in different directions. There was no polite young lady in red behind the desk this time, but a foreman in dirty work clothes.

  ‘I’m looking for Adam Conrad,’ I said.

  He nodded, then pointed to the walkway on the far right.

  ‘Thank you.’ I began to walk again, and this time the planks took me upwards into the trees until I reached a platform that circled one of the larger trunks. Two further walkways sprouted from this platform. Which way now?

  I looked back at the man in the hut and he made giant arm gestures, pointing me right yet again. I kept my eyes on my feet as I climbed higher, but after a handful of steps I stopped and let out a loud gasp.

  The ground had dropped away beneath me. Down below I could see a stream, rushing over the rocky hillside towards the beach. There was even a small wate
rfall, framed with ferns. I shook my head slowly in amazement, but when I looked up even that stopped. In front of me was the most amazing thing I’d ever seen. A whole village of treehouses, dotted here and there in the jungle, some big, some small, all of them similar pleasing organic shapes, and all connected by a lattice of rope bridges, platforms and walkways. The design was asymmetrical, yet oddly harmonious.

  Every pod-like chalet was set a short distance from the main walkway and could be reached by flowing wooden steps. Some had only short flights. Some curled round the trees like spiral staircases.

  I spun around on my heels, taking it all in, letting the circular motion create a breeze where there was none, ruffling through my simple fifties sundress and cooling my skin.

  I could hear voices, but I wasn’t sure where they were coming from. One of the treehouses close by, I thought. I set off, keeping my ears trained on the sound. Listening for Sunday morning.

  I stopped when the voices were directly above me, in one of the treehouses that could be reached by a spiral staircase. A man appeared at the top of the steps and I waited until he was halfway down before I approached him.

  ‘Hi,’ I said, and he almost jumped three feet in the air. I suppose he wasn’t used to seeing frizzy-haired women in white sundresses wandering round the jungle. ‘I’m looking for Adam Conrad.’ He replied in broken English and pointed up the winding staircase. I smiled my thanks and climbed up.

  The main room of the treehouse was stunning. Even though this part of the resort was still officially under construction, it was obviously very close to completion, because it was fully furnished and decorated. In the centre of the room was a large bed, covered in crisp white linen, surrounded by a dark-stained wood and cane frame. The walls were also white, and though such a stark colour scheme should have looked bare, the golden-green light from the jungle outside spilled in through a large opening at the far end, making the room seemed fresh and clean and inviting.

  My ballet pumps made hardly any noise as I crossed into the centre of the room, looking all around.

  ‘Adam?’ I only whispered his name, overcome by a sudden attack of nerves. I had no idea how he’d react to my arrival on his territory. If I’d been him I wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with me.

  For a moment all I could hear was the fluttering of the sheer white curtains that half covered an open space on the far side of the room, but then I heard a creaking noise outside, and as I looked more closely I realised there was a balcony built onto the edge of the room, joining it with the jungle outside, making it seem as if one flowed into the other.

  And then I saw him. Adam. Standing by a wooden railing, gazing out into the unending foliage. I walked up to the threshold until I was half in, half-out of the room, my suede-clad feet silent on the polished wooden floor. But as I stepped out onto the balcony I let my foot slap down, announcing my presence.

  Adam spun round and his mouth dropped open.

  I’d thought I couldn’t ruffle Adam’s feathers, thought I’d lost the knack, but I’d never seen him so off-balance. It went deeper than momentary surprise, however. His face seemed different. The lines were etched in harder and there were smudges of darkness under his eyes.

  My nose stung furiously. I’d done this to him.

  I’d thought I understood how much I’d hurt him, but until this moment I hadn’t. I really hadn’t.

  ‘Hi,’ I said, and my heart clog-danced against my ribs.

  I couldn’t hold his gaze. Stupidly, I’d thought I might see a flicker of the old warmth there, but there was nothing. I’d never realised brown could look so cold and uninviting. I couldn’t keep my greedy eyes off him for long, though. As much as it hurt, I had to let them feast on him. It felt as if I hadn’t seen him in months. In years. But I suppose that fitted. I’d spent a whole lifetime not seeing Adam Conrad. How stupid and cowardly and selfish I’d been.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he said quietly, not moving—as if doing so would cause me to vanish in a puff of smoke.

  I took a step forward. ‘I missed my best friend.’

  He closed his eyes and then slowly opened the lids, his body sagging slightly. ‘I’m not sure you and I can ever be friends again,’ he replied carefully.

  I was being stupid, edging my way up to what I wanted to say to him, and my first clumsy attempts had made it sound as if this was all about what I wanted, what I needed. It’s just that I was terrified. Terrified I really had taken things too far this time—beyond the point of no return—and that I’d destroyed the one thing I treasured most in the process. I didn’t deserve his forgiveness, but I had to try.

  ‘I know,’ I said in a quiet voice. ‘But while you’ve been away I’ve had time to think. Really think.’

  Adam gave me a look that said he wasn’t sure ‘thinking’ would solve my problems. A swift kick in the pants, maybe …

  I moved closer, until I was almost at the balcony railing with him, but the sentence I’d planned fluttered away as I took in the view.

  Because of the steep hillside we seemed to be floating in the air. Before us was the jungle—tall trees, waxy-leaved plants, the odd bright spot of colour—and beyond that, just visible through the dense vegetation, the white gold of a beach, topped by a shimmering sea.

  ‘I think this is the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen,’ I whispered.

  Adam turned away from me again and placed his hands on the railings. ‘I said you’d like it.’ His voice was flat and expressionless, but at least he was talking to me. He talked towards the jungle, keeping his gaze straight ahead. ‘What do you want from me?’

  I swallowed. This was it. All the games, all the side-stepping and self-protection had to end now. Telling the old Adam I cared for him would have been hard, but confessing it to the new Adam. it was nigh on impossible. This Adam was far more dangerous—and not just because I’d opened my eyes to the attraction that had been so very obvious to almost every other woman he met.

  This Adam had the power to crush me, to turn me into that pining, hopeless woman I’d never wanted to be. Where old Adam would have grudgingly forgiven me eventually, this man I loved probably wouldn’t. Probably shouldn’t. But he had my heart anyway, and I knew that if I was ever going to have the slightest chance of repairing things with him I needed to offer it to him as a sacrifice. If he plunged a knife in it, so be it. I was helpless to do otherwise.

  I matched his position at the railing, staring out over the lush greenery as I collected myself, but after a few heartbeats I turned to face him and waited until he looked round. He didn’t turn fully, just glanced warily over his hunched shoulders and stiff arms.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, and darn it if I didn’t start to cry again. What was wrong with me these days? I took a moment to hold the flat of my finger under my eyelashes, mopping up the moisture, and to still my trembling mouth. When I pulled my fingers away they were moist and grey. ‘I really am sorry. for all the things I said, all the things I did. All the things I tried to do …’

  I inhaled, collecting my courage together.

  ‘But I also came to tell you that you are wrong.’

  I saw a flash of surprise in Adam’s eyes, swiftly replaced by anger. Surely that had to be better than nothing, than the deadness I’d put there? I carried on, feeling braver. ‘Love isn’t a two-way street. Love isn’t about balance.’

  He stood up and opened his mouth to contradict me, but the words died on his lips as I reached out and curved my palm around the side of his face, as I smiled into his eyes. He froze beneath my touch, and I knew I might be making the biggest fool of myself ever, but I couldn’t stop now. There were things that needed to be said.

  ‘Love does mean total surrender, because …’

  I let my fingers brush across his cheek, his jaw, the contact thrilling me, connecting me to him. A pulse of electricity travelled all the way up my arm and detonated somewhere in my chest.

  My voice was watery when I spoke again. ‘Becau
se there is no balance in the way I feel about you, Adam Conrad. No balance at all. And it scares me …’ my voice wobbled and croaked ‘… so much.’

  Still no thaw. Still no swirl of caramel in those hard eyes. I felt my stomach sink to the jungle floor, way below us.

  ‘The way I feel about you. It’s all that I am. It’s everything. I finally realised what my mother’s true legacy was, why I’m proud to be like her.’

  He held my gaze, gave me a moment to gather my next words.

  ‘Just like her, I have the capacity to give my heart fully and completely. Without reservation.’ My face crumpled slightly. ‘She didn’t choose well, though. But I have. I’ve found a very safe pair of hands for my heart.’

  In one swift movement Adam pushed himself up from leaning on the railing and pulled me into his arms. We stood forehead to forehead, chest to chest, our hearts thudding against each other.

  ‘I love you, Adam. More than life itself.’

  I kissed him—slowly, softly, sweetly—on the lips, for the first time with the full knowledge of how I felt and what that meant. No more hiding, no more running. He didn’t respond at first, and I wondered if, despite his feelings for me, he might never be able to trust me with his heart in return. I really didn’t deserve it, after all.

  And then I pulled back and waited, my hand still curved around his cheek. It seemed as if my heart had closed its eyes and counted to a hundred before he reacted, before I saw any change at all in his features.

  His eyes melted and his hand closed over mine. He peeled my fingers from his face. He turned my palm over and graced it with the softest kiss. He opened his mouth, but I pressed a finger to his lips.

  ‘I haven’t finished yet,’ I said.

  Adam smiled behind my finger, his eyes on fire, and his lips squashed into strange shapes as he tried to talk. ‘I love it when you get all bossy with me.’