And with that came the other, darker thought, the one she had tried to push away since Dr Chaudhry’s announcement. If. Because there was not only her hectic encounter with Edward in the kitchen that day; there was also the night before. That waking dream of Tamhas and his experiments, the unreal shadow lover who had possessed her – that was the word – so thoroughly that she had felt every tremor in her muscles and bones. If … She could not allow herself to imagine that; she would go mad. It was impossible.
But it also seemed impossible that Charles should have survived the sea that night, and yet he was alive, though he had offered her no real explanation as to how. Every time she recalled his visit she was tempted to write it off as another hallucination, except that there in the drawer of her bedside cabinet was the silver cross he had pressed into her palm. His words came back to her with startling clarity, as if she could see them printed on a page: Be brave, he had said. It’s not over yet. And he talked of Ailsa’s child having a choice to turn to the light. Remember that, when the time comes. Had he known, then? Did he somehow know that she was carrying a seed of that dark island history away inside her?
She squeezed her eyes shut harder and felt the trickle of hot tears down the sides of her face, to her hairline. It was so easy to believe, when she talked to Charles, in a world beyond the visible; without him, all that crumbled away in the fluorescent glare of hospital lights, the bustle and the incessant electronic noises of machines, and everything that had seemed plausible on the island appeared absurd, like the memory of a lurid dream. What if Charles were no more than an old crank who had done too much ayahuasca, and she merely a grieving mother on psychiatric medication, thrown off balance by her own submerged longings?
And then there was Dan to think of. Charles was right; he was a good man, in his way. He had stayed with her, in spite of everything. But would he stay through this? Her fingers moved tentatively over her belly; she could hardly credit that anything could have sparked into life there, when she felt so scoured and empty. Perhaps it would be best if she never had to tell him.
When she opened her eyes, Dr Chaudhry had gone. She opened the drawer beside her bed and took out Ailsa’s pendant, turning it between her fingers, until the door slammed open and Dan loped through, all broad shoulders and long limbs, flinging himself into the chair with a stream of bright chatter, holding out a bag of Starbucks brownies he knew she wouldn’t touch. She bunched the necklace in her fist beneath the blanket and watched him with a pang as he carried on talking, oblivious, through a mouthful of cake. She did not trust herself to speak. It was only now, looking at him, that she began to understand what she stood to lose. Whichever choice she made, it seemed, would rob her of something irreplaceable.
26
‘I’ve been offered a job with the Seattle office,’ Dan said, as the seatbelt sign was switched off and all around them the other passengers began to stir and stretch, craning to look for the drinks trolley. ‘Less money, but fewer hours. Think about it, will you? I thought it might be a good opportunity.’
‘For what? For you to hang out more with Lauren Thing?’
‘Jesus, Zo.’ He pulled her head to his shoulder and laughed, but there was exhaustion in it. ‘Lauren Carrera is married. To a woman named Melissa. We’ve had this conversation before.’
‘Well, I can’t see how that would put you off.’ She turned to face him and he caught her grin; he ruffled her hair with his knuckles. The beard suited him, she thought; it lent him an air of maturity.
‘I thought it would be an opportunity for us. To start over. New city. Leave the old house behind. It’s time, don’t you think?’ When she didn’t reply, he withdrew his arm. ‘I boxed up Caleb’s things while you were away. I couldn’t stand to see them any more – it wasn’t healthy, Zo. Leaving his room like that, as if he was coming back, all his toys. I thought I was helping you by agreeing, but I realised it was doing the opposite.’
‘You didn’t throw them out?’ she asked, in a small voice.
‘Of course not. I put them in the attic. I thought we could find a good home for them. The kids’ hospital, maybe.’
‘Not Mr Bear?’ The threat of tears swelled in her throat. She had bought Mr Bear for Caleb while she was pregnant, before they even knew he was Caleb. Dan had not liked the idea of buying toys for the baby before it was born, so she had had to hide it; he had been superstitious about that. Perhaps he had been proved right.
‘Hell, no. Mr Bear stays with us.’ Dan squeezed her thigh. She pressed her forehead into his shoulder; the plane tilted smoothly into a turn, still rising. ‘It doesn’t mean we forget him, Zo. But we can’t pretend he’s coming back. We have to …’ He took a breath. ‘You know. Live in the present.’
‘You sound like Dr Schlesinger.’
‘Actually, you’ll laugh, but I had a couple sessions with her while you were away. She talks a lot of sense. Where’s that trolley?’ He lifted himself in his seat, trying to wave down the cabin crew. ‘So, will you think about it? Seattle?’
‘I’ll think about it.’ She leaned back against the plush headrest. Dan had managed to get them upgraded to Business somehow; she guessed he had sweet-talked them with tales of his invalid wife. He was good at that, she remembered.
‘I found your sketchbook when I was packing up that house,’ he said after a while. ‘I’ve got to tell you, there was some interesting stuff in there.’
‘That was private,’ she said, looking out of the window.
‘No shit. It was like some kind of Victorian fetish porn. Never seen you draw things like that before. I’m not saying I didn’t like it – just, naturally, I wondered where you got the inspiration.’
‘I don’t know. It was experimental.’ She turned to him in alarm. ‘You didn’t bring it?’
‘I put it in your case. I wasn’t sure if it was part of a project, or—’
‘Burn it.’
‘What?’
‘When we get home, I want you to burn it. Don’t open it again, I don’t want to see it. You shouldn’t have brought it.’
‘OK, hon, whatever you say.’ He stroked her hand with a soothing motion. ‘I wasn’t to know. Anyway, what’s this necklace you’ve started wearing? You’ve drawn a woman wearing one exactly like it in the book.’
Her fingers strayed to the silver cross at her throat. ‘It’s from the island. It was a gift.’
‘Oh, yeah? From one of your Scottish lovers, eh?’ He nudged her with his elbow and grinned, though there was an edge to it. She managed a weak smile in return.
‘From a friend. It’s an antique. It carries a lot of the island’s history.’
‘I don’t like it,’ he said, with unexpected force. ‘I’m not sure I want you carrying the island’s history around with you. Burn it along with the pictures, I say. Sooner we can forget that place, the better.’
‘The cross is supposed to bring courage,’ she said quietly.
‘Well, God knows we could all use a bit of that. Right now I’m going for the Dutch kind. Hi!’ he said to the smiling quiffed young man who drew up beside their seats. ‘Jack Daniel’s, on ice. Make it a double. Anything for you, honey?’
She shook her head.
‘She’ll have some water. Are you OK?’ he asked, when the drinks had been served. ‘You’re very white.’
‘I’m a little nauseous, that’s all.’
‘Uh-huh.’ He popped the cap of his miniature bottle with satisfaction. ‘Probably those new meds. Dr Chaudhry says you’ll be better on those, once you get used to them, and we can get them at home too, if they’re working. I liked him, didn’t you? Seemed like a good guy.’ He leaned forward and began pressing buttons on the screen, scrolling through the movie menu. ‘New start, baby,’ he said, clapping a hand on her thigh in what she supposed was an encouraging gesture, the way you might slap a horse, but his attention was already fixed on the flickering images in front of him.
She turned away to the window and peered out into the darken
ing sky. Below them was nothing but cloud; she would not even be able to watch the lights of the coastline receding beneath her. She folded a protective arm around her belly. Before long she would have no choice but to tell Dan that there could be no forgetting her time on the island. Whatever had waited there for her had drawn her in, threaded her into its story, and would follow them to their new life. She carried its history inside her. She would explain all this to him, soon, when the time was right.
Also by Stephanie Merritt (writing as S. J. Parris)
Heresy
Prophecy
Sacrilege
Treachery
Conspiracy
About the Author
No. 1 Sunday Times bestselling author and journalist Stephanie Merritt has worked as a critic and feature writer for a variety of newspapers and magazines, as well as radio and television. Writing as S. J. Parris, she is the fastest growing historical crime writer in the UK, with her series of thrillers set in Tudor England selling over half a million copies. She currently writes for the Observer and the Guardian, and lives in Surrey with her son.
www.sjparris.com
/sjparrisbooks
@thestephmerritt
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