“Aren’t you having a cake?” Estelle asked.
After devouring the doughnuts, Benedict couldn’t face eating anything else. They seemed to have set like cement in his stomach. “No. The slices are too big.”
“Ah, you’re still trying to be healthier.” She smiled. “I’m impressed.”
“Thanks.” He reached into his pocket and took out a small coral-colored box. “I’ve brought Veronica’s brooch for you. I didn’t want to give it to you in front of Gemma.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not sure.” He shrugged. “I just want to make sure that it’s right. Sometimes you think things are all sparkly and lovely, but then they tarnish quickly and a bit of polish isn’t enough.” He met her eyes with his and thought that, in twelve years, she hadn’t changed a bit. She was every bit as beautiful now as when they first met. He felt such an idiot for keeping secrets from her. “I want to try to make things shiny again,” he said.
Estelle nodded and opened the box. The star-shaped brooch glinted inside. “This is so beautiful,” she exclaimed as she unpinned it from the white satin lining. “If it does need a polish, then hopefully it’s only a small buffer to bring up the shine again.”
Benedict gave a small smile. “You were going to tell me your news...”
“Oh, that will wait. It’s just about the gallery in York and another exhibition. What did you want to talk to me about?” She sat back in her chair.
Benedict reached over the table and put his hand on the back of hers. He took a deep breath and held it in the back of his throat. “I need to...” he started.
The waitress set a tray down on the table. She placed their drinks, the tart, two plates and two cake forks in front of them. “Enjoy,” she said.
Estelle moved her hand away from his. She stuck her fork into the tart and held a piece to her lips. “Do you want to try it?” she asked, and opened her mouth.
He shook his head. “Estelle, I...”
“Mmm. It’s delicious, not too sweet.”
“Estelle...” He pushed his empty plate away and pressed his fingers together into a steeple. He rested his chin on the point. “I need to tell you something.”
She swallowed and put her fork down. “Is it about Gemma?”
Benedict shook his head. “It’s more about me and Charlie.”
“Your brother?”
Benedict felt as if he was tumbling down from the top of Dinosaur Ridge and couldn’t find anything to hold on to, to break his fall. He squeezed his eyebrows together, his emotions already flooding over him before he spoke.
Estelle studied him. “What’s wrong...?”
Benedict didn’t need to worry about his words jumbling up, because after so long, they spilled out of him like rubbish tipping from a garbage truck. He stared at the star-shaped brooch, not able to bear looking in his wife’s eyes.
And he began to talk.
He told Estelle that after caring for his brother for over eight years when their parents died, Benedict had betrayed him. He explained how he, Charlie and Amelia had gone for a picnic on that hot July night, and how he’d dropped Amelia home and stayed to drink beer. “I didn’t mean for anything to happen. I don’t know what came over me. It was as if nothing else existed for that short while...” He lifted his eyes.
Estelle’s face looked like a mask. Her features were frozen but her eyes bored into his. “Are you telling me that you slept with your own brother’s girlfriend?” she whispered.
“Yes.” The word strangled him to say it. “It happened one time and it was a huge mistake.” He reached across the table to take hold of her hand again.
She snatched it away and sucked in her breath. “Does Charlie know all this?”
Benedict nodded his head once. “I think it’s why he broke contact with me, and we haven’t spoken since.”
Estelle screwed her napkin into a ball. She shoved her half-eaten tart away. “Why haven’t you told me this before, Benedict? I felt sorry for you, that you had this ignorant brother in the States who didn’t stay in touch. And all the time, he stayed away because of you. You lied to me.”
“I was so ashamed.” Benedict swallowed. “I didn’t have the words.”
She closed her eyes, taking this in. Then they snapped back open. “Oh, my god. Gemma,” she said. “Is she your daughter?”
Benedict shook his head. “No. The dates don’t add up. Charlie left eighteen years ago and Gemma is sixteen. She can’t be mine...”
Estelle ran her tongue over her front teeth, digesting this. “Well, that’s something,” she said. “I suppose that you hoped you had a daughter, seeing as I can’t give you one.”
“No,” Benedict exclaimed too loudly and the waitress stared over at him. “It’s us who can’t have children, not you or me. No one is to blame. We’re a couple.”
“We were a couple...”
“We still are, I hope...”
Estelle pushed her hand down on the top of the jewelry box lid and the cardboard splayed and split open. She picked it up and stuffed it into her pocket. “We’ve tried our best, Benedict. But we keep going around in circles and not getting anywhere. And now you’ve made things even worse.”
“I didn’t mean to lie to you, Estelle... I just didn’t tell you the whole truth.”
“But you did lie. For all the time we’ve been together, you’ve lied to me.”
“I’m not perfect. I know it. But I’ve tried to show you that I love you. It might not have worked that well, but I’ve tried. I should have told you about Charlie, but I didn’t do. I kept putting it off, until it seemed too late to raise it. It was easier for me to pretend that it hadn’t happened. We can still make things work between us. Please come home,” he pleaded. “Let’s start again.”
Estelle held her neck at a crooked angle, as if she was stooping to walk through a door frame that was too low. “Benedict, I...”
“The house is empty without you. I miss our walks and our jokes. I miss the smell of your perfume on the towels, and your bobby pins on the windowsill in the bathroom. I need to see your face on the pillow next to me, in the morning and at night. I’ve messed up but I can try to make things better.” He laid his hands on his heart.
“Why are you telling me all this now, after all this time?”
“I don’t want any secrets between us. I want you to know that you can always trust me, and I’ll always trust you.”
She pursed her lips into a straight line.
“So I have to tell you something else, too,” he said quietly.
“What the hell is it this time?”
Benedict gave a deep sigh. “I found Gemma’s passport and purse under a bush last night and I don’t think that Charlie knows she’s here. I called him and left a message. I’m waiting for him to get in touch.”
Estelle edged to the front of her chair. “Charlie doesn’t know that his sixteen-year-old daughter is here?” she repeated.
“I always suspected something wasn’t right, but I ignored it.”
“I asked you and you told me that everything was fine.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“You did it because you wanted a family so badly, right?”
“I suppose that’s true,” he said. “I’m going to sort this out, Estelle, but I wanted to let you know what’s going on.”
Her hand shook as she picked up her latte and took a sip. “It’s going cold,” she said. “You should drink yours.”
“I’m not thirsty.”
She peered in her cup, thinking of her next words. “I’m not going to ask you anything, because this is between you and Charlie to sort out. But can I be there for Gemma at all?”
“Let me speak to my brother first.”
She swallowed and hung her head. �
�I can see that you’re trying to change...”
“I am. If you come home, then we’ll take things as slowly as you like. I know things have been crappy but we’re meant to be together, like jam and custard, or bonfires and fireworks.”
Her lips flickered into the smallest smile and then her face was still.
“I know I messed up and there’s a lot to discuss and think about. But do you ever think about coming home?”
She picked up her handbag and set it on her knee. “Sometimes...”
“So, there’s still hope?”
She ran her hand through her hair and gave one tiny nod of her head.
“Perhaps we can talk about family again...” he tried, thinking this might help to sway her decision.
“Family?”
“Our family. We’ve started to bond with Gemma, and we’ve only known her for a couple of weeks...”
Estelle furrowed her brow as if she couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. She leaned a few centimeters closer and lowered her voice. “Are you talking about adoption again?”
Benedict gave a small nod. “I think it could work for us...”
“What?” Estelle scraped her chair back and the sound made him want to cover his ears with his hands. Her handbag fell off her knee and onto the floor with a thud.
Her eyes flashed as she bent down to pick it up. It was upside down, so her purse fell and money spilled out of it. Pennies rattled and spun around on the linoleum. She felt around for them blindly, batting Benedict’s hands away as he tried to help.
When she sat back up, her posture was hunched as if she was crammed into a small space. “Bloody adoption? We’ve been through all that. Is this what your confession has been all about? And the stupid mask, and displaying my paintings, and the llama. So you can butter me up so you can try to have a child. I thought that it’s me you wanted back, Benedict Stone...”
“It is. I just thought...” He felt like he was clinging on to a cliff face by his fingertips, and the cold, dangerous sea was sloshing around beneath him, waiting for him to fall so it could swallow him up.
“And I was beginning to fall for it, too.” Estelle seethed. “I admired how you were trying to get fitter, and I was touched when you displayed my work, but all the time you had a strategy.” She tugged her coat off the back of her chair, nudging the table and causing a salt pot to topple over. “I thought you wanted me, not some phantom child.”
“I’m sorry. I just thought...”
“No, Benedict Stone. What you need to think about is why you want a family so badly. Is it because you want to be a parent, or to make amends for what you did to Charlie?”
His mouth dropped open. Her reply felt like a smack in his face, but her question was one that he couldn’t answer truthfully. Had he been so focused on making amends that his desire to be a parent had overwhelmed him, blinded him? He tried to find the words to respond but they jumbled in his head.
“Don’t say anything. I can see now that everything you did for me was all about you.”
“No.” This time, he didn’t think about trying to find the right words, and he spoke from his heart. “I did it because I want you, Estelle. The two of us are a family, whether we have a child or not. I don’t need or want anyone else.”
She fastened her coat with the buttons in the wrong holes and picked up the umbrella. “Get away from me,” she said.
“Can’t we...?”
“No.”
He stood up. “I’m so sorry. For everything. It’s not what I meant...”
She looked away.
“Is there still hope for us?” he asked.
“Not if you’re chasing a dream.” She turned, marched and slammed the café door shut.
Benedict stared after her, aware that everyone in the café was looking at him. He threw some money on the table and left the café, too. As he walked out into the rain, it speckled his face and ran into his eyes so that he couldn’t see clearly where he was going.
He hoped that telling Estelle the truth might make him feel lighter, but he felt nauseous and heavy, as if he’d been forced to eat a truckload of brownies.
Where the hell did they go from here?
31.
BLACK OBSIDIAN
past life healing, revealing, purpose
BENEDICT NEEDED TO lie down. He wanted to get into bed and pull the covers over his head. He would let his shoulders relax, his legs unstiffen, and he would listen to nothing other than his own breathing. He wanted to pretend that he was an Egyptian mummy in a sarcophagus, so he couldn’t feel the emotions that were churning his stomach and needling his brain.
He hadn’t expected Estelle to simply accept his story. He thought that she’d be upset and angry with him, and dismayed, too. But he didn’t think he’d see disgust in her eyes when she thought that he only wanted a child, and not her.
His mind reeled as he stumbled toward his house and through the garden gate. What could he do to stop himself from unraveling? He wanted to shout and storm around the garden, but Gemma was inside and might hear, so he made a fist and pushed it against his own mouth. He had messed up, yet again.
The gem tree stood before him, stooping like an old woman in silhouette against the darkening petrol-blue sky. His fingers felt stiff as he reached out and trailed them over its leaves, feeling them soft yet prickly. He remembered them scratching his forearms as he pushed through the branches to sit down with Charlie and thread gemstones.
As he stared at the leaves, the shape of tiny surfboards, he didn’t see the figure lurking under the tree.
The dark shape moved quickly beside him and the punch swiped through the air. It connected with Benedict’s cheek, jolting his head to the side. He stumbled backward and hit the ground with a thump. Finding himself in sitting position, he realized the fall had jolted his spine, and he had to place his hands down flat to steady himself. The grass was damp and slimy beneath his fingertips.
He shook his head and tried to stand up, but he was winded. He took a few gulps of air. Then he saw his assailant.
His brother.
Charlie’s eyes were fierce and his fists were still raised. He hesitated for a moment and lurched forward again.
Benedict hunched over with his elbows covering his knees. He held up his forearms to shield his face as his brother’s blows rained down on him. They caught the sides of his ribs, his shoulders, his ears. The wallops made his head jerk and his body dance.
“How could you do...it...to...me...?”
Benedict felt one of his front teeth crumble as Charlie’s fist crunched into his chin. He tried to spit out the hard pieces but they stuck to his lips.
“Go on—hit me back,” Charlie demanded.
Benedict shook his head. “No,” he said between his brother’s punches. He was bigger and stronger. If he managed to stand and retaliate, then he might knock his brother out cold. He kept his forearms in front of his face and let Charlie’s blows rain down on him. “I won’t hit you.”
Charlie wiped the back of his hand against his forehead and glared at Benedict. He drew his fist back again, ready to thrust it forward, but something made him hesitate. Benedict followed his eyes and saw that his brother had spotted the gemstones hanging in the tree. For a moment, Charlie watched them glinting.
This gave Benedict the opportunity to lurch forward onto his belly. He grabbed hold of Charlie’s shins, holding them tight and bringing his brother crashing to the ground onto his back. Charlie flailed with his arms and tried to right himself, but Benedict held on. “Enough,” he said through gritted teeth. “That’s enough.”
Charlie tried to kick out and wrestle himself free. His knees shuddered, but he couldn’t move properly. Like a fish on the deck of a boat, running out of air, he floundered for a while and then was still. Benedict
felt the tension ebb away from his brother’s body and they both lay panting on the grass.
Charlie wiped his cheek with his hand. “You’re not worth it.”
His voice had an American drawl mixed in with his Yorkshire accent, and now that his brother was still, Benedict could see him more clearly.
He was bigger than Benedict remembered; must have put on a few stones of muscle. His languid arms and legs were now thick and solid. He wore faded jeans, a denim jacket and a red checked shirt. His hair was the color of straw.
Benedict pressed his lip and looked at the blood on his finger.
“Even when we were young, you didn’t have any guts,” Charlie accused as he sat up. “Why didn’t you fight back?”
“Because I deserved it,” Benedict wheezed. He curved to the side and sat up, too. “I’ve always regretted what I did, Charlie. I’m so sorry. But I did have guts. I needed them to care for you for all those years, after our parents died. I made one mistake...”
“But it was a massive one, huh?”
“We could have talked. We could have sorted it out.”
“Sorted it.” Charlie gave a short laugh. “You had sex with Amelia.”
The men sat with their arms wrapped around their legs, staring straight ahead, not wanting to look at each other.
Benedict screwed his eyes shut and felt his brother’s pain as if it was his own. “You were like my own child and I threw everything away. I lost my self-discipline that night but it was one time, Charlie. Just once. Thirty minutes of madness. I don’t need a punch from you to tell me that.”
Charlie stared over at the tree for a long time. He wiped his cheeks with his fingers and studied the dirt on them. “Do you have any kids?”
“No. I’ve driven Estelle away because we can’t have them. I ruined my life, too, as well as yours.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Charlie picked up a stone and threw it at the tree. “We’d only been in America for a few weeks when Amelia found out that she was pregnant. That’s when she told me about you. I might not have found out otherwise.”
Rise and Shine, Benedict Stone Page 24
