by Wendy Hudson
Did they hate her or love her? Was it something in between? Would they physically hurt her? Would they one day reveal themselves, and what would happen if they did?
She moved to the window and yanked the curtains closed before checking the locks on the front door again. The worst aspect of the situation was definitely not knowing, who, when, why…if. The questions were driving her crazy.
And Darcy was convinced that was exactly what they wanted.
Darcy was livid. From the way she stalked around the cabin and knocked back the wine, it was obvious she was rattled.
A brisk wind blew and swirled the fresh powdery snow, creating small drifts and peaks against anything immobile. To get this close to the cabin was a risk rarely taken, but Darcy was distracted; she wouldn’t be looking for shadows in the night.
The urge to comfort her would dissipate, but it was still disconcerting how often that feeling vied for attention and action. Each deception sat heavier on shoulders that refused to shrug it off. The prickle of different feelings for the woman angrily roaming the cabin refused to be dismissed. They continued to squeeze, demanding heart and head space.
The loss of control was infuriating. The mission had always been clear.
Darcy’s pain and demise were the mission. No question. Yet there had to be constant personal reminders that no sort of relationship could develop with Darcy. It could never be a consideration, even for a second.
Still, the voice that guided every action fought to be heard in Darcy’s presence. The one that reassured this was the only way, the one that knew peace would come at the end of the journey with Darcy.
Fight fire with fire; that’s what Mother had said.
Fire wasn’t the only weapon. There was betrayal, manipulation, and deceit, and all would cause Darcy the same pounding sorrow. Until Darcy felt that crushing grief, everlasting and relentless, it couldn’t be over.
It was ridiculous to entertain that it could be anything different.
The curtains were wrenched closed, and the lights were dimmed. Darcy would find no trace of Amy—not the Amy she thought she knew, anyway. This one had been so easy. Darcy’s unflappable faith in people had been her downfall. Again. Her constant ability to forgive and find renewed hope in any challenge, along with the whimsical and trusting way she approached the world, was as maddening as it was endearing.
Was that why he had favoured Darcy? Was she an easier child to be with? Was she easier to love? It wasn’t the first time that thought had occurred, and the questions continued to churn as snow crunched underfoot.
Had Darcy been special to him? Had they spent a lot of time together? Had he loved her more than the child he had given life to? And what was so appealing about Darcy’s mum that he would leave his family behind and sacrifice them to a life of misery?
Maybe one day soon Darcy could finally answer those questions.
Chapter 14
Joe finally released his grip on Darcy’s knee as the plane rolled to a stop at the terminal. She rubbed at it and threw him a dirty look. “You really should have had that vodka.”
He smiled apologetically. “Sorry, I bloody hate flying, but not sure I could stomach vodka at seven-thirty in the morning.”
“Wuss. It might have saved me some pain.”
“I promise to down at least two on the way home, but we’ve got work to do today.” He rubbed his hands together as if he was almost relishing the meetings ahead of them.
“Are you actually excited about this trip?”
“What?” He held his hands up. “I’m excited to be out of the flipping office that’s for sure. And you can’t complain about a free trip to Amsterdam.”
“I suppose,” she reluctantly agreed. “Although I doubt we’re going to see much.”
“Ah, c’mon. At least try to be excited. Couple of meetings, then we’ve got the night to ourselves. I promise you a good time.”
Darcy glanced across the aisle to where Bridget was already flouting the mobile phone rule, and Anja stared out of the window. “I’ll hold you to that promise because I’m not sure how much fun it’s going to be with those two.”
He shrugged. “We don’t need them to have a good laugh. You might even find you enjoy spending time with me.”
Darcy laughed. “Don’t bet on it.”
The seatbelt sign switched off, and they bustled in the small space, collecting coats and laptops from the overhead storage. Darcy laid a hand on Anja’s arm as she squeezed into the aisle beside her. “You okay?”
Anja nodded and shrugged on her coat. “I will be once this is over with.”
“If it helps, Joe is promising us a good time tonight.”
Anja glanced his way and snorted. “Oh, I bet he is. But more likely he means you than me. Or Bridget,” she whispered conspiratorially into Darcy’s ear.
They both laughed out loud, and Darcy winked his way.
“What?” He looked between the two of them confusedly.
“Nothing,” they chimed, and Anja laughed sincerely for the first time in weeks. It warmed Darcy’s heart, and she thought the trip away and change of scenery might be a good thing after all.
After the most boring three meetings of Darcy’s life, and an awkward dinner with some company seniors, they were finally propping up a bar sans Bridget and her fellow bosses.
“I want something Belgian and fruity,” Anja declared.
“Is that a beer or a man?” the barman joked.
“Just give me a raspberry Bacchus,” Anja snapped. She clearly didn’t find him funny.
He pulled a face and moved on to Joe and Darcy. “And for you?”
“Two IPAs, please. Your pick.”
As the barman set to serve them, Darcy looked around the bar Joe had insisted was one of the best in Amsterdam. Chalkboards covered most of the wall space, listing the hundreds of European and American beers in stock. They were interspersed with kitschy pictures and slogans proclaiming the positives of drinking beer, all of which Darcy was happy to believe.
The long wooden bar shone, despite being marred with knots and scratches. She hung her coat on to a tall stool and plonked herself down between Anja and Joe. It seemed safest to keep them separated given Anja’s mood and Joe’s excited chat.
“Told you it was a good one, didn’t I?” He took a swig of beer and smacked his lips with a self-satisfied sigh.
“You’ve done well, Joey, I love it.”
“Hey, less of the Joey. It makes me sound like a twelve-year-old boy.”
“Aren’t you?” Anja’s tone was droll, and fortunately he didn’t bite; he merely stuck his tongue out at her in the way a twelve-year-old boy might.
“So, Darcy.” He spun his stool and turned towards her. “How’s the love life?”
Darcy ignored Anja’s contemptuous snort. The thought of her failed date with the nonexistent Amy and the frustratingly slow progress with Eilidh overrode her mild annoyance at her friend. She figured it might be nice to talk about Eilidh with someone vaguely interested, who might share her resolve to remain positive.
“Well, for your information, it might be on the up.”
“Oh really?” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Do tell.”
She took a sip of her own beer and thought back to their brief meeting and subsequent text conversations. “There’s not much to tell to be honest. I bumped into her in the street, we exchanged numbers, and we’re finally going out this Friday.”
“Oh…so it’s all lovely and new still.”
“As if you know anything about that,” Anja chimed in.
“Hey! I get dates, you know. Dude, are you even meaner than normal today?”
Darcy shoved Anja with an elbow and leaned close to her ear. “Quit it, you. It isn’t Joe’s fault, and this isn’t like you. Play nice.”
Anja’s eyebrows furrowed,
and she held Darcy’s gaze for a moment before looking down into her beer. “Aye. Sorry.”
Satisfied, Darcy turned her attention back to Joe. “Yeah, it’s very new. But I think it might have promise.”
“Seriously?” The sceptical tone was back in Anja’s voice. “How can you tell that from what? Two minutes of chat and a half dozen texts?”
“What did I just say?” Darcy’s patience was waning.
“Okay, okay.” Anja held up her hands in acquiescence. “I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time and live happily ever after.” She slid off her stool. “I’m away to the toilets.”
Darcy watched her go and sighed. In the last few days, Anja had become distant and more than offhand in her negativity about Eilidh. Darcy knew she shouldn’t exactly expect bubbling excitement about the upcoming date, but she had hoped Anja might find a way to put her own troubles aside even for a minute to be happy for her friend. Especially after the Amy disaster.
When she had told Anja about that, she had practically felt the “I told you so” vibrate from her, although she’d never actually said the words. There had been no reassuring hug or offer of wine and chocolate until they were sick. Only a shrug and a “stalker strikes again, don’t worry about it”.
It wasn’t the Anja she knew. There felt more to her reticence, and Darcy worried about how hard the break-up was actually affecting her.
“I think she’s jealous.”
Darcy spun back around to face Joe. “Eh?”
He smirked and took a sip of beer. “Anja. I think she’s jealous you’ve got a date.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous or right?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. She’s recently split up from her husband, remember? The one who cheated on her after six years of marriage? She’s heartbroken and down on love, not jealous.”
“Yeah, yeah. Heartbroken and all that. But I’m telling you, she’s jealous of your new bird, Darcy.”
“Firstly.” Darcy swotted his arm. “Don’t call her that. And secondly, repeat that again anywhere near Anja and it won’t be your arm getting a slap.”
“Whatever you say.” He looked smug, and she wanted to follow through on her slap threat. “You know her best.”
A small part of Darcy wondered if what Joe was saying could be true. Then she shook herself; now she was being ridiculous. “Exactly. I know her best. She’s simply feeling a bit lost and alone after Jason. She needs to know I’m here for her, that’s all, and maybe she sees Eilidh as some kind of threat to that.”
“Or she wants you all to herself.”
“Joe, seriously. Shut the fuck up, okay?”
Anja appeared back at her side. “What’s the boy saying now? He hitting on you?”
“Erm, I am here, you know.”
Anja waved him away and pulled Darcy off her stool into a corner a few feet from Joe. “Can we go somewhere else after here, just the two of us?”
Darcy looked back at Joe for a moment, torn between feeling bad for him and also wanting to give her friend whatever she needed. “Naw, c’mon, An. We can’t ditch him in a foreign city on his own. Who the hell knows where he’ll end up?”
Anja’s shoulders deflated as she glared over Darcy’s to Joe. “I can’t cope with him right now. With his innuendo and silly banter. It’s exhausting.”
“Maybe you could just try a little bit? Eh? Let it go for a few hours and enjoy a bit of silliness. He’s not that bad, you know. Please. For me?”
At that, Anja’s face softened. “That’s unfair. You know I can’t say no to that face.”
Darcy laughed and reached out to squeeze her hand. “C’mon, have a beer and a laugh, and I promise no more chat about women or men or relationships.”
“Sorry. I’m being a total killjoy, aren’t I?”
“I think given the circumstances it can be forgiven, but after the past couple of weeks of moping, how about we try something new tonight?”
“Fine. But you should know I’m not happy about it.”
“That’s the point.”
Anja laughed and tugged her back towards the bar and an abandoned-looking Joe. Darcy watched her paste a smile on her face as she signalled the barman and asked what he would recommend next in her politest voice.
“Everything okay?” Joe murmured.
Darcy nodded, still thinking a little on what Joe had said. She knew he was being ridiculous; it was merely insecurity on Anja’s part and worry because of the stalker situation. There was no way it was any more than that. Besides, of all people, what the hell did Joe know anyway?
Chapter 15
Their second day in Amsterdam was as uneventful as the first. They drank cheap prosecco at an exhibition on the evolution of wind turbines and sat through yet another presentation on future developments.
Darcy enjoyed her job, and Joe was right about getting out of the office for a few days, but holy crap it could be dull. PowerPoints had always had the ability to induce a nap in her. She longed for the moment they could escape and check out more of the city.
After freshening up, she met Anja and Joe in the bar. They looked to be having a heated discussion, and she sighed, fed up with playing referee.
“What’s going on?” she interrupted them.
“This one”—Anja hooked a thumb in Joe’s direction—“wants to invite Bridget to dinner.”
Darcy pulled a face and looked at him as if he had two heads. “Why on earth would we do that?”
“I feel bad. We ditched her last night as well. It wouldn’t be so terrible, would it?”
“Yes,” Darcy and Anja replied in unison.
“Tell you what, Joey.” Anja wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “If you’re so worried, you have dinner with her. We’re out of here.”
She grabbed Darcy’s hand before she could protest and headed for the lobby. Darcy glanced back and caught Joe’s forlorn face, but he didn’t follow. “Maybe he’s got a thing for Bridget after all.”
Safely out on the street, Anja let go of her hand. “Nah. I think he’s kissing ass, that’s all.” She looked left and right then back at Darcy. “Where to?”
It was dark already and crisp with frost, and Darcy wanted to explore. “How about a walk to Museumplein? We can’t leave without a photo at the I Amsterdam sign.”
“Then you promise dinner and wine?”
“Promise.” Darcy hooked her arm through Anja’s. “What’s the rule on expenses and alcohol again?”
They fooled around for a while at the I Amsterdam sign, climbing in and out of letters and taking selfies. The Rijks museum was beautifully lit, and Darcy caught a stunning picture of Anja sat on the letter ‘D’, staring up at its imposing form.
Her stomach growled at the wonderful smells wafting from food trucks, and she talked Anja into having dessert before they headed for dinner. She carried a large plate of Dutch pancakes smothered in butter, chocolate sauce, and icing sugar to where Anja sat by the pond.
Anja returned the grin plastered on her face. “You look flipping delighted with yourself.”
Darcy sat close with the pancakes on her lap and offered Anja a fork. “Who wouldn’t be? These look bloody awesome.”
Simultaneous groans escaped them as the first few mini-pancakes were devoured. Light and rich with sticky, warm chocolate, they blissfully melted on her tongue.
Anja popped another pancake in her mouth, and Darcy joined her as she scanned the atmosphere around them. Teenagers stood around in large groups, speakers blaring music she and Anja were too old to get, as skateboards, backpacks, and large cups from the latest fast food trend sat amongst them. They jostled each other, flirted and laughed, as older tourists weaved between them, searching for the perfect picture angle. The unmistakable scent of weed drifted their way, and both inhaled deeply before laughi
ng at each other.
“Oh, to be young again.” Darcy chuckled.
“I came here once when I was young.” Anja folded up the now-empty paper plate and tossed it in a nearby bin.
“Really? When?”
“I was seven or eight I think. My mother had family here, and we spent Christmas and New Year with them. My dad brought me here for De kerstboomverbranding, which means Christmas tree burning.”
“Burning Christmas trees?” Darcy didn’t understand. “Sounds traumatising.”
Anja laughed. “It strangely wasn’t. All these people turned up with their dead trees, tied to bikes or pulled in carts. They queued up in their hundreds to add them to a bonfire that the fire brigade had set. I remember standing there mesmerised as the flames roared. The embers were falling all around us, little smouldering flakes that landed like snow on our winter coats.”
She had a wistful look on her face that made Darcy smile. “You don’t really talk about your family, but that sounds like a cool thing for your dad to take you to.”
Anja came back from the memory and shrugged. “Not a lot to tell. But yeah, it was pretty cool and has always stuck with me.”
She stood and stuffed her hands in her pockets. “I’m absolutely freezing. Can we go eat some proper food?”
Darcy took one last look around. “Don’t pretend it’s food you’re after when I know it’s the wine.”
Chapter 16
Anja had been back on form, and Darcy hadn’t laughed so much with her friend in a long time. A snug of a bar had happily welcomed them after dinner, where the woman serving had shamelessly flirted with them both and succeeded in getting them tipsy.
It had felt almost as if they were in someone’s living room, where small tables folded down from the walls and people crammed themselves into the nooks and crannies and mismatched chairs. From the ceiling hung a forest of multicoloured ties amongst fringed light shades and walls covered in portraits, news clippings, and trinkets. High shelves were loaded with so many confusing objects that every time Darcy scanned them, she spotted something new.
