by Wendy Hudson
Now the system had her housed in a secure mental-health facility, for a yet-to-be-determined amount of time. She was deemed unfit at present to stand trial for her crimes, and Darcy believed it was the correct place for her. Even after everything, all Darcy wanted was for Anja to get the help and support that had been missing from her life for so many years.
All that Darcy had confided in Eilidh was true. Until she saw Anja, she was unable to move on. To work on putting the pieces of her own life back together. Eilidh had stood solid at her side through it all, offering her everything and anything she needed. Yet Anja still created a wedge between them that Darcy knew Eilidh felt as keenly as she did.
It wasn’t for lack of trying on Darcy’s part. She wanted nothing more than to lock the Anja part of her life away. To stop asking questions and forget about her, the same as she had done as a child.
But look where that had gotten her. So the memories refused to fade.
No matter Eilidh’s objections to Darcy visiting, they both knew it was the only way. It was born out of fear and protectiveness that Eilidh wanted her to stay as far away from Anja as possible. But in the dark of the night, when neither of them could sleep, she knew Eilidh understood Darcy’s murmurings of unfinished business. Her sorrow at the loss of her friend. The tears of guilt Darcy had shed and the sick feeling that arose every so often, knowing that Anja resided in a facility she might never leave. Abandoned and alone once again.
It was those thoughts that pushed her on, through the front gate to security. Once processed, she was supplied with a photographic ID. It was strange, as if it told Darcy she belonged there when she would rather be anywhere else in the world.
Anja’s doctor entered the reception to greet her and immediately recognised Darcy’s trepidation. She placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You’re going to be fine. It’s natural to be nervous, but if anything should happen there are panic buttons in the room and someone will be with you straight away. You’ll have the room to yourselves. It’ll be quiet, and you can take as long you need. All right?”
Darcy nodded. “I think so. I’m doing the right thing, aren’t I?”
The doctor offered a non-committal smile. “If it feels right for you, then it is. I believe it will help Anja in the long run, but only time will tell. Are you ready?”
Darcy glanced back towards the exit. Beyond it the safety of Eilidh awaited her in the carpark. She wouldn’t leave. Instead, she straightened her shoulders and took a galvanising breath before following the doctor towards the visitor’s room.
Darcy fidgeted in her seat and sipped some water whilst waiting for the secure door to open. She was impatient to get it over with, yet afraid of the moment Anja appeared. It would be the first time Darcy had seen or spoken to her since Anja had ripped both their lives apart.
She sucked in a breath as the metal lock clunked and the door swung open. Anja was led in by a burly nurse and she instantly sought Darcy’s eyes before smiling. He muttered something and she nodded, her gaze never leaving Darcy’s, then he left and the door clanged ominously closed.
Anja had lost weight; her face was gaunt and her eyes sunken, but they’d not lost their steely hue. Her hair lacked its usual lustre, and the grey tracksuit she wore matched her pallor. The room settled around them, and Anja stood still, as if waiting for permission to approach.
“Come and sit down.” Darcy’s voice broke, and she took another measured breath, gritted her teeth. She would not cry. She would be strong. It was the mantra she had recited on a loop as Eilidh had driven her to the hospital.
Anja sat and broke her stare. She looked about the bright visitor’s room and studied the view of the hills beyond the hospital grounds. “I haven’t been in here before.”
If Anja’s lack of visitors were meant as a jab at Darcy’s conscience, it worked. “How are you?” It seemed a hollow question and one she didn’t expect Anja to answer truthfully.
Anja shrugged. “As you’d imagine. They treat me okay.”
She seemed serene, almost ethereal in her demeanour, and Darcy wondered if that was the power of the medication and whether Anja could still feel anything.
“Good. I’m glad you’re getting the help you need.”
Anja’s stare zeroed in on Darcy again, and Darcy felt herself shift under its intensity. “If thinking that makes you feel better, fine.”
Darcy refused to be baited. She wasn’t sure what she would find when face to face with Anja again, wasn’t sure what she might say, but an argument was not what she wanted. There’d be no more accusations, no more blame, no ifs, buts, or maybes. It was about hard facts and the feelings that came with them.
Darcy was about to speak when Anja cut her off. “Are you still with her?” She bit out the last word, and Darcy felt herself shrink back a little. She knew the topic of Eilidh could be dangerous, but she refused to lie.
“Yes.” She kept it simple. There was no need to elaborate, no need for Anja to know anything about her outside life. The doctor had warned her about giving Anja too much information or any kind of hope to cling on to. It would only feed her illness and set them back further in her treatment.
She watched as Anja slowly nodded as if confirming something to herself. She linked and twisted her fingers, picked at the cuticles, and said nothing more. Darcy questioned the merit in visiting when Anja was in such a fugue state, but the doctor had assured her that she would understand and remember it all.
“I came here to tell you something,” she began, and Anja’s head slowly rose to meet her gaze. “I won’t be visiting you again. This is the first and last time.”
Anja’s eyes widened a little, and her mouth opened and closed. Then her arm was shooting across the table, clutching for Darcy’s hand. “Don’t say that, Darcy. I need you.”
Darcy yanked her hands out of reach and sat back in the chair. “You don’t need me, Anja. You need to focus on yourself. You need to get better.”
“What I need is you. How many times do I have to say it? That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Her tone was pleading, and it tugged at Darcy’s vulnerability and pain. To see a person she’d loved reduced to someone who had to be medicated to get through each day.
“You’ll never have me, Anja. You need to hear me when I say that. We’re not connected. I’m not the person to make all this better. You are, Anja. Only you can make this better for yourself.”
Darcy pushed her chair back. She’d said almost everything she needed and could only hope it would get through to Anja. She didn’t think it likely, but at least in Darcy’s own mind she’d been clear. She’d snuffed out any lingering fantasy Anja might have in order that she could hopefully begin to move on, to start over.
“Don’t leave.” Anja’s voice was small, imploring. “This can’t be the last time.” She held Darcy’s gaze again, and tears swam in her eyes. There was a look of inevitability in them, as if she knew her pleading was futile but had to try.
“It’s for the best, Anja. Seeing me again is only going to keep hurting you, and I never wanted to hurt you.”
“I did.” The tears fell but Anja didn’t look away. “For so long all I wanted was to hurt you. Until I fell in love with you. But by then it was too late. The damage was done and now I’ve lost you.”
Darcy coughed as she tried to swallow her own tears, but it was impossible. When Anja reached for her hand again, she allowed her to take it. They sat that way for a few minutes, and Darcy knew that it was over.
They’d both reached the end.
This would be the last time they would see each other, despite Anja’s protests. The relationship they’d shared hadn’t been real. The love, the laughter, and the time invested had been for different reasons. Darcy knew that now but still allowed herself a few final moments to recognise the parts that had been real to her.
Darcy’s feelings hadn’t been imagined.
Darcy hadn’t lied. She knew her time with Anja would live on in them both forever, for very different reasons.
Anja’s love wasn’t real. It was obsession and compulsion spurred on by a fantasy. If Anja needed to cling onto that false happiness, that was her choice. Darcy would play no part in it anymore.
But she would offer Anja one last hope, a lifeline, a grain of potential that might help her be well again one day.
“I forgive you,” Darcy whispered, before releasing Anja’s hand and walking out the door.
Epilogue
Darcy watched as Eilidh made her way slowly through the water, guiding and supporting a laughing Olivia. She had experience of Olivia’s condition, and they had spent hours every day of the holiday so far bonding in the pool.
“She’s a rare find, Darcy.”
A hand squeezed Darcy’s shoulder, and she smiled as her mum lowered herself on to a nearby deckchair.
“Aye, she really is. Olivia loves her already.”
“And what about you?”
Darcy offered her a wry smile. “Are you kidding? How could I not?”
Liz handed her a cold beer, and they both sighed simultaneously with content. After over a week in Australia, Darcy was finally beginning to relax.
“I can tell you her regular hydrotherapy sessions are nowhere near as fun as this.”
Darcy laughed. “Yeah, I’m wondering where this fun Eilidh was when I was grunting my way through physiotherapy.”
“I still can’t believe everything you’ve been through, my love. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you.”
Liz reached out a hand, and Darcy took it. She held it tight and reassured her mum not for the first time, and likely not the last. “None of this was your fault, Mum. You’ve nothing to be sorry for.”
“I still should have been there.” She wore sunglasses, but Darcy knew fresh tears were hidden behind them. She heard the break in her voice.
Darcy looked away, back to Olivia now screeching and splashing for all she was worth as Eilidh good-naturedly played along. “You were where you were needed most, Mum. Here, with Olivia. I understand. You know I do.”
Liz gave her hand a last squeeze before clearing her throat and taking a few deep breaths.
“I still can’t believe I talked to her and didn’t realise anything was wrong. She was so calm, Darcy. So reassuring. She made me feel better about not being there for you. Said all the right things and she was so friendly. And it was all an act. She gave nothing away that she knew who I was. Who her father was. How can someone be that way? Be so natural at lying and pretending?”
Darcy sighed. She’d asked herself all the same questions. “I can only think it’s years of practice. She had to lie to herself, over and over, to get through those miserable times with her mother, and then cope with her death. She had to tell herself something to make it matter. She created a delusion, an alternative version of events that justified what she was doing, and once she had fixated on me, that was it for her until the end.”
“It’s frightening how easily the mind can trick a person, isn’t it?”
“Terrifying.”
They were quiet a moment, watching as Eilidh expertly used the hoist and a number of techniques to safely help Olivia from the water into her chair before wrapping her in multiple towels and pushing her towards them.
“That’s it. She’s exhausted me again.” Eilidh reached for Darcy’s beer and gave her a wink before taking a long drink.
Liz stood and crouched by Olivia, stroking a palm over her face. She offered her hands, and Olivia began rubbing them. “Time for a nap and a snack, sweetheart.” She kissed the top of Olivia’s head and took the chair from Eilidh. “I’ll leave you girls to it.”
Eilidh took her place in the deckchair and reached in to the cool box for two fresh beers, then passed one to Darcy.
“I saw you both talking. Looked serious. Is Liz all right?”
Darcy nodded and grabbed on to the hand Eilidh offered. She tugged at it until Eilidh got the signal and scooted over on to Darcy’s deckchair. “She’ll be fine. The guilt is tearing her up right now, so I just keep having to reassure her.”
“And what about you?” Eilidh scooped her close and peppered her hair with kisses.
“I’m getting there, and this is definitely helping.” She directed Eilidh’s mouth to her own and sank into the luxury of a leisurely kiss.
They parted, breathless, foreheads pressed together. “I wish we could stay longer,” Darcy whispered. “There’s a lot of healing to do, and it feels like we should all be together for it.”
Eilidh smiled and laid another gentle kiss on her mouth. “You know, I told Sam once that I thought the world had conspired to bring us together again. That it was meant to be me who saved you from that car.”
“You did?”
“Aye. And I wholeheartedly believe it. If this is where you need to be, Darcy, then this is where we stay. Besides, I think I could get used to all this sunshine and pool time. I’m having a cold beer at two o’clock, and the woman I love is in my arms. We’ll make it work, Darcy. Together.”
Darcy was speechless. All she could do was hug Eilidh close and press kisses to her face as happy tears ran down her cheeks.
She believed it too.
About Wendy Hudson
Originally from Northern Ireland, Wendy is an Army kid with a book full of old addresses and an indecipherable accent to match. As a child she was always glued to a book, even building a reading den in the attic to get peace from her numerous younger siblings.
Now settled in Scotland, Wendy loves to explore the country that inspired her writing in between travelling to as many new countries as the calendar will allow. Summers are all about camping, hiking, sailing, and music festivals. Followed by a winter of avoiding the gym, skiing, football, and not dancing at gigs.
She’s always enjoyed writing and turning thirty was the catalyst for finally getting stuck in to her debut novel, Four Steps.
CONNECT WITH WENDY
Website: www.wendyhudsonauthor.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/wendyhudsonauthor
Twitter: @whudsonauthor
Other Books from Ylva Publishing
www.ylva-publishing.com
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There she meets Abigail Miller, the castle chef, who quickly becomes her tour guide and search partner. Along with Abigail’s brother, George, they decipher village gossip from truth, fact from folklore, and offer Erin sanctuary within the castle walls.
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when Port Bannir is rocked by a senseless murder, both women find themselves implicated. Can they work together to expose the truth––or will the truth prove far too dangerous?
A funny, fabulous, cozy mystery filled with quirkiness and a sweet serve of lesbian romance.
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The pair investigate a spate of arson attacks, a dead body found in a burnt out building, and a missing architect while fighting their growing attraction for each other. The discovery of a dumped vehicle in a quarry lake sparks a series of events that will change their lives forever.
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ISBN: 978-3-95533-959-3 (mobi), 978-3-95533-960-9 (epub)
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Suddenly a determined Interpol agent, Wei Topeté, is sniffing around. Everything’s gone sideways for the agent since Mock’s death – a man she’s been chasing for half her career.
Enter the mysterious, flirtatious, Kat Barber, a slow-moving accident who has been bargaining for her freedom with things that don’t belong to her. She expected she’d have the pick of the estate of her criminal mentor. Now Kat desperately needs that book and will do whatever it takes to pry it from Marcey’s hands.
