The Colour of Mermaids

by Catherine Curzon

  Trepidation struck Eva, but it melted away almost at once as she tightened her fingers around his. She couldn’t fear the darkness inside him. It was part of him, and it drew her to him.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered again, and she knew then that he hadn’t heard her words of forgiveness at all. Or more likely, he wouldn’t allow himself to hear them.

  “I forgive you,” Eva whispered, but the last word left her mouth on a sigh as, with a tightness and sudden release, her climax possessed her. As bliss swept through her, Eva was aware of brightness, an infinite kindness, an embrace, which came almost close enough to reach, and ebbed away. Even as she felt Daniel’s orgasm claim him, she knew that it wouldn’t be enough. That tension was still there, his eyes closed tight as though to keep tears from falling. Then he threw back his head and let out a cry of exertion, filled with passion and fierce with heat.

  What the hell can I do?

  Eva combed her hand through his hair, not speaking but whispering gentle sounds to him, an attempt at comfort which couldn’t work. He’d survived whatever horror it was that had taken him into the darkness, and she couldn’t stand by and watch it destroy him. But she hadn’t a clue where to start.

  Very gently, Daniel slipped Eva’s legs down to the bed. Then he sank down into her arms, his body wracked by a shuddering sob.

  Eva pressed her lips to the top of his head. “Daniel…please tell me. Is there something I can do? I’ll help you, darling, but I don’t know how.”

  “I didn’t look at your work.” The words were a whisper and another sob shuddered through him. “I need to look—”

  “You can, but…” Eva wondered if it might be a useful distraction for him, to take his mind off whatever had consumed him. “I can go and fetch my sketchbook, if you’d like to see.”

  Daniel nodded but still he clung to her, his embrace tighter than ever. That he needed help was clear, but she didn’t know how. It wasn’t cocaine, though, of that at least Eva was sure.

  “I’ll bring some water up as well. I think we could both do with a drink!” And something stronger than water, too, but Eva wasn’t going to let him get drunk on her watch.

  “Please don’t ever tell anyone,” Daniel whispered. “You deserve so much better than this.”

  “I don’t tell tales,” Eva reassured him. “You were so sweet and gentle in the hotel, you melted me. I know you’ve suffered, Daniel, and I know you do still… I’m not angry with you for what happened downstairs. Really, I’m not.”

  She wasn’t going to tell him that everything was all right, because it demonstrably wasn’t. Empty platitudes were a waste of time. But she kissed him and playfully ruffled his hair. “Mmm… You look good after a ravishing, Daniel Scott!”

  “You’re so—” He lost the word in another sob, then managed a smile. “You made the drawing better, but you didn’t have to lie. Don’t ever think you do.”

  “Would you rather I’d said, I like the energy, but maybe make me a little less pointy?” Eva took his hand and laid it on her stomach, a part of her body that was very far from pointy.

  “Rather than change it and pretend you hadn’t?” He stroked her stomach gently. “How can I learn anything if you don’t show me where I’ve made the mistake?”

  “I’m sorry. I thought it might work subliminally.” Eva cupped his jaw in her hand. “You were working so hard at it, it seemed like the best way to help. I won’t do it next time, I promise.” If there is a next time. She ghosted a kiss to his lips. He returned it with a sigh and closed his eyes again, sinking against her.

  “Sketchbook,” she reminded him in an affectionate whisper, and carefully slipped out of the bed. Eva crossed the room and paused at the top of the stairs to see him lying there, calm now, but his tension hadn’t abated. She followed the curve of the stairs and was back in the mayhem of his studio again. Her bag was where she had left it on the floor, so she collected it up along with a bottle of water and headed back up to his bedroom again. She wondered what he’d think of her work. They were only sketches, after all.

  He was lying so still. Eva took her sketchbook out of her bag and laid it on the pillow beside him. “Daniel?”

  Only then did she realise he was asleep.

  Eva lay on the bed beside him, her arm loosely around him. Drained from what had passed between them, she felt the pull of sleep.

  I’ll only have a snooze, that’s all. Just a snooze.

  Chapter Six

  A breeze stirred Eva awake. Someone must have opened a window, but she hadn’t. As she opened her eyes, she was disorientated until she remembered where she was. Daniel Scott’s house. In his bed. She smiled at the thought until, as sleep reeled away, she remembered what had happened.

  And realised she was alone.

  And as the breeze stirred again, she noticed that it carried with it the smell of burning. Perhaps that was one of the perils of living so close to the beach in summer, putting up with barbecues and campfires as people stretched their days out into the evening. Yet something in the air seemed to be crackling, that same horrible tension she had sensed in Daniel earlier. From the studio downstairs, she could hear the sound of what seemed to be frantic movement, as though someone was moving furniture.

  Struck by a sense of foreboding, Eva got up. As she had left her clothes downstairs, she pulled the sheet off the bed and wrapped it around herself. Her ears primed for every sound, trying to second-guess what Daniel was up to, she went to the top of the stairs.

  “Daniel? Is that you?”

  “Stay upstairs!” Daniel shouted. Even his voice sounded somehow wrong, pitched and forced. “I’m cleaning the studio up a bit! Having a clear-out!”

  “Would you like a hand?” Eva’s reply was falsely bright. Her heart hammered. A clear-out? What the hell is he doing? She picked her way downstairs, careful not to trip on her makeshift dress.

  Daniel appeared at the bottom of the staircase. He wore the pyjama pants again, his eyes hidden behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses. In his arms was a pile of sketchbooks, so many that he seemed barely able to hold them.

  “Go back to bed!” he instructed with too much cheer, his words tumbling over themselves. “You look beautiful. Go to bed and I’ll be up when all this mess is cleared!”

  Eva shook her head as she continued on her way downstairs. “No, I don’t want to go back to bed. And besides, you’ve perked up. What are you—? What are you doing, Daniel?”

  From the bottom of the stairs, Eva could see the studio. It looked as if a whirlwind had passed through it, leaving a clear path between what had been loose paper, and wreckage everywhere else. On a glass-topped table—because, of course, what else?—Eva saw a mess of white powder, streaks of it, the little that remained from what Daniel must’ve put up his nose.

  Eva stared at him, but all she saw was her reflection in the lenses of his sunglasses, a wild woman wrapped in a bedsheet, her hair in a tousled frizz. “Why?”

  “I lit a fire.” He said it as though it were all the explanation she needed. “To clean it all up. I used to have a mum once, did you know that? You didn’t know. I was so bad, so rotten that she killed herself to get away from me. Can you believe that?”

  Daniel laughed, the sound high and not quite normal.

  “I was a real bad boy back then!”

  “Jesus Christ, Daniel. What the hell are you saying? Can you hear what you’re saying?” The smell of the burning was drifting through the doors, and with one hand to keep her toga from slipping, Eva grasped at the pile of sketchbooks in Daniel’s arms. “I don’t believe you! I don’t believe that any mother would do that! They wouldn’t do that and leave you alone in the world. They wouldn’t!”

  “Guess what? She did!” He relinquished the sketchbooks to her and wheeled around, gesturing to the studio. “I’m going to get rid of it all, the way the world got rid of me. Throw it on a bonfire. I’d throw myself on after it if I wasn’t such a fucking coward!”

  Eva stood ther
e, stunned, her mind so busy processing what he was saying that she couldn’t find any words. So that was why he had been in care? Because his mother had taken her own life, and he’d spent all these years blaming himself.

  “You were a child, Daniel. You can’t blame yourself for what your mother did. Children do it all the time. If their parents split up, they’ll try to justify it, they’ll think, Last week I broke a plate and Mum was furious, that’s why they’re splitting up. But you’re an adult now, Daniel. Surely you must realise it wasn’t your fault!”

  “It was nobody else’s, was it?” He reached out as though to touch her, but snatched his hand back before they made contact. “That’s why I chose Brighton, because we only ever had one holiday, and we came here and she took me to this crappy little gallery and I fell in love with the paintings and— It’s your mate’s now. Looks different, Mum wouldn’t recognise it.”

  “So that’s what you meant by nostalgia?” Eva set the armful of sketchbooks onto the floor. Tentatively, she held her hand out towards him. “That’s lovely, Daniel. It’s a lovely memory to have of your mum. I’m sure she’d be so proud to know that you went back there to exhibit your work. Out of all the places that would’ve shown you, and you chose the one you went to with her. Did she— Was she an artist too?”

  “She was a cleaner.” Daniel twined his fingers with hers. “And she worked in the off licence at the end of our road and she wanted more for me and I ended up—”

  He fell silent, looking down at their hands.

  “You ended up successful, and lauded the world over, and—and she must be looking down on you now, so pleased.” Pleased? Eva’s glance fell to the remains of Daniel’s cocaine binge. She tucked the sheet a little tighter around her.

  “They put Mr Carswell away for a long time.” He whispered it as though confiding a great secret, then put his finger to his lips. “And when they went back to let him out, he was me.”

  Despite the heat of the day, Eva’s veins were filled with ice. Was this what cocaine psychosis looked like, a man accusing himself of his mother’s suicide, whose sense of identity has utterly slipped? Carswell… Carswell… That name sounded so familiar, but Eva couldn’t place it. Something sinister was attached to it, but it was the drugs making him think he was someone else.

  “You’re Daniel Scott, you’re a very well-known artist, and you’re my…my friend. And I-I think you need help, Daniel. You’re manic. You’re not making any sense.” Eva edged around him until she could grab her dress and her jacket from the chair. She hadn’t a clue where her shoes had ended up. “I’ll—I’ll just nip back upstairs and get changed, then we can hop in a cab, and go to the hospital, and they’ll look after you. They’ll know what to do.”

  Because I don’t have a fucking clue.

  “You look terrified,” he observed. “Are you frightened of me? Why would you be frightened? I’m cleaning the studio, that’s all.”

  Eva struggled into her dress and dropped the sheet from around her. Buttoning her dress, half-turned from him, she made for the stairs. “Of course I’m terrified! You’re like Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, only the wrong way round! Everyone loves a monster these days, don’t they, that’s the side you show, but the tender side, the affectionate Daniel Scott. He’s hidden away.”

  “I don’t want to frighten you, I wanted you to be happy and us to be—” She saw him bite his lip, then he lifted his sunglasses and showed her his eyes, the pupils wide and bloodshot. When he spoke again, his voice rose in volume with every word. “Can you see? There’s nobody there!”

  “You’re going to the hospital. I’m going to ring for an ambulance.” Eva tried as best she could to keep her voice level and calm, but inside she was screaming. Nothing in her life before had prepared her for this. A happy childhood with a hard-working dad and an earthy mother, art college and friends, a reasonable career and the odd romance here and there. She should never have got involved with Daniel Scott, she should never have gone to meet him at the hotel and she should certainly never have agreed to come into his home.

  “I don’t need an ambulance, I won’t be in the fucking papers again!” he shouted. “Bring your kids to my work, Eva, say something nice about me and tell them never to end up like this. Promise me that?”

  In a tone that was so cold it surprised her, Eva said as she retreated upstairs, “Oh, I will, Daniel, don’t worry about that. You’re no fucking role model for my kids.”

  “I know that!” he bellowed after her. “But I’m fucking good at what I do, whether you think so or not! Follow the money, make sure you tell them that!”

  Blinded by her tears, Eva pressed her forehead to the cool glass of his bedroom window and sobbed. Everything hurt and she had no idea what to do. But she couldn’t stay here a moment longer. She picked up her bag and went back downstairs again, steeling herself for whatever great act of destruction he would be committing now.

  At first she thought that the studio was empty, but, as she rounded the bottom of the staircase, she realised her mistake. Daniel was on the chaise longue he had bought for her, curled up into a foetal position, his body shuddering with sobs, his skin glowing with perspiration. Apart from the trembling he was unmoving, the air eerily silent after the rage.

  Eva crouched beside him and touched his hair from his sweaty face. “I’m ready to go now. Look, if I call an ambulance for you, I’ll wait with you until it comes.”

  “Just go,” he whispered. “Go home. You don’t need this shit from me.”

  Eva messily wiped the back of her hand across her face through her tears. She noticed her sandals peeping out from under a sheet of paper and shoved her feet into them. “I just wish there was something I could do.”

  “I’m better on my own,” he said flatly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t— I just wanted to draw you.”

  “I know you did. Goodbye, Daniel.” Eva got back up to her feet and backed towards the patio doors to head outside, where the evening was full of the singed smell of the bonfire. As she reached the door, Eva turned back. She wasn’t sure he’d hear her from that distance, but she said it anyway. “I almost fell in love with you.”

  Eva’s drive home was uneventful. Every traffic light she met was green. No one beeped at her, no pedestrians wandered into the traffic, and yet it seemed wrong, as if it was mocking what had gone on in that house.

  She had a short walk from the garages to the mews courtyard, and was relieved to let herself into her home. The first thing she did, as she had done ever since the night of the camera flash, was to draw the curtains of her front room, but as she did, she noticed that the vase she’d on the windowsill was now on the coffee table.

  She hadn’t put it there. Or had she, when she was dusting? Though Eva couldn’t remember the last time she’d done any dusting.

  Eva went into the kitchen to make a cup of tea, but in here, too, something was off. The mug tree seemed to have been turned one-hundred-and-eighty degrees. The washing-up gloves she had hung over the tap were lying neatly on the draining board. The cookery book she had left on the stand wasn’t the one she had seen there this morning.

  Or perhaps it was?

  Upstairs, her shampoo was standing in the middle of her shower tray, when it should have been in the wicker basket on the shelf. She wouldn’t have left it there. She just wouldn’t have.

  Now, Eva’s heart began to pound, unease leaking from every pore.

  Someone had been in her house.

  Cold with fear, Eva went into her studio. A stack of photos of bees which had been on the left side of her desk was now on the right.

  And her bedroom?

  The door creaked so loudly when she opened it that Eva had to suck back a scream. The bed she had left in a disordered heap that morning had been carefully made.

  Who would do this? The same person who had taken a photo of her through the window? A loon, was that it, as Lyndsey had said? Some fan of Daniel Scott’s who had found out about their liaisons?

&nb
sp; “Well, it’s all right now, don’t worry!” Eva shouted, hysteria in her voice, as if whoever had done this was still in her house. “It’s over… It’s over!”

  Eva’s mobile screeched into life in the sudden silence. She jumped as though someone had laid their hand on her shoulder. Was it Daniel, miraculously returned to his senses, or worse, the police or someone from a hospital with bad news? Was it whoever had been in her house whilst she wasn’t?

  Lyndsey’s name flashed up on the screen, and Eva gasped with relief. “Lynds! Thank God it’s you!”

  “Hello, lovely lady, I thought I’d just ring and see how things were going with Mr Sunglasses!” Lyndsey sounded as bright as ever, and behind her, Eva could hear piano music tinkling. It was all so normal after the day from hell, so welcome. “What’s wrong?”

  “Everything!” Eva was crying again, leaning against the wall because her legs would no longer hold her up. “I don’t think I’ll be seeing Daniel again, and…and…I’m certain someone’s been in my house!”

  Putting it into words made the situation sound ridiculous, because who would believe her? Wouldn’t it be more likely that Eva was losing her memory? The door hadn’t been swinging in the breeze when she’d arrived.

  Whoever had done this must’ve picked the lock.

  Or they had a key.

  “What? Phone the police, we’re coming over.” The phone was muffled but she heard Lyndsey call, “Miles, someone’s broken into Eva’s house! I need you to drive us over to her!”

  “Will I see you in a minute?” Eva knew she sounded as wheedling and pathetic as a small child, but fear had left her exhausted.

  “A bit longer than that, but no more than half an hour. Now call those coppers!”

  Chapter Seven

  Two police constables arrived at Eva’s house not long after she rang. They had, they said, been in the area anyway. Although they didn’t put it into words, Eva knew they were dubious about her call. Nothing had been stolen, no doors or windows had been forced, and was she certain she hadn’t left the shampoo in the middle of the shower, and couldn’t she have moved the vase herself and forgotten? The camera flash, they assured her, must’ve been lightning.