by Clare Ashton
‘Charles. Charles!’ Wynne shouted. ‘For god’s sake put that down. You could kill someone.’
But the tall man marched along the corridor, kicking open doors as he passed. Cate stumbled into the corridor and shrieked after her grandfather.
Pia whispered to herself. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!’ Her white fingers pinched the bannister. The gun-wielding avenger loomed and she had neither the presence of mind nor physical ability to speak out loud. Her legs sprang to life and she thumped up the wooden stairs to the attic.
‘There’s the bastard!’ he shouted.
She glanced back to see Sir Charles’ irate face glaring up at her. He pointed at her with the hand that still held the gun and to Pia’s horror his fingers were still wrapped carelessly around the trigger.
With a last rush of adrenaline Pia thrust up the stairs as the boom of gunfire erupted beneath her. The air against her cheeks was hot with splinters and dust. Chippings needled her naked chest. She ducked as a great block of plaster hurtled down the stairwell to hit the floor behind her and shatter around Sir Charles.
In more or less one piece she landed with a barefooted thud on the attic floorboards. She pounded across the room. But that was all she could hear.
She slackened her pace. Her footsteps slowed but no sound rose above them. There were no shouts. There was no gunshot. No sound of any pursuit. Only shocking silence and the rhythm of her own rasping breath. She turned and faced the emptiness behind her.
The eerie stillness was broken by frantic steps and shuffling at the bottom of the stairs. Agitated voices spoke in short bursts of orders and concern. She could hear Lady Wynne’s voice strident above them all.
Another fear took hold in her belly and a chill numbed her insides as she crept back through the darkness. She heard strained voices talking over one another and she forced herself to peer over the edge.
Sir Charles lay at the bottom of the staircase. White dust and chunks of plaster coated his chest and face, broken by a flow of vivid red blood across his forehead. His body lay unmoving beneath the flailing limbs of others.
‘Call 999!’
‘I think there’s a pulse.’
‘Is there a doctor?’
-
Pia sat hunched on the attic floor for what could have been minutes or hours. She focussed on the parallel floorboards that ran into the distance, her thoughts a mass of conflict.
‘Pia?’ She half-registered Cate’s whisper. Her silhouette edged towards her. ‘Pia?’ Cate crouched down, and it was only when she held her hand that Pia surfaced.
‘Is he dead?’ Pia was almost sick with the words.
‘No, no.’ Cate half-laughed out of stress. ‘He has a very nasty bump on his head, and he’s confused. It is worrying, but he’s not dead.’
Pia covered her mouth, her heavy breaths rasping between her fingers. ‘What a mess.’
‘He’ll be fine. He’s talking. It’s going to be all right.’ Cate squeezed her arms in reassurance.
‘Such a mess.’
‘I know.’ Cate frowned. ‘Why the hell didn’t he put the gun down?’
Pia shivered.
‘I brought your clothes.’ Cate swept the jacket around Pia’s shoulders and hugged her tight. Tears brimmed from Pia’s eyes. She would have loved to have stayed warm and safe inside Cate’s arms, but she had to push her away.
‘I mean it’s all such a mess,’ Pia said.
Cate leant back and stared at her.
‘What about Rafe?’ Pia’s voice was breaking.
‘I’m leaving Rafe. I know I should have sorted everything first. I’m sorry. But I couldn’t resist you tonight.’ Cate implored her with her eyes. She reached out to touch Pia’s cheek. ‘Have you any idea how many times I’ve relived that night? I think of you every day. I imagine what it’s like to hold you at night. When I saw you this evening, more beautiful than ever, I couldn’t stay away.’
‘But now what?’ Pia looked up at her helpless.
She could see Cate’s face in the dim light break into a loving smile. ‘Whatever you want. We can do whatever you want.’
Pia tried to swallow away her emotion but her throat had clenched shut with despair. Every time she imagined life with Cate the image of her with Rafe on their honeymoon flashed in Pia’s head. The image from the magazine of Rafe’s toned body naked to the waist enveloping Cate was burned on her brain. She couldn’t touch Cate without thinking how Rafe’s hands had been there too. How easily she’d hopped from Rafe to Pia and back again.
‘How would I ever trust you?’
‘What?’ Pia could hear dread in Cate’s faint whisper.
‘How could I ever trust you after all that’s happened?’
Cate glanced down. ‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t walk away from the wedding, Rafe’s family and friends and the job. It was too much all at once.’ She peeped up at Pia. ‘In retrospect, it would have been the right thing to do.’
Pia shook her head. ‘But you were unfaithful to Rafe too. What’s to stop that happening again?’
‘Oh Pia.’ Cate grabbed her hands. ‘It wouldn’t be like that. I would never be unfaithful to you. You must believe me.’ Cate’s distress was clear in her voice. ‘I’ve never felt this way about Rafe. I’ve never had this passion and adoration, or respect for him. We were always more friends.’
Cate took a moment, as if to gather her thoughts. ‘I have loved you since you fell out of that tree.’ She breathed out in a laugh. ‘I will always remember holding your face and gazing into your eyes. I was trying to check that you were well. But you peered back straight inside me. It was as if you knew everything about me in that second. It thrilled and scared me, but looking back, that was the moment.’
Pia couldn’t speak. Tears rolled down her cheeks.
Cate beamed at her, love evident across every feature. ‘That night was magical. I tried to persuade myself that it was only special because it was transient. But everything you’ve done since, everything I’ve seen of you, has made me love you more. I adore you Pia Benitez-Smith. I’ve loved you since you fell out of that tree and I will love you for the rest of my life.’
The words sank into Pia with such a mixture of joy and melancholy. She wanted nothing more than to leap at Cate and cover her with kisses. But every time she thought of stroking her hands over Cate’s body the image and sensation of Rafe intruded. His smell, that mix of fresh sweat and musk deodorant, the way his hard and toned body felt. She covered her mouth and gasped with grief. ‘Why couldn’t you have been single?’
‘I know this is an incredible mess,’ Cate begged. ‘But please give us a chance. If not straight away, then in a little while.’
Pia listened to what Cate said. She tried to entertain the scenario in her head. Her insides swelled with love and warmth whenever she thought of them together. Her heart felt like it might burst with the things Cate had said about loving and adoring her.
But every time, that same chill shivered through her. Visions of Cate walking down the aisle with Rafe, him leading her to the marital bed, their naked bodies entwined in passion.
‘I can’t.’ Pia shook her head, distraught. ‘I would think of you with Rafe all the time. And if not Rafe, there would be the fear of someone else.’
Cate looked shocked and hurt.
‘I’d put any thought of being with you out of my mind.’ Pia said, ‘I thought that I was nothing to you. I was happy in a way, being the used other woman and being a bit righteous. But I don’t know how to cope with this. I don’t think I can cope with this.’
‘Please Pia. Don’t write us off straight away.’ Cate clasped Pia’s hands. ‘God I know this is a terrible start. But I have never felt this way about someone. Please don’t give up.’
Pia stood, shaking, and wrapped her clothes around her. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know how to get over it.’ She edged away, barefoot in her trousers and shirt. Her heart was filled with the unbearable mix of loving someone she couldn’t abide to be with.
‘Pia please,’ Cate called to her.
Heart-stopping grief had plunged deep inside and Pia couldn’t speak. She kept walking.
‘I will wait for you,’ was the last thing she heard Cate say.
Chapter 23.
Pia sloped through the front door, her shoes still untied and her jacket over her arm.
Her mother peeped over a newspaper, and her face sank into sympathy as soon as she saw Pia’s dejection. ‘Oh no.’ She folded her paper away and waved her forward. ‘Come on. Come tell Mama everything.’
Pia shuffled over, her mouth twitching down, and she started to blub. She dropped to her knees and buried her face into her mother’s lap.
‘Oh dear. Oh dear.’ Her mama held her head and rocked her back and forth.
Pia talked into her mother’s dress through a stream of dribble. ‘She said she loved me, Mama. She said she wanted to be together.’
Her mother stroked her hair. ‘It doesn’t surprise me. Doesn’t surprise me at all.’
Pia broke into another sob, assuming her mother would be as surprised as she. She stifled her sniffles as her mother’s actual reaction sank in.
‘Really?’
Her mother held her face. ‘Oh, don’t give me those big hopeless eyes. Of course it doesn’t surprise me. You are a beautiful, adorable girl. Why wouldn’t she want you?’
‘Because she’s incredible, Mama. She is beautiful, clever, interesting and funny when I least expect it. She makes my heart beat like crazy even when she sips lemonade. She has that magic and…’ Pia realised with surprise that the thing that warmed her through and through was that she enjoyed her company. ‘I just like her. I love her. I adore her. But most of all I like her.’
In that second she saw scenes of happiness: Making breakfast at the weekend with the morning sun streaming through the window; lying in the garden reading the paper; squeezing Cate’s sore feet at the end of a long day.
She stared at her mother in shock before her lips gave in to another spasm of misery. ‘It’s such a mess.’ And she buried her head in her hands.
‘Oh mija. Of course it’s a mess. She’s married. What else did you think it would be?’
‘But it’s not fair.’ Pia sniffled. ‘Why do I have to meet the perfect woman on the night before her wedding?’
‘Now Pia.’ She took Pia’s hands away from her face. ‘Listen to what you’re saying. You, miss picky pants, miss there’s nothing special about the several millions of girls in London. You have met someone you think is perfect. That’s fantastico.’
‘But it’s impossible.’
‘Why?’
‘I can’t help thinking about her with Rafe. Our night was so special. I was blown away by her and I thought she felt the same. If she can jump into bed with someone else after that, how could I trust her in the future? When things might not be going so well. What would she do?’
Her mother shrugged. ‘You do have a point. But life’s like that. Never easy. Never predictable.’
Pia breathed out in frustration. ‘Why can’t I find love like you and Dad?’
‘Oh see, now you talk rubbish.’ Her mother threw up her arms.
‘But you and Dad had the most perfect romance. Love at first sight. Dad pursuing you. Eloping.’
‘And now? What do you see? Your dad is in prison. We scrape by with the rent every month. I’m lonely, with only a sniffling daughter for company.’
Pia felt a little ashamed.
‘But I would not change a thing,’ her mother said with a warm smile. ‘I still love your papa. Is it always easy? No. He’s the most annoying man in the world. He’s drives me crazy. Things get messy and it’s hard. That’s what real love’s about. If you want the love of your life, then you have to put up with some real life too.’
Pia looked away, wishing she could be as pragmatic as her mother. ‘I love her, Mama. I’ve never loved anyone like this. But it doesn’t feel right. I can’t cope with how it’s started. It’s all gone too wrong.’
Her mother picked up her hands. ‘Come on. You’re usually the one to see the diamond in the cowpat. Now all you see is cowpat. You need someone to come along and rinse off that diamond. Then you can admire the diamond, still see the cowpat, but not step in the shit, heh?’
Pia hung her head down. ‘I hope so, Mama.’
-
‘How is he?’ Cate asked.
Wynne’s voice sounded concerned on the other end of the telephone. ‘Much the same I’m afraid. They’ll keep him in at least overnight.’
‘Is he talking?’
‘Just garbage. You know, more than usual.’ A twinge of sadness squeezed Cate’s chest at her grandmother’s making light, even at her most anxious.
‘Would you mind helping Wilkins?’ Lady Wynne continued. ‘Make sure he has everything he needs to bring the party to a close.’
‘Of course. Most people left straight away and send their best wishes.’ Cate glanced round. There were a few stragglers. They chatted in sparse groups in the harsh full lights of the ballroom. The jazz band shuffled at the back and packed away their instruments. ‘Are you going to stay in overnight too?’
‘If I can. Will you be all right there by yourself?’
‘Yes, but would you like me to keep you company in the hospital?’
‘No, I’m fine. Thank you darling. Get a good night’s sleep. It looks like I will need your help in the morning. Good night sweetheart.’
‘Good night.’
Cate stroked her finger across the screen and stared at the phone. It trembled in her hands. Her arms were light with fatigue and shock. She shivered, trying to rekindle her energy.
‘Ma’am?’
Cate twirled round to see Wilkins. ‘Please, call me Catherine.’
He nodded.
‘How can I help?’ Cate asked.
‘The caterers hadn’t served food and most of it’s still chilled in their van. They were wondering whether it should be stored in the kitchen.’
‘Oh.’ Cate shook her head. Lucid thought was difficult. ‘Could you make sure the staff have been fed and then tell the caterers to donate the rest to the food charity?’
Wilkins nodded and took his leave.
Cate cradled her phone to her chest and peered around the ballroom. Her heart sank at the prospect of polite chitchat with the lingering guests. She straightened her spine and pushed back her shoulders. She attempted a gracious smile, but that failed her tonight.
Playing the polite hostess, she engaged every last guest in conversation, placating the anxieties of even the most inquisitive and intrusive. She escorted couple after couple to the hall doors, nodding at looks and words of cloying sympathy, and kissed the partygoers farewell.
When the last chauffeur-driven car crunched along the driveway, she closed the great doors and the sound echoed around the hall.
Wilkins strode towards her. ‘The caterers have cleared out the kitchen and ballroom, although they still need to finish cleaning.’
Cate raised her hand. ‘Let’s worry about that in the morning. Send everyone home please. You turn in too.’
Wilkins gave a sharp nod. ‘Good night ma’am.’ And he withdrew to the kitchens.
Cate’s heels were harsh on the empty floor. She made her way to the ballroom, every step that bit heavier and slower. She stood in the large double doorway. The band had cleared, the guests had gone. All that was left were the marks of hundreds of footfalls and the odd serviette dropped on the floor. She reached round to the panel of old metal light switches. She clunked them down one at a time, a slice of ballroom disappearing into the darkness with each. When the last one was extinguished, she leant back against the wall, hidden from view.
Her legs gave way and she sank to the floor. She buried her face in her hands and started to sob into her knees. While a hot tear seeped through her eyelashes and tickled wet down her cheek, her mind’s eye saw Pia leaving, distraught.
It was impossible not to look back an
d search for all the times when she could have stopped all the hurt. She remembered the wedding day. She stood in the archway and stared down the flower-lined aisle to Rafe. Hundreds of guests watched her as she stood alone at the end of the walkway. Rafe turned around, a look of pride on his face. She hesitated. She didn’t know if anyone else noticed, but he did. His face contorted with irritation and his shoulders twitched. She saw his lips move around the words ‘Come on now’.
She realised, as she remembered taking that heavy step forward, that that had been her last chance of happiness. And how she wished, for everyone’s sake, that she had walked away.
Chapter 24.
Pia stepped into the office with more than a little trepidation on Monday morning. She dreaded seeing Cate, and Rafe more so. But the entire mood of the building was grim. Denise on reception only managed half a smile when Pia bid her good morning.
Ed stuck her head out of her office and beckoned her in without a word.
‘Close the door shortarse,’ she said, subdued.
Ed sat with her feet on the desk and arms across her chest. She sighed long and hard. ‘Cate’s not coming in, and I suspect she won’t again.’
‘Oh.’ A strange mix of relief and sadness mixed in Pia’s belly. ‘What’s up?’
Ed tilted her head to the side and raised her eyebrows. ‘Well, would you believe it, her grandfather is quite ill from a blow to the head.’
‘What? I thought he was going to be OK.’
Ed raised her palms. ‘It’s all right. He’s not fighting for his life or anything critical like that. But he’s having one or two difficulties.’
A cold feeling of nausea swirled inside Pia.
‘I imagine there are post-concussion complications,’ Ed said. ‘Maybe it knocked some sense into the old bugger.’
Pia glanced up to see a slight smile on Ed’s lips.
‘I think it’s an excuse more than anything,’ Ed continued. ‘She’s helping Lady Wynne to take care of Charles and sort out all the business that he attends to. But I also think the timing is fortuitous and I doubt Cate will return to the office.’
