CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Sleep maintained its distance, lingering in the shadows to ward off the nightmares.
I sat with my back up against the headboard, legs outstretched in front of me, my mother’s journal unopened on my lap. In the dim lamplight, my finger and thumb hovered in the bottom right corner of the leather-bound cover, itching to turn it over.
I didn’t know what compelled me to open it. It was as though my hands were being guided by a puppeteer, unable to resist the biological pull toward the woman who birthed me.
The Devil was uncharacteristically silent as my eyes fell upon the very first entry, my mother’s handwriting causing a lump to form in my throat.
January 7, 2001
My baby is due in two months. Marcus and I are so excited.
I am a little nervous too. I don’t know the first thing about being a mother.
It is what I am called to be, as a child of God and a woman, but sometimes I don’t feel ready.
Everyone thinks I am being ridiculous. And maybe I am.
Being a mother is what I am supposed to do.
There is no greater calling in the world.
Marcus and I have been discussing baby names. For a girl, we were thinking Elizabeth or Claire, though I really like Evie. For a boy, we’re not sure. I guess he will have to tell us once he is born. Either way, I can’t wait to welcome God’s precious gift.
I released a shaky breath as I turned the page, my mother’s fears and hopes circling my mind alongside my own anger and guilt.
She would have been nineteen when she wrote that entry—I could not imagine preparing to be a parent so young.
She must have been so scared. I shook my head and continued reading.
April 9, 2001
Augustus is one month today. He’s such a sweet boy. Not smiling yet, but Father Andrej says he’ll be smiling in no time.
He’s very clingy. He cries when I’m not in the room. He likes to be held. I am exhausted, but I am happy. Being a mother is every woman's dream, is it not? I am so lucky to have a child of my own.
Marcus went back to work straight away, so it’s just been Augustus and me at home.
I am scared to sleep in case he needs me, so I’m awake for twenty-two hours a day.
Is this motherhood? I miss sleep. I miss peace and quiet.
But I love Augustus. I wouldn't trade him for the world. I just wish I still felt like me.
Thank you, God, for making me a mother. I hope I can make you proud and raise Augustus to be a good, loving and obedient child. I have so much to learn, but with your guidance, I believe I can be the perfect mother. I have so much love to give.
I slammed the journal shut, throwing it onto my bedside table as I curled up beneath my sheets, blinking away tears before they could fall.
I missed her.
I hated her.
I missed her.
I blamed her.
I missed her.
I was glad she was gone.
***
The coach pulled up in the visitor car park of Framlingham Castle, students spilling out, eager to stretch their legs.
I stood with Ava and Eden, all three of us hugging our arms around ourselves as the November air sent a breeze of ice shards along our skin.
Mr Singh did a headcount before guiding us toward the entrance where we were met by an enthusiastic tour guide who looked as old as the castle itself.
“Castles have like…no central heating, we’re going to be freezing in there,” Ava complained, teeth chattering.
“I know,” Eden sighed, reaching to adjust Ava’s scarf. “Could it have really hurt to have organised this excursion during the spring or something?”
“I think it’s cheaper this time of year,” I said.
“Fuck cheaper,” Ava said. “We go to an expensive ass school.”
The tour guide led us inside the former fortress, recounting historical events that took place within its towering walls.
“It was here,” he said, lowering his voice as if revealing a secret, “that Mary Tudor was proclaimed the Queen of England.”
I dragged my fingers along the rough, patched brickwork worn with age, my eyes drifting over the cobwebs lining the arched ceiling.
History was Auden’s favourite subject, and I thought about how much he would enjoy wandering the same halls as a former Queen of England. I pulled out my phone to snap some photos for him, Ava and Eden walking ahead as they giggled amongst themselves.
“It’s really cool, huh?”
I lifted my head and scowled as Alexander leaned against an arched entryway, arms folded over his chest. His dark green eyes flickered between my face and my throat that swallowed thickly.
Without uttering a word, I slipped my phone away and stepped past him, shoulder knocking his.
“Wow. Mute again, Saint?”
I turned a corner to follow the group, jaw clenched as Alexander walked beside me, hands shoved into his pockets.
“I think I want to be an historian,” he said casually, as if we were just two friends conversing about a shared interest. It was some kind of game—a game I had not yet learned to play.
“I’d write books and stuff,” he went on, “maybe teach at a university. That would be cool.”
“Good for you,” I mumbled.
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“What do you want to do? After school?” he clarified. “Something with art?”
“Artists don’t make a lot of money,” I replied.
“True, not unless you’re super mainstream and famous,” he sighed. “What, then?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Haven’t thought about it.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“We’ve got two more years so…you have time.”
I said nothing.
“Listen, Augustus…I….”
“What?”
“I’m sorry. For being an asshole to you all these years.”
I looked around for a hidden camera, convinced I was the subject of a prank.
Alexander’s laugh resounded along the concrete walls, reclaiming my attention. “What are you looking for?”
“You’re messing with me,” I said.
“I’m not,” he insisted. “I swear I’m not. I’m being serious.”
“Why now, then?”
“Why apologise, you mean?”
I nodded.
“I don’t know. I guess I just…want to be friends with good people and…you are someone I should have befriended back in year seven.”
“I thought you were going to befriend me,” I admitted. “And then you turned on me. Why?”
Alexander ran his fingers through his hair, averting his gaze. “I…was threatened by you.”
“Threatened by me? Why?”
“Come on, Augustus. You’re smart. Haven’t you figured it out?”
I shook my head.
“You got a higher score than me in that test. The one that decides what level class you’re in,” he explained, shaking his head. “Until you came along, I was the smartest in the room. And I was scared. Rightfully so. You’re one smart motherfucker.”
“I'm not. Not naturally. I work hard for my grades. And besides, you’re smart too,” I said. “You’ve beaten me loads of times.”
“You’ve beaten me more.”
I scratched the back of my neck, not knowing what to say.
An apology was on the tip of my tongue, but that didn’t feel right.
Why should I apologise for my success? I worked hard.
I deserved every good grade I received. And yet…
the crestfallen look on his face tugged at something in my chest. Guilt.
“Listen…it was never my intention to…threaten you in any way,” I said, carefully, “I just wanted to do well. My aunt paid a lot of money for this school, and I owe it to her to do my absolute best.”
“Yeah, of course, I get it,” he nodded, lifting his gaze to give me a sad smile, “my parents want me to be the best, too. They think I don’t try. And then they get angry and…”
He trailed off, the unspoken words heavy in the air. I chewed on the inside of my mouth, chest tightening at the memories of walking past Alexander in the school corridors, his blue and black bruises blinding.
“Regardless,” he spoke up again, shaking his head, “I shouldn’t have been such an asshole to you.”
“Thank you,” I breathed out. “I uh…I appreciate that.”
He gave me a smile—not a grin, not a smirk—a genuine smile. It softened his features, made him look younger, boyish.
Light poured in from an arched window as we paused at the top of a staircase overlooking the view of the fortress grounds. We stood, shoulder to shoulder, hands almost touching on the stone railing.
“Can you imagine being here, hundreds of years ago, guarding the Queen of England within these very walls?” he breathed out. “We’re standing where young men like ourselves would have once stood, willing to die for Queen and Country.”
I smiled at his enthusiasm. While Alexander was indeed studious, I would have never guessed his passion for history. It was clear that within this fortress, I was privy to a side of Alexander he kept concealed.
While he studied the view, I studied his face.
His skin was a shade lighter than mine, a single mole beneath the right side of his bottom lip.
And those lips…they were a pale pink, curved like a long bow.
I was imagining how soft they would feel against my fingers when he looked up, catching me eyeing him like a ghost eyeing the living.
I immediately dropped my gaze, heart thundering wildly in my chest. What the hell was wrong with me?
“Boys!” Mr Singh called out from the bottom of the staircase. “Stay with the group!”
Without a word, I hurried down the staircase and rejoined Ava and Eden who hadn’t seemed to notice my absence. They were chatting amongst themselves, barely paying attention to the history all around us.
We continued the tour and once it was over, Mr Singh gave us thirty minutes to explore the grounds before we had to meet up again for an educational video presentation.
I followed Ava and Eden to a wide, stone staircase. They sat close together, practically intertwined, ignoring my entire existence.
Not wanting to endure their flirting, I ventured off on my own, returning to the darkness of the fortress.
The heavy oak doors creaked open, the light behind me casting a shadow across the worn stone floor, moss and lichen growing between the cracks. I wandered down the narrow corridors, smoke lingering in the royal tapestries lining the walls.