Chapter 28
chapter twenty eight
can you hear the bells?
Ididn’t need to get out of bed to open the curtains this morning, because they were already open. Sun bathing the room. Just the way I liked it.
And I smiled because I think I knew why.
Then there was a knock at my door. It was room service, turns out. All of my favourite breakfast things under little silver dishes. Crumpets. Lots of butter. Earl Grey, obviously. And a single white tulip, sitting in a stem vase.
Underneath sat a note.
And, once again, I smiled. Like a moonstruck lunatic.
I did as the note said and devoured my breakfast, curled up on the armchair by the window and watched the city wake up too.
My mind wandered to where the commuters were going, what important things they all had lined up today, purely to distract me from the one important thing I had to do today, that I still wasn’t sure whether I wanted to do.
Pulling out my phone, I tapped until I was on the map route, looking at just how short the distance between Mum and me was for once. I knew in my gut that I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t see her. Regardless of whether she remembered me, I knew I had to be there.
I rehearsed what I was going to say as I headed into the wardrobe to get changed.
There wasn’t much room but I still wasn’t sure if someone was watching me, so I deemed it the safest choice.
My outfit was simple: just some blue jeans, a white tee, and a marl grey cardigan buttoned only once at the top, and just as I switched off my flat iron, my door knocked again.
And I think the idea that I was falling for Marcus only burned brighter once I saw him, standing in my doorway, looking like pure sunshine wrapped in a shiny black ribbon. His smile, like always, was everything. Subtle and wide, and those dimples had powers, I was sure of it.
My neck ached from staring at him, but I couldn’t have cared less.
“Hi.” I chirped.
“Morning.” He replied, his smile thinning in a way that made me question if he was also weirdly nervous right now.
I think I was only nervous because the second I looked into those eyes, I saw the movie that was last night, playing in a loop in my head and making me dizzy and giddy at the same time.
“Thank you… for breakfast. And… for last night.” I stuttered.
His smile tugged at one side, the faintest hint of mischief in his eyes. “It was nothing.” His eyes widened as he caught himself. “The breakfast, not last night… I mean, last night was… great, really great. I swear.”
Oh my God… He was nervous.
My eyes flicked to his hands, shoved deep within his pockets, twitching like he was searching for something.
I rocked forward on my tiptoes. “Why are you nervous?” I asked, like my chest also wasn’t fluttering the longer he stood over me.
He shrugged, accepting defeat. “Why do you think? You’ve bewitched me, Cora Holland.” His eyes rolled as he sighed. “I didn’t stand a fucking chance though, let’s be honest.”
My head dropped, my smile stretching. “No, you didn’t.”
He blew a quick laugh through his nose before he stepped forward, his hand cradling my head as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to my forehead before looking back at me. “You ready?”
“No,” I pulled the fabric of my cardigan over my hands, then shrugged. “But I need to do this; if I don’t and we leave, I won’t stop thinking about it.”
“You’ll do great. And I’ll be right outside.” He laced his hand through mine. “Okay?”
I didn’t want to nod; in fact, all I wanted to do was pull him inside, just exist in pyjamas all day and finally get around to watching The Hunger Games.
But I did. I nodded, letting him take me out of the room, not stopping until we were in the car and on the way to see my mum.
Oakridge Hills was about an hour outside of London, meaning I had enough time and enough fields to count to take my mind off of what I was doing.
As we drove out of the city, Marcus gave me control of the sound system, which, more than the way he kissed me last night, proved how much he really must have liked me. He was a stifler for a silent car ride.
Weirdo. What was a car ride without music?
Anyway, the entire ride I played easy 00s Britpop. You know, the classics. McFly. Busted. My queen, Lily Allen. The occasional Olly Murs, which I think Marcus enjoyed more than he’d ever admit out loud. But regardless, it made the pressure in my chest lessen whenever I let the music take over.
By the end of Lily’s It’s Not Me, It’s You album, we were pulling up the gates of Oakridge.
I felt my heart lodge in my throat the closer we drove to the entrance, the beats doubling when Marcus parked the car.
“I can’t do this.” My voice broke the silence, my hands flailing as I turned to face him. “She won’t know me, and I remember how I felt the first time I realised she’d forgotten me.” My eyes pleaded. “Marcus, I don’t know if I can go through it all again.”
His hand covered mine, calming me right back down.
“Just breathe, okay? If you don’t want to do it I’ll drive us back.
Just say the word and we’ll go.” His eyes held me tighter, dipping until they were level.
“But you’ve done harder things, right? Sure, she might not know it’s you visiting, but at least she’ll know someone is, and hopefully that will make her happy.
” He squeezed my palm, my eyes finding his. “Wasn’t that what today was about?”
He was right. I was here for Mum, not me. It was to remind her that people still thought about her, regardless of whether she knew who exactly was keeping the memory of her alive.
I nodded, sucking in a breath. “Yeah.” My eyes cast to the building, all white stone and vines climbing up the side of it. And for a moment I thought of today like I was painting again.
I just had to let go of the fear.
I looked back to Marcus. “Keep the seat warmer on for when I’m back?”
Marcus lifted my hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss. “Don’t I always?”
I scrunched my face up at him, and before I let myself sink into the leather seat, I cracked open the door and stepped out.
I made my way up the steps and found myself in the lobby.
The whole place was a renovated stately home, to the point where if you told me this place was actually a hospital, I’d have never believed you.
There was another girl in the waiting area of the lobby; she kind of looked like Harriet. I knew it wasn’t. Harriet took Mum’s health even worse than I did, and I knew it would kill her just thinking about being here right now.
For sisters, we had a weird relationship, but it worked.
I suppose growing up as precocious as we did made us this way.
We had matured mindsets before we’d reached Key Stage 2, and it was all thanks to Dad.
When he left Mum, she never recovered and never learnt to live life on her own.
And with no grandparents to hand us over to, it was up to Harriet to raise me.
She didn’t resent Mum for it, but I knew it still hurt her, the way her childhood was ripped from her without giving her a choice. And so I don’t blame her for living the quiet life she does. She’s a single mum, entirely on her own, raising her daughter because that’s what mums are supposed to do.
Maybe it was actually time to visit her again.
“Cora Holland?” A woman’s voice called, and I looked up, finding a nurse in business casual with a sleek auburn bob. “We’re ready for you.”
I rose on shaky legs, nodded, and followed her down a corridor.
The further we walked into the home, the more I felt like I was on the set of a Regency drama.
Everything was ornate ceilings and gold picture frames displaying oil paintings that inspired me a little, if I was honest. Looking at them distracted me enough from where I knew I was heading, but soon enough the lady stopped and held out her arm.
“If you need us, there’s a white cord you can pull, but Susannah seems to be doing well today.” She paused to place her palm on my back. “I’m sure she’ll be even happier once she sees you, dear. Have a nice visit.”
And with that, she disappeared down the corridor, leaving me.
My hand hovered over the handle, a thousand questions about whether I should actually go in or not racing through my mind. But I couldn’t turn back now. I’d made it this far and I didn’t want that effort to mean nothing. So, I closed my eyes and twisted the handle, the door creaking open.
A sun-washed room revealed itself, but that wasn’t the first thing that hit me.
The first thing was the smell. I knew it instantly.
Vanilla Orchid. One whiff and I was running through the hallway of our council house, tripping over toys and barreling towards the backs of Mum’s legs as she made dinner.
I lifted my head slowly from my feet, taking in the room as best as I could. But all my eyes wanted to do was find her, and find her they did. She was curled up on the bay window bench, a blue cable-knit blanket over her legs, and a book wedged in her grip.
While her head was in another universe, I took the time to study her.
And even after all these years she hadn’t truly aged.
A few lines on her forehead and around the corners of her mouth, but that was it.
Her jet-black hair was still that classic midnight shade, longer now though, all the way past her shoulders.
Her eyes, from what I could see, were still as green as the fields that surrounded this place.
The whole moment felt like it was moving in slow motion, and I wasn’t sure how to react.
My eyes almost stung with tears, and my chest ached with grief, which was crazy because she wasn’t dead—she was here, right in front of me and breathing.
My breath hitched as I took a step, and the noise must have caught her attention.
She slapped her book closed, and those still-green eyes pinged to me as her hair whipped around.