Chapter Sixteen
Diana
Sunday was the day of rest at Sandy Springs. There were no classes or sessions, and the instructors hoped the extra time would inspire reflection on the week’s events and learnings.
Diana couldn’t believe only a week had passed. The noise in her head could have filled an entire school year. The ghosts of her past had teamed up with the hauntings of her present, making her toss and turn throughout the night.
Now, as she looked up at the ceiling, following the swirling patterns across the bright white, she wished she had something to wake up for.
A meeting. A class. Even a dental appointment.
Her phone lay switched off in the bedside drawer.
Her itch to check her messages and emails still resurfaced, but she needed a break.
She’d always thought she was being productive, keeping on top of things, but now, she wasn’t so sure.
The endless stream of communications exhausted her.
It was no wonder she couldn’t write a damn thing worth reading.
Her life had become that of a tired librarian, and Diana a dusty old book left on a shelf.
Was that why she was so enamoured by Faye?
Someone had taken an interest in her for herself, with the simple idea of getting to know her, and not through a phone screen.
But it was more than that. Faye had a depth more profound than anyone else’s she’d known, a compassion and kindness the world seemed to have forgotten.
And she was clever—and beautiful—cautious and nervous in a way that evoked a protective nature in Diana she found hard to explain.
A need to show Faye just how powerful she really was.
“Don’t let me be something you regret.”
Faye’s words had struck a chord. But the situation was delicate—whether she and Molly were a serious item or not.
Diana rubbed her eyes. It was too early for this.
She flung back the covers and sat on the edge of the bed, rolling her neck left, then right, stretching the muscles.
Early sunlight glowed beneath the blinds, while the rest of the room lingered in hazy darkness.
Forcing herself to stand, she straightened the covers, tucking the sheet under the mattress like her mother used to do.
She still needed to write that bloody letter to her mum, too—but one thing at a time.
She shed her silk nightgown onto the tiles and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water soothe her skin. Methodically, she washed, but the routine didn’t ease her mind.
After shaving and moisturising, she studied herself in the mirror.
New lines were etched into her skin where they hadn’t been before.
She blinked, and someone resembling her mother looked back at her.
Same cheekbones, same mouth, but instead of blue eyes, Diana’s deep brown were steady and still.
She waited, hoping to find some answers hidden somewhere, but nothing changed.
Maybe Senhor Arenoso had a point about these familiar guides steering them, and this course had come around at the right time.
Letting out a humourless laugh, she let her head drop.
Listen to me. How had she ever thought she had it all together?
Before Sandy Springs, she’d been a successful academic, an author, an esteemed colleague.
Now, she didn’t know what she was going to do once she stepped back on home soil.
Really, she didn’t even know where home was anymore.
She could argue that since her mum died, nowhere had felt quite right.
She’d considered taking a job at Oxford many moons ago, but she couldn’t remember the details now. Was that why she’d opted to travel instead of taking a permanent position?
How long had she been running?
She brushed her hands over her face. Maybe she should go speak to Faye? But it was too early, and besides, she didn’t know what she was going to say. Maybe seeing Molly would help?
Ugh. I don’t know.
Nervous energy buzzed in her veins. She took a seat by the window and attempted to read the book she’d brought for the plane.
When the light stretched further across the floor, and the book still lay unread in her lap, she deemed it an acceptable time to go see Molly. She needed a familiar face and decided against Faye’s, knowing if they were back in that room again, anything could happen.
She knocked on Molly’s door, hoping she’d let her sleep enough to avoid a lecture. Molly’d always enjoyed her sleep, even when she was a baby. Diana’s friends had said she’d got off easy having a baby that slept through the night, but they’d never experienced her teenage years.
A groan came from the other side of the wood, and Diana’s ears pricked.
“Mol? Are you alright?”
She tried the door, but it was locked. Another groan. Then footsteps.
Molly opened the door, her face white as a sheet. A layer of sweat stuck her hair to her head, and she squinted under the light. “I think I’m dying,” she whined.
“Oh, sweetheart.” Diana put the back of her hand to her forehead. Sweltering. “Can I come in?”
She nodded, and Diana guided her back inside, Molly groaning all the way to her bed.
“What happened?”
“I’ve been running back and forth to the toilet all night.” She collapsed onto the mattress, curling into a ball. “It’s that water,” she mumbled. “I’m gonna kill Quin.”
“Sounds like you’ve caught a bug. Here, I’ll look after you.”
Yes. This she could do.
She filled a glass with cool water and encouraged Molly to drink. Then she wet a flannel and laid it over her forehead. “Try to get some sleep.”
Molly gave a tiny nod, and her eyelids fluttered closed.
Diana set to work, cleaning the toilet and sink, and then, unable to help herself, she rearranged some of the clutter. Afterwards, she took a cloth and wiped down the kitchen and the counters, leaving it all spotless.
Satisfied, she turned to Molly, her heart squeezing at the sight of her ghostly complexion. She rewet the flannel and pulled out a chair to sit beside her, brushing the hairs away from her face.
She used to do the same for Molly when she’d curled up in that pink princess bed of hers as a child, her blue elephant plushie pressed against her face. She’d have done anything to protect her little girl from the ways of the world.
Time passed so quickly. One minute, Molly had been running up to her after dance class, pink bows in her hair, then the next, she was ignoring her texts and calls.
Molly dropping out of her studies was something Diana couldn’t understand, but maybe she didn’t need to. Molly knew herself best. Who was Diana to judge?
She sat with her while the sun moved the shadows across the room. Every so often, Molly would spring up and dash to the toilet, then grunt as Diana forced her to drink more water.
When Diana’s back and bum were numb from sitting, Molly stirred, blinking at her. “You’re still here?”
“I am. What do you need?”
“You’ve been here all day?”
“Of course. If you need me, I’m here.”
Molly groaned, but Diana wasn’t sure if that was from the illness or the sentiment. “You should go. I’ll be fine now.”
“It’s okay. I’ve got nowhere else to be.”
“Honestly. I just want to sleep.”
“If you’re sure? I’ll come check on you in a little while.”
Molly closed her eyes again, and Diana pressed a kiss to her temple. At the door, she hesitated.
“I’ll be fine. Go,” Molly said. “And thanks, Mum.”
“Get some rest.” Then she stepped out into the late afternoon sun.
She blew out a breath. Now she was outside, mum-mode switched to standby, her stomach growled. A soft beat carried up on the wind. Music?
She walked towards it, the twang of guitar strings and rhythmic clapping getting louder. Surely where there’s music, there’s food.
A collection of small round tables gathered around the outskirts of the courtyard, where people were watching dancers.
Diana assumed it was a private event, but then she spotted Louis and Charles in colourful Hawaiian shirts, clapping along to the beat.
She scanned the crowd for Faye, anticipation dwindling when she came up empty.
She wasn’t sure what was going on, but she spotted a small cart selling food near the reception and hurried over. The aroma of garlic and spices filled her nostrils, and her mouth watered seeing the bounty of seafood, rice, and cooked vegetables.
Once holding her steaming bowlful, she stood awkwardly, trying not to spill any down her dress. But the fresh fish melted in her mouth, the creamy rice enough to make her close her eyes in delight.
The music kicked up a notch. The guitar player grinned as he stepped into his solo, and everyone clapped him on. Dressed in traditional bolero-style jackets and embroidered shawls, the dancers spun each other in circles, stomping their feet.
“Why don’t you take a seat, Diana?”
The voice made her jump. She’d been so enthralled by the dancers, the woman must’ve snuck up on her.
“I’m not staying. Thank you, though.”
Ella collected two bowls of food and thanked the woman in Portuguese, then indicated her table with her head. “Come on. You can sit with me and Riley. We’re at the cool table.” She started walking, giving Diana no choice but to follow.
Diana sat in one of the empty seats, exchanging a polite smile with Riley. She hoped this wouldn’t be an impromptu session disguised by the music and dancing. She really just wanted to eat and relax a little.
After scraping every last bit from her bowl, she set it down and gave her full attention to the dance floor.
Their enthusiasm was infectious, the snaps and stomps of their feet hypnotising.
The dance reminded Diana of a waltz somewhat, with their posture and the high arms, but it was looser, bouncier.
Ella leaned in to whisper. “Aren’t they great?”
“They’re wonderful.”
“Do you like dancing?”