Chapter 19 #2
“Yeah, not me. Not even before the robbery. Definitely not now. Though I never used to be paranoid about noises in the night. I used to be all, ‘It’s just the house exhaling,’ or ‘It’s the raccoons’ or ‘the wind.’ But now, every little noise…
And every time I get a jump-scare, it takes me right back to that moment I woke and saw the guy at the end of my bed, and then the hand came over my mouth.
” She shuddered, and Tom wrapped both arms around her.
He was warm and solid and oh-so reassuring, and she would damn well take what he was offering.
Imagine having this kind of support every day, not just when you were running for your life?
Hugs on demand, for the rest of your days.
One thing about this last day or two—it had clarified what she wanted in a relationship.
Not that she could compare six years with Rory to the delicious connection she felt with Tom.
That wasn’t fair to Rory. But it was still a eureka moment about what a relationship could—should—feel like.
This, but permanent. And in safer circumstances.
It wasn’t love, of course, not this soon. But it was an eye-opener.
Poor Rory. He was hurting too, of course, and their break-up wasn’t his fault, either.
The robbery had simply revealed them to be not what the other needed.
But maybe the connection she felt with Tom was a sign that the impossible dream wasn’t that impossible.
Sure, the intensity would inevitably wear off over time, but that was why the foundation needed to be strong.
And yes, she’d thought Rory was The One when they’d met, but she was older and wiser now—and more broken.
She knew more of what she wanted. And she could simply enjoy this gorgeous feeling with Tom, even under these circumstances, without having to worry about whether their relationship would last. She was also very much enjoying the tingly sensation of her body defrosting.
“Could their drone pick up our body heat, here?” she said.
“Depends how much body heat you’re planning to create. But no, it can’t see through walls.”
Amelia gazed up at the window, imagining a terrified priest looking at the same window five hundred years earlier. “So many lives lived in this house. I know that every piece of dirt we stand on has the footprints of countless others beneath us, but there’s something about an old house.”
“It’s probably easier for us to imagine those former lives when they leave behind something tangible.
A place they stood in. Gives us a frame to picture them in.
” He wriggled a little to get into a more comfortable position, giving her an excuse to dig in closer, nestling her head into the crook of his neck.
Her body was aching in all sorts of places.
And at least half of the aches were good aches.
“How did you find this room?”
“I noticed the window outside and couldn’t figure out what it corresponded to.
There are an awful lot of windows. So, I went poking around.
I was about thirteen. My father used to tell stories about the other priest holes, but he never mentioned this one, and I never told him about it.
This was mine and Eddie’s indoor tree hut.
There are probably still Avengers comics stashed under the old altar in the corner. ”
“What’s your brother like, now?”
She felt Tom’s Adam’s apple dip as he swallowed.
She half-expected him to deflect, but he softly sighed and started speaking.
“It’s like I’ve had two different brothers.
The one I grew up with, and the one I know now.
He’s okay, physically, but he has limited brain function and is non-verbal.
My mother employs round-the-clock nurses.
She’ll complain bitterly but she won’t hear of putting him in a home.
But you don’t want to know all the messy details of my family. ”
“I actually do. I’d like to talk about anything that isn’t our current predicament. But only if you want to share.”
Another pause, and again she suspected he’d back away. “What would you like to know?”
“Do you see him often?”
“Not as often as I should, especially since I moved back here. When I do visit, he wants to play endless games of Connect-4—though he just likes dropping the counters in and hearing the click—and we watch cooking shows. He’s obsessed with them, for some reason.
That’s about the extent of our relationship.
He’s always happy to see me, and he gets upset when I leave.
But hey, I still have a brother. And I like Connect-4. ”
“Which doesn’t mean you don’t get to have feelings about it,” she said archly. “You know that this is something that happened to you, too? You lost your brother. You got a new brother, a different one, but you lost the first one. You get to grieve that.”
“Quite right. I think it took all of us a very long time to wrap our heads around it. The worst part for me was going back to boarding school without him. It was supposed to be his final year. Instead, I watched his mates become prefects, date, apply for university, make the cut for the first-fifteen or the first-eleven—that’s rugby and cricket, if you’re wondering.
But because of one mistake, he wouldn’t have any of that. ”
“How awful for you.”
“I suddenly felt so much older than the other lads in my year. And then of course I would come home in the term breaks, taking the train without Eddie, hanging around here without Eddie. Connor kept his distance that year, and then he went to uni. All my life it had been me and Connor and Eddie, and then suddenly it was just me.” Tom took a deep breath, his chest rising under Amelia’s cheek.
“Connor took it worse than anyone, seeing as he’d been driving the car. ”
“You would though, right? That’s a lot to live with, especially at that age.”
“My parents held out hope for ages that some groundbreaking surgery or miracle cure would restore Eddie. I think that kept them from completely falling apart in those first few years. By the time it became obvious there was no hope, it came as no shock. Just a sad, gradual letdown. My grandfather, though… He refused to talk about it, ever. Wanted us all to play down the seriousness, as if it were a temporary glitch. He was a proud man, and I think he didn’t want people to know that his heir wasn’t of sound mind. ”
“It’s not like it suggests a hereditary condition.”
“Thing is, he could be grumpy as all hell, but he was immensely proud of Eddie and me. Every single thing we did, no matter how lowly, he would brag about to anybody and everybody, usually exaggerated. He took us to all our rugby games, and he had a standing offer of ten quid to anyone in our teams who scored a try. He would never whistle or cheer or call out like the other spectators. But his clap! He had this booming thunderclap. It would drown them all out, while having the appearance of restraint.”
“I love that.” She could hear Tom’s heartbeat, under his sweater, slow and strong.
“There was nothing better than coming back from games in his Land Rover, our muddy boots all over the seats, dissecting every move, him raging about what unappreciated tactical geniuses we were, even if we’d hardly touched the ball.
Of course, I just blew up that Land Rover—which is probably the only thing I legitimately own.
Still, it might not have lasted much longer. ”
Suddenly, he rolled them both over and kissed her.
“Wow,” she said. “What was that for?”
“Because you’re very kissable,” he said, burrowing his lips under her scarf to nuzzle the skin of her neck. “Also, because you were about to point out that I’m allowed to have feelings about blowing up the Land Rover. Though you’d be completely right.”
She laughed quietly. “I’m glad you recognize the folly of your ways, all by yourse—”
There was a shuffling noise outside the room. Tom stiffened. They lay quietly for a while. “Probably a raven,” he whispered, eventually. “They nest in the ruins.”
“Could the dogs track us through the house?”
“Doubtful. My scent is everywhere, and they’re not trained to track humans.
And there are hundreds of years of scents.
I once found a mummified cat inside a wall when I was fixing the plasterwork.
Food!” he said suddenly, rolling off her and reaching for a bag.
“We need to eat. I grabbed hand sanitizer, too. Health and safety first, and all that.”
“Nothing like the thought of a mummified cat to fire up the appetite.”
“I gave it a decent burial, but it did seem rather petrified about the whole affair.”
She groaned at his terrible joke. “Poor thing. I guess it crawled in there somehow and got stuck.”
“Worse, I suspect,” he said, digging through the bag. “It may have been trapped there deliberately.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“They used to think cats in walls and chimneys and other places warded off witches. Here, a chocolate bar.”
“And I thought Prince Charming was psychotic. Holy shitballs, give me that.” She jokingly snatched the chocolate from his hand and tore the wrapper.
“At least back then they had an excuse for ignorant beliefs. We live in the information age and people still choose ignorance.”
He plumped the pillows against the wall, leaned on them and drew her back against him, like he had in the tree house. She snapped off the first row of chocolate and handed it to him, then took one for herself.
“This is how we get through this,” he said, nuzzling her ear. She could hear him chewing. Was that the thing she’d grow to hate about him?