Chapter Thirty-Two
Darcy stood at the brick gateposts, shivering, the house at her back. The R8 was parked outside the garage but there was no smoke puffing from the chimneys, no lights on in the house. She had walked around to the kitchen doors that gazed upon the lawn and peered in, cupping her hands around her eyes. The Christmas tree they had bought together (in between kisses) and carried home (in between kisses) stood quietly in the corner; they had dressed it with the decorations Max had brought down from the attic, but the lights were off. There was a newspaper on the kitchen table, left open on the football pages; a new bag of coffee beans on the counter.
They were the signs of life she had hoped to see, but no one was here now. She crossed the road and looked down the expanse of the beach, blowing on her hands as the wind lifted her hair and made it fly wildly. Had he gone into town? Gone to get food?
There was snow on the sand, a crunchy crust dotted with footprints, a solitary dog and its human walking in the distance from the opposite direction. Sweden was nowhere to be seen, the low-lying clouds sucking in the horizon and painting the sea a battleship grey.
She walked down to the water’s edge, clutching her arms around her body as she stared into the shallows where Lilja’s life had ended. Though not her story. That had continued to beat through Emme, her son, Max...
A sharp, piercing whistle zipped through the air, startling her, and she heard the man give a shout. She looked up and saw the dog, a caramel-coloured spaniel, begin to hurtle at full gallop along the strait. It shot past her before doubling back and careering up to her legs, sniffing her shoes excitedly.
‘Hey,’ she cooed, holding her wind-whipped hair back with one hand as she looked down, seeing the delight in its eyes, tail wagging so hard it could almost take off.
‘Sorry!’ the man called, jogging towards her, holding a hand up appeasingly. ‘Sorry! She’s friendly, just a bit hyper—’
His voice tailed off as they recognized each other. ‘...Darcy.’
Max was carrying a rope lead in his hand, a dog whistle on a string at his neck.
‘You got a dog ?’ she asked, stunned, as he stopped a few feet away, staring back at her like he was the one who couldn’t believe his eyes.
‘...She’s, uh, a rescue,’ he said finally. ‘I’ve only fostered her for the holidays. She’s...not used to open spaces yet. She just runs any time she’s let out.’
‘Oh.’ Darcy hated the thought of this sweet animal in a crate. ‘Well, who can blame her?’ she asked, watching as the dog ran happily around them in figures of eight, seemingly still nowhere close to tiring. ‘What’s her name?’
‘Luna. She’s four.’
‘She’s adorable.’ She crouched down, holding her arms out, and the dog ran into them, curling like a comma. Her tail wagged dementedly as Darcy squeezed and hugged her; she laughed as the dog began sniffing her neck, tickling her. ‘Oh, you’re too cute...’
‘What are you doing here, Darcy?’ His tone was flat and her brain briefly flashed through the justifications that would preserve her dignity: she had come to share the good news she had received from Otto this morning – that the portrait had been successfully released from Her Children . That she and Viggo had had an idea for a new exhibition at the gallery: give up the claim for Her Children , buy the portrait and put it out alongside Lilja’s clays, her garden drawings and the family photographs showing Arne’s famous lily displays. Show the love, not the hate, and let them finally rest in peace together.
But it wasn’t in her to pretend and she felt the tears press behind her eyes as she saw the distance that lay between them, even as they stood at arms-length. ‘I came to tell you I’m sorry,’ she said thickly, standing up again. She had spent the past week willing him to call, knowing he wouldn’t, until finally she had broken and come up here hoping she could make him see that the conflict between their jobs had no real bearing on their feelings. But for a man who had spent the past decade making his job his identity, his life...his worst fears had been confirmed. ‘You were right, I did assume the worst about you. I thought you would do anything to protect the Madsens ahead of the public listing. I never thought about how any of it would impact you personally.’
Her words were met with a short silence.
‘I appreciate that,’ he said stiffly. ‘But you needn’t have come all this way...It doesn’t change anything.’
‘I don’t deserve a second chance?’
He shook his head. ‘I just can’t trust you.’
‘That’s bullshit and you know it,’ she said quietly. ‘You’re as fastidious about your job as I am about mine. If the boot was on the other foot, you’d have done exactly the same.’ She stared at him, wanting to shake him out of this torpor. Where was his anger, his fight? ‘But you and I both know this isn’t about Lilja, or Casper, or my mistaken presumptions.’
‘No?’
‘No. You’re just using it as an excuse to push me away – and if it wasn’t that, you’d be looking for something else instead. You let me get too close and now you’re looking for reasons to reject me.’
He said nothing back, refusing even to argue with her, and she felt her heart fold at his intractability. Even if she was right, he had checked out from her, long before she had stepped onto this beach.
She looked away, watching as the dog continued to tear along the beach, but only ever going a hundred metres before looping back to them, as if understanding that he – they – were her anchor.
‘Will you be able to give her back?’
He didn’t hesitate. ‘Yes. Those are the terms I agreed with the home.’
Ever the lawyer. ‘Well, I guess I can see how that would work for you.’
Max shifted his weight. ‘What does that mean?’
She looked back at him. ‘Just that it’s your standard MO: you get to give her some affection and exercise and then hand her back afterwards.’
His eyes narrowed. They both knew perfectly well that she wasn’t talking about the dog.
‘It’s better not to get too attached, right?’ she asked.
‘In my experience, yes.’
She stood before him, staring into those blue eyes that were so good at making women fall – but they were voids, as beautiful and as empty as the sky. He had lost everyone he ever loved and he knew how to detach in a way that she didn’t. ‘Well,’ she said finally. ‘I guess that makes perfect sense when all you know are endings.’
He frowned. ‘What?’
‘...When all you know are endings, there’s safety in sticking to beginnings. And we’ve had our beginning, haven’t we?’ she asked quietly.
He hesitated, then nodded.
She nodded too, feeling a searing pain that flashed white behind her eyes. This really was it. ‘Yeah,’ she whispered. ‘...I guess I just needed to hear you say it.’
Luna ran a figure of eight between them, having her best day, and Darcy took a step back, trying to step out of his sphere. She truly was the rule and not the exception after all.
‘Bye, Max.’ She shrugged and took another step back, seeing how he didn’t stir, knowing she had to leave before the tears fell. She turned and began to walk away, but Luna gave a bark and ran up to her again, jumping so that her paws rested on Darcy’s thighs.
‘Goodbye little one,’ Darcy murmured, ruffling her head and kissing it again, stroking her behind her long silky ears. ‘You deserve better,’ she whispered, pressing her cheek against Luna’s fur and feeling her tears absorbed as she squeezed her eyes shut.
She remained like that for several moments, the dog sensing her despair in a way that Max did not. At last she straightened again, letting Luna resume her sprints. She looked back at him, standing frozen as he watched them.
‘I know you can give her back without a backward glance,’ she said stiffly, her hair flying around her face and hiding another solitary tear that had somehow escaped her guard and was sliding down her cheek. ‘But it might actually be kinder not to let her get attached to you.’
Max flinched at the comment but she didn’t wait for his defence; she just turned and walked away, holding her head up as she strode over the hard sand. The wind was in her face now and she felt the tears streak across her cheek like raindrops on a windscreen.
She didn’t turn back. There was nothing more to be said. He’d told her, almost without any words at all, that it was done. He was too entrenched, or she was too inconsequential after all, for him to break the chains that bound him.
She could feel her shoulders rising as she walked, the tears beginning to come harder as her heart pounded with the exercise and devastation. She just had to get back to the station; she could fall apart when she was on the train. It had been almost empty on the way up, everyone deserting the City for Christmas.
Luna shot past her like a golden arrow again, doubling back and coming to trot alongside her. She barked and jumped up, trying to nose Darcy’s palm as she walked, not understanding that she was leaving.
‘No, Luna...no, you can’t walk with me...Go back,’ she said, pointing behind her. But when did a dog ever look in the direction of a pointed finger? Luna nosed her hand again. ‘...Go back.’
Still the dog walked to heel, a faithful companion already, refusing to leave her – or be left.
‘Luna, go back.’ Uselessly, she pointed again, but the dog only seemed to cling closer. At this rate, Luna would be getting on the train with her. ‘...Please.’
Darcy looked up and away out to sea as she walked on, deciding ignoring Luna was probably the best option. If she didn’t engage, the dog would lose interest and go back to Max.
If he’d just blow the whistle, or call after her...Or was he so avoidant he’d actually just let the dog go ?
She stopped abruptly and wheeled round. ‘Max! Could you just call h—’
She gasped as he almost ran into her, having to step into a sort of straddle around her so as not to mow her down, his hands grabbing her to hold her up.
For a moment, they stood there in a shock embrace, and she saw him see her wet lashes and cheeks; he saw her see the desperation in his eyes.
His fingers pressed against her arms, his breath coming hard as he brought her back to upright. ‘...I thought I could do it. I thought I could let you go,’ he panted. Her hair was being blown into his face and he swept it back, clasping her head with both hands. ‘But it’s too late.’ He swallowed, looking like a confession was being dragged from him. ‘...I’m already attached. Was from the very first night, when I had to leave you on the steps to go on your date .’ Jealousy flared in his eyes at the memory.
It was a moment before she could find her voice. ‘As I recall, you set up your own date too.’
But he shook his head. ‘I blew her off. We had gone two blocks before I told Christoff to turn around and drive back to the gallery.’
‘You came back for me?’ Darcy gasped.
‘You’d gone of course, but it was too late – you were already in my head. I knew I couldn’t have you, but that only seemed to make me want you more. I told myself to stay away but still I somehow found myself making up ways to see you. So I fell back on my old tricks. I figured if I couldn’t keep myself away from you, I could at least make you want to stay away from me. But that didn’t work either.’ His voice broke on the words and she knew, from the look of panic that darted through his eyes, that he’d never spoken to anyone like this before.
‘Because I didn’t want to let you go Max,’ she said urgently. ‘I still don’t.’
‘Good.’ His grip tightened. ‘Because...because I love you, Darcy.’
‘I love you back,’ she whispered, feeling her body thrill as he bent down and kissed her.
Her lips were salty with tears, his cheeks cold. Luna was barking excitedly as she ran around them in circles. Darcy felt the dog’s wet paws paddling on her thighs until eventually they were forced to pull apart and give her some attention. Max scooped her up, bringing the dog’s warm body between them. ‘You just can’t bear to be left out, can you?’ he asked the animal, kissing its head affectionately.
Luna nuzzled their necks, her cold, wet nose tickling them both and making them laugh.
Darcy looked back at him, an idea beginning to form in her mind. ‘...Oh God,’ he groaned as he immediately caught her drift.
‘Well, she loves you too,’ she smiled, ruffling Luna’s silky head. ‘And you do need a bit of chaos in your life.’
He arched an eyebrow. ‘I thought that was you.’
She shrugged happily, her hand stroking his cheek. ‘I wasn’t so confident of my mission up here that I dared to get you a gift. She could always be our Christmas present to one another.’
‘But I don’t do Christmas.’
‘Liar. You’ve got a tree...’ she murmured, tracing his mouth with a finger. ‘And I’ve got stockings...’
His eyes glittered at the intimation, his gaze falling to her lips. ‘Well, when you put it like that,’ he grinned, squeezing her tightly, ‘...Happy Christmas.’