Chapter Five
IVY STRAINED HER EARS.
Silence.
She was alone, totally alone.
Up until the last month, she’d worked solidly for the past eight years, constantly busy and surrounded by people.
The only time off she’d squeezed into her jam-packed schedule had been two-day visits to Ruby.
But even then, she’d read scripts, memorised lines.
And the last month at Alison’s had hardly been quiet, the twins had made sure of that.
Guilt beat at her; Ruby had known where she was and had Alison’s landline if she needed her, but as Ruby had appreciated letters, not calls, Ivy hadn’t rung her.
Ruby obviously hadn’t told anyone her whereabouts, not even her trusted team at WillowGlen. Protecting her like she’d always done.
She pressed her palm against her heart. Oh, Ruby.
Now she was here for the next six weeks.
Alone, with Ethan.
Because as much as she needed people around her, he unsettled her. The large house and grounds seemed too small for both of them, thanks to a hyperawareness of him she couldn’t dislodge.
Earlier today, after a moment of shared understanding, she’d even had to call on Ivy’s persona to protect herself from the feelings he evoked.
She shook her head; she wasn’t going to think about him.
With more difficulty than it warranted, she pushed him from her mind again and recalled the virtual meeting with her assistant.
She’d organised clothing and other essential items to be sent to her under the strictest of confidences; no-one was to know her whereabouts, not even her agent, nor her publicist, whom she’d contacted as well.
She’d informed them she was out of action, and luckily it hadn’t involved any major rescheduling, due to the cancellation of the movie she was meant to be filming.
Kirstin, her publicist, had tried coaxing her to find out her whereabouts and had been incredulous when Ivy wouldn’t tell her.
Ivy had learnt from experience that the fewer people who knew, the less chance there was of any leaks.
Kirstin had reminded her, in case she could ever forget, that the studio would want her at the movie premiere in six weeks, because all eyes would be fixed on the red carpet to see her and Ben.
It was the typical all-publicity-was-good-publicity mindset.
A mindset that set Ivy’s teeth on edge.
She’d always found premieres excruciating, but the one for When Hearts Break would be a million times worse.
The press had predictably had a field day with the film title and the comparison to real life.
Not that she’d been doing the heartbreaking, but the film’s publicity team and her own publicist would undoubtedly be fuelling it.
Kirstin had become her publicist in the wake of the folly pictures. Ivy had appreciated her experience and guiding hand but was feeling increasingly disconnected, as though Kirstin was keeping her being someone she wasn’t. Despite her acting skills, it was getting harder and harder to fake.
She sighed. She’d just have to keep herself busy here. Not working, as per Ruby’s request; instead, she’d cook and decide on the best possible option for WillowGlen. And then she’d leave and go back to her normal life.
Her shoulders slumped. She should be excited at the prospect of going back to her frantic schedule, because her agent had informed her of an influx of new offers.
But Ivy couldn’t bring herself to be interested in what was essentially the same role repeated constantly, where she was always the bad girl.
Regardless of her desire to keep her schedule packed, she was filled with dread at the thought of playing, even once more, the one-dimensional, conniving woman who’d stop at nothing to get the man she wanted.
Despair pressed down on her, but she didn’t know any other way to live than pushing herself to the point of exhaustion. She didn’t know who to be if she wasn’t Ivy Flame. The only thing she did know…
She couldn’t be Annie Carson ever again.
Making for the kitchen, Ivy passed Ruby’s bedroom and pushed open the door.
Immediately she was engulfed in the familiar scent of lavender and lilies as she took in the four-poster bed, the floral wallpaper and curtains, the window seat that looked over the rose garden.
It was the only bedroom Ruby had ever had because, when Ruby’s parents had died and left the Manor to their only child, she’d never moved.
Ivy wondered what it would be like, to have the same bedroom for your whole life, live in just the one place.
Ivy’s bedroom, until the age of sixteen, had had boy band posters plastered on the walls, and a desk with its view of the Sydney street lined with jacarandas trees that flowered every spring.
The decor was in so many different shades of yellow, her favourite colour, that her parents had called it the sunshine room, and her their Little Ray.
She pressed a hand over her mouth to muffle her cry of grief, despair and guilt. What she wouldn’t do to turn back the clock and be in her golden bedroom now. Be a much-loved daughter again.
Instead, she’d killed her parents, ripped her family apart. A soul-crushing regret that continued to wake her in the middle of the night, gasping for breath with a yearning to rewrite history. When reality struck that she couldn’t, she’d lose herself in a script, in make-believe.
Now she grieved for Ruby; her quasi grandmother, her biggest supporter and the kindest woman she’d ever known. She wrapped her arms around her stomach and squeezed her eyes closed.
Would Ruby have left her beloved Manor to her, if she’d known what Ivy had done?
How could she ever deserve the trust Ruby had placed in her?
Unable to bear the questions, she turned to leave, spotting a yellow knitted scarf covered by a clear plastic protector.
The scarf her mum had made her as a surprise sixteenth birthday present that she’d refused to wear at the time, because it hadn’t been fashionable enough. How upset her mum must have been when she’d pushed it, forgotten, into a drawer until after she’d died.
She’d brought it to WillowGlen on her first visit, offering it to Ruby, knowing she didn’t deserve it. Ruby had tenderly taken it and kept it here for her.
Her chest squeezed as she reverently lifted it out of the plastic and cradled it in her shaking arms, like a baby.
With rubbery legs she sank onto the edge of the bed, hugging the scarf to her face, wishing for the millionth time she’d done everything differently.
Until a firm voice in head, that sounded very much like Ruby, not her mother, ordered her to put on a warm jacket, get some fresh air and take a turn around the fountain.
Ivy laughed, shed a tear, but was unable to disobey.
Carefully putting the scarf back in the plastic cover, she took it to her own room before wiping away any trace of tears. Heading downstairs, she put on the same long black puffer jacket as the day before that covered most of her black silk pantsuit and stepped outside.
The air was fresh, bordering on freezing, and instantly whipped away her anguished thoughts. Ivy loved the grounds in all seasons, but appreciated the barren beauty of its autumn glory. The lush lawn, bare trees and those still with their leaves a riot of reds, yellows and greens.
Walking along the avenue of willow trees, she arrived at the fountain.
She ran her gloved fingers over the sandstone edge and began a slow circuit, taking a turn as Ruby had called it.
A solitary ritual that had been a feature of every visit as the statues of Faith, Charity and Hope stared down with their interminable wisdom forever etched in marble. A wisdom that Ivy longed for.
To know the best thing for WillowGlen.
To make her immune to Ethan and the feelings he evoked.
To help her live with what she’d done to her parents.
Footsteps sounded on the path behind her.
She spun around. Had she been discovered?
Like she’d conjured him up, Ethan, clad entirely in black, strode towards her.
Danger of a different kind spiked her heart rate.
He looked good, too good. Desperately she schooled her features to hide her unwanted reaction to him because the last thing she needed was for him to know his effect on her.
‘Taking a turn?’ He tilted his head as he took in her black beanie, all the way to the cuffs of her silk pantsuit peeking out at the bottom of the coat and her black stiletto boots.
She nodded; he was obviously familiar with Ruby’s insistence that a turn around the Virtues was a cure for everything.
‘Good to know, because you look like you’re just about to rob a high-end bank.’
She laughed, the sound loud over the trickling water. It was the last thing she’d expected him to say.
Surprise flooded his face at her reaction, and his lips twitched before he blinked and his mouth flattened.
‘There’s something you need to see.’ He stepped forward and thrust out a handful of tabloids.
Taken aback by the quick change of topic, she automatically grabbed them and scanned the front pages, unable to prevent a wince.
Even after all this time they still had the power to hurt with their nasty and vicious stories; no wonder she’d tried to avoid them as much as possible since the folly pictures spectacle.
‘Not the headings, the photos. Ben’s in London.’ His lips curled.
She glanced over them one more time to see if there was any truth in the midst of the farcical fiction, before bunching them up and putting them under her arm.
She wouldn’t read any more and as soon as she got inside, she’d burn them.
There was nothing accurate about her location, but if Ben somehow led the press here, she’d wring his neck.
‘Do you think I lied about him being my boyfriend?’ She lifted her chin and speared Ethan with a healthy dose of defiance to hide her hurt.
His brows furrowed.
She held her breath.
‘No.’