Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
NICHOLAS
My blood is pumping so fast that it’s making me lightheaded, and my heart’s pelting my ribcage hard enough to risk a fracture. I’d long ago given up hope of ever finding what the key Xan and Imogen found in the snow globe fitted, although I know my brother well enough to guess that he hasn’t abandoned all faith.
I could still be wrong, and the box is a red herring, but if the key doesn’t fit, I’m forcing this thing open anyway. Mum hid it behind that picture for a reason, and I intend to find out what her reasoning was.
Leaving the painting in the car, I take Victoria’s hand and slowly walk upstairs to our part of the house. Once I’ve settled her in the living room, I head toward Xan’s office.
It’s empty.
I check the library, his apartment, and the dining room. No sign.
Phone it is, then.
After selecting his number, I hit call. The hum of a car engine sounds through the phone.
“Nicholas, what’s up?”
“Where are you?”
“Twenty miles from central London. I have a meeting.”
“Get back here, pronto. Is anyone else with you?”
“Tobias. Why?”
“Just come home.” I hang up before Xan starts up his infamous rapid-fire questioning. I’m not doing this over the phone.
He instantly calls me back. I ignore it. It takes a while to round up the others, but ninety minutes later, the seven of us gather in the living room Victoria and I share with Xan and Imogen. Luckily for me, Xan and Tobias are the last to arrive, meaning I avoided him battering me with demands for answers.
“What’s this all about?” Xan asks half a second after his arse hits the couch.
“Where’s the key you and Imogen found in the snow globe?”
Xan digs into his pocket and pulls out a set of keys. Sourcing the smallest one, he holds it up. “Here, why?”
“Because I found this on the boat.”
I lean over the side of the couch where I’d put the box. The second he lays eyes on it, his hand shoots out.
“Give it to me.”
I pass it to him. Considering how invested Xan has been in solving this mystery, he should be the one to open the box.
Pushing the key into the lock, he hesitates, then twists it to the right. The lid of the box pops open.
“What’s in there?” Tobias cranes his neck to get a closer look.
Xan reaches inside and pulls out a worn, brown leather journal.
“Looks identical to yours, Xan,” Christian says.
“Yeah.” He frowns, turning it over to look at the back. “It does. But it isn’t one of mine.”
“Open it,” Imogen urges.
All seven of us inch forward in our seats. Xan opens it to the first page. “It’s Mum’s handwriting.” He flicks over another page, scanning the neat script. “She journaled. I never knew that about her.” He seeks out Imogen. “Mum journaled.”
“Perhaps that’s why you love it so much,” she says, resting a hand on his thigh.
“Well, fuck me,” Tobias says, his tone filled with wonder. “I honestly thought you were chasing shadows with that key.”
“Me, too.” Saskia grimaces. “What does it say?”
Xan snaps the book closed. “I don’t think I can read it.”
“Here.” I hold out my hand. “I’ll read it and summarize if that’s easier.” Can’t say I’ll find it any easier to read Mum’s thoughts, but someone’s got to do it. I, for one, am interested in why she went to such lengths to conceal her personal thoughts. By separating the box and the key and hiding them in separate places, she never meant for us to find them, of that much I’m certain.
Relief washes over Xan’s features. “Thanks.”
I read aloud, my siblings, Imogen, and Victoria hanging onto my every word. At first, it’s only Mum summarizing her day, and I start skimming when there doesn’t seem to be anything all that interesting. Until something catches my eye. I flick over the next page, then return to the previous one.
“What is it?” Xan asks when I don’t continue.
“Odd.”
“What’s odd?”
“Listen to this. ‘Today, Charles gave me the worst possible news. George is returning to Oakleigh. I hoped he never would, and I can’t think of a single reason why he’d choose now, after all this time. I’m scared’.” I look up at my siblings. “Why would Mum be scared of Uncle George returning home?”
“Keep going.” Saskia motions with her hand.
I lower my eyes, trying to read ahead to anticipate what’s to come. “’I’m going to insist he lives somewhere outside of the main house. There’s plenty of unoccupied properties on the estate. I won’t have him living here with me. I just have to find a way to say it without making Charles suspicious. He’s so happy that he’ll have his brother back home. I can’t let him find out. Not after all these years. It’ll kill him’.” I lift my head once more. “Find out what?”
“Jesus Christ.” Christian tries to grab the book, but I snap it out of his reach. “If you keep stopping after every sentence, we’ll never know. It’s not story time, for God’s sake.”
I flick to the next page, but Uncle George isn’t mentioned. For the next few pages, it’s back to normal programming, with Mum writing about a visit to the hairdressers, or a chat with the chef about a new meat supplier. Day-to-day stuff. It’s hard to keep track of time because she hasn’t dated it.
I’m about halfway through the journal before there’s another mention of Uncle George.
“’George is back. He cornered me on my own this afternoon, pretending like nothing is wrong, and it took everything in me not to scream. He makes my skin crawl. It doesn’t matter that almost seventeen years have passed since that night. To me, it feels like it happened yesterday and—'” My eyes automatically travel ahead. Horror bleeds into my chest.
No.
No, no, no. Fuck. Fuck. Anger sears my veins, my throat filling with soot and ash. I can’t breathe, can’t believe what my eyes are telling me is the truth. What my heart is telling me is the truth.
“What is it?” Victoria touches my knee, but I’m frozen, the words on the page swimming before me, bleeding into one another.
“I-I can’t.” I thrust the book at her, nausea swirling in my stomach. I think I’m going to throw up. “Read it, please.”
“What does it say?” Xan demands, hand outstretched. “Give it to me.”
“No.” I put out my hand to stop him. “Let her do it. Please. I’m begging you.”
Imogen tugs at Xan’s arm until he shuffles back in his seat. Victoria glances at her sister-in-law, then traces the handwriting with her finger, presumably trying to locate the part where I broke off. The moment she reaches that part, her head snaps to mine, her lips parted, shock swimming in her eyes.
“Nicholas.”
“Read it. I can’t. Please, just… do it.”
Her vocal cords sound shredded as she picks up where I left off. “To me, it feels like it happened yesterday, and I’m being raped all over again.”
Every single one of my siblings gasps in unison. Xan snatches the book right out of Victoria’s hands.
“I don’t believe it.” He scans the page, color leeching from his face. Anguished, he seeks out each one of us in turn. “I’ll fucking kill him.”
He’s on his feet a second later, hands fisted by his sides.
“Wait!” I call out. “We should finish the journal. There might be more.”
“You want to know if there’s more?” Incredulity fills his tone. “More than Dad’s brother raping his wife?”
“It’s better to get the full picture if there is one,” Victoria interjects. “I can read it if you like. Summarize for you guys.”
“Do it,” Saskia says.
Imogen reaches up and tugs at Xan’s jacket. He sits beside her, his leg bouncing up and down. The entire time Victoria reads through Mum’s journal, Mum was raped ricochets through my mind like a fucking pinball machine. Over and over and over until I can’t stand the thought of it any longer, yet I don’t know how to stop it. I’ll never be able to unsee those words.
Questions bombard me, coming at me faster than a speeding bullet. What if…? What if Mum didn’t kill herself? What if George drowned her in the bath? What if she threatened to tell Dad what he’d done, even though she’d never have gone through with it if what she wrote in her journal was how she truly felt?
No. It’s a stretch too far. I’m overreaching. But… if there’s even the slightest possibility that could have happened, it changes everything. The truth I’d convinced myself of, that Mum left me—us—could be a lie. The only person who can tell us what happened is George. And dammit, he will, even if we all take turns torturing him until he spills the entire sordid tale.
If I thought Xan had paled earlier, it’s nothing compared to Victoria’s complexion when she finally snaps the journal closed. I don’t want to hear what she’s found, but at the same time, I can’t not ask.
“Well?”
Her bleak eyes land on mine, then Imogen, then swivel back to me. “Nicholas, I-I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“What isn’t?” Xan butts in before I can ask my wife what she means.
I glare at him. “Give her a fucking minute.”
“Nothing good can come of this,” she whispers. “I’m begging you, all of you. Drop it.”
“Nothing can be worse than hearing our mother was raped,” Xan snaps, receiving another glower from me for his trouble. If he barks at my wife one more time, I’ll rip out his fucking tongue.
I touch Victoria’s knee. “We can take it. We only want the truth. Does Mum say when it happened?”
Her throat bobs with a swallow, and she nods, then says nothing. She’s pale as a ghost. I never should have agreed to let her read it.
“When was it?” I gently coax.
“The night before her wedding to your dad. She says that he, I mean George, he said he loved her and asked her to run away with him instead of marrying his brother. When she refused, that’s when he, when he…” She covers her face with her hands. “Oh, God, this is so awful.”
Xan’s on his feet again. “ Now, I’m going to kill him.”
“Wait.” Victoria jumps to her feet. The journal falls on the floor. “Wait, please. There’s… there’s more.”
I get up, too, then Imogen follows. I need to both comfort my wife, who is clearly upset by whatever this “more” is she’s read, and also use her as a crutch for me. Sliding my arm around her waist, I graze my thumb over her hip.
“Tell us,” I urge.
She doesn’t look at me or at Imogen. Her gaze is locked on Xan. Nausea curdles my stomach, my instincts taking over.
God, I hope I’m wrong. Please, for the love of Christ, let me be wrong.
“It says in there that you… you and Annabel… that George is your father.”