Chapter Two
Prince Arthur
Delphine answers the door when I knock.
“Arthur,” she smiles, looks me over in a nostalgic way. “It's good to see you.”
I nod my head at her. “And you.”
She stands there, in the entryway, staring at me like she’s never seen me before and I suppose in a way she hasn’t. She hasn’t seen this version of me before. Last time she saw me sober was at the dinner table when she’d help me with my spelling homework.
Unspoken words fly in the air surrounding us—and you might think it’s weird, her still being here but it’s not.
She showed up every time when our parents didn’t.
Sports Day’s, parent evenings, school meetings, assemblies, performances, matches…
didn’t matter what it was or what time it was, she was there, cheering for us louder and bigger than anyone else in the crowds.
Our mum in ways our actual mum wasn’t.
And that isn’t a job that anyone can just walk away from.
Changed each and everyone of our nappies without breathing a word of it to any shitty newspaper, as well.
And that’s when she lunges at me.
Wraps me up in the biggest, most suffocating hug I’ve ever received from her.
“Arthur,” she sniffs into my head, pulls back, holds my hands for another look at me. “Look at you.”
I smile despite myself because she’s always managed to make me smile.
“You’re a man,” she mutters to herself. “How are you?”
I rock back on my heels, run a hand through my freshly trimmed hair. “I’m good, yeah—feeling better.”
She starts tearing up, she shakes her head, presses her thumbs under her eyes. “Well,” she breathes out. “Everyone is here—are you ready?”
No.
Never been ready for this, have I?
Not even two years, five months and twenty-two days have prepared me for this moment. I reckon an entire decade away couldn’t have prepared me—nothing could.
I’ve never had to do this before. I’m walking in blind, a complete stab in the dark with what I’ll say.
“I think so,” I tell her.
Delphine nods, hand on my back and leads me into the reception room.
My throat closes up at the sight of everyone.
Mum, Dad, Sebastian, Ev.
I could've done this last night when I arrived back in London but I didn’t.
I pissed about too much, thought too hard about what I was going to say, that in the end, it got too late.
They’ve opened the front door to me too many times at ridiculous times in the morning.
I couldn’t do it to them again so I booked myself into a hotel—a suite at The Dorchester because not much else was available at gone midnight on New Year’s Eve—so not only did I piss away over four grand, I didn’t even get a good nights sleep because there’s only one bedroom in London I’ve slept comfortably in.
Mum notices me first.
The first thing I notice? How clear I can see the years of pain in her eyes.
Clear as the water I drink. And for a moment, it’s just me and her in this room.
She glues me to my spot with the look on her face because it’s one I’ll never forget.
I’ll never understand what I put her through, not sure I ever really want to know.
“Arthur,” she lifts a shaky hand to her mouth. “Oh, Arthur.”
“Mum,” I swallow, nod over at her with my hand in my pocket.
I don’t think we’ve ever really spoken much, to be honest. Not like how normal sons would with their mothers because when I was high, she was sober and when I was sober, she was high.
And neither one of us were ever sober for long.
Although, the fucking hurt in her eyes is enough to knock me dead, the fact I can see it so clearly tells me more than any words ever will.
She’s clean, too.
Mum gets up, walks over to me, stands there for a second, looks me over the same way Delphine did. She doesn’t know this version of me, either.
“Are you well now?” She whispers, as if we’re the only two people standing here.
I nod. “I’m better.”
“But will you stay better because—” and this is where she breaks down, thick, heavy sobs. “Because I can’t do that again, Arthur,” she shakes her head, not bothering to wipe her eyes even though it kills me. “Not again—never again. Please, Arthur, I can’t—”
“Mum,” I take her hand, look right into her shattered eyes. “Never again.”
She nods, takes a deep breath. “You promise?”
“I promise—swear on Theo’s grave.”
Fuck, that was a lot.
“Arthur—”
I glance up at her, my mother, and for the first time in maybe ten years, kiss her cheek. “I promise.”
She moves then, goes to put her arms around me—I think—but then she stops herself and I wonder why.
My heart thuds at a sickening rate inside my chest and I think that coming here might’ve been a mistake.
Just because I was ready, doesn’t mean everyone else was.
I’ve just fucking ambushed them with my presence.
“I—” reach up, rub my neck. “I think I’m gonna go.”
“Why?” Sebastian jumps up.
Swallow through my dry throat, wave my hand around. “I don’t think I should’ve come here.”
“Don’t be silly,” Mum wipes her eyes, takes my hand and squeezes it—most affection I’ve felt from her in a long time. “You sit down right now, Arthur.”
She can tell I’m unsure, can tell that I don’t feel like I deserve to but she drags me over, sits me down next to her on the sofa and grips my hand in her lap—afraid that if she lets go she’ll lose me all over again.
My eyes go over to my sister, sitting there, legs crossed on the sofa, looking so unlike the fourteen year old I left behind.
She’ll be doing her A-Levels this year. And it hurt me the most to leave her, truth be told because she’s never had a choice.
All that stuff that’s happened to her—she’s just been in the middle of it all.
A punching bag for everyone’s hits that they couldn’t take out on anyone else because no one thought it would affect her.
They thought she’d grow out of it, wouldn’t remember it, would forget, wouldn’t see things for what they really were.
She was easy to hurt because she was a kid. Kids bruise like peaches.
She lost her brother growing up and then lost her other brother when it was time to grow up again.
Who has she had all these years? My mum drugged up on prescription meds?
My brother who was busy shagging his dead brother's girl? My dad who’s hid more than any of us?
Me who didn’t even remember his own name half the time?
Standing in the midst of the tornado that is our supposed secure family unit, she’s been fending for herself, holding onto any piece of furniture that blows right past her.
“You look good, mate,” Sebastian reaches out, taps my knee. “How’ve you been?”
“Good, yeah,” I nod again because what are people expecting me to say?
That for the past almost three years, I put myself through the worst kind of mental and physical trauma?
When people ask you how you’ve been, they want to hear that you’ve been good and that the family is doing well. They don’t want a sob story.
“Anyway,” Dad rubs his hands together, not bothering to comment on my appearance because he’s seen me. Him and Grandad were the only ones I kept in contact with because I had to—legally binded to them in some unspoken, unsigned contract. Always will be. “We need to sort this out.”
“Sort what out?” I ask.
“Don’t you know?” Ev smiles. “Sebastian’s been fucking Mia Tisdale for the last five years.”
I blink once, twice—three fucking times.
When I arrived in London yesterday night, it felt like nothing and everything had changed. There was something so rife in the air that told me I was going to be walking head first into a war zone. Didn’t quite know what it was going to be but it definitely wasn’t this.
“Evangeline!” Mum shouts.
“Oh, sorry,” she puts a hand to her chest. “Did I get it wrong?”
“Ev,” Sebastian touches her shoulder but she shrugs it off. “Come on, don’t be like that.”
“Don’t be like what?” She sits up, laughing humorlessly.
“Don’t be upset? Don’t be angry?” She shouts.
“How do you want me to react?” She starts crying.
“Do you expect me to be fucking happy or something? Every single fucking day I wondered why everyone around me wanted to die, wanted to get away from me! Every single day!”
She’s drowning in her sobs, finding it hard to breathe.
“You have no right to tell me how I should be!” She turns to my brother. “No right, Sebastian! You’re not any better than him!” She points over at me.
And even though all these tears and screams are being pointed at my brother, I think deep down, they’re aimed at me but like most people, she can’t bring herself to look me in the eye.
Evangeline drops her finger, convulses on the sofa, her entire body shaking and I want nothing more than to be able to go over to her and soothe her but she won’t let me. I know she wouldn’t.
After a second, she gets up, storms away and up the stairs.
Sebastian goes to get up but Mum shakes her head. “Don’t, please—give her a minute to calm down, Sebastian.”
She wondered if I was dead.
She’d thought that not only had she lost Theo but that she’d lost me, as well but I’d never—never fucking leave her permanently.
Honestly, I think coming back to her hurt me more than coming back to Phoebe because Phoebe stayed with me, she chose to because I’d never let her leave but Evangeline, she never had that choice.
Like I said, everything that’s happened to her, has happened against her will and that’s a pain you’ll bury me with.
I clear my throat. “What did she mean by five years?”
Five fucking years? Really?
Sebastian says nothing but he locks eyes with me, tells me without telling me that he’d been having an affair for the last five years.
It hits me like a truck.
Five years.