Chapter 21
THE CALL
Tiptoeing across the old wooden floors towards the carpeted stairs of the guest house, I try my best to stay quiet.
The early-evening sun casts a warm, golden hue through the leaded glass windows, casting long shadows on the narrow hallway.
I pass the once vibrant wallpaper, now gently faded by time, as I reach the turn of the staircase.
It may have been grand in another era, but now it’s charmingly worn, the scent of lavender potpourris overpowering, creating a suffocating sweetness.
To my left, in the cosy front room, I hear Marianne and another female voice raised, piercing the fragile silence.
An underlying tension hangs like fog in the air as I strain not to eavesdrop, but their words filter through anyway.
I just want to drop off my bags in my room without disturbing their row.
‘Grace, you never pay attention – I’m telling you this for your own good!’
‘My own good? No, you’re telling me this for your own good, Mum!
I’m not going to do what everyone else wants from me.
It’s no surprise Ciaran had to go all the way to America so that he can live his life – there’s no chance of that here.
If it’s not you telling me to go to university, it’s Uncle Stephen telling me that I shouldn’t be out in the woods at night. ’
My heart thumps in my chest as slowly, carefully, I climb the stairs, praying that each step won’t reveal me.
‘And he’s completely right, Grace – you shouldn’t be out in the forest after dark. It’s dangerous; those drifters are dangerous! Who knows what they’re capable of?’
I hear something crash to the floor.
Grace’s pitch gets higher. ‘They are not dangerous. They are the most imaginative, gentle, loving people you could ever meet. Uncle Stephen is the one who’s dangerous; he’s the psychopath – everyone knows it!’
‘Don’t say that about your uncle,’ I hear Marianne warn from the shadows. ‘Family is family after all…’
Just as I’m about to reach the top of the staircase, my phone rings out, shattering the silence that I’d so carefully preserved. Panic surges through me, reverberating from head to toe. I quickly press mute.
As if on cue, the front-room door flings open, revealing Marianne and Grace’s tear-stained faces.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I mumble ‘I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’ll just, um, be in my room.’
Marianne’s mouth tightens and she nods shortly. The girl standing next to her shifts on her feet, fists clenched at her sides.
I give a small wave and say, ‘Hi, I’m Daisy; sorry to interrupt.’
She tilts her head and lets out an exasperated sigh.
‘Yeah, hi. I’m Grace. Don’t pay us any mind; we were just…
“talking”,’ she says with air quotes around the last word.
She’s dressed in ripped jeans and an oversized army shirt.
Her hair is in a pixie cut with one side shaved, and both her nose and lip are pierced.
Heavy eyeliner outlines her eyes. A guitar rests across her back.
Marianne turns to me with a gentle smile. ‘Would you like to come in for some tea?’
I hesitate for a second before responding. ‘No, thank you – I have to take these upstairs – but that’s kind of you to offer.’
She smiles and gives Grace’s arm a light touch before heading towards the kitchen.
‘Come on then,’ she says as they go, talking in low voices, before Grace’s voice once more pierces the air like a knife, her words sharp and unyielding.
She declares she’s heading out for the night and not to expect her back anytime soon.
I scurry away with my bags in tow, feeling guilty for overhearing more of their argument. As I step into my room, the warmth of the space envelops me like a hug from an old friend. The lace curtains flutter gently in the breeze as I lower myself onto the quilt-covered bed.
My phone vibrates in my hand, and Ash’s name flashes across the screen. I slump back, swiping to accept the video-call, and wait to see his face appear. When it does, I quickly sit up, loop my hair behind my ears and force a big, happy, encouraging smile.
‘Hey, you,’ Ash says. ‘How’s everything going?’
‘Eventful! But I’m really enjoying it – the whole area is gorgeous. Here’s the view from my window.’ I hold up my phone to capture the rolling hills of the countryside in a single frame.
Ash responds with ums and ahs. ‘Looks nice. Empty, but nice.’
‘It’s great for the Forest Fables stuff – feels very fairy tale and that’s just what I’m searching for.’
‘Well, that’s something if it makes Lenka happy too.’ A broad smile spreads across Ash’s face as he looks directly into the camera lens, his deep brown eyes meeting mine across thousands of miles of land and sea. ‘I miss you,’ he says, his voice soft and sincere.
‘I’m missing you too. Don’t worry though, I’ll be back soon, once all this inheritance business is finished.’
‘Everything going to plan with that?’
‘Well, our bags still haven’t arrived, so I might need to stay here a bit longer to get everything sorted.’
His eyes widen in disbelief. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Yes, afraid so. All the paperwork is in my suitcase, so that may hold things up.’
He sighs heavily and starts pacing, his forehead creased in thought. It’s obvious something is wrong.
‘Are you okay, Ash? Is everything all right…?’
He grumbles before responding. ‘Yes, everything is fine. I just want this done and you home. I’ve had a rough day at work…
my parents are driving me crazy. Dan just got promoted – the golden boy strikes again so he’s out celebrating.
I’m not in the mood…’ He pauses, and his voice rises in frustration as he continues, ‘My crypto has taken a dip – a big dip.’
‘It’ll go up, don’t worry. There’ll always be highs and lows.’ I try to highlight the positives. ‘Look, I have a meeting with the solicitors tomorrow, but I’ve been thinking, maybe we shouldn’t rush into buying a place together – like, not so soon – we can pause for a second and think about—’
Ash waves his arm in dismissal. ‘Think? Daisy, we don’t have time to think! We need to act – just make sure these guys don’t give you the run-around and they understand that we need the property valued and sold as soon as humanly possible.’
Just as he finishes his sentence, I hear Ash’s mum calling him for dinner. This sparks his temper further. ‘Listen, I’ve got to go,’ he snaps. ‘Call me straight after your meeting tomorrow, okay? It’s just one of those days.’
The line goes silent as he hangs up the phone.
‘It’s just one of those days,’ I repeat to myself, realising that I have a relationship that doesn’t seem to have another type of day.