Chapter 45
45
ELENA
And relax… Elena was in her special place – with Rory, who speechlessly gazed around. She was a huge fan of reading on Kindle, but paperbacks were an equal love. Three walls were lined with shelves, packed with every genre of novel and auto-biographies. The narrowest wall housed her childhood collection of books, including replacements of the ones she’d remembered Mum throwing out. On one wall the books were sorted according to colour, another alphabetically. The fourth wall had a shelf on it for teabags, coffee and biscuits. There was a mini fridge underneath. To the right of the door was a beanbag with a lava lamp next to it. In the middle of the room were a tiny table and a chair. The ceiling was sky blue and had white clouds painted on it.
‘Elena. This is so cool. Your very own library. So you do collect paperbacks after all.’
‘You don’t think it’s strange to be hidden like this? Especially as I live alone anyway.’
‘Not at all. It takes me back to being a kid… If you’ve had a shit day at school or argued with a parent, your room is a safe ha ven, not on show. Like when you’re a teen and have posters of your crushes on the walls. You don’t want everyone to see them.’
Rory got it. Of course he did.
‘These authors are my crushes. They’ve lifted me on so many occasions, as if they are therapists, or made me laugh, as if they’re comedians – or cry, as if they were the very best moving actor.’
Rory ran his finger along a row of book spines. ‘Damn. This room means you aren’t really an alien who’s been flying to visit the mothership every time you disappeared. What a let-down.’
‘Sorry to disappoint. I’m just a reader.’
Rory reached up to the coffee pot, having spotted something behind it. He pulled it out and twisted it in the air. A playing card.
‘The king of hearts?’ he said. The back was ornate, with a colourful pattern, and it was creased, with a tear on one corner. ‘It’s Morag’s? The one she gave you? That night, in the woods, she said the pack fell onto the grass and that was the only one that lay face up. You’ve kept it all this time?’
Elena took it from him and sat down in the small chair. Rory pulled up the beanbag and settled opposite her.
‘Yes. And when we visited her, she said it represented someone who would be important to me one day. I’ve been thinking about that since. I had a boss whose surname was King once, but he turned out to be a real creep. A friend in the sixth form had the surname Hart, but she moved away and we lost touch. I’ve hoped to find an answer and that the card would point to someone who might help me make sense of the way my life has been.’ She stared at the card for inspiration.
How odd it was, to have a guest in her private, precious den. Odd in a good way, because it was Rory. He sat, legs apart, jacket undone, completely unaware of how beguiling he was. Rory, who’d been there these last weeks, through all the ups and downs.
Elena hesitated and then took out her phone. She tapped away whilst they chatted about Paris and her parents’ gift of the trip to Berlin. He began telling her a fun fact about Berlin being nine times bigger than Paris when her typing hand dropped. Elena’s eyes remained fixed on the screen.
‘Holy shit!’ she muttered.
‘What?’
Elena looked at him, then looked back at her phone.
Rory leant forwards. ‘You okay?’
‘Talking about names reminded me how Morag asked if you’d ever looked into the origins of yours. I felt a sudden compulsion to google it. You’ve really never done that?’
‘Nah. A name’s a name, right? Why? With this talk of travel, do you reckon Bunker is German? It does sound like it. Perhaps my ancestors were Berliners.’
‘It’s actually rather lovely. Bunker comes from the Old French bon couer , meaning good heart.’
‘Cool.’ Rory shuffled and made himself more comfortable in the bean bag. He beat a hand on his chest and smiled. ‘Glad to know I’m truly a good’un.’
‘ Rory comes from the French roi , meaning…’
‘King! One of the few words I remember from a French-subtitled historical Netflix series I loved. I’ve never connected my name with it before but, of course, it makes complete sense,’ he said and grinned, giving a regal wave.
‘But don’t you see? Good hearted King . That’s what your name means. The king of hearts.’ She picked up the card. ‘This card has got to represent you, Rory.’ There was someone – it was him – who’d helped her sort of the mess she felt her life was. Unlike the King of Hearts in Alice in Wonderland , Rory was bold, and strong in the sense that he supported people who needed it; he wasn’t afraid of recognising when he needed help too, such as moving on from trying to live his mother’s life for her.
Of course, along the way, he’d stolen Elena’s heart, even though he must never find out.
Rory stared at the card. He reached out and took her hand. ‘Wow. Okay. Because actually, the word heart… it makes sense. That’s… it’s… amazing! You see…’ He covered his eyes for a moment. ‘Gah! I just need to go for it. Okay. Elena Swan, I know you don’t feel the same, but Paris helped me see the obvious – that I’m wholly, irrevocably’ – his voice broke a little – ‘in love with you.’
He was what ?
Her heart pounded.
She’d do anything to believe those words, anything to be able to act upon such a declaration. But she must have misunderstood.
She slid her hand out of his. ‘Look… I… I don’t know if this is some joke or… you think those words will make me feel good… but how could you be? I’ve been convinced about an imaginary promise for twenty years. How could anyone trust what I say now? Or hang around until I sort myself out? You deserve someone who’s got their shit together. I’m going to need time, lots of it, to… to reassess so much of my life.’
Rory’s cheeks matched his festively coloured jacket and trousers. ‘You truly believe I’m that shallow? That I’m only interested in the good times I make you dance about?’
‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s one reason I… like you so much. But I don’t even know who I am any more, so how can you? You are my king of hearts, Rory – Morag was right, you’ve been more important than anyone ever has. You’re up there with Gayle and Mum and Dad. But I’d never go out with anyone who must have changed their opinion of me – Elena, the supposed go-getting, successful marketeer who works with numbers and statistics, with concrete facts, yet who was convinced that uttering a few words twenty years ago put her life in jeopardy.’
‘My opinion hasn’t changed.’
‘Rory, stop.’ This was too painful, rejecting what she’d longed for so very much.
He straightened up. ‘Wait… I’ll prove it.’ He got out his phone. ‘I wrote this journal entry, Tuesday night, when I stayed at mine and didn’t have my notebook. It’s a private note. Why would I lie to myself?’ Rory showed her the screen.
Elena is the most incredible, strong woman I’ve ever met, who’s held her own against what might well have been a debilitating illness for years, who’s always done her best for other people. I couldn’t respect and admire her more.
Oh.
‘As for the OCD stuff… I understand… to a degree. You see, I’ve convinced myself of something for years, about my mum – and talking things through with you, about why exactly I’ve done extreme sports, has made me come to terms with it; has helped with the guilt.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Mum had ovarian cancer. She found out when she was pregnant with me and refused to terminate the pregnancy to have treatment. They cut out a tumour as soon as I was born, but the cancer came back the next year. For so long I’ve believed her death was all my fault.’ His voice hitched.
‘Oh, Rory. I’m so very sorry. But… it was your mum’s decision and utterly out of your control. And didn’t she tell that teacher of yours who knew her at baby group that you’d made her life co mplete and she wouldn’t change a thing, given her time again?’
His eyes glistened. ‘Yes. I’ve realised lately how much of my life has been spent living for her, because of that guilt – so I understand the guilt you’ve felt over your mum. We’ve both suffered. I can see now Mum would want me to live my life for me, like she did during the years she was alive.’
They sat in silence for a few moments, holding each other’s hands, understanding flowing between their fingers.
Rory cleared his throat. ‘I know I’m not your type,’ he said briskly, ‘but I had to get my feelings out there. I, Rory Bunker, think you’re fucking amazing. Jacques – the hotelier in Paris – helped me work it out that night we went back to the hotel, after you told me about the fortune teller at the Sacré Coeur. Jacques said that the person you are in love with is like home… like an escape from the world. You’re my hidden library, Elena. My feelings for you have created the high that’s made me realise lately I don’t need to do extreme sports to feel alive. You’re an incredible person, not only in spite of your challenges, but because of them.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’ she asked faintly.
‘You needed a good friend. I didn’t want to ruin the solid relationship we’ve got.’ He sighed. ‘Did that anyway though, barging in, telling you you’d got OCD instead of gently suggesting it.’
‘Nicole was so stylish, so chic, so… together…’
His brow furrowed. ‘Elena. Everyone’s got broken bits inside. You know that, right, from that night in the pub with our colleagues, them telling us how they felt like broken biscuits? It’s the basis of our whole product campaign. Anyway, I’ve exchanged the occasional text with Nicole and she’s leaving her job. The pressure to look good, to find new models, she’s been finding it too much.’
‘She has? ’
‘I was only pretending to be interested in her, at the cemetery, embarrassed that I’d almost kissed you, thinking you’d be horrified at the thought of you and me together.’
Elena’s eyes widened. ‘That’s the very reason I encouraged you to go for it with her.’
‘Huh?’
‘I almost kissed you then!’ Her voice sounded full. She’d never said these words to anyone before. Here goes . ‘I love you too, Rory Bunker.’
He frowned. ‘Now who’s joking? Or had too much Christmas punch? Come on, Elena. Don’t take the piss.’
Elena got up and crouched down by the bean bag. She slid her arms around his neck. ‘I’m not. I swear on Brandy’s and Snap’s lives. I worked it out in Paris too.’
Neither of them moved. Neither of them blinked.
‘In Paris? You too?’ he said eventually. ‘Wow, what a clichéd pair of saps we are.’ His pupils dilated as he moved closer. He ran a hand through her hair, letting his fingers fall to the side of her cheek, holding her face tenderly. Her skin sparked with his touch. ‘I’ve wanted to do that for such a very long time. Tell me I’m not dreaming.’
‘You’re not,’ she said, oh so tenderly.
‘Your beauty struck me the very first day we met, Elena. Not just because of your cute nose that twitches before you laugh, or those ocean eyes that ripple with every emotion… It’s the way you were with people in the office. Fair. Faithful. Firm. Funny. I watched you spar with Gary and take a difficult meeting with Derek. You’re all the f words, Elena.’
‘All of them?’ she asked, and her nose twitched.
He tucked a blonde lock of hair behind her ear.
‘My attraction to you is much more trivial, I’m afraid,’ she whispered. ‘You had me at wearing my silk dressing gown.’ She nudged closer, their lips almost touching. ‘But most important of all… Jacques was right. You are like home to me, as well. I can utterly be myself when you’re around. I’m able to take off the mask.’ Her breathing quickened and her lips touched his, gently at first. But when his mouth responded with a passion that also blazed inside her chest, Elena became part of a story even more exciting than the ones on the shelves in her little oasis.