Chapter Sixty-One
Time moved differently now, for Ava. She didn’t mark it in hours anymore, or minutes – only in distance.
The day her brother left for his interview in York was the day Damien’s ship would have arrived in Queenstown, Ireland.
Today – when Oliver was due back – Damien would be halfway across the Atlantic, nothing stretching before or behind him but icy waves.
And the day Damien stepped onto the soil of a country she would never see, Ava would be stepping onto Lillian’s stage.
She would be waiting in the darkness for the lights to lift, knowing that the distance between them had never been greater.
She heard the sound of a key in the front door then, the tell-tale creak as it opened. She thought it would be her father, returned early from the flower market with Mrs Moss, but it was her brother’s voice that called into the hallway, and she felt something within her lift.
‘Ava?’
‘In here,’ she replied, shifting so there was space beside her on the settee.
‘Is Pa here?’ Oliver said, throwing his hat towards the end of the settee and brandishing something wrapped in brown paper. ‘Because I only got you a present.’
‘He’s out,’ said Ava, frowning at the box. ‘With Mrs Moss.’
Oliver’s eyebrow tweaked upwards. ‘Is he now?’
Ava unfolded her legs so that her brother could sit beside her. ‘My birthday is in May, Oliver.’
‘I know. Think of it as an early Christmas present.’
Ava looked from the thin, brown package up to her brother’s face, the eager look that sat behind his eyes. ‘I know what this is,’ she said slowly. Meaningfully. ‘And I know why you felt the need to buy it.’
‘Oh, do you now?’ Oliver’s expression was still bright. Still humorous. ‘So you’ve branched from mesmerism into future-telling, have you?’
‘And I want you to know that you don’t need to feel guilty, Oliver. You don’t need to—’
Oliver huffed an impatient breath through his teeth. ‘Not all the gifts I buy are bribes, Ava. Just open it, would you? And a “Welcome home, Oliver. How did the interview go, Oliver?” wouldn’t go amiss, either.’
‘How did the interview go, Oliver?’ Ava asked as she slid her fingernail beneath the twine, working it off carefully.
‘Well, I got it,’ he said – though there wasn’t much triumph in his voice. Instead, he watched with his lips pressed into a line as she peeled the brown paper back and saw what he had bought her.
‘Oh,’ she said softly.
It was a book. A beautiful book, bound in rich, reddish brown leather, and Ava turned it, running her fingertips over the golden inlay upon the spine, tracing the word: Memory.
‘Have you read it?’ Oliver said, moving her quilt so that he could sit beside her.
‘I found the oddest bookshop in York. Small on the outside, enormous on the inside, and it had a whole section with these sorts of books up on the mezzanine. The woman said that this one was quite new. And they bind it themselves there, so you won’t find it quite like this anywhere else. ’
‘Oliver …’ Ava said, opening the cover, listening to the leather upon it creak as she smoothed a hand over the marbled pages. ‘This looks … expensive.’
‘Well, once I start this job I’ll be able to buy you books by the wheelbarrow-load.’
Ava furrowed her brows, flicking through the pages. Mental images. Sensory memory. Unconscious memories. ‘Yes, but for now you don’t have this sort of money.’
‘So?’ Oliver shrugged. ‘I wanted to do something nice for you.’
‘Because … ?’ Ava said, putting the book to one side.
‘Because nothing,’ said Oliver. ‘Not every gift I buy is out of guilt.’
Ava’s expression flattened, and she gave her brother a long, searching look. He met her gaze for one breath, two, before turning his focus instead to his juddering knee.
‘Very well,’ Oliver huffed, standing now, and pacing back and forth in front of her.
‘Yes, I bought you the book because I feel guilty.’ Finally, his blue eyes lifted to meet hers, his mouth twitching at the edge.
‘I feel guilty. And I thought if I did something for you, something selfless, it would make me feel better. But it doesn’t really.
’ He tapped a rhythm into his palm with his knuckle, not looking at her. ‘It just makes me feel worse.’
‘Oliver, you don’t have to feel guilty.’ Ava’s voice was quiet. Firm. ‘I know.’
‘You … know?’
‘I know you love him.’
Something cracked in Oliver’s expression. ‘I don’t … Did Bertie say something? She’s never liked me, Ava. She’ll tell you anything you want to hear to get you to do Lillian’s bidding. You know that.’
‘Oliver—’ Ava stood then, coming to stand beside her brother. He was shaking, she realized, for when he reached to push his blond-brown hair from his eyes his fingers were juddering. Clumsy. ‘Bertie didn’t need to tell me. I’ve seen it. Perhaps I didn’t understand it at the time, but—’
‘Ava, stop.’ Oliver wouldn’t look at her. He was staring at his hands, one fingernail sunk so deep into the skin it was as though he wanted to draw blood. ‘Don’t say anything more.’
‘But—’ she continued firmly, her voice low as she reached for her brother’s hand; clasping it tightly.
‘I think now I do understand. The bond that sits between the pair of you – it’s always been strong, but I misread it.
I assumed it was friendship. Kinship. But it wasn’t, was it? It was something more than that.’
‘Ava—’ Oliver blinked, tears tracking in white lines through the dust and dirt, the travel grime that painted his cheeks. ‘Please.’
‘And then I looked back on how it had been with us as children – the three of us, and saw that really, we had always been in twos. You and I. You and Jem. Jem and I. And perhaps that was because we both loved him. We both saw the exact same thing within him.’
Oliver tried to slide his hand from hers, but she held tight.
‘What I’m trying to say, Oliver, is that I understand.
’ She gave his hand a squeeze. ‘How could I not? I loved him, too. And when he proposed, I thought he loved me. But then the more I thought about it, the more that made sense as well. He was torn, Oliver. Between us. And that is why he had to end things with me. He couldn’t choose which of us he loved more. ’
Oliver let out a choked sob, and yanked his hand from hers. ‘Oh God,’ he said. ‘Ava, no. That’s not – that’s not what happened. That’s not why he ended the proposal.’
A line dimpled her forehead. ‘What do you mean?’
He stood a little apart from her, his eyes shining, though at least he was looking at her now – his brows slanted downwards, his expression pleading. ‘It was my idea,’ he said, shunting the words through his teeth as though they would scald him.
Ava frowned a little. ‘What was your idea?’
‘The proposal.’
Her frown deepened, as she tried to let the words settle. Tried to understand them. ‘You mean you … asked him to choose me?’
Oliver bit down on his lip. ‘No, Ava. I asked him to propose to … so that we …’ He swallowed, his words coming out tighter, now.
Tauter. ‘I thought that if he married you, we could be together. That no one would suspect us – because we would have a reason. A good reason. I’d be his brother-in-law, and—’
He broke off, his gaze searching hers for her reaction. ‘Ava, you have to believe me, I had no idea how much it would hurt you.’
Ava blinked, feeling a warm wetness streak her cheek, and when she spoke her voice was a breath, a cracked whisper: ‘I don’t understand.’
‘You have always been such good friends, I thought it would be a continuation of that. I thought it was a kind idea—’
‘A kind idea?’ Ava was trying desperately to keep her gaze upon her brother, though now her vision blurred. ‘Kind because … what? Because no one else would wish to marry me? Because then the problem of your spinster sister would be fixed?’
‘No, Ava—’
She shook her head, turning her gaze to her feet, watching her tears speckle her slippers in sliding brown circles. ‘I thought he loved me. I thought I loved him, too.’
‘I know.’ Oliver stepped towards her, a hand reaching for her shoulder. ‘And once I realized that, I saw how wrong I had been to even … to even imagine it. You have to believe me, Ava, I never wanted to hurt you. Neither of us did. Not like this.’
She looked up at him, his expression a mirror for the wrenching pain she felt inside, and yet she flinched from his grip.
‘So you were going to use me?’ Her voice was shaking now.
‘Use my love for the both of you, and hide behind me. And in return, you would have given me a life that was a lie. A life I might have thought was perfect, and happy, but it would only ever be a lie.’
‘But you know why, Ava,’ said Oliver, his voice low now. Urgent. ‘It’s illegal, Ava. If anyone found out we would both go to prison. Christ, it wasn’t that long ago that it was punishable by execution.’
‘I know it’s illegal!’ Her voice was a ragged whisper, a sharp hiss between her teeth.
‘I know full well it is illegal, Oliver. And if you are asking me if I would tell anyone, then the answer is no. No matter how furious I am at you. No matter how hurt. I wouldn’t do that, Oliver, because I love you.
By Jove, do you know how many hoops I have leaped through for Lillian to protect you?
How many more I will leap through before this week is out?
’ She looked at him, hot tears sliding down her cheeks. ‘How could you even ask me that?’
‘Because I didn’t know,’ said Oliver. ‘I didn’t know if you would—’
‘If I would see you imprisoned?’ Ava felt the warmth in her stomach turn hot, but it was not anger.
This was something more painful than that.
Betrayal. ‘Oliver, you’re not just my brother.
You are one of my closest friends. How could you even – how could you ever—?
’ She stopped – for every sensible word had flitted from her mind.
Instead she reached a shaking hand to wipe some of the wetness from her cheeks – Oliver’s wretched expression coming into sharp focus.
‘All this time,’ she said quietly. ‘I thought it was the job hunt that was upsetting you. But it was this, wasn’t it?
It was this. Hiding this. Keeping this. That’s what’s been eating away at you.
’ She felt her voice begin to break. ‘How did Bertie know? You said you hadn’t told her – so how did she know? ’
Something pained flickered across his expression. ‘She saw us together. Jem and I. At the theatre one evening, just after you’d got me the job. It was late, your rehearsal was long finished, and I thought everyone had left—’
Ava squeezed her eyes shut. ‘You should’ve told me, Oliver.’
‘How could I have told you? How could I have told you, knowing how it would hurt you?’
‘But you have been hurting too, Oliver,’ she said quietly. ‘And I didn’t see it.’
‘Because I didn’t want you to see it, Ava.’ Tears slipped down his cheeks. ‘Because you’re not just my sister. You’re my friend. And I couldn’t bear it if you hated me, too. I couldn’t bear to lose you.’
‘You could never lose me,’ she said softly. Though something still pricked at her insides – hot and sharp. ‘And I could never hate you, Oliver.’
‘You would have every right to, Ava. Lord knows I’ve hated myself long enough for this.’
‘I don’t want that either,’ she said quietly. ‘I know what it feels like to wish to hide from the world – but I wish you hadn’t felt the need to hide from me.’
Oliver opened his mouth to reply, and then closed it again. ‘Jem was right,’ he said after a time. ‘I underestimated you. And I … I’m sorry, Ava. For everything. For all of it.’
‘I am, too,’ she said quietly. ‘I am, too.’
She didn’t watch him walk from the room, but she heard the creak of the stairs as he padded up them, heard his door click shut, and only then did she sit back upon the settee, drawing the quilt around her as though it were a cocoon.
For they all did it, didn’t they? Hid from the world.
Her father. Oliver. Herself. Damien. And though their worries were different – it was still fear that drove them all to do it – to board up the windows, or pretend to be someone else – or …
or lie to her. And she couldn’t hate Oliver for being afraid. She couldn’t hate him for being scared.
For that was all she had ever been.