Forget Me Not (The Ceruleans: Book 2) (18 page)

‘Scarlett!’

Not Sienna. Luke.

I opened my eyes dreamily, saw him framed in the doorway and
went to smile at him. But then I registered his white face, his open mouth, his
wide eyes. I flung myself upright and took in the scene.

Me, in bed. But not alone. Beside me, under the quilt and
sitting up lazily now, Jude.

Tousle-haired.

Pink-cheeked.

Bare-chested.

‘What the HELL!’

It was as if Luke was reading my mind. But there was no time
to process, only to say quickly, desperately: ‘Luke, it’s not what you
think...’

‘Spare me your lies,’ he spat at me, and he backed away, out
of sight.

I flung off the covers and launched myself out of the bed.
‘No, wait…’

But he was thundering across the landing, and by the time I
got out there he was already halfway down the stairs, taking them two at a
time.

‘Wait!’ I shouted, running now. ‘Please!’

‘Leave me alone!’ he hollered, jumping the last few steps.

I raced down after him, lost my footing and fell backwards.
The crash made him turn, and his hands came up reflexively, reaching for me, as
I slid down the carpet runner on my backside. I hit the hallway floor hard and
he took a step towards me and opened his mouth, but then movement at the top of
the stairs caught his eye.

‘Scarlett, are you all right?’ called Jude.

Ignoring him, I said, ‘Luke, please, you have to listen –’

But his face had hardened into an expression I’d never seen
on him before. ‘There’s nothing to say,’ he growled. ‘We’re done.’

And with that, he turned on his heel, tore open the front door
and slammed it shut behind him. I scrambled up to stand, to go after him, and
made it as far as the door. Arms held me back. I struggled, fighting to reach
for the latch, saying ‘No, no!’ over and over. Then a voice in my ear
commanded, ‘Let him go, Scarlett. It’s for the best.’

I froze.

In the sudden silence in the hallway the noise from outside
was loud. An engine revving, tyres crunching, an exhaust rattling. Loud, and
then quieter, and then... gone.

Jude’s hold on me loosened and then he released me. I turned
slowly to face him.

‘You. You did this. You meant to do this.’

‘Yes. I heard his van outside. I got into bed with you.’
When I said nothing, just stared, he added, ‘I had to do something, Scarlett.
He was holding you back. Don’t you see? It’s better this way. A clean break.
Like ripping off a plaster. A little pain now, and then it’s all in the past.
He can move on. You can move on.’

‘You. Did. This.’

I took a step towards him. He didn’t move. He didn’t back
away. He should have.

I lost it: hitting out at him with fisted hands and
screaming, ‘You bastard! You conniving, twisted, controlling bastard! What gave
you the right! How dare you!’

He took it from me, holding his hands up to ward off blows,
but otherwise standing silently as I railed against him. Then, abruptly, I was
done – done with him. I lunged away to the stairs and flew up them. In my
bedroom the covers were still thrown back on the bed we’d shared. I hauled them
off the bed and threw them across the room. Then I pulled down a holdall from
the top of the wardrobe and began chucking things into it.

‘Scarlett?’ He stood in the doorway. ‘What are you –’

‘I’m getting the HELL away from you, Jude.’

‘No, you can’t! That’s not what I meant.’

I opened a drawer and grabbed a handful of socks and hurled
them at the bag. ‘I know exactly what you meant, Jude. You meant to break our
damn hearts so you could have me for yourself
now, now, now
.’

‘No – yes – but it was the right…’

I dropped the sock in my hand and squared up to him. ‘IT
WASN’T YOUR CHOICE TO MAKE!
My
life!
My
boyfriend!
My
goddam choice!’

I went back to throwing stuff in the bag – hairbrush,
deodorant, anything that came to hand.

‘But you weren’t choosing,’ said Jude. ‘You were sitting
about feeling sorry for yourself, dragging it out, hurting him, hurting you.
And in the meantime, your life is in danger at every turn!’

I threw a bottle of perfume at him. He ducked and it hit the
wall behind him.

‘I HAD DECIDED!’ I roared. ‘I was going to go with you,
Jude. Willingly.’

‘Well, that’s…’

‘I
was
. But then you came along and tried to force
me.
To force me!
What gives
you
the right to play God with my
life? You condemn the Fallen so easily for that, but you’re just as bad! Just
as capable of lying and manipulating and doing wrong. Why would I choose you? I
may as well just track Daniel down and get him to Claim me. Him, you – what’s
the bloody difference?’

My words hit home. Blew all the certainty and
self-righteousness out of him so that he slumped against the doorframe. I was
glad. I wanted to hurt him.

Swinging the bag onto my shoulder, I pushed past him and
rushed along the landing and down the stairs – holding on this time. In the
hallway I grabbed my handbag and the car keys.

Jude was on his way down the stairs. ‘Scarlett, please.’

I flung open the front door and strode to the car. Once
inside, I threw the bags onto the passenger seat and then fumbled to do up my
seatbelt. It clicked, and I moved quickly to put the key in the ignition. And
shrieked when I looked through the windscreen. Jude was standing at the end of
the bonnet.

My fist hit the central-locking control, and then the
driver’s window switch. ‘Get out of the way,’ I warned him.

‘You can’t drive – you’re not well – where will you go?’

I started the engine and pressed my foot down on the
accelerator so that the engine revved aggressively.

‘What if you get sick and I can’t get to you in time?’
yelled Jude.

‘I don’t care.’

‘You’ll die.’

‘I DON’T CARE!’

‘But you have to care! You have to come with me.’

‘I don’t have to do anything, Jude, and I’m sure as hell not
going anywhere with someone I can’t trust. Now get out of my way – I’m warning
you.’ I dropped the handbrake and he skittered backwards as I let the car hop
forward a little.

‘
Please.
I can’t protect you like this.’

‘Then don’t!’

He started speaking again, imploring me, but I thrust my
hand onto the horn. We stared each other out until, finally, his shoulders
sagged and he stood aside. As I gunned it out of the driveway I took one final
look in my rearview mirror at the friend who had betrayed me. But all I saw was
an empty drive leading to an empty cottage.

I’d barely driven half a mile before clamouring memories
rendered the country lane an unnavigable blur. I pulled over by the gate to a
field and laid my head on the steering wheel and closed my eyes and let them
come:

Luke standing at the stove, stirring a pan of soup, intent
on his task.

Luke in the cove, chasing me, catching me, tickling me
without mercy.

Luke smoothing hair from my face, eyes locked on mine, full
of love.

Luke dancing like a loony in a flash mob, fearless, joyous.

Luke under the covers, kissing me, touching me, hungrily,
eagerly.

Luke shuddering with tears on his roof terrace, sharing his
deepest, darkest pain.

Luke in a black suit and tie, swaying with me on a
dancefloor.

Luke humming our song.

Luke holding me in the folly.

Luke, Luke,
Luke
.

It was over. I had lost him. It was over.

But for it to end like this – all those memories sullied by
a cruel trick. No last night together. No final, sweet kiss. No goodbye to
treasure. Everything shattered in a single moment.

I loved him. I couldn’t leave him. I had to go to him, tell
him the truth.

I loved him. I had to leave him. I had to run from him, hide
the truth.

Pounding the steering wheel, I screamed until my voice gave
out. Then I slumped back in the seat and stared out, over the gate, across the
field, to the dark sea writhing beyond.

I stayed there for a long time, until the sea swallowed the
sun and the land was plunged into choking darkness. I had the sense I should be
moving, going somewhere – away from here. So I started the engine, switched on
the lights and drove robotically down the lane.

Minutes later I found myself in Luke’s street. I parked just
down from his house and switched off the engine. From here, just the top of the
house was visible above a broad tree – the roof terrace, lit with solar lights,
where we’d watched the sun set in each other’s arms, where he’d given me the
necklace hanging now around my neck, where he’d told me a hundred times in the
last few weeks that he loved me.

Get out,
my heart told me.
Go to him. Make it
right.

Drive away,
my head instructed.
Let him go.

My phone rang in my handbag. I fished it out. Cara’s name
flashed on the display. I hesitated for a moment, then pressed ‘answer’.

‘Is it true?’ she demanded. ‘You’re messing about behind my
brother’s back? With that Jude?’

‘I don’t know what to say,’ I said desperately.

‘Say “no”. Say it’s not true.’

‘I – Cara...’

‘Say it!’

I closed my eyes. ‘I can’t,’ I whispered.

She hung up.

I looked at the house once more. I ached for them both, in
there, hurting, thinking the worst of me, hating me. They were right to, though
– I had deceived them. Every day, in one way or another, since I’d come to the
cove. I wasn’t the person I pretended to be. I may not have been an adulterer,
but I was plenty else. I wasn’t decent; I wasn’t good. And they deserved so
much better. Which was why I couldn’t get out of the car now and march up to
the house and lay down another web of lies to explain away a half-naked Jude in
my bed. There was nothing right about that.

My text message alert bleeped. Cara.

If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave this
village right now and you won’t ever, EVER, come back.

I’m sorry,
I typed back.
I can’t explain, but
there’s a reason for everything, and I

I couldn’t send that. I hit the backspace key and tried
again.

Please tell him I’m sorry, and I love him, and I didn’t
mean for anyone to get hurt...

No. I blanked the screen.

On my way,
I typed finally. And then, because I
couldn’t bear not to say it:
I’m sorry.

She replied within the minute:
No more than we are for
ever meeting you.

The off switch obliterated the words on the screen. I
started the engine. And after a last, harrowing look at the house, I drove
away, through the streets, through the lanes – away from Luke, away from Cara,
away from the cottage on the cliff, away from the ocean, away from the cove,
away from everything I loved but would never see again.

I drove slowly at first with all the care of a nervous
learner driver, mindful that I was in no fit state to be behind a wheel. But
then, once I was on the motorway, with miles of black tarmac snaking ahead and
barely a car in sight, I found my foot weighing down a little more on the accelerator,
and then a little more, until the night blurred around me. I watched the hand
on the speedometer surge up with a kind of detached interest. Sixty. Seventy.
Eighty. Ninety.

At ninety-five the Mini was a rough ride – screaming engine,
juddering suspension and a steering wheel shuddering beneath my hands so
violently that I had to hold on tight to keep control.

And then a thought came to me:

Why bother? Why don’t you

just

let

go

*

I rest my hands in my lap.

The wheel jerks.

The car flies across the empty lanes.

The headlights pierce the darkness.

Trees ahead. Silver sentries, swaying in the wind.

Bumping, veering.

Branches outspread: welcome, Scarlett.

At the last second, I throw up my hands.

Agony

Blood

Flames

Black

White

Gone.

*

No!

My hands gripped the wheel as if it were a lifebelt in a
stormy ocean. My foot hit the brake. The car skidded, screeched, snaked to the
hard shoulder. Stopped.

I yanked on the handbrake. Sat back, gasping for air.

You didn’t do it,
I told myself.
You didn’t – you
didn’t let go of that wheel for a single second.

But if I had...

Jude returning to Cerulea, tortured, guilty.

Sienna living out her days abandoned to evil.

Mother breaking apart, inhumanly alone.

Luke wishing he’d never saved me to begin with.

Bile erupted from my stomach, hot and burning. I undid my
seatbelt and threw the door open and lurched out of the car. Then, on my knees
in the dirt, I vomited all over the roots of the trees that had not, after all,
killed me.

Afterwards, when there was nothing left inside to purge, I
got back in the car and wiped my face with tissues and swilled some bottled
water around my mouth. Then I checked the mirrors and pulled back out onto the
road. I drove slowly, carefully, to the only refuge open to me now.

It was gone midnight by the time I weaved up the long,
gravel drive, but still, when Hollythwaite came into view, I saw old, mullioned
windows lit with the soft glow of lamplight. I circled the wide lawn in front
of the main doors, and parked right in front of the steps. A face appeared at a
window – the front sitting room. It disappeared and I took a moment to take
some deep breaths and steel myself.

‘Calm, centred, in control,’ I muttered. ‘Mask on. Smile
wide. There’s no drama. You just fancied a visit.’

The front doors swung open, and I opened the car door and
used it to haul myself out.

‘Scarlett! Darling! What a wonderful surprise!’

She hurried down the steps, arms spread wide, to greet me. I
let go of the door and managed two faltering steps before the look on her face
– so happy – severed all the flimsy threads that had been holding my heart
together. With a single word, ‘Mum’, I fell into her arms and finally, finally,
I let the tears come.