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The orchids.
The fact she cared.
I thought I’d fallen in love with Amy Randall, but I’d only paid for Amy Randall because I was so hung up on Melissa Martin, even though she was faceless, even though she ran from me when I called.
“You didn’t need to be Amy,” I tell her. “I already wanted Melissa.”
I know my words pain her. She flinches as I say them. “Please don’t,” she whispers. “It hurts enough already. I can’t bear to think I lost it all in vain.”
But she hasn’t.
She hasn’t lost it.
As much as I want to hate her, I can’t.
As much as I want to turn my back and leave her here, I can’t.
I can’t run without her.
I don’t want to run without her.
If my father’s associates don’t put an end to me, I’ll put an end to myself.
Today, or tomorrow, or further down the line when Brutus has long breathed his last breath.
When the boys are all grown up and don’t even call anymore.
When there is only me.
She made me feel alive again, without her I’ll want to die again. It’s only a matter of time.
I’m about to say it when a cry sounds through the wall.
It jars my senses, just as it did all those years ago when my boys were so young.
“Shit,” she says. “Joseph. He has nightmares sometimes.”
“Go,” I say, but she’s already on her way.
I wander through her living room as the cries continue. I hear her singing and she has such a beautiful voice. Such a sad voice.
I wait ten minutes and the kid’s cries are still fraught.
Fifteen minutes go by and I can’t hold back. It’s instinct.
Parental instinct.
The strength of it takes me aback.
I knock on the door so gently. “Melissa?”
“Come in,” she says over his sobs.
I push the door open slowly, and there she is, rocking so gently with that sweet little thing in her arms. He looks like her. Even with his face all crumpled with tears, he looks like her.
His little nightlight glows on the nightstand, and this must have been her parents’ room. Their bed is still made up neatly. A piece of floral fabric still pokes from the wardrobe doors.
It must break her heart every day to come in here.
I know, because my boys’ bedrooms broke mine, even though I still saw them every Sunday.
I had to take them apart in the end. They’re magnolia now. Empty.
“Matthew used to get night terrors,” I tell her. “I used to point out the stars. He liked that.”
She smiles. “You did?”
I nod.
“I think he still dreams of them,” she tells me. “I do, too. It hurts so bad when I wake up and find they’re not there.”
She looks so tired. She looks fragile and willowy and lost.
I hold out my arms. “Maybe I could try?” I offer, and she bounces him on her hip before she hands him over.
“This is Alexander,” she whispers. “He’s very kind. He’s going to show you the stars. He showed me them, too.”
That little boy’s eyes are so wide as they stare into mine. My heart is thumping as I take him.
“Hi, Joseph,” I say. “I’m Alex.”
“Alex?” Melissa whispers and I nod. “I like Alex.”
So do I.
I take that little boy through to the living room and pull back the curtains. The city glows orange, but you can just about see them, the little pinpricks of white in the sky.
He forgets to cry as I point them out. His little hand grabs my finger as I gesture to the few constellations I can see.
“Stars,” I say. “They’re magic.”
I’m aware Lissa is at my back. I feel her eyes.
“Can you count them?” I ask, and he laughs at me. His laugh is the sweetest sound.
“You’re good with him,” Lissa whispers.
The triumph thrills me.
“I’ve had a lot of practice.”
“More than me,” she says. “I’m still learning.”
She’s doing a great job and I tell her so.
“Dean does most of it,” she says, and I remember he still lives here. I remember he’s coming back soon. “Time for bed now,” I say to Joseph, and he’s happy to go back to Lissa when she takes him.
I watch from the doorway as she settles him back down and sets his twinkle mobile playing.
She eases the door closed when he’s asleep.
“Thanks,” she says. “Sometimes it takes hours.”
I don’t have hours.
I don’t even have minutes.
Every breath takes me closer to disaster.
So I say it. I have to.
“Come with me,” I say. “Both of you.”
Her eyes fill with tears. “But I can’t… you said you don’t even know me, and you don’t know Joe, and what about Dean? Dean’s been so good to us, and he has nobody. His parents are assholes.”
I know that feeling.
“Then I guess we get to know each other, Lissa. You, me, Joseph. Dean, too. We’ll all go. Fresh start.”
She shakes her head, and it’s not a refusal it’s disbelief. She crumples to the floor and I head down there with her, and it feels so nice to be back in her arms.
“It’ll be scary for the first few months,” I say. “We may need to keep moving.”
“I don’t care,” she says. “We’ll go wherever you go, all of us.”
I hear the key in the front door, and kiss Lissa’s forehead before Dean comes through.
“I need to pack,” I say. “You do, too. Come over this afternoon when you’re ready. Pack as light as you can. We’ll leave from mine.”
She nods. “We’ll be there.”
And I know she will be.
I’ll be waiting.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
ALEXANDER
I CAB it back to mine with my heart in my hands.
Make or break.
Life or death.
And I’m excited.
This rollercoaster isn’t done yet.
We’ll leave under darkness, when anyone watching thinks I’m all tucked up for the evening.
I’ll organise a hire car and get it delivered before midnight, and we’ll take off for somewhere far away. Anywhere.
Maybe the coast. Brutus will like it there. So would Joseph, I’m sure.
Brutus wags his tail as I step on in. I bolt the doors up tight and get to work.
I sort through my paperwork and take the few pieces of documentation I need.
I pack my photos and the few of my gemstones that made it through my rage unscathed.
I choose my favourite suits from the sea of black in my wardrobe, and contemplate whether I’ll still be wearing them in a few months’ time.
Choosing the things from my boys’ old bedrooms takes the longest. It’s a ladder into the loft job, rooting through boxes I’d packed in a hurry. Some finger paintings, and their first teddy bears and Matthew’s reward chart that I pulled down from the kitchen door.
Two cases is all I need. My whole life packed in two cases.
The second of them is mainly filled with the contents of my safe.
My father tries to call at seven a.m. and again at eight and nine on the dot.
He leaves a voicemail at eleven, but I don’t listen.
It’s when I get a text from an unknown number that I know the rumour mill has started.
Ronald bastard Robertson.
I wish I could give him the scoop before I go. One last confession of my father’s seedy business for his tabloid.
He attempts to call me at lunchtime. Pings an email to my work address asking for a puppet master exclusive.
I ignore that, too.
There are only two things I have left to do.
Order a hire car, and wait for Melissa.
&nbs
p; I get to work ordering the hire car.
MELISSA
“WE’RE REALLY GONNA DO THIS?” Dean asks and I nod.
“We’re really doing this.”
He helps me with Joe’s things, packing them into one of Mum and Dad’s old suitcases as Joe tries to pull them back out again. It’s a slow process but a happy one.
Dean hardly has anything for himself. One single rucksack stuffed with clothes and his phone charger.
I hardly take any care with mine, just throw in the clothes fit for purpose and my crystals along with them. It’s when I get to my parents’ room that things become a bit harder.
Photos and memories. Too many to pack.
But I guess I can send for them when we’re settled.
Months, Alexander said.
