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Chapter 2
CHRISTY
“We’ll be back late tonight, Christy. Don’t wait up,” my aunt says a few days later as I sit at the kitchen table. She wraps her arms around me and presses a kiss to my cheek, her signature scent of Coco Chanel washing over me. “You look pretty, are you going out too?”
I shake my head, unravelling from her hold and avoiding eye contact with her, as I grab my empty dishes from the table and place them in the sink. I’m afraid if she looks too closely she’ll see the truth I’m trying to hide, that I won’t be here when they get home. “No, I was just experimenting with some new makeup. This foundation has better coverage. I’m actually planning on having an early night.”
“You should go out more often. Be social, make friends. A wonderful woman like you shouldn’t hide themself away.”
“I’m not hiding. I go to work,” I reply, plastering a smile on my face before turning back around to face her.
“That’s true, and whilst it’s wonderful you’ve found a great job at the hospice, that isn’t what I meant. You need to be around people your own age instead of us old timers and those poor people waiting to die.”
“I dance. I read. I’m happy, Sandy. Honestly.”
“You dance in the studio Frank built you at the bottom of the garden rather than go to the one in town where you could meet like-minded people. You live vicariously through those books you read. You spend your days with the sick and dying, forming relationships with people who have little time left in this world. You’re avoidinglife.”
“No, I’m not. I’m happy, and I just haven’t found anyone I click with all that well.”
She frowns, worry creasing her brow. “You won’t find anyone to click with if you don’t actually socialise more. You need to get out there, Christy.”
“Idoleave the house. I'm going to work every day.”
“Christy—”
She’s about to push the point further, but I shake my head. “Let’s not get into a discussion about this tonight. I want you to stop worrying about me. Whatever happens to me in the future is my concern. I love that you care, I really do, but things are different for me. You know that as well as I do...”
My voice trails off as I reel myself in. I’m not just talking about my birthmark and the scars on my back, I’m talking about my ability to see into the future. All day long I’ve been debating whether to say something to her, knowing that tonight is the night The Masks will come for me, and every time I come close I shut the thought down because I know, like Grim, she would somehow try to change the course of fate and put herself in danger.
“Okay, I’ll back off, but I do believe that there is someone out there for you, Christy. How could there not be?”
I give her a smile, hiding my feelings beneath the mask I wear daily. “Actually, I have it on good authority that Henry Cavill is going to be my future husband,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.
My aunt claps her hands together, her face lighting up with glee. “Oh, really? How wonderful! Do I know him? I don’t recognise the name.”
“Oh my God. I was joking, Henry Cavill is amoviestar.”
Sandy chuckles. “Don’t joke, you know I’m getting old and my poor heart can’t take it.”
“I’m sorry,” I reply, meaning it. I’m sorry for lying to her, for what’s about to happen and all the worry it will cause.
“Frank and I have been looking forward to this evening for such a long time,” she continues on, waving away my apology, oblivious to the internal war raging within me.
“You and Frank deserve a night out,” I say, feeling a rush of love for this woman who’s been like a mother to me ever since she took me in after the fire, nursing me back to health both physically and emotionally.
“Thank you, darling. Now, tell me the truth. Do youreallythink I look okay? It’s been a while since I’ve worn a dress this short. I could change.” She smooths her hands over her purple chiffon dress that floats gently around her knees.
“Seriously, you look beautiful. You’ll have all the men at Frank’s golf club wanting a dance with you.”
“Not a chance,” Uncle Frank says, stepping into the kitchen in his black suit and shiny black shoes. At sixty-five, he’s a handsome man with salt and pepper hair and bright blue eyes that twinkle with mischief. He winks at me, straightening his tie as he enters. “I’m not sharing Sandy with any-damn-one. She’smylady.”
“Stop it, Frank. You’re making me blush,” my aunt replies, her cheeks pinking up as he strides over to her and pulls her in for a hug. They hold onto one another, their love warm and affectionate. Since I came to live with them I don’t think I’ve ever heard them argue, not once, and as I watch them hug, the ache in my heart grows with every passing second. By the time they pull apart, I’ve got my emotions under control enough to say goodbye.
“Have a wonderful time tonight,” I say, hugging Frank a little tighter than normal and planting a kiss on his smoothly shaven cheek.
“We will, Christy,” he replies, before stepping aside so Sandy can give me a hug too. I wrap my arms around her slim frame, breathing in her familiar scent and committing it to memory.
“I love you,” I whisper.
