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Chapter Twenty-Three
“Grandma?”
“Raven?”
“Yeah, it’s me... I need to get out of here.”
“For good?”
“No. I just need to get away. Have a break, some time...”
“I’ll send a car. Two hours. Be ready.”
Click. The line goes dead.
I breathe out a sigh of relief. I’m immensely grateful to my grandmother for not asking any questions. We may not be the closest or have the most conventional relationship, but I know I can rely on her. I replace the phone on the receiver and immediately get to packing.
I pull out my small case from the bottom of the walk-in wardrobe and lie it open on the bed. I have no idea where I’ll be going with my grandmother - only that we won’t be at home - so I pack a little of everything to cover every option. I also pack mine and Lizzie’s journals, and the flight voucher Grandma gave me for Christmas.
It doesn’t take long, and I find I still have about an hour to spare before the car comes. I spend it going back over Lizzie’s journal entries. I can’t face reading anything new at the moment; any more revelations like the last might send me over the edge. But I have an almost sick fascination with rereading her story. Even with the journal entries addressed to me, I can see there are still huge gaping holes in her story. Holes that will never be filled. Questions that I’ll never know the answers to. That’s a difficult pill to swallow and accept. Sometimes I feel like a detective scouring for clues, going over her journal with a fine-toothed comb like a CSI might comb a crime scene.
Lizzie’s rapid descent from being a bright, vivacious, perfect student with a whole world of possibilities and opportunities ahead of her, to the empty, hollow, shell of a girl I’ve come to know is...compelling. It’s awful to read, upsetting, harrowing almost. But I can’t stop myself from revisiting the pages whenever I get the chance.
Maybe it’s because we’d drifted so far apart in the last nine months that she spent at West Prep. Maybe it’s because seeing her writing on the page - despite her painful words - is a way for us to reconnect and feel close again. Perhaps I just miss her so much that I long for any form of contact with her, even if that means repeatedly reliving her suffering. I don’t know. But it’s an addiction I can’t stop.
The phone in my room rings once and stops before I can even move towards it. An hour’s passed, and the car’s here. Relieved, I slip Lizzie’s journal into my case and quickly zip it up. I have one last glance around the room to see if I’ve forgotten anything before grabbing my case and my passport and heading out to meet the sleek black town car that my grandmother’s sent. Thankfully I don’t meet any of the princes on my way out, and I’m able to stash my case in the boot and slide into the back of the cream leather interior without detection. Once the gates of West Prep are safely behind me, I’m able to sit back and relax, knowing that time, space and physical distance from the princes will help me clear my head.
***
“Raven, darling.” My grandmother stands to greet me, a vision in cream chiffon. The woman in front of me, Cordelia Deighton, is ageless, beautiful and intimidating as hell. Yet she holds out her arms to hug me and gives me an affectionate kiss on the cheek. European style, of course. “I’ve missed you. I’m glad you called and decided to join me.”
Obviously, that’s not quite how the conversation went down, but I decide not to say anything.
“Hi, Grandma,” I say, chewing my bottom lip nervously. “Thank you for having me.”
“Nonsense. I’ve been dying for you to join me since I sent you that voucher at Christmas. I’m glad you’ve cashed it in. How long do we have together?”
“Two weeks.”
She beams at me like this is the best news in the world and then indicates for me to sit opposite her, which I do. The small bistro table’s set up for two, and there’s a dainty three-tiered cake stand between us set with afternoon tea for the both of us.
“Tea?” asks a waitress that’s hovering nearby waiting to pour. I hate tea. But I feel like I should be polite. I hesitate.
“She would prefer hot chocolate, please. With cream and marshmallows. And maybe a glass of pop too, to quench your thirst Raven?”
“Erm, yeah...I mean, yes please,” I stammer out.
“Relax Raven. You have nothing to be nervous about. You don’t need to stand on ceremony with me. I want you to have a good time.”
“Thank you.” Her speech hasn’t really done anything to ease my nerves, but I know that she means well.
The problem is that from the moment the car picked me up and drove me to the private airfield - where there was a private plane waiting to take me to a private island - I’d been feeling uncomfortable. I figured my grandmother would be flying me to meet her somewhere, and I knew it would be exclusive and remote and for the insanely rich, but come on! Really? A private island? The extravagant display of wealth nauseates me.
“Are you not hungry?” Cordelia asks me, watching me closely.
“Sorry. Just tired from the journey, I guess.”
“Did you not sleep? Was it not comfortable?” She manages to sound both concerned and mildly offended at the same time.
