“She can’t hurt you now,” said Nick, as if he knew and understood how I had hated my mother, without me even needing to say so. “Just a terrible dream, that’s all. You were sleepwalking.”
It was as if he knew, instinctively, how cruel she was. As if he knew how worn down I was from years of taking care of her every emotional and physical need, locked away in the Dales with no provisions or even running water. I held him tighter, digging my fingernails into his shirt.
“I sawhim, too. My father. I saw his body, bloated and...” I trailed off, unable to describe the awful scene. I hadn’t recalled this last image of him in my dreams before. Why now? It was as if mother had joined him in the afterlife and blamed me, cursed me, because even in death, she couldn’t find him. Only his silent corpse to hold in her lap.
I wiped tears from my damp face and Nick replaced every one of them with warm, light kisses against my skin. Soon I was pawing at him, my mouth seeking his, tugging down his jogging bottoms to seek the hard, reassuring length inside.
He responded with his assured desire, tearing at my nightdress.
When we lay back against the white tile, panting, he drew me into his arms. I enjoyed the notion that we’d made love in front of Louisa’s statue, cementing me as Nick’s lover, officially replacing her. Not even the memory of her,captured in white stone, could stop Nick from wanting me more.
A black lump caught my eye in my periphery. Some kind of fruit, shrivelled up on the floor. Its leathery shell was concave as the fruit flies and garden wasps devoured its flesh.
“I see them everywhere,” I said, breathlessly. “These awful rotting figs.”
Nick kissed the crown of my head, turning his gaze to where I saw the black lump of mouldy flesh.
“It was a bad choice of location. They hadn’t a hope in hell of thriving in here,” he murmured, his hand massaging one of my small breasts until my nipple budded. “The disease is in the soil, then it’s carried on the flies, the beetles. The microorganisms infect the fruit before it even begins to bud, and when it does, it’s too late. It’s the growing environment that ruins them.”
I looked at the ruined fruit and felt almost sorry for it.
“They were rotten from the start,” I said, observing it from the safety of his arms.
A powerful urge built up in me, thinking about the rot. I wondered, in that moment, if I should tell him all the things about me that he didn’t know. But first, I wanted to learn things from him.
“Tell me your biggest regret, Nick. No, not regret...tell me your biggest secret. Your deepest, darkest secret. And I’ll tell you mine,” I said in a hushed, fearful tone.
His embrace around me tightened, his limbs stiff. He held his breath again untilhe spoke.
“Oh, Grace...I couldn’t possibly begin.”
“Just something. Anything.” I pressed, turning my face into his neck. I could feel his jugular pulsing against my skin. “Please. And I’ll tell you mine.”
He swallowed hard.
“All right,” he began, his voice deep and reluctant. “When the fire ripped through the house, taking everyone I loved with it...there was one person I didn’t miss.”
I held my breath, clinging to him.
“Who?”
“My brother, Alexander.”
He waited a moment. The pause seemed to last an eternity. I wondered if I should confess that I knew some of his story, but I resisted.
“Please go on, Nick.”
He let out a long breath.
“He was my cousin, really. I was his adopted brother, taken in after my biological mother – his aunt – died. Alexander liked to remind me of that fact while we were growing up. He liked to remind me that I didn’t belong, that he didn’t love me. Hated me, in fact, right up until he died, and I hated him too. People thought I doted on him, looked up to him, and I suppose I did once. But on that night, when I saw the extent of the fire...a part of me was pleased to have no option but to retreat. It prevented me from saving him, though I would have, if I could. It would have been the right thing to do. But I couldn’t...and I was glad.”
I shivered against his chest. I understood his feelings. I recognised them.
“Why?” I asked. I needed to know just how viciousAlexander was to make Nick glad that he couldn’t save him. That he couldn’t even mourn him once it was over.
“He was as close to the definition of evil as I have ever seen,” said Nick, in a flat voice as if it were simply an unpleasant fact, but a fact nonetheless. “He was perverse. He inflicted me with nightmares, with shame, humiliation – ”
And here, I recognised his feelings even more.
