His jaw clenched again and a flash of frustration crossed his face. When he spoke again, it was clear he was trying to still be gentle, but it was through gritted teeth.
“You are living here now. And IlikeZach. I’m coming to his open evening. I’ve already researched A-level options.”
I blinked at him. “You’ve what?”
“His A-level options, Clara,” he said in a patient tone. “You know he doesn’t have to be restricted to only thesciences just because he wants to study veterinary medicine. He could still take English literature. It’s not completely out of the question. I mean, there are lots of unis that––”
“You’ve researched Zach’s A-level options?” I asked in shock.
It was clear at this point that Rafe had had enough. He closed the distance between us to spin me on my stool to face him, his hands landing on either side of the arms of my stool, boxing me in.
“Pops,” he called, keeping eye contact with me. “Take Ozzie into the sitting room to start his reading. Zach, get your stuff together, mate, and meet us by the door, yeah? Martha, thank you for tonight, but you can go.”
As was the way when Rafe issued a command, everyone did his bidding until it was just the two of us.
“Clara,” he said softly, leaning closer now. So close I could smell his expensive aftershave and the clean, manly scent of pure Rafe. So close I could see the flecks of green in his blue eyes. “I’m going slowly. I’ll go at your pace for as long as it takes. I’m not going to push you, baby. But when it comes to Zach, you have got to let me help. It’s too important for him to choose the right options at this stage. I can’t let you stand in the way of that. I know you’re not sure of me, and you’ve damn good reason to doubt me. I completely understand your reticence. But his future has to be decidednow,and I’m here to help. You and Zach are going to be in my life. I know you don’t believe that. I know it’s going to take time for you to accept that. But you have to get with the programme today. Because, baby, this is happening now.”
“O-okay,” I whispered, still in shock from his calling me baby. Twice.
He huffed out a sigh of relief and then reachedup to my face very slowly. When I managed to not flinch, he smiled, his teeth white against his tanned skin and stubble.
“Okay,” he whispered back before brushing his lips against mine in the barest hint of a kiss. Before I could react to that shocking development, he pulled back and looked down at me with a satisfied expression. “Now eat your bloody sandwich.”
Chapter 37
Closure
Rafe
“Your older brother’sasked to see you,” I told her, watching her face carefully to gauge her reaction. The blankness was gradually receding, but the fear in her eyes was always evident.
It was the day after the sixth form open evening, which had gone surprisingly well. To be honest, I was glad of the open evening as an excuse to get Clara out of the house for once. She had retreated too much into herself over the last two weeks since her discharge from hospital, and I was starting to worry.
It helped that her brother, Poppy and Ozzie were all here to coax her out of herself, but I could tell that she really wasn’t with it. Her clothes were often on the wrong way round. She only wore leggings and huge jumpers, all in her standard black or grey and she hid under her fringe, which was long overdue a cut.
I became almost desperate to see her pretty eyes. Sometimes I even gave in to the urge to gently push her hair backfrom her face, just to look into them. Other times, I even risked a light kiss. And when I did, often I’d see a flash of Clara through the blankness. A spark of recognition. Then she’d settle back into the nothingness.
I gave her space, but didn’t let her retreat completely. If we all watched a film together in the evening, I’d make sure she sat next to me on the sofa and would pull her into my side.
The first time I did it, she stiffened for a moment, but I muttered, “Settle,” into her hair and kept my arms tight around her and eventually she melted into me. Within a few minutes she’d fallen asleep, and I gently took off her glasses. I didn’t think she got much sleep otherwise, so at the end of the film I made everyone, including Ozzie, be very quiet so they wouldn’t wake her, and I arranged us so that I was lying on the sofa and Clara was sleeping alongside me.
I didn’t sleep much myself that night. Instead, I watched the peaceful expression on Clara’s face, so at odds with the troubled one she wore in the daytime.
When we’d arrived at the open evening yesterday, it was clear Zach’s teachers all knew Clara well. Even though Zach had mentioned that Clara was the one who went to his parent-teacher conferences, it still took me by surprise. But then I’d come to understand that Marie Mason had tapped out of parenting in any real way when Zach was small. How Clara and Zach weren’t totally fucked up was a minor miracle.
Zach had started counselling already, but whilst Clara would agree to me organising and paying for her brother, she was still resistant to me doing the same for her, which was frustrating me no end. With her level of PTSD, there was no other choice but to seek professional help. I’d already found the perfect psychologist on Harley Street, butso far Clara had completely refused. She was still talking about paying me back for that bloody hospital room, for God’s sake.
“Which brother?” she whispered, and I cursed myself for being such a complete dickhead.
“Ruben,” I reassured her. “If Freddie wanted to talk to you, I wouldn’t have even brought it up.”
She’d confided in me about her brothers, her father, and her childhood. If I could beat the shit out of Frank Mason again, I would have. As for the brothers, Freddie was clearly cut from the same cloth as Frank, but Ruben, although violent and enmeshed in the Mason criminal activities, seemed to be surprisingly protective when it came to Clara and Zach.
“What does he want?” she asked. She was sitting huddled in a small ball on the sofa. Her troubled eyes blinked up at me from behind her glasses. I glanced at the pot of Branston Pickle that was on the coffee table and I almost smiled. This was a good sign. Eating Branston Pickle straight out of the jar in my living room while she watched mindless telly was a damn good sign.
There were a few days when I checked on Clara in her room, and she was just staring out of the window at nothing. I’d had to remind her to eat and I wasn’t sure how much she was sleeping. She flinched at every loud noise and still always seemed like she was trying to hide in plain sight, although today there was something different about her. I tilted my head to the side as I realised that she was wearing a pink T-shirt.
I didn’t think I’d ever seen Clara in anything but dark colours. But I knew that Poppy had brought a load of clothes over the other day for Clara. She claimed her wardrobe “needed a clear out” and that she just “couldn’t bebothered to lug these old things to the charity shop”. I knew my sister, and a lot of that stuff still had labels on. She picked out all that stuff for Clara specifically. If there’s one thing Poppy was competent at, it was shopping. And Clara did need more clothes here. She was still refusing to move anything out of her flat, other than George the goldfish, who’d stayed here throughout all the drama, diligently cared for by Ozzie.
