Shaking her head, Tania turned towards the lodge.
‘Is he here?’ Rose asked.
For a moment Tania thought she was talking about Gull, but the tautness around her lips and the fidgeting of her fingers made it clear that Rose was referring to Lysander. He might only be Tania’s half-brother, but he’d always taken a whole and complete delight in treading on the metaphorical backs of Tania’s shoes, tripping her up in so many ways through the years. He loved to stir up a bit of drama. And there was no doubt it was a classic Lysander move for him to turn up at the lodge, knowing full well who would be there. Knowing that Rose would be there, and he could pick at that scab all over again.
‘He wasn’t when I got back this afternoon,’ she said. ‘A car came for him early this morning and he muttered something about the torture of wardrobe choices for whatever shoot he’s doing. I wasn’t really listening, but I got the impression that he was going to be gone a while.’
Rose nodded. She said nothing more, but she didn’t really need to. Her whole demeanour shouted her feelings loudly enough to negate the need for any words.
Tania could feel Rose’s discomfort, but she said nothing and began to trudge towards the lodge. She couldn’t control what Lysander did any more than she could control the weather, all she could do was try to mitigate the situation until he got bored and moved on. She’d learned a long time ago that she had little– actually, make that no– control over her brother’s behaviour.
There was music playing in the living area, the bass notes audible from the boot room, the rest of it undiscernible until they’d climbed the sets of stairs. Tom stood in the kitchen, mixing something in a bowl. He looked up and nodded in greeting.
Coldplay. That was the music playing from the speakers embedded in the wooden walls. Tania looked around, her mouth going dry. ‘Where’s Clara?’ she said, swinging back towards Tom.
He gestured towards a barrel chair, turned towards the window. ‘She’s over there.’
Coldplay had been Mike’s favourite band.
Tania headed for the chair, finding Clara wrapped in one of the fur throws, her fingers tight and white around an empty glass, her expression blank, eyes open but blind to the view they were fixed on.
‘Tom?’ Tania said. ‘Will you change the music, please.’
‘Certainly. What to?’
‘Anything. Anything else.’
‘No,’ Clara said, her voice brittle as dry twigs. ‘I want this.’
Rose appeared the other side of the chair, her face creasing into a frown. ‘Maddy’s making some tea, Clara. Do you want a cup? Something to eat?’ She reached for the glass, but Clara clung on to it.
Tania looked across to where Tom and Madeleine stood on opposite sides of the kitchen counter, both wearing confused expressions. ‘Tom. Change the music. Now.’
‘Stop treating me like I’m a child.’ Standing abruptly, Clara hurled the glass against the wall, letting out a sound that was part scream, part wail. The shattered pieces glittered momentarily in the lights from the little Christmas tree before they cascaded onto the floor. She hitched another breath then turned and headed downstairs, her bedroom door slamming moments later.
Tania looked at Rose. Perhaps she had been naive to believe that she could help Clara, that something as simple as bringing her to the mountains would provide anything more than a momentary distraction from her grief. Perhaps Tania had bitten off more than she could chew this time.
Chapter 13
Clara slammed the door as hard as she could. Then she slammed her fists into the wood, squealing in pain as the cut on her hand reopened under the bandage.
They didn’t understand. Nobody understood. People told her she would get over it, that she would move forwards, that the pain would go away. That with time, her grief would lessen, and she would be able to pick up her life again.
The logical part of her brain told her that her friends were only trying to help her. People survived losing loved ones every day, and life appeared to be carrying on, regardless of whether or not she wanted it to.
But she was firm in certain respects. In ways that they didn’t seem able to understand.
She didn’twantto get over the loss, she didn’t want Mike and Poppy to fade into the background, or to avoid Mike’s favourite music. She didn’t want the pain to go away. She didn’t even deserve for that to happen. And Tania and Rose would agree with her if they knew all of it.
Somehow it made their sympathy and their concern even harder to accept. She’d never found a way to tell them the complete truth about the day of the accident. And as the months had passed, it had only become harder.
The last thing she wanted to do was to move forwards if that meant leaving Mike and Poppy behind. She wanted them to remain front and centre in her brain, for the rest of her life. She couldn’t bear the thought that they would become nothing more than shadows, names that people mentioned every now and again and then felt guilty about having done so.
Clara settled on the edge of her bed, then curled up against the pillow and pressed her mobile against her ear. Maybe she would listen to his message. Just once. She slid her damaged hand beneath the pillow and closed her eyes as she listened to his voice.
It didn’t take Madeleine long to pack up her clothes. She wasn’t quite sure what to do when Clara stormed off. Tania and Rose both looked a bit shell-shocked and Tom turned the music off completely which only added to the awkwardness of the atmosphere.
When she suggested it might be a good time to shift her stuff, Rose had agreed, albeit with a distracted smile.
