“It feels as if it’s the end of days.”
He smiles, still captivated by outside.
“I love to go outside when it’s like this. Just for a few minutes. Especially in summer when it’s so warm.”
He pushes his chair away. “Let’s do it. Let’s go outside.”
I frown at him, but stand up anyway. “It’s unconventional.”
“Who gives a shit?”
Then it’s me who’s laughing because I know this feeling only I don’t get to express it, yet he does. He can.
I lead him to the side door that takes us out of the sunroom and to the rockery that leads to the shore of the loch. The rain pelts us mercilessly as soon as we step foot outside. It’s heavy and cool and hard and within seconds I’m drenched.
Our laughter is drowned by the sound of the water and the rain, the thunder almost continuous. Isaac’s hair is soaking, water dripping down his face and his shirt is see-through already. The material of my dress clings to every curve and I wish I could kick off my shoes and head down to the loch, sink in the water and feel nothing around me apart from what is meant to be there.
“This is incredible.”
“Don’t they have storms like this in England?”
He doesn’t say anything, instead he turns away from the loch to look at the castle, its turrets bright against the blackened sky.
“No. Not like this.”
And I don’t know what he’s meaning with his words. Later, I’ll think about them. In months to come, they’ll still be with me.
A figure emerges from the door. Ben. The rain saturates him immediately but he doesn’t step back in, or come towards us.
He stands with his hands in his pockets, watching the loch or us or the lightning and we’re all quiet.
Looking at each other.
None of us knowing what to say, or maybe we do know and they simply aren’t allowed to use the words.
* * *
The rain eases and we head inside, all immediately to our different rooms. I leave a trail of water behind me, glistening along the floors towards my suite. Maybe people see me, the woman in the yellow dress whose material was moulded to her curves, but I don’t notice. Brightness is starting to filter through, as if it has won this battle.
Another day has begun and my head is clearer. The pressure has gone, somehow.
For now.
* * *
Elise sits prettily in our lounge, legs folded under her, reading a book that’s written in French. I’m almost positive she can’t actually read it; in French classes at school she was almost always needing extra help and never sat an exam in it, so she’s either had extra tuition as an adult or she’s trying to look more intelligent than she actually is.
“What’re you reading?”
She looks up and smiles softly, holding the book so I can see the title: Les Miserables. “I’m really enjoying it.”
Does it have pictures? The words are on the tip of my tongue, waiting to flow off and into her ears, but I’m not that spiteful.
“Good. I think I’ll stick with romance though. Besides, it isn’t like I’m overflowing with the real life being wooed off my feet.” I sit down next to her, almost dropping.
Elise shakes her head and puts down her book. “There isn’t even a rumour about who you might be seeing in the press.” She runs her finger through her hair. “One of the glossy magazine did an article on your previous suitors but I think they were just filling the pages.”
I’ve lived with this since I was old enough to start dating. “Was there a similar article about my brother?”
