Mum had been having an affair with Phin’s dad for one year before their mother had found out apparently, according to the stories. I don’t remember ever noticing any of them arguing orMum spending alone time with Mr Claythorne, but I was only five when she died. So was Phin, Lil seven and Corbin eleven. Heartbroken, their mother jumped out of a third story window. She had died on impact, with a lot of alcohol in her system. I didn’t know if I was too young to remember or my brain was protecting myself from traumatic memories, but the story goes that Mum and I had promptly moved in, but whilst we were all asleep, Mr Claythorne slipped her a fatal dose of crushed up pills, and she didn’t wake up. The next morning after calling the police, he was arrested and immediately became the main suspect; later receiving life in prison for her murder.
That’s how the four of us found ourselves parentless. I'd never know who my own father was and still at twenty five, was left in the dark where his identity was concerned. Over the years I had considered if I had been conceived from our parents affair, but I shared no similar traits, what-so-ever. My mum had been an ethereal flame, wispy blonde hair just as pale as Phins, but their father was also fair haired. Everything about me was dark; lightly tanned skin, dark brown hair and I was five foot max on a good day, with boots on.
My aunties had raised me, but found caring for me in Manchester challenging. They worked a lot, so I found myself consistently being looked after by Phin’s Grandmother back in London. I loved her like she was my own, and in between boarding school, I spent most summers with her until I became a teenager. I’ve kind of spent my entire life feeling like a charity case. The only person that ever made me feel like myself was Phin, but we relied so heavily on each other to feel ok.
Whispering trees swaying with the warm breeze is all I can focus on, instead of the blood rushing in my ears. I'd stuffed my feelings over Mum back into its cage for next year's doom day, but tears threaten to rip me apart nonetheless. I know it's not healthy, but how else would I be able to function if I just allowedmyself to miss her every day? How would anything get done if all I thought about was how much it fucking hurt to miss her, every damn day?
My mouth wants to form some sort of a response but my brain isn't connecting, the champagne flute starting to vibrate between my fingers. Comments like this have happened all our lives. The moment someone figures out whose children we are, it’s always endless questions or vile comments about our parents. Slowly my lips part, but it's not my voice that breaks the silence amongst everyone.
“Anyway, are we going to start this game, mate? How do we win the first clue?” Wren's tone is flat, he probably doesn’t want to participate, but wants to move the conversation on, flatly ignoring Willow's attempt to create chaos. I noticed the space he's put between them, physically turning away from her, his long legs crossed so that she can’t touch him again.
Standing, my best friend clapped his hands together, rubbing them as a manic smile spread across his face. His glittery nail polish catches the sun and sparkles, making me smile because I knew small treats like getting his nails done made him so happy. “This is the fun part! An object has been hidden in the house somewhere. The first team to find it wins the first clue,” fishing in his pocket for his phone, he quickly taps the screen a couple of times and then turns it to the group, showing a photo of what looks like a bird ornament. “Take a good look at it. When a team finds the Nightingale, they’ll play rock, paper, scissors for the winner. Get in pairs!” The phone makes its round as everyone studies the picture. Taking the phone myself, I zoom in on the bird. It's smooth stone, with flecks of iridescent blue scattered all over it like it was flicked with a paint brush.
“This could be anywhere. Do we not get a hint at where it could be?” I can’t help but pout, but he just smirks at me becausehe knows that's not going to stop us from winning. We're both stubborn and competitive.
“Nope, I have no idea where it is. Everyone better start looking, because the game begins now!” Before I can even pass the phone on, he pushes his own boyfriend out of the way and dives for me, pulling me up out of my chair in one swoop. “As host I pick first! Robin, take that bloody cardigan off, we're gonna get a sweat on!” I’m fumbling out of my extra layer as we hit the patio steps, setting off into a run to the gardens as everyone starts to rise from the table. I can't help the cackle that bubbles from my throat.
“This is madness. Why are we indulging Holmes and fucking Watson?” I hear Cardinal ask in disbelief and Merle's low, short chuckle.
“It's best to just leave them to it. They'll probably start fighting each other when they find it. It's best to stay out of the way.” I look once over my shoulder and see the guests disperse, both men turning towards the house, but Wren is still standing on the patio, looking up at one of the bedroom windows.
BEADS of sweat shine all over my skin as I burst through the heavy door to the library, before slamming my back against it. My breathing comes out in sharp exhales; we’ve been searching for the Nightingale for what seems like hours. Phin and I finally decided to split up after our fourth failed attempt at finding its hiding spot. I really thought it was part of the birdcage statue I saw on the fountain out front, but none of the birds bore the iridescent paint. That’s why after fleeing onto the lawn, I hadtorn down to the woodland's edge, taking the path around the side of the house, which brings you out just where the new herb garden sits beside the kitchen. In short pants I’d explained my theory and he’d sprinted off ahead surprisingly fast. He’d never done a spit of exercise in his life, so I wasn’t sure how all of a sudden he was breathing evenly through his long strides.
Disappointment filled me when I’d reached the fountain, Phin confirming the bird wasn’t there. We went on to check three other places outside of the house, before deciding on going inside to split up and cover more ground. I had a suspicion that if it wasn’t a garden ornament, it might be a paper weight, so he directed me to the library, before running up the stairs to check the office. I’m glad he took the latter, because that’s where his brother said he was hiding.
The library was a book lover's wet dream. If a live action Beauty and the Beast was set in a modest manor and not a castle, this was where the heroine would be found. Curled up in one of the wingback armchairs, the worn leather looks so inviting with soft cushions. Painted glass catches my attention as I take in the number of Tiffany lamps placed upon small side tables, making each nook to sit in look cosy and inviting. Skimming over the thick, wooden desk at the far end of the room by the windows, I take a step away from the door, only to get a better look at two walls filled to the ceiling with books. Against the emerald paint, each novel stands out like it’s begging to be touched. If I could, I’d sit here all day, falling in love with each story, diving into their world and not coming up for air. Books have always been my greatest escape, authors finding the words I could not, right when I needed them. That's what inspired me to be an author. The way I could go back to my dorm room after a shitty day and no longer feel alone the moment I started to read. I wanted my stories to be that escapism for someone else.
Each little table is bare, already feeling another wave of disappointment as I see the engraved wooden desk is also free of objects. The desk is a Victorian style piece, with a number of drawers on each side, so I kneel down, pulling open each one to be met with nothing. The bird could still be a paper weight, it’s clearly just not in this room.
Sitting back on my heels with a sigh, I wipe at the remaining sweat from above my eyebrow with the tips of my fingers. So gross.
Instead of standing, I pull out my phone, trying to not think too much into it when I automatically open my favourite social media app and type in Wren’s name. I’m met with an empty grey screen because of course, there’s zero signal out here. I could have an inbox full of emails from my agent, but amongst the anxiety I feel, there’s a peace of getting at least a couple of days undisturbed. I exit the app and instead pull up Phin's contact, scrolling through our typical check in messages which have always been pretty constant. I find the photographs he sent me of his trip, lingering for only a moment over a photo of Wren, before opening it.
He’s wearing a white t-shirt which is such a contrast to his tattoos and dark curls. His eyes look jet black as he stares into the camera, a smirk tugging at his lips as his tongue sticks out a little to the side. He’s holding a bottle of water and I can see sandy dunes in the background, and white beach cottages. The last place I thought they’d have run off to was a small beach town in Cornwall, I’d expected a party villa to end the summer in Europe, or something. Granted, I didn’t know him at all, but if there wasn’t a new story online of his latest conquest or lavish party that got out of hand, Lily had no problem gossiping about what she knew. I hated it all, that entire lifestyle.
I’m intensely staring at his face through my phone screen when I hear two voices, the library door swinging open andforcing me out of my trance. For reasons unknown to me, I duck below the desk, clutching my phone to my chest as I squeeze under the framework. For a brief panicking moment I hope to god it’s not Corbin.
“Wrenny, I don’t know why you’re being like this. I can’t understand what I’ve done wrong if you won’t talk to me.” Willows whines. I peek out slightly from my hiding place to see his tall frame stride into the room, his focus in front of him and his jaw set tight. Still in her high heels, she shuffles along after him, tripping slightly on the edge of a rug. Before she can tumble, she throws herself down in an armchair, whining his name again.
With his arms painfully straight by his sides, he pauses, tilting his head to the ceiling which causes wild curls to fall back from his face. “What fresh hell have I woken up in Wil, where you think I really want to talk to you? After everything?”
“Ugh, don’t call me that. You sound likeher.” She spits, her eyes burning a hole into the back of his head as he still looks up at the ceiling. I know she’s referring to me, she hates her name being shortened, which is why Phin and I do it.
“I don’t know what your problem is with Robin, but I think you just need to lay off her. It’s not the weekend to be pulling your usual shit, we’re here to support my friends.”
“Of course I want to support our friends. I just want to be civil.”
“Do you even know Corbin? Is there a reason he’s invited you?” I shuffle myself to watch him finally turn around to face her. He takes a couple steps back till he’s against one of the tall window frames, his elbow resting as he raises a dark brow. From this position in the room, he would be able to see me if I made the slightest slip. “He invited everyone here this weekend, so why are you on the guest list?” There’s no affection in his tone,or else I would have assumed he cared a little. Rising from the armchair, she pushes her thick curls from her face.
“I’ve met him a couple of times with Lily, but I just assumed she asked him to invite me. He always asks me about you, but maybe he knows I’m a good time.” She crosses the space between them and he doesn’t move a muscle, his jaw continuing to work like he’s grinding his teeth together.So she really does have that effect on everyone.As she gets closer to him her palm rises, long fingers aiming for his chin but he deflects at the last minute by completely moving. He walks over to the floor to ceiling bookcases.
“What did he ask you about?”
“Just our relationship. What we got up to, the last time we saw each other. I don’t know, that sort of thing.”
“Why would he be asking you anything like that? We were never in a relationship. We never even dated.”
She scoffs. “We never dated? You weren’t saying that when you gave me your hotel room card.” A blush creeps onto my cheeks as I die inside.God please do not start airing out your sex life here.
