She could hear voices coming from her father’s office, and she hesitated before going to his open door, wondering if perhaps her mother would be there, but also not wanting to disturb him if she wasn’t. Alexandra was always cautious about entering the one space in the house that was his alone—even their maid had to ask for permission before cleaning in there.
‘Alexandra? Is there something you need?’
She smiled politely at her father, going to him when he gestured for her to come closer. She smiled at the other man seated in the office, their conversation ceasing now that she was there. Her papa was usually pleased to see her, so long as she didn’t make a nuisance of herself, and so long as she didn’t ask anything of him. He seemed to prefer her to be seen and not heard.
‘I was looking for Mama,’ she said. ‘Have you seen her?’
Her father kissed the top of her head. ‘She’s out riding, I suspect.’
‘But she left hours ago,’ Alexandra said. ‘Papa, she—’
He turned from her and began speaking to the other man again, making it clear she’d been dismissed.She would never stay out riding this long. That’s what she’d been about to say to her father. Instead, she lowered her head and left the room, deciding to go and look upstairs just in case Mama was in her quarters getting changed. Her father would most likely only notice her mother’s absence when he sat down to dinner and found himself at an empty table.
Alexandra’s fingers had only just closed around the handrail of the stairs when there was a bold knock at the door. She startled, frozen to the spot as another knock sounded out within seconds of the first. No one came to open it, and so Alexandra moved towards the door, reaching for the handle and pulling it open, something she’d hardly ever done before. There was almost always someone in the house to do tasks like that.
‘Miss Konstantinidis?’
She swallowed as the two men in uniform stared back at her, seeming surprised by her appearance. She looked at the police car behind them, then back at their faces, at the way their eyes softened, the way they looked at her, as if they felt sorry for her. A knot curled deep in her stomach. Something was wrong. She should never have answered the door.
‘Is it my mother?’Is this why she isn’t home yet? Have they come to tell me why?
‘Is your father home?’ the officer asked gently. ‘We need—’
‘Please, tell me,’ she whispered, holding more tightly to the door as her legs began to quiver, threatening to give way beneath her. ‘Is it my mother? Has something happened—’
The words died in her throat as the officer who’d spoken took a step closer to her and reached to touch her arm, his palm awkward against the fabric of her dress. She saw then that his eyes were glistening with tears, and she knew. She knew in that moment that whatever it was, whatever news they’d come to deliver, had the potential to break her heart.
Her father appeared beside her then, but she held her ground instead of withering away behind him. She needed to hear what they’d come to say.
‘We’re deeply sorry for your loss, Mr Konstantinidis,’ one of the men said. ‘We’re afraid to inform you that your wife suffered fatal injuries as a result of…’
‘Loss?’ Alexandra cried. He’d saidloss. Did that mean she wasn’t coming home? She blinked away tears that had formed almost instantly, the dampness caught on her lashes, struggling to digest what the officer was trying to tell her father. ‘Has my, I mean, is my mother—’
‘My wife has died? You’ve come to tell me that my wife is no longer with us?’
‘Yes, sir. We understand that she died after falling from her horse.’
Alexandra shut her eyes then as her world began to spin; as she could no longer hear what he was saying; as her legs gave way beneath her; as she fell to the floor.
Why didn’t I say yes? Why didn’t I go with her? Why didn’t I get up when she came for me? Why wasn’t I there with her?
As arms circled her, as her father’s raised voice filled her ears, she squeezed her eyes shut and began to scream; as tears streamed down her cheeks, as her heart ached for her beautiful mother whom she would never see again.
Her papa barely saw her, hardly had time to greet her in the mornings, but her mother, her mother had been her everything. Her mother was a bright light in a room full of stuffy old men, a woman who knew exactly what she wanted from life and wasn’t afraid to demand it for herself or her daughter. Her mother had made life worth living.
Mama, I can’t survive without you. I can’t.
4
ONE MONTH LATER
Alexandra sat at the table, her hands folded in her lap as she stared at the food in front of her. A tall glass of milk sat to one side and thick pieces of bread covered in honey to the other, but she couldn’t bring herself to touch anything. She’d barely eaten since her mother had passed away, her stomach twisting and turning and making it almost impossible to swallow whenever she tried. She’d noticed that morning that her dress was hanging off her frame, as if she were a coat hanger instead of a body.
A hand touched her shoulder then, and she looked up to find their maid, Thalia, staring down at her, her face creased with worry. She’d worked in their household since Alexandra was a little girl, and Alexandra often caught her wiping away her own tears, clearly grieving for the woman of the house. It at least made Alexandra feel as if someone cared, as if someone else other than her missed the presence of her mother.
‘Alexandra, you must eat,’ she whispered, bending low beside her. ‘Please. For me?’
Alexandra glanced at her father, his newspaper raised high so that he couldn’t see her, ignoring the fact that his daughter was desperately waiting for him to turn his attention to her. He’d get up from the table and leave for the day without even noticing that his only child couldn’t bring herself to touch her food, just as he’d done every other day. It seemed as if he’d forgotten about their loss the moment her mother was in the ground, his life continuing on as normal, his daughter’s emotions an inconvenience that he largely did his best to ignore. She hadn’t even seen him shed a tear, not even when they lowered her coffin into the ground. She wondered why he was so distant, why he wasn’t grieving in the way she expected. She remembered her mother saying once that he’d never recovered from losing a son, who’d been stillborn, when Alexandra had been barely two years old.
