I dart off as the train pulls away with Zoe still at the window. I run the stairs two at a time until I’m aboveground again. It takes me less than a minute to hail a cab, and when I get inside, I tell the driver to take me to Hampton Court Palace.
Eighty pounds later, I’m back at the palace, power walking through the main entrance. It’s hard to see it now, after having seen it as I did before. But I’m a woman on a mission, even though I don’t know what my mission is.
When I pay my fee and get inside, I begin to do a fast-paced version of the tour from yesterday (or was it weeks ago?). I stride through the great hall, the watching chamber, the guard chamber, and the kitchens. Then I go to the bane of my existence, the chapel. I end up back in the no-longer-haunted gallery, and it’s empty except for a few meandering tourists.
What am I doing here? What am I even looking for? I feel more lost and confused than ever, and I know that I can’t spend my life squatting in this palace.
Rushing back here like I did is beyond mentally unhealthy. I’m never going to get the closure that I’m yearning for, and maybe I need to accept that. No matter how much it hurts. No matter how wrong it feels. Simon isn’t here. Catherine isn’t here. And I shouldn’t be here either.
I begin to make my way out of the gallery and head toward the nearest set of steps. I’m reaching into my bag to find my phone, planning to text Zoe with some excuse for running off, when I suddenly hear loud voice on the floor below me. I stop walking as I listen.
“How many times must I tell you? I don’t know what an admission ticket is, nor do I need one since I live here at the palace.” The echoing words reach me from my place at the landing and I think I’m hallucinating again.
I slowly start to descend the stairs as a much calmer voice speaks.
“Sir, you need an admission ticket if you are visiting the palace, and you are certainly not permitted to enter the premises in costume. I don’t know how you were allowed inside in the first place.”
“As I told you, I wasn’t allowed in. Ilivehere.”
I keep descending the steps, and I have to be dreaming. That’s why I’m hearing the voice that I am. It’s my own grief speaking—not Simon.
But as I carefully make my way down, the man whose back is facing me is certainly similar to Simon’s. Then there’s his broad shoulders. And his chestnut hair. Even his shirt is the same—billowing white and stained with blood. Maybe I’m having a flashback. This person is obviously jittery, beginning to walk away and then returning as he stays in conversation with the employee.
The middle-aged male rubs his eyes, appearing drained and nearing his wit’s end. “As I explained to you, sir, asallof us explained, there are no horses for us to give you nor is there a messenger for you to send.”
“And asIexplained, I am a gentleman of the king’s privy council, and if you would unlock that door there and give me access, I could prove it to you. I need to see the queen.”
I look at the door that my hallucination is trying to get to, and I immediately recognize it as being an alternate entrance that eventually leads to the queen’s audience chamber.
I keep descending the stairs, now nearing the bottom.
“If you don’t leave now, I’m going to call the authorities.” The employee notices me approaching and holds his hand up to stop me. “Miss, for your own safety, I’m going to ask that you please return upstairs and use an alternate exit.”
The man he’s talking to turns to look at me, and I fall down the last step.
Holy fucking shit!
“Simon?” I semi-shout. This isn’t happening. I know that it’s not, but...“Simon,” I say again. He turns around fully, and his startled green eyes land on mine. Searching them. He takes in the rest of my appearance, especially my red hair.
“Lily?”
I barely hear it, but I hear it.
“Are you Lily?” he asks, moving toward me.
I have a clear view of him now, and I see every familiar feature. But I still need to make sure. “What did you take me to see on our walk that you swore you never took anyone to see before?”
A hopeful smile forms on his face. “I took you to see my tree.” He hesitates as his expression then turns momentarily guarded. “What were we doing that night when we sat with Theo in the garden?”
Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.
“You were teaching me how to calm him.” I think I might be having a heart attack. “Where were we when I recommended bird watching as a hobby instead of jousting?”
“In the servants’ hall. I was there because Charlie loves a kitchen maid and he helped me with training.”
This is real.
This is real. This is real. This is real.
