It was my turn to look away. “I didn’t intend to say it. I think, perhaps, my subconscious spoke for me.”
“Is that all right, or do you wish me to forget I heard it?” Fuck, the crack in his usually smooth tone stole my breath.
I lifted my head again, aware my vision was a little blurry, and my jaw wobbled as I answered. “I don’t want you to ever forget.”
His hug damn near broke my ribs. I returned it, utterly determined not to wet his fancy shirt with any pathetic eye leaking, but he might have noticed the way I was struggling to hold myself together. He was nice enough not to mention it, and we walked back to the cottage in a taut but companionable silence.
Dalziel took the wheel for the return journey, Eleanor looking content to let him. Sorley was hiking across country with a destination in mind that maybe the others knew, but I didn’t care to know or ask. He had a duffel bag and a cheerful grin as he waved goodbye to Baxter. I’d got a handshake, Luc a brief nod.
Baxter wrinkled her nose affectionately at us from her vantage point of the top step of the holiday cottage. “Go on then, bugger off and get buggering,” she teased. “I’m staying for a couple more nights. Going to see how the locals taste. I’ll no doubt see you around.”
“Thanks again for your technical shenanigans.” A thank you was all I had to offer. It seemed wildly inadequate, but she appeared to think it had all been an adventure, so I had to be content she was happy.
As Luc drove us back to his, I told him what Dalziel had offered, and my reply. He reached across to lay a hand on my thigh. “Thought he might,” he confided. “Eleanor said the state of him when you went missing wasn’t pretty.” He paused. “That van…”
“What about it?”
“It’s hardcore old school. It’s got half a dozen coffins in the back. It avoids any questions if they ever get stopped, even as part of a routine check. Nobody ever wants to even think of dismantling a coffin, even an empty one.”
I thought about that for a moment. “Are you saying my father, the U.K.’s most senior vampire, came hurtling down the M1 in a fuckingcoffin?”
Luc nodded, grinning. “It’s properly lined, and cosy, ish, and he has a charging point for his phone so he doesn’t die of boredom, but yeah.”
We burst out laughing at the same time. I had to hold my sides when they started to ache, and eventually, Luc pulled over so he could collapse over the steering wheel and wait for our hysterics to pass.
“Oh my god.” I wiped my eyes. “That’s absolutely priceless, and I have no one to tell.” I was hiccoughing from laughing so hard.
Back indoors, Luc held up his phone. “Dalziel. Formally extending an invite to me as your partner to stay at his until we have somewhere of our own.” He kissed me rather more thoroughly than he had in front of the others. “How soon d’you want to leave?”
I took stock of his gorgeous apartment. “You really don’t mind?”
“Charley.” He cradled my chin in one firm hand, while he held me in place with the other on my lower back. “Youare my home. Apart from taking a few photos I have in a physical album, I could walk out of here tonight and never come back. This,” He indicated the flat with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, “is stuff. So I’ll ask you again, when do you want to leave?”
I could see the truth in his topaz gaze, burning with everything he’d already given me, and the promise of so much more to come. I dropped my hand to his belt buckle. “How about we fuck non-stop for a week, and start the packing after that?”
45
CHARLEY
The hardest partabout leaving was explaining to Nita and David, and having to lie about so much. In the end, we let them believe Dalziel had offered me work as he owned a huge estate and was always looking for staff. At least that was partially true.
David was concerned my relationship with Luc had happened too quickly. There wasn’t much we could do to explain the way we felt, so I settled for promising him I wouldn’t make any rash decisions like getting married, which was the most extreme thing I could think of: no matter my heart was already Luc’s, I wasnotready for a wedding. Seemingly satisfied, David then told me he’d put £500 in my bank account. I wasn’t sure he could afford it, but he insisted, so I thanked him profusely, and mentally vowed to find a way to return it somehow.
Nita’s approach to my impending departure was to fuss over my diet, and to spend hours locked away in her cabin in the garden. I had no idea what she was doing, until the day before we left, when she presented me with a fancy cardboard box. Inside was my blue baby cardigan, wrapped in tissue paper. Underneath was the sleepsuit I’d been found in, also freshly washed and wrapped. Under both of them was an old-fashioned-looking scrapbook, wrapped in a familiar-looking, rather worn blanket. When I raised my eyebrows at it, she urged me to open it.
“Oh.”My vision blurred as I realised she’d been very busy. On the front page was the torn sheet of paper my birth mother had written my name on. The following pages contained copies of pretty much every photo of me I knew existed, and a heap more I’d never seen before. There weren’t hundreds — Nita and David had never been the record-every-second sort of parents, but it was still a substantial number. Every picture was dated, and every page had carefully-printed and stuck-on borders, and accompanying pictures that related to what was going on in the photos.
I took the book into the kitchen and set it on the table, leafing through it slowly as I slurped at a ‘juice box’ — really, Baxter’s commitment to a cause was admirable — asking questions about some of the photos. Nita was happy to reminisce, although some of her memories meant nothing to me.
I stopped at one photo. Kind of dark, and looking more like a film set than the restaurant I presumed it to be, I stabbed a finger at the figures in shot, standing rather stiffly with tiny me between them. “Don’t tell me. This is the weird couple in Rhodes who fed me the mocktails.”
Nita looked at me, eyes wide. “How did you know that?”
Because if they’re not vamps, I’ll eat an entire plate of chips.“I dunno really. Because I’m small, and I don’t remember the picture being taken?”
“You weren’t even two there. You wouldn’t remember.” She ran a finger over the image. “They really were a very strange couple, but they made our stay so much easier, it wasn’t a hardship to eat there. Anyway.” She pushed her hair out of her eyes and smiled at me. “Do you have everything packed up you want to take? You know we don’t expect you to clear out your room. This will always be your home.”
I smiled back. “Yeah, I know, on both counts.” I closed the scrapbook and stood up, sliding my arms around a surprised Nita. “Sorry I’ve been such hard work. I do appreciate you both.”
