I feel heavy. Weighted down but utterly content.
My body is warm and at peace.
Peace.
That word doesn’t sound right. Something happened, which means I shouldn’t feel that at all. The opposite, in fact.
My eyes open, and I see daylight cracking in through the gap in the curtains. And just like the pale sun encroaching, so do the memories. In fact, they flood back, decimating any sense of peace I had.
It’s been weeks since I had a good night’s sleep. Days and days of running on adrenaline and fear must have finally caught up with me and knocked me out, but I pull myself up in bed.
Noah’s going to be okay.
Lewis is dead.
Tallington is safe again.
They're three facts that might have also played a part in my newfound sleep. I reach over to my phone to call the hospital for an update but hesitate. What am I to Noah? Will he want to hear from me?
I think about how sure I used to be about my world – decisive, simple decisions made with little fuss– and now that’s upside down. Questions about everything plague my mind. Maybe because I know how much I have to lose now if I make the wrong one.
The house is quiet by the time I get downstairs. Eerily quiet. I wander my way into the kitchen to make a cup of tea, avoiding the cordoned off area that still bars the east wing. There’s no Betty or Derek fussing about, which makes everything feel off. It’s not the usual Tallington, but then, will it ever be again?
Ivy walks in as I’m pouring the hot water. She stops, assesses me, and then continues on her errand.
“There’s hot water still.”
“I got it,” she bites back as she slams the cupboard where the mugs are kept shut. The hostility rolls off her in waves. I hoped she might see things differently now she knows what happened, but maybe not.
“Look, Ivy,” I start, not wanting there to be anything between us. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.” My apology is sincere and honest, but other than that, I really don’t know what else to say. Everything is out in the open. Everyone heard Lewis, watched it play out. I know how I messed up and that it is still my fault, and that’s something I’m never going to be able to change. It’s my guilt to carry for the rest of my life.
“You can’t say anything, Neve. It’s done. Thankfully everyone’s safe.”
“Is that all you’re going to say to me?”
She finishes fixing herself a mug of coffee. “Be glad I don’t say more.” The spoon clatters on the marble worktop, and she goes to walk out again.
“Hey, wait.” I grab her arm to stop her.
She snatches it back. “Don’t touch me.”
“What should I have done, Ivy? Tell me how you would have solved this and magically fixed the problem. Isn’t that your skill? Getting out of impossible situations – dangerous situations – unscathed?” My tone is harsher than I intend, but I'm not going to let her be so judgemental to me after knowing everything that’s happened. I just want to clear the air – I need her to understand.
“You could have asked for help,” she snaps. “You should have asked for help. But you decided to go it alone like you always do.”
“He threatened me, Ivy. I was scared.”
“And he threatened me, too. Funnily enough, it was me that ended up in the hospital after being kidnapped. Blake, who got his head caved in. And what did I do? I talked to the family. Tried to make sense of it and find solutions.” The coffee cup she's holding gets put down on the table loudly. “I knew something was off when we went for that drink, but I put it down to you just being you.”
“I was scared,” I repeat, not sure what other defence I can say. Being in that situation, I didn’t know what to do for the best. And I was in too deep before I knew it.
“We could have helped you, Neve, if you'd asked. You should have come to us. And now I have to live with the vision of you with Daddy’s blood all over your hands as if you killed him.”
I grit my teeth together. I did all of this to prove my innocence, yet still, it seems like she sees me as the guilty one. “I didn’t kill him, Ivy.”
She looks at me, holding my stare as my eyes prick with tears, and then starts turning away again. I’d assumed that once everyone knew the story and I could prove what happened, they’d all believe me.
Maybe I was naive about that, too.
