The Flow Page 9

  Sofia issued a small laugh. Somehow, it felt good to talk about Danny. “Climb it? What do you mean, climb it? With ropes and everything?”

  “No,” he said, chortling. “I guess he meant a hike. But he wouldn’t shut up about it!”

  “Sounds like Danny, all right. So did you go in the end?”

  “Of course not! I can barely walk in this heat, let alone march uphill like that. The bloke’s totally bonkers,” he said, shaking his head.

  Sofia gave a wistful little smile and looked away from her mountain, resting her eyes on the deep blue, far out in the distance. There, the sun, all the more weakening in strength, was slowly descending to bury itself under the wash for an overnight rest.

  “Are you still seeing each other?” she asked after a while, her eyes still glued to the sparkling horizon.

  “Not as much as before; mostly phoning. But he’s doing well, if that’s what you ask.”

  “Glad to know he’s all right.”

  “What happened, Sofia?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Loula said you guys don’t write any more.”

  “Oh . . . what does it matter? It’s history now, anyway.” What was she going to say? She was ashamed about that last letter she’d sent Danny. She didn’t dare tell Steve about it. So instead, she threw him a quick glance and then stared down at their feet that splashed in the water in unison. It was a painful thing to do, for the wrong feet were in the water beside hers now.

  She winced and gave an exasperated sigh. It now felt unbearable to be here, doing this. “Shall we get back to our mats? My feet have gone all wrinkly,” she said with a faint smile, trying to make a joke of things that stabbed at her heart like a knife.

  “Sure.” Steve jolted upright and followed her without another word, a deep frown spreading across his face. Damn my big mouth!

  Chapter 14

  1938

  Once Charles told Laura all he had to say, he put her in the car without further ado, issuing a curt instruction to James to drive her home. Although the kindly chauffeur was in his usual breezy spirits behind the wheel, Laura didn’t utter a single word throughout the ride.

  Being astute as always, James noticed she seemed out of sorts but didn’t try to make conversation, and for that, Laura felt thankful. With Charles’s threats twirling in her mind throughout the ride, by the time she returned home, she’d been reduced to a mere shadow of her normal self.

  When she walked through the front door, she found Maggie with a cup of tea in hand, about to retreat to the living room. Upon seeing the desolate expression on her friend’s face, Maggie became so startled that she nearly spilled the hot liquid onto the carpet. With nervous hands, she managed to set her cup down safely on the counter.

  “What is it, Laura? Are you all right? You look ill!” She rushed to her to place a cool hand on her forehead and a reassuring arm around her back.

  Laura’s face was ashen, her eyes rimmed red and puffy, her lips chapped and lifeless, her hair falling damp and tangled on her hunched, defeated shoulders. She could hear her friend’s pleas to speak, yet, she could not find any words to oblige her. She felt weak under the burden of the task bestowed upon her, and her knees buckled.

  Drawing a sharp breath, Maggie held her up with effort, fearing the worst, thinking her friend would faint any second now.

  Laura turned to Maggie then with empty eyes; it was as if she didn’t even know where she was at the time, let alone whom she was facing. She looked like an apparition that had just gained material form, despite being lost to this world.

  After a few silent moments that Maggie spent in sheer panic, recognition seemed to flicker in Laura’s eyes and finally, in a big wail, hot tears started to flow freely from her eyes. Her angst and her dread escaped from her heart in violent sobs, the muscles around her mouth and on her chin twitching as she tried to speak, but still, no words would come out.

  Overwhelmed with worry, Maggie embraced her and led her to the living room so that Laura could rest in the armchair. She found a blanket and put it over her, then rushed to the kitchen to fetch her a glass of water.

  “What is it, sweetheart? Please tell me!” she begged her as soon as Laura had had a few sips.

  So Laura told her. And the horror that she expressed became dark shadows on Maggie’s face, angry outbursts, and then tears, tears that they cried together. Maggie held her as Laura cried and promised her that somehow, it would all be all right.

  When they calmed down a little, Maggie retreated to the kitchen to put the kettle on again. A nice cup of tea is the first thing one resorts to in times of despair. It is a tiny pearl of comfort in an abyss of murky depths. The two friends had their tea in silence. Laura was still upset and Maggie soothed her. Only after she totally calmed down, they started to speak again, to try to think clearly and to decide on the best course of action.

  They knew they stood no chance with the police; that monster was capable to drag Laura’s name through the mud, and no one would ever believe her. The rape had to go unpunished. But what about Christian? Could Laura keep seeing him in the hope that Charles was only bluffing? Maggie had to agree with Laura that someone capable of all this would not stop at threats. He was clearly demented and likely to turn warnings into action without the slightest capability of remorse.

  Yet, what he expected her to do was unthinkable. What was she to say to Christian? That she fell out of love overnight? That she suddenly decided to be with Charles instead? It sounded insane, impossible, but somehow she had to do it. She had no choice but to let Christian go. It was the only way to protect him. The best thing would be to take advantage of his temper, his insecurity. She’d have to instigate a fight . . . the very last one. She’d have to express a renewed fondness for Charles, and she’d have to be convincing.

  ***

  Laura found it impossible all morning to go to the nearest telephone box and dial the number in Christian’s building. She sent Maggie to call him instead and say Laura couldn’t meet him that morning because she had returned late at night and was still sleeping. Still, in the late afternoon, Laura knew she’d run out of excuses. There was no point in putting off the inevitable any more.

  “Hello?” Christian’s voice on the telephone sounded tender, even more so than normal. It reached Laura’s ears like a balsam to her soul.

  “Hello, my darling,” she said, trying to sound chirpy.

  He chuckled. “Laura, my love! You’ve been sleeping all day, I expect.”

  “Yes . . . it was a long night.” She tried to let out another happy sound, but it came out more like a groan.

  “That bad, huh? I bet all them aristocrats are dead boring.” He laughed. “Now tell me, how was Willard with you? Everything all right?”

  “Yes, all fine with Charles, of course,” she lied squeezing her eyes shut. This was a nightmare. She hadn’t even started lying about the big things yet, and already, her insides felt like they were on fire.

  “You sound well out of sorts! Come over and I’ll give you some ‘Christian’ love,” he whispered seductively down the line.

  “Erm, that would be lovely, darling, but maybe tomorrow.” She swallowed hard and let out a laboured sigh. “I’m still a bit below par. I’d rather not leave the house today if you don’t mind. I just want to curl up on the sofa with a book.”

  “I’ll come over then!” he said breezily. “Just to see you for a while, I’ve missed you so.”

  “All right,” she conceded before she could stop herself. She needed to see him too, but what was she going to say? How was she going to behave around him? She had no idea.

  She hung up the telephone and rushed home to tell Maggie.

  “He’s coming over now,” said Laura, her face drawn. There was apprehension there but also anticipation. She didn’t know what to do with herself. Smile or weep? Both were apt in the situation. She knew only one thing for certain: she’d have to go ahead and do what Charles demanded before she went insan
e. The wait alone until Christian finally turned up felt like torture.

  ***

  “Hello, my love,” he said throwing his arms around Laura when she opened the door. She let herself sink into his arms, and she returned his passionate kiss with equal fervour. Smiling at him fondly, she led him to the living room. Jazz music was playing on the wireless, and she turned the volume way down before sitting beside him on the sofa.

  “Where’s Mags?” he asked when he settled with an arm around his girl.

  “Oh, she felt like having an early night.” Laura tried to sound cheerful and secretly felt grateful to Maggie for her tactfulness to give them total privacy. She had volunteered to retire to her room early with a good book and her evening tea on a tray.

  “Seeing that we’re all alone then . . .” He turned to kiss her, putting his arms around her, his fingers fumbling with her top, seeking to touch her skin and hold her against him. She kissed him just as passionately without fighting back her longing, but she knew well that she had to cut this short. This wasn’t a night for love-making. It would shatter her heart to do that, knowing what was to follow.

  “Can we not do this tonight?” she asked when their lips parted. She ran the back of two fingers down his cheek, and he gazed back at her with so much tenderness then that she felt lost in his big blue eyes. At times they became a sea so warm, so nurturing, that staring into them felt perfectly safe, like being back in the womb.

  “Tired, my darling?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so,” she lied, and then he leaned towards her again, this time to kiss her forehead.

  “I love you sweetheart . . .” he said squeezing her against him. She wrapped her arms around him and, closing her eyes, planted a kiss on his neck, breathing in deeply the scent of his skin. She knew this would soon be a distant memory, and she felt reluctant to break away from his arms just yet. She wished time would stop right then, with her holding him like this, forever. But alas, she had to lose him in the next few seconds, only because she loved him way more than she could ever love herself.

  “Let’s talk then,” he said with a sigh, oblivious to her inner turmoil. “Tell me, how was the party? What’s the infamous Earl like?”

  “Well, he’s not the most likeable of men.”

  “He isn't?”

  “He’s quite arrogant and stiff, actually.” She forced a chuckle. The very thought that she was saying something truthful for a change, was enough to cheer her up a little.

  “I’m not surprised Willard wound up like that then! Conceited bastard!”

  “That’s not fair, Christian,” she interrupted him getting ready to carry out her plan.

  “Isn't it?” He eyed her quizzically.

  “I’ll have you know that he was the perfect gentleman all evening and the best host.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. The rich put on their airs and graces, don’t they?”

  “No, it was genuine. He was very kind. His mother also seems like a very kind-hearted person.”

  “Oh, of course, your big fan! She was nice, was she?”

  “Yes. Such a lovely lady! And she seems to adore Charles.”

  Christian shrugged. “I don’t see what’s to adore, or even like. He’s a bloody worm.”

  “Don’t be like that, Christian,” she scolded him with a playful slap on his arm, but inside she felt like kissing him, congratulating him for his astuteness, his insight into the truth.

  “What’s wrong with you tonight?” he asked with a tilt of his head, confusion colouring his beautiful face. “Don’t tell me he’s your best friend all of a sudden!” He scoffed.

  “I wouldn’t say my best friend. But he’s not all that bad, either.”

  “Bad like a rotten apple, more like.”

  “No, that’s not true.”

  “What could have possibly happened in that party to change your mind about him so drastically? I don’t understand,” he said, this time impatiently. “You’re still unwilling to see him again, right?” You could see it in his eyes then, the fear, the discomfort and the apprehension.

  “Well, he only wants to be friends . . .”

  “Don’t! Just don’t!” he cut her off springing up from the sofa, as if electricity had just run through it.

  “Don’t, what?” she asked pretending she couldn’t see the panic in his eyes, the anger brewing in his demeanour. No doubt if she pressed enough, he would become livid in a second. She wondered what to do. Do it now, in a single quick blow, or seek to calm him down, reassure him again, only to strike his sense of security again another time? She’d have to do it in a way that hurt them both the least. Quickly and abruptly. This had to be it.

  “Don’t tell me you want to be friends with him again!” he blurted out, his eyes glaring.

  “He’s not all that bad, Christian. Last night, he was very apologetic about London. He has no bad feelings towards you.”

  “Of course he doesn’t! I never did anything to deceive him like he did! Laura, how can you trust him again?”

  “As I said, he’s not all that bad. He has good traits. He’s a gentleman. Well spoken and highly educated. It was a stupid joke, that’s all.”

  “I can't believe I’m hearing this!” he yelled, pacing the length of the room up and down.

  ‘You’re overreacting now, surely,” she said standing to approach him but when she reached out to touch his arm, he shrugged away.

  “I don’t believe you,” he said shaking his head. “One visit to his fancy castle and you’re your mother all over again!”

  “Now, that’s unfair!” she retorted. “And you shouldn’t be talking like that about my mother. She’s fighting for her life right now!” The very thought of her mother and how she needed her through this turmoil were enough to set new tears loose from her eyes.

  Within seconds, her cheeks had become drenched as he watched her. He fell speechless to see her pain and didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t handle seeing her cry. After all, he still loved her more than anything. But he was too angry and couldn’t fathom where the tears had come from.

  “What are you crying about now?” he asked, his tone of voice dramatically dropping, yet he was too agitated to go near her and try to soothe her.

  “Never you mind,” she said in a faint whisper, then ran the back of her hand across her cheeks to wipe the tears away.

  “Laura, can't you see this man is still trying to come between us?” he asked calmly.

  “He’s not! He’s only asking for my friendship.” She was still standing away from him and was happy with the distance. If he were to approach and try to touch her now, she was sure she was going to lose her resolve and fall into his arms, tell him the whole truth and beg him to forgive her for her naivety that had caused all this mess. But he stood far, estranged and hurt, unwilling to come closer unless she saw his point. But although she did, she wasn’t allowed to admit it.

  “Laura . . . you know that’s not true! You can't possibly not know what he’s after. And your insistence to indulge him as he seeks it of you, is telling me only one thing.”

  “What’s that?” she whispered, knowing it was inevitable now. Within seconds it would be over. She blinked slowly and waited. Her breath caught in her throat, burning.

  “It only means that you want him . . . more than me.”

  “You’re wrong!” she yelled, for she meant it and she could say it looking straight into his eyes, seeking to diminish his pain, even though she knew it was impossible.

  “Well, if you love me, then you won't see him again,” he said taking the tiniest step towards her. It was an invitation to reconsider, to fall back into his arms, and yet, although she ached to take those two steps that would take her there, it was her undying love for him that had glued her feet to the spot where she was standing, the very thing that screamed inside for her to turn him down.

  “An ultimatum?” she said, letting out a soft sigh.

  “If that’s what you want to call it, Laura. Bu
t I just can't go through the same pain again. You either love me or you don’t.”

  “I do love you . . . and I always will,” she whispered holding his gaze, as new tears threatened to escape from the huge pools in her eyes, her world already starting to crumble all around her. She knew he was headstrong and proud enough to stand his ground.

  “And yet, you make no effort to let him go,” he replied with a voice heavy with regret. His eyes were so full of agony that if someone were to plunge a knife into his heart right then, the expression in those eyes wouldn’t change.

  “I’m sorry,” she answered faintly, bending her head to frown at the floor.

  “So am I,” he mumbled and then walked out of the room, his arm brushing lightly against hers on his way out. She looked up to gaze into space, caressing with trembling fingers the spot on her sleeve where his arm had just touched her. This was her true goodbye to him, her only chance to express her pain for their parting. As soon as she heard the front door shut, her sobs finally set her free from the pretence, and she collapsed onto the sofa, distraught, but relieved also in a massive way. Charles would never seek to hurt him now. He had his prize and he would be appeased. Christian was going to be safe.

  Chapter 15

  “Laura, darling, you look truly stunning today,” said Charles when he opened the car door for her. His affections sickened her, and yet, she smiled when she took his hand. She’d grown accustomed to the feeling of disgust inside her by now and had learned to hide it well.

  Charles kissed her cheek as soon as she emerged from the back seat to stand beside him on the busy promenade. It was a cold day in late November, but there were sunny spells. In the sky, a multitude of cotton clouds fleeted past in the soft breeze as if in a parade. Long, shimmering sunrays dived into the sea from under the clouds forming a beautiful sight. It was like a harp of golden strings that stayed silent, the sound of its heavenly chords drowning in the wash, faint in the presence of the squawking of seabirds and the rushing murmur of the gentle waves lapping on the shore.