Don't Look Back (27 page)

You refused to acknowledge the dawn of a new day, and thought that you could cheat time. But it made no difference. No one can beat the ticking of the clock. You've simply been deceiving yourself.

Sister Catherine had followed me.

‘Did he leave me a note?' I panted.

She shook her head. Uncontrollable distress was making me hyperventilate and I sat on the bed and tried to stop wheezing. For once I didn't care how pathetic I looked. It was my fault. James had taken me at my word. I told him
that I wouldn't watch him leave, that I refused to see him walk away from me. He had gone without saying goodbye and could already be in the sky now. I had no address, no contact number and my only link was his gran, who wasn't exactly rational.

I stumbled downstairs and ran across the forecourt into the woods. My face was soon scorched by tears and my vision blurred, but I was driven on, compelled to visit every place we'd been together. Every path and every inch of ground assumed new significance because we had trodden them together. Hungry and thirsty, I soon felt weak, but I limped on. In the bare earth by the temple were the remnants of the daisy chain that James had made. I picked it up and slipped it over my wrist.

This was self-inflicted torture, but there didn't seem to be any other way to ease my grief. Without direction I ventured into dark pockets of undergrowth, completely shaded and filled with sharp briars that snagged my clothes and cut my flesh. I knew I should leave, but there was no place I belonged. At least here I felt close to James. My feet felt as though they had covered fifty miles. Eventually I had to admit defeat and try to rest. The only way back to the gatehouse was past Eurydice, and for some reason I dreaded seeing her more than anything.

*

My eyes must have been playing tricks on me. I squeezed them tightly shut and opened them again, blinking. There was a figure standing next to her. It felt as if there was a
bullet ricocheting off my heart. It couldn't be. This was another illusion. I wanted to run, but I forced myself to walk slowly, still convinced that this was a manic case of wish-fulfilment, but even when I was only a metre away, the figure hadn't yet moved. My hands reached out to make sure that it was real.

‘I knew you couldn't leave,' I whispered.

‘How could I?' James said.

‘Where's your luggage?' I asked, still terrified he might change his mind.

He gave a careless shrug and I grinned, weak with joy. He wasn't leaving. There would be no more fear of the hours slipping away from us as now we had all the time in the world. I dragged James into the gatehouse. My eyes never left him, worried he might evaporate.

‘I shouldn't have gone,' he said over and over.

There were two bright spots on his cheeks, and his skin was pallid and clammy. I put one hand across his forehead, fearful that he was ill again.

‘James, you must lie down,' I insisted.

He took hold of my hand and I had to incline my ear to his lips. ‘No, I can't. Don't let me sleep, Sinead. I mustn't sleep.'

I was ecstatic to have him back and brushed aside this strange behaviour. After an hour or so inside he insisted on going out because the heat was still stifling. It was hard to believe it was already evening. I must have been walking for most of the day.

James's mood didn't pick up. As I hugged him he was feverish and trembling.

‘I'm sorry, Sinead. It shouldn't have to end like this.'

I gently prodded him in rebuke. ‘Nothing's ending. This is the beginning for us.'

He didn't appear to be listening. ‘You're the answer to my prayers, Sinead, to fall in love before –' He broke off.

‘You're the only thing that matters to me,' I said truthfully. ‘I spent all day wandering the estate and realized there was nothing else in the world I really care about but you.'

James seemed deeply affected by these words. He covered his face. ‘Don't say that, please.'

I prised his fingers away and held his head, forcing him to look at me. ‘You told me once there were places I couldn't follow you, but there aren't. There's nowhere I won't go to be with you. Do you believe me?'

James looked deep into my eyes and nodded, but I couldn't see any happiness there and I wondered why his feelings were in such turmoil. As the night drew in we lapsed into silence. His breathing became more regular and his trembling calmed. The dying sun cast a red and orange glow that was reflected in his eyes. Mine filled with tears again, without knowing why. We stayed there until the light had faded and the black umbrella of night covered us. I couldn't see any stars and the moon was hiding, translucent, behind a cloud. The wood looked different somehow, full of dark shapes, the trees bent and twisted. At night the smells were
more pungent and a little overpowering. We came upon the weeping willow and I stopped dead.

‘Look at Orpheus,' I said, squeezing James's arm.

The statue was out of the shade, the sweeping fronds now behind him. The clouds stole silently across the sky, revealing the moon at that very moment. It lit up the statue, which glowed like phosphorous, illuminating the crisscross of deep veins.

‘The white knight,' James cried.

His face was stricken with horror and he fell to the ground, his arms grasping smooth cold marble.

I tried to calm him, but his chest was heaving and his speech rapid. ‘Dad wanted me to shoot, Sinead, to put the hare out of its misery … the noise was terrible, it sounded human. I should act like a man and stop crying, stop hiding behind my mother's apron.'

‘It doesn't matter,' I murmured, stroking his hair. ‘He was a bully, but he can't hurt you any more.'

‘Real men knew how to kill. It was time to grow up, time to be like him … I pulled the trigger –'

‘You only did it because you were forced to, James. You mustn't feel guilty.'

‘Orpheus was covered in blood and so was I –'

‘It was a kindness. Your father would have killed the hare himself – it must have been suffering.'

He pressed his hands either side of my face, his eyes rolling wildly. ‘You don't understand, Sinead. You don't understand. I was covered in
his
blood! I didn't mean to … but I turned the gun on
him
.'

I shook myself free. ‘No, James. You just think you did. You wanted to and you've imagined you did. That's not true, it can't be true –'

He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘I did do it. I know I did. I can see him now lying on the ground, and then Cerberus went for my throat. Mum had to beat him with a stick to get him off me.'

My eyes were huge with horror and disbelief. ‘But what happened after? What did your mum do?'

‘I don't know. I must have blacked out … Mum tried to convince me it hadn't happened … she told me Dad had walked out after a row. She's been telling me lies ever since, inventing a perfect father for me …'

His words were slowly sinking in, and I knew that what he was remembering was the truth. ‘James, you weren't responsible, you were just a boy—'

‘I killed my father, Sinead, I killed my father.'

He repeated this until I put my finger across his lips.

I stroked his cheek with the back of my hand and cradled him in my arms until his terrible outpouring gradually dried up. I was staggered by his revelation, but it didn't change my feelings for him. Not one bit. Not for one second. He was a beautiful, sensitive person who'd been driven to do something so awful it was impossible to comprehend. No wonder he'd looked so haunted and full of sorrow. I was determined to help him find a way to live with what he'd done. If it took forever I'd make him realize he wasn't guilty.

James struggled to stay awake but he was exhausted and his eyes simply wouldn't stay open. It took all my effort to persuade him to stop fighting and give in.

‘I'm so sorry,' he said, before finally succumbing to sleep. ‘Don't think too badly of me, Sinead. I tried so hard not to love you … for your sake … but it wasn't possible.'

We lay so closely together that our bodies seemed fused. There was nowhere else I wanted to be but here, on a soft bed of leaves, wrapped around James. He stirred and I pulled him closer. He was restful now, but his revelation seemed to have brought on my own episode of soul-searching. My trial was almost at an end. Sister Catherine had promised me answers, and I was finally going to catch up with Patrick. James's love would set me free, and together we could face anything. I finally had a future. I stroked James's hair, revelling in a new-found peace and contentment. Sleep came easily.

It was pitch dark. I flinched – something must have woken me. A snowy owl in the branches of a large oak was staring directly at me. Then it launched itself into the air and swooped noiselessly at something on the ground, talons extended. I marvelled at the awesome wingspan and the beauty of its flight, but my admiration was tinged with sadness, trying not to contemplate its prey. There was a crick in my neck and it was impossible to move without disturbing James. But I could still feel his skin next to mine and was relieved to find that his temperature was much cooler. Without any effort I dozed again.

*

‘James?'

It was first light and my arm was completely numb. We'd slept all night, but I needed to get up and stretch. I laughed as I tried to escape from his embrace and found it impossible. I shook him.

‘James? Wake up.'

He was in an unbelievably deep sleep and I still wasn't able to move him or to see his face properly. My free hand could caress his cheek though, and there was no hint of fever or the awful clamminess of last night. My fingers moved to his lips, sketching their outline, willing him to roll over and kiss me. He didn't react and I put my hand across his mouth to feel his warm breath. My heart began to thunder in my chest.

Within seconds I managed to free myself and crouch over James's body. He was lying on his back and there was a pulse, but it was so faint that my fingers had to press hard to detect anything. His face was the colour of chalk and his lips already bluish. I had to get air into his lungs, but I was so nervous that it took me three attempts to begin resuscitation. All my instincts had frozen and I had to distance myself and pretend that this wasn't James; pretend I was still practising on a dummy. If I thought about how much I loved him, I'd be useless. A faint colour returned to his cheeks and his eyes flickered open. The relief was so intense that I broke into hysterical laughter or it might have been crying, I wasn't sure.

‘You gave me such a fright. You were hardly breathing.'

He was groggy and confused, which was entirely natural, but there was something in his eyes that made my heart beat even faster. He looked almost disappointed, as if he wasn't glad to be alive.

‘James? Say something.'

His gaze dropped. ‘I'm so sorry,' he muttered at last, but it wasn't clear what he was apologizing for.

My voice was as authoritative as I could manage. ‘You need to go to hospital.'

I took out my phone to dial the emergency services, but James's hand wrapped around my wrist and squeezed tightly. ‘If you love me at all, don't do that.'

‘You're not making any sense,' I said fiercely. I lay down beside him and forced him to look at me. ‘I've only just found you and now … I don't understand. It's like you have a death wish.'

My stomach lurched at these words because I remembered some of our deeper conversations. Was James really filled with hopelessness and despair? All the light had gone from his eyes and I couldn't bear to see him like this. I stared up at the gently rustling trees and patches of pale grey sky. They all seemed to be spinning, or it might have been my head.

‘Don't you want to stay with me?' I begged.

‘You know I do,' he answered, clearly moved. ‘More than anything in the whole world.'

‘Then trust me.' I propped myself up on one arm. ‘Let
me take you to a doctor. You're kind of … pale.'

Pale was a massive understatement. His breathing was erratic and there was a strange gurgle in his throat that terrified me.

It seemed like ages before James spoke. ‘I can't go back to hospital, Sinead.'

My voice became briskly impatient to hide my growing trepidation. ‘Go
back
? What do you mean?'

‘You do know,' he continued sadly. ‘You've known since the beginning, but you didn't want to see it.'

I adopted my best no-nonsense voice. ‘You're not making any sense, James, and this conversation is … ridiculous.'

I sat up so as not to look at him and madly twisted my watch round and round my wrist. ‘Anyone would think you were really ill.'

The silence was so profound that it roared in my ears, or that could have been the sound of my blood pumping furiously around my body as terror seized me. It was as if these words opened my mind to the truth that I'd tried to ignore – the scars that were years old, the needle tracks, the lethargy, obvious anaemia and general malaise. His strange obsession and almost fatalistic acceptance of death.
I could die in your arms, Sinead.
I couldn't turn around because the expression in his eyes might suddenly make sense and throw light on the real reason why he couldn't stay.

‘I've been dying since I left this place.'

I put my hands over my ears, hoping that blocking out
the words might make their meaning go away. But James was behind me now, his chest pressed against my back. He gently put his arms around my neck to stop me from trying to escape. The pain was visceral, as if every nerve ending in my body was being stabbed simultaneously.

‘I've been dying for so long, Sinead. Almost half my life.'

‘Don't say it,' I begged.

‘Chronic myeloid leukaemia,' he whispered.

My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth and I turned around, my first defence anger. ‘You weren't going to tell me?'