In the Shadows (The Blaisdell Chronicles) (4 page)

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, angrily, brushing the dirt from his legs.

His facial features were concealed under the shadows, and the black shirt and black trousers he wore only made him seem more intimidating. His hand reached for the back of his head.

“You were following me,” I bravely accused him.

“Was I?” he answered, mockingly.

“Are you saying you weren’t?”

He didn’t answer, and allowed the silence to hang between us. The clouds shifted, and the moonlight captured one side of his face. It was all hard angles, and the scowl he wore made me thankful he quickly stepped back into the shadows. My ears were pricked at a crinkling noise, and as I looked down, a male hand with black smudges on his fingers held a small folded piece of paper. What was inside? I tried to see who gave it, but I was back in the dark alleyway again and the image had disappeared. I wanted to ask the stranger, but I could see his feet beginning to back away.

“A young lady shouldn’t be walking alone in places like this. Especially in the dark.”

The curiosity over the paper and who was giving it to me vanished instantly. Now I was the one to be annoyed. “I hadn’t planned on taking this route. And I can take care of myself, thank you.”

“So I can see,” he drawled, rubbing the back of his head.

I lowered my weapon, only for his hand to reach out and quickly grab the plank. The action made me jump. I tried fighting him for it, but he held strong.

“You think this would be enough? You’re incredibly naive.”

“It stopped you, didn’t it?” I said, feebly.

He released his hold, turning away. “I have no wish to cause harm to an innocent. You should be happy. Tonight, you were lucky.”

As the shadows swallowed him up, his final words echoed through the alleyway.

“I’m not the one you should be afraid of.”

Throwing my head back, I close my eyes and breathe deeply. The scents of spring are welcoming, filling my senses in every way. I slowly circle where I stand, embracing the warmth around me. My elaborate dress and the out-of-date corset he insists I wear are laced too tight. My fingers pull at the whalebone structure. I oblige his wishes, but I’m stubborn. I won’t succumb to his demands, despite his ever-increasing temper. But he’s as stubborn as I. He won’t die until he sees me married off. I slump against a tree, rubbing my back against the bark. But instead, I let out a yelp, as it begins to cut into my skin, suddenly making breathing more difficult. I collapse into the grass, in the back of my mind knowing my father would beat me for dirtying the gown.

“My lady?” I hear a male voice echo in my mind, as I fight the urge to close my eyes. A gentleman slumps alongside me, his icy blue eyes find mine, and despite my predicament, I am able to manage half a smile at seeing him so close to me. Somehow, I find my hands to point at my corset. He hesitates, perhaps believing if we’re caught, it could be misleading. Sensing I don’t have much time, I grip his wrist, glimpsing the shine from his knife sheathed at his side. I turn away, bending over, making myself almost level with the grass. I feel his hands slide my gown down to my spine, and hold my breath. He quickly cuts through the corset’s lacing, removing it in one swift movement. I take a huge gulp of air and pull my gown back up. I turn to face him, trying to breathe steadily once more. Feeling calmer, I open my mouth to thank him, but stop. He seems to forget who I am, tracing the contours of my face with his long fingers. Each caress causes my heart to speed up, but he is deaf to the thunderous pounding in my chest. Taking my hands, he pulls me up, refusing to let me go. His hair is dark; shorter at the back, but longer at the front, so long, it gently kisses his eyebrows. He smiles, making my knees almost give out. If he were to let go of me, I would fall to the ground.

“Who are you, sir?”

His eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Have you not seen me before, my lady?”

I nod. “But I know nothing about you.”

He exhales deeply, his eyes softening as I fight the urge to run my fingers through his thick hair. I absorb his faded navy blue overcoat and worn buckskin breeches. His clothing isn’t as elegant as that of the lords who have come to claim me, but neither is he poor. Before I can speak again, one of my ladies in waiting arrives, scolding the gentleman, as he falteringly explains why my corset is off and my gown has stains. As she curses herself for leaving me, she takes my hand, leading me back to the house. I turn, watching his profile become smaller and smaller, until we turn a corner and he is out of view. I know my father will
have me punished for ruining my gown and corset. But on this occasion, I don’t care. Thinking only of his gentle touch on my face, I close my eyes and remove myself from my father’s fury.

“Ooh, this one looks good!”

Jen pulled out another dress from the rack, and held it against her body. My stomach groaned in protest as she once again disappeared into the changing room. At this rate, we’d never get a chance to get something to eat.

“Well, what do you think?” Jen asked, as she pulled back the curtain wearing the risqué dress. It was cobalt blue, with a plunging neckline that revealed her pierced belly button.

I smiled politely and nodded. Jen was already admiring herself in the full-length mirror, oblivious to my lack of enthusiasm. My thoughts reverberated back to the stranger I met last night. His unwillingness to reveal himself had irritated me, but the cryptic warning he had left me with had kept my mind in a quandary ever since.

When Jen came back out in her work clothes, she slung the dress over her arm and headed back to the clothes rack, pointing at several dresses.

My eyes widened, but I shouldn’t be surprised at her choices, considering what she was about to buy. Pushing a peach coloured dress into my hands, she ushered me into the changing room.

“You should come to the Halloween party,” she suggested. “We just need pointy hats and we can be
sexy
witches.”

“Shouldn’t we be wearin
g
actua
l
costumes if it’s a Halloween party?” I asked from behind the curtain. I began removing my work clothes and pulling the dress over my head.

“Have you seen the
price of those costumes?” Jen called back. “Besides, we
want
guys to be checking us out.”

I pulled back the curtain back. “I haven’t even said I want to go.”

I tried pulling the hem of the peach dress down to cover more of my legs, but stopped, knowing I could tear it. Letting my shoulders sag, I realised Jen was scrutinising me again. She stared for several moments at the satin scarf on my neck, making me swallow hard.

“Won’t you get rid of it?” she asked.

I felt the colour drain from my face. Rushing back into the changing room, I pulled my own clothes back on and pushed past a dumbstruck Jen. It was all I could do not to run from the shop.

“Why didn’t you take it off?” she whispered, passing the assistant her credit card.

I turned my attention to the shop window, feeling my heart constrict with annoyance at the lie I was about to tell.

“I did take it off. I’m not wearing the dress anymore.”

She tilted her head to the side, but said nothing and left the shop.

Jen didn’t speak to me again on the walk back to work, although it was obvious what was preoccupying her mind. There was tension in the air at the coffee house, as Jen took the apron from her father, who’d been covering our lunches. I tried to ignore her curious looks by absorbing myself in wiping the tables, collecting empty cups and sweeping the tiled floor. Eventually, I had enough and met Jen’s gaze, who quickly looked away, but as soon as I returned to my chore, I could feel her eyes pinning me again. Suddenly, my scarf becomes asphyxiating. I slipped a finger underneath, but it was still hard to breathe properly. I rushed to the ladies, grateful nobody else was around. Air started to refill my lungs, as I gulped in deep breaths to calm myself.
Noticing my reflection in the mirror, I told myself there was nothing to worry about, as long as I wore the scarf. I tried to find my lip balm in my pocket, but found Roger’s letter instead. The door opened, and Jen’s appearance made me drop the thin sheet of paper I held. I quickly tried to grab it, but Jen reached it first. She offered it without hesitation and I snatched it back, clutching it like it was some sort of treasure. I braced myself for the flurry of questions and her accusations of me being a freak, well aware my actions made me look like one. I was not prepared for what she actually said.

“I’m sorry for my questions about your scarf earlier. I didn’t mean any harm. I would like you to know you can trust me.”

I stood motionless, transfixed by her demeanour. I sensed the truthfulness behind her words, but I wasn’t quite ready to divulge my inner secrets just yet.

“You’re not the only one with a past, you know.”

Curious, I met her gaze.

“Perhaps I should tell you more about myself first,” she suggested, leaning against a sink.

Before I could answer, she carried on.

“This coffee house has always been in my family, since the turn of the last century when my ancestors acquired it. I have fond memories of my childhood when my grandfather would take me into the kitchens after school, letting me watch my grandmother making the delicious desserts to our own secret family recipes. There were
chocolate and pecan shortbreads, vanilla cheesecakes and my own favourite, apple pie with caramel custard. When they died, my parents took over. At first, my mother was content to take over the role of making all the desserts, and I was eager to help taste her concoctions. It was almost like having my grandmother around again.”

Her chin lowered, face scrunching slightly at the memory. “But one day after school, I went to the kitchen, only to find Mum wasn’t there. Dad claimed she was at the wholesalers, but soon Mum’s ‘wholesaler trips’ became a regular occurrence. A few months later, Mum came back from the wholesalers. She called Dad down from his office and told us she was pregnant. Dad and I were happy, but from then on, Mum was different. She was always crying, and said she couldn’t bear to be around us anymore. Dad tried everything to support her, but she kept pushing him away. When
the baby was born in hospital, we were allowed to see her, but when we came back the next day to take them home, both Mum and the baby had gone. Dad went crazy, and demanded the staff tell us where they were.”

Jen exhaled a long breath.

“They told us that they’d already gone.”

Words caught in my throat.

She nodded slowly. “Neither Dad nor I have seen them since. I don’t even know what my Mum called the baby.”

I shook my head, angry for my friend. “But if Mr Whitmore is
the baby’s father, surely—”

“
It’s not as simple as that. We received a letter a few weeks later.”

Abruptly, Jen came away from the sink, taking a few steps forward.

“She made her apologies, but said they wouldn’t be back.”

“But why?”

It was Jen’s turn to stop to alongside, her gaze fixated on another mirror.

“Mum had been having an affair for just over a year. She said
the baby wasn’t Dad’s child.”

My heart reached for Jen, and then suddenly remembered where I’d seen Mr Whitmore’s face before. He’d been the thin owner I’d seen on the odd occasions when I came to the coffee house with Sarah.
At first, he’d been quite a jolly sort of fellow, often putting on the radio, having a silly dance and singing terribly, as he’d served customers. I was able to stifle my giggles, but Sarah had found it nearly impossible. But over time, the music stopped, and he was hardly seen. On one occasion where we did, he’d looked pale and tired. Sarah was disappointed she wouldn’t be able to make fun of him anymore.

I was content not having Roger in my life, but noticing Jen’s crestfallen face, it was obvious the absence of her mother had cut her deep. Why had she not been in contact with Jen? What should I say? Before I was able to think of anything reassuring, Jen spoke up, her words surprising me again.

“If you ever want to talk, Lucy, I’m here. I’ll listen to whatever you have to say.”

It was then I realised that perhaps Jen also needed somebody to hear her out once in a while. She might not have many friends to turn to.

“The letter was from my estranged father,” I blurted.

She paused and listened. I took out the letter again.

“He’s been in prison for nearly three years and wanted to see me.” I handed her the letter, allowing her a few moments to read it.

“Did you visit him?” she asked.

I shook my head slowly, my gaze meeting the floor. Warm arms enveloped my body, comforting me in silence. No words were needed, and I was glad for it. My arms went around her. The gesture I hadn’t been able to provide earlier. Slowly, she released me.

“Sorry. You looked like you needed one.”

I took the letter back, folding it into my pocket.

“You too.”

Jen shrugged at my words. “I don’t know why your father was arrested, but you obviously have your reasons not to trust him right now. Then again, who knows, perhaps one day you’ll change your mind.”

Perhaps. I felt the weight beginning to lift, knowing I had someone to confide in. I hadn’t felt this way since Sarah and I were friends. Remembering how much I regretted not telling her the truth, I pictured her instead of Jen, and before I knew it, my hands were unravelling the scarf around my neck. I pulled my shirt collar aside, allowing her a closer look. I felt naked and swallowed hard.

“I’ve had this scar since I was born. It’s an ugly thing. So I’ve always kept it covered.”

Revealing my scar brought back painful memories. I closed my eyes to block them out, but the images were too strong.

I hated school. Since it had become common knowledge that I was the daughter of a lunatic, Rachel and her trio of minions performed their usual routine of staring at me, trying to make me feel uncomfortable, whispering insults I couldn’t quite pin down. I kept my back to them as I walked to my locker, trying to find my books. Sarah appeared alongside, and tried distracting me by talking about the end of year prom, but I wasn’t able to keep up.

“Lucy?”

I met Sarah’s gaze, wincing when Rachel’s laughter became louder.

“Don’t listen to her.”

“It’s hard not to.”

Sarah cocked her head against the locker. “Shall I have another word with her?”

“No, it’s fine. You want to stay in school, don’t you? After last time, I doubt Mr Owen will give you another chance.”

A sharp tap on my shoulder made me spin around. For the first time,
Rachel had approached me, her friends in toe. Her hair was different today, a simple plait hung over her shoulder. But there was something else. There was something dark in her expression today, which unsettled my stomach. It was almost as if something had come over her. A shadow of foreboding swept over me.