Five

Iwent to see Gideon on Monday. He was upstairs, clearing out some of the unused rooms for the restorers coming in to do some work. As I went to find him, I’d paused outside Caspien’s bedroom door, frozen as if in time, wondering what would have happened had I not opened it that day.

The plan was for you to come over this evening, Jude.

What had his plan been exactly? To break my heart in the library? To bring Blackwell out like a surprise guest star in what I’d believed to be our love story? Would that have made it easier? It would have been equally as bad. Maybe even worse.

I longed to open the door, see how he’d left his room, and look for clues about whether he ever planned to return.

“You can go in if you like,” Gideon said gently. I turned to see him coming toward me.

I moved away from the door and shook my head. “I thought I heard something inside.” The lie wasn’t a good one, and I could tell Gideon didn’t buy it. “How’s it going?” I asked him, forcing myself to smile.

“Good to see you, Jude,” Gideon said, pulling me into a hug. He was dressed down, a look I’d never seen on him before: navy trousers and a cream shirt, both linen and dust-coated. Dust was in his hair, and he was wearing a pair of black round-framed glasses. He looked loose and relaxed, handsome even.

“Can I help? Elspeth said you’re clearing out?”

“You don’t have anything better to do?”he asked, eyebrow arched. “It’s summer. Surely there’s frolicking or partying or drinking to be done?”

I shrugged. “No frolicking planned for today.”

We worked at stripping sheets from covered furniture and combing through old tall boys, armoires, and sideboards. One of the rooms upstairs had been his father’s study and looked to have been closed off for decades. There were old letters, newspaper clippings, ballot papers, political documents. Gideon was technically a Marquess, having inherited the title from his father, but both his grandfather and father had been life peers too, and we found old voting records, law amendments, and MP correspondence. Gideon had a story about almost each piece of paper I showed him, and he kept a lot of the yellowing pages I came across (“They’ll be worth something to someone, Jude!”), directing me to place them in one of three large boxes he’d labelled: ‘Correspondence’, ‘Lords’, and ‘Deveraux House’.

The furniture was all antique, though not all of the same vintage; some looked as though it were over a hundred years old, others more modern art-deco pieces, but all of it looked like it would fetch a fortune at auction. Of course, I knew Gideon was rich, but I thought the value of the house and its contents had to be tens of millions alone.

After a couple of hours, he stood up, dusted off his trousers, and announced he was peckish.

“Ask if Elspeth will bring our lunch out to the eastern pavilion, will you?” Gideon asked as we reached the bottom of the stairs. “It’s much too hot to eat indoors.”

“Sure.” I wandered off in the direction of the kitchen as he went towards the red sitting room. After using the bathroom, I went down the backstairs to the kitchen, surprised to see Luke sitting at the large dining table with a delicious-looking sandwich in front of him. He was talking about something related to squirrels as far as I could tell. Elspeth was sitting opposite, head resting on her hand and a soft, warm look on her face as he spoke.

I took a moment to study her. Until then, I’d never thought of her outside her role as Gideon’s housekeeper, but she was pretty, if a little plain. A kind manner, genuine smile and a sweet-sounding voice. There were some similarities between her and my sister, I noticed then. The colouring; that pale hue that usually came with red hair and a dusting of freckles. Except where my sister was prone to scowling, Elspeth was always smiling. Friendly and open, where my sister could be standoffish and reserved. I tried to guess her age, and put her at maybe a few years older than Luke if that, though she looked younger now.

The smile Elspeth was giving Luke at that moment was not one I’d ever seen on her before. Smiling at him indulgently as he ate the sandwich she’d no doubt made for him. It made me want to step back out of the room and leave them alone.

But I stepped fully into the room and said, as loudly as I could, “Well, that sandwich looks like a bit of me.”

Elspeth sat up straight, as though she’d been caught out. Luke just smiled his normal smile at me and took a huge bite of the sandwich before rolling his eyes in pleasure.

“I can make you one, Jude, sweetheart. You want cheese on?” She was standing now.

“Yes, please. Gideon’s going to have his on the patio. I’ll take it out.”

I slid into Elspeth’s seat and reached across to snatch a crisp from Luke’s plate. There was nothing guilty in my uncle’s face, nothing to suggest I’d walked in on anything I shouldn’t have. So I pushed it from my mind. If there was anything to be seen, then it was that Elspeth had a crush on Luke. Which wasn’t completely out of the question. Luke was what women considered earthy and handsome: ruddy-cheeked and sparkling eyes. Everyone liked Luke: women, men, old, young. Even Caspien had liked Luke, and he loathed almost everyone.

For the next few days, I helped Gideon clear out the suite of rooms on the first floor; it was dusty, boring work, but Gideon was talkative and funny, and we’d take breaks and eat delicious lunches made by Elspeth on the patio.

At the end of the week, he was going to Italy; he had business just outside of Florence, and I was already wondering what I would do for the rest of the summer. I had some money in the bank from the benefactor and PP and I thought about taking the ferry to St. Malo and maybe staying there a few days on my own, but I knew it could be extremely busy this time of year and the thought of pushing my way through crowds of sweat-licked people wasn’t hugely appealing. I decided I’d just get through some of the books on my Tbr, go on a hike around the cliff walk, cycle over to Sorel, maybe meet up with Alfie again.

It was Thursday, the day before Gideon was due to leave for Italy, and he was talking about the hotel he would be staying at. It was an old house that had once belonged to the Borgias. I’d not been paying particular attention beyond this, slouched back on the seat with my eyes closed and enjoying the heat of the sun on my face. I was feeling content. Happy almost. The sadness of last summer like a fading memory.

Perhaps this was what made him say it.

“… before Thursday when Caspien and Xavier are due to arrive.”

My eyes sprung open under my sunglasses, and I sat up too quickly.

“You’re seeing Cas? In Florence?”

Gideon nodded, taking a sip of his white wine. “Mm, they’re in Venice right now; dreadful place. But they are travelling and will be in San Marino when I am in Florence, and they wish to come and meet me there.” He was watching me carefully.

I was glad of my sunglasses, though I’m sure he could see my face had drained of colour. There’d been no mention of Cas or Xavier this entire week while we’d been clearing out. Now, the sound of his name and the image of them travelling across Italy together and in love made the rent across my heart open up. That newly healed fissure was pulling apart again, painful and raw.

“I do hate that you’re still fighting,” Gideon said gently, as though somehow that’s what this was.

“That’s not...” I said, a little stunned. “We’re not fighting, Gideon?”

He waved that off, dismissive “Oh, you know what I mean. I wish you were still friends. It was so nice having you around when Cas was home, having you both at the house, having you playing toge—”

I stood abruptly, chair scraping across the concrete angrily. “We were never fucking friends, Gideon.”

He flinched, startled by my outburst. I’d never raised my voice to him. Never swore, or lost my temper with him, despite what I’m sure now was his every attempt to get me to.

“We were never friends,” I said again, calmer. “That’s not what we were. I was some way for him to pass the time, that’s all. Something he could play with until Blackwell could whisk him away to that comfortably luxurious life in the States.”

“Jude, I think that maybe if you spoke to him you’d see that—” Gideon began, placatingly.

“No.” I cut him off. “Don’t. I don’t want to hear it, Gideon. I don’t want to hear any more words of wisdom about broken hearts or theories about what it is Cas actually wants and needs. What I want is to pretend he doesn’t fucking exist. What I want is to wake up in the morning and forget that he’s out there living a life with someone else.” I was saying too much. It was dangerous to say this much. “Do you have any idea what that feels like? Knowing that? Knowing that while I’m here, alone, looking at all the places he used to exist in, he’s just...off somewhere else with someone else? While I struggle to figure out who the fuck I am now and what I’m supposed to want now, he’s thriving and happy and comfortable.” I sneered the last word. “So please stop telling me about where they are or what they’re doing or how perfect their fucking life is, Gideon, because I don’t want to know. It’s enough. This,” I hit my own chest with a soft fist. “What he left behind is enough, okay?”

I left him staring after me as I stormed out and back to the cottage.

Friday, Beth was out for the night, so Luke and I cooked and ate alone. While he tried to make small talk, I grunted one-word answers and barely looked up from my plate. After dinner, I offered to do the dishes, but he waved me off and told me to take a beer outside to the garden, saying he’d come out when he was finished.

When he came out a short while later, he brought me another. He took a seat next to me on the outdoor sofa, got comfy, and held out his bottle for me to knock mine against.

“Really nice to have you back home, Judey,” he said, taking a large gulp.

“Is it?” I was feeling like the worst sort of company. Yesterday’s stand-off with Gideon and the quick resurgence of my self-pitying attitude could not have been easy for Luke to deal with, especially as he and Beth had also had a silly argument this morning – the cause of what I didn’t know – which had resulted in the slamming of the front and car doors just after 8 a.m.

But still, he sounded genuine when he said it.

“Sure it is,” he sighed. “House feels empty these days.”

I thought about how there was supposed to have been a baby running around and how Luke might feel about the fact that there wasn’t.

“How are you and Beth doing?” I ventured. “With everything.”

I hoped he knew what I meant.

When he gave me a sad kind of smile, I knew he did.

“It’s been hard, buddy,” Luke admitted. “Beth still thinks there’s something she did wrong which isn’t right. But I think maybe it’s easier for her to blame herself than to believe it was just bad luck, you know?”

I nodded, feeling out of my depth on the subject.

“She’s had it rough, though. I wish I could do more for her.”

I looked round at him. Luke was one of the greatest people I knew: strong, dependable, loyal. He always looked to help others before helping himself.

“You have, too,” I said.

He smiled sadly and ducked his head. “I’ll be alright. Feels nice having you around, though; grateful you decided to come home this summer.” There was no accusation in his tone; it wasn’t his style. When he turned his body on the seat to face me, I guessed where we were going next.

“So, you fancy telling me what’s been going on with you?”

I shifted under his scrutiny. Turned my head to look out at the lake, avoiding his eyes. “Just uni stuff; it’s a lot tougher than I thought it’d be.”

“I’m sure it is,” he agreed. “But that’s not what I mean.”

I looked round at him.

“Something’s been going on since before Oxford,” he said evenly. “In fact, I reckon since about when Cas left.”

My breathing shifted, heart rate spiking a little.

He watched me and waited and when it was clear I wasn’t going to say anything he let out a sigh. Then he stood up and wandered back inside the house. He was gone a couple of minutes before he reappeared, holding something in his hand that looked like a folded piece of paper. He held it out to me as he sat back down, face soft with understanding.

Confused, I took it from him. It looked like a piece of lined paper torn from a notepad. For a moment, I thought he was trying to tell me something so serious he’d had to write it down. I unfolded it clumsily.

As the words were revealed, I was sure I felt my heart stop.

It was my own handwriting. Angry and messy, scrawled forcefully on the page.

I glanced at Luke in horror, cold sweat spreading over my entire body.

His face was calm, utterly free of judgement, but still I trembled.

“I found it under your mattress after you left for Oxford,” he said. “I figured it was one of your stories. You hadn’t shown me any of them in so long.” He smiled fondly. “You used to write about King Arthur when you were younger, then it was aliens, so I was curious what you were writing about now.” He looked down at the piece of paper. “Felt wrong after reading that.”

My gut twisted, dread curling upwards.

Luke shifted forward then, urgently. “Not wrong, shit, Jude, that’s not what I meant. I meant guilty – I felt guilty about reading something you’d meant for him. I’m sorry I did that. It was private.”

There was a noise inside my head, like a rushing of water. It filled my ears and my chest, and it made it hard to think, breathe, to speak.

“I...” I managed. “He...we...”

“I remember when you spoke to me about Ellie, about how you felt about her,” said Luke, gentle and soft like he was scared I was going to bolt. “You said that being with her felt like lying. Was that why?” He pointed at the piece of paper. “Because you felt that way about Cas?”

I nodded, still unable to speak.

“You loved him?”

I nodded again. Some desperately sad look moved into his eyes because he knew, then. What I’d lost.

“Oh, buddy,” Luke whispered, moving across the sofa and pulling me into a hug. Like every time he did it, something loosened in me, and I let go.

After it was over, I sat up, scrubbing a hand over my face. “Christ. What is it about you hugging me that makes me do that?” I muttered, throwing an accusing glare at him.

Luke chuckled softly. “Sorcery?”

“Yeah, okay, Gandalf.”

“I reckon I could pull that off, you know. Grow this bad boy out a bit.” He stroked his beard a few times and made a pompous, self-important face.

“It’s definitely grey enough,” I smiled, and he pretended to look insulted.

Then it was sombre again, silence swelling between us loud and huge.

“So …you’re gay?” he asked very carefully.

I looked at him. “Would that bother you?”

He made a weird face. “No. Not a bit.”

“I actually don’t know… there’s been girls too. So I guess I’m bi?” I felt very out of my depth talking about it, my own sexuality. It also felt weird talking to Luke about it. “Beth?” I asked him, a new kind of panic spreading through me. “Did you show her this?”

He shook his head. “Course I didn’t. It’s not for me to tell her your secrets – or whatever this is. Christ, I wasn’t even going to mention it to you.”

“Why did you?”

He looked uncomfortable. Shifting in the seat, he threw a glance over towards the big house, then back at me, and then, finally, at the letter I was still holding. “Because I hated not knowing what was going on with you. Last couple years...you’ve felt so…far away. And I hated that. And Beth and me...I suppose we were still trying to deal with the baby, and so it was easier to pretend it was normal A-Level stress that was going on with you that summer. But it wasn’t, I knew that. I knew it was Cas.” Then, a look of mild embarrassment came over his face. “Truth is, it feels like I’ve been losing you a little every day since we came here.”

I tried to protest this but he raised a hand, gently, urging me to let him finish.

“I hope you know that from the moment I met you, I thought of you like a little brother, and then when you came to live with us, it was like I had a son, too.“ Luke never referred to my (Beth’s and mine’s) parents’ deaths as what it was. To him, it was always ‘when Jude came to live with us.’ ‘When you came to live with us.’ “A clever, moody, funny son who surprised me every day with how brilliant he was.”

“Oh god.” I cringed.

“What? I’m being sincere here!”

“I know, that’s why it’s so awful.” I covered my eyes with my hands and sank back into the chair.

Luke laughed, but he persisted.

“But when we came here, it was like this new part of you started growing, a part I couldn’t understand or help tend to, you know? Seemed like Gideon and Cas were the only people who got to see that side of you, and so I lost my best friend a little, it felt like. But you were mainly happy, and so I was happy.”

His expression was painfully earnest and I felt as though I might cry again.

“Then Cas left, and you were so bloody sad, mate.” He took a deep breath. “Judey, before I found that letter, I could only guess at what Cas meant to you based on what I saw with my own eyes.”

Heat spread out from my chest and up to my cheeks at that. At how obvious I must have been. Everything you feel is in your eyes, you know.

“And when he went off to America with...well, that lawyer fella, I wanted you to talk to me about it, but I understand why you didn’t. You loved him, and he left, and that sort of thing is hard to talk around, I imagine. But I need you to know that I’m here if you ever do want to talk about it, about anything at all. I never want you to feel alone, okay? Or that you might not have a place here.”

He was talking about the letter now. The words I’d put in the letter. I knew how they must have sounded, what Luke was worried about, what he must have been worried about every night since I left for Uni. That I’d do something stupid. That I’d hurt myself.

“I know, Luke,” I said. “I appreciate that. And you don’t have to worry about me; I’m doing okay. I’m better, I promise.”

He reached out his hand and settled it on my shoulder, squeezing it a few times.

“Good. I’m glad to hear it. But if you aren’t, that’s something you know you can talk to me about, right? No matter what, I’m here for you.”

“I know,” I said again. “Thanks.”

We sat in silence, sipping our beer and watching the sun set behind the lake.

“I’m starting to think it was a bit like Ellie and me,” I said after a long time. “With Cas, I mean. I cared about him more than he did about me. And that hurt.” I knew it was reductive, but it wasn’t untrue.

“I think maybe Cas still has a lot of growing up to do,” said Luke sagely. “He’s smart about a lot of things, knows more about a lot more than some people twice his age.” Here, he pointed at himself. “I reckon when he’s made a few more mistakes, he’ll realise what he had in you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You think he’ll come crawling back?”

“Christ, no, he wouldn’t crawl for anyone,” Luke said, and we both laughed. “But he’ll walk in that weird upright way he has, right back to you.”

I hated the tiny flare of hope that lit in my chest at that. Though, of course, Luke had no bloody clue what he was talking about. Cas wasn’t coming back to me. Because Cas had never been mine to begin with.

“He does have a weird walk,” I said.

Luke nodded in assent. We were both silent for a long time after that, the weight of our losses heavy between us. I folded the letter and put it inside the copy of Ibsen’s Ghosts I was reading.

“So, you know Elspeth has a massive thing for you, right?” I said, desperate to change the subject to something lighter.

Luke blinked at me in complete shock. “What? No, she doesn’t, shut up.”

“Oh, but she does. She make you lunch every day or just Mondays?”

I left him spluttering embarrassed denials as I stood to go get us another couple of beers.