Chapter 28

28

PRESENT DAY

The knock took her by surprise, but Blake snuggled deeper under the covers. She didn’t care if old Mrs Carter across the hall needed milk, or the guy downstairs needed to use her wi-fi; for once in her life, she was just fine with being selfish. Because not being selfish? It would mean having to emerge from her cocoon, and she had no intention of doing that.

‘Blake?’

She buried herself deeper as she heard her sister hesitantly call her name.

‘Blake? We’re coming in.’

We? She groaned, wrapping the duvet even more thoroughly around her head.

She’d cancelled Sunday night dinner and told both Abby and Tom that she was unavailable. She’d tried to make it as devoid of emotion or details as possible so that no one guessed she was hiding in her bedroom with a box of Kleenex watching ’90s romcoms, but clearly Abby had seen through it.

‘You really think you can cancel family dinner night without me coming to check up on you?’

‘Please, Abby, just leave me.’

‘Did you leave me when I slammed the door on you and hid in my room as a teenager?’

Blake sighed. No , was the answer.

She felt Abby’s weight as she sat on the bed. ‘You fed me, stroked my hair and promised me that everything would be all right. And even though you must have wondered how many boys could possibly break my heart, you were always there for me.’

‘I don’t need anyone to look after me. I’m fine.’

Abby’s hand landed on the duvet, and the simple motion made fresh tears fill Blake’s eyes.

‘You’ve always looked after us, Blake. Please let us look after you for once.’

She didn’t reply.

‘You can stay in here if you like, but I need to warn you that we’ll just come and join you.’ Abby laughed. ‘And we’ve got takeaway, so you’re going to end up with food all over your bed.’

Blake released her ironclad grip on the duvet and slowly lifted her head. ‘You brought takeaway?’

‘Well, we would have cooked, but it turns out you’ve always done the cooking and we’re not actually capable of making anything decent.’

Blake sniffed and slowly sat up.

‘You don’t have to tell me what happened, but please, for the love of God, can I open a window and light a candle? It’s like you’ve been living in here for days.’

‘I have.’

‘Well, I rest my case. I just wish you’d called me sooner.’

‘I didn’t call you at all,’ Blake muttered.

‘And while we’re talking about things to do, how about we get you up and into the shower? I’ll help Tom heat up dinner, and you can wash your hair. You look like death.’

‘I’m pretty sure I never told you that you looked like death when I was caring for you,’ Blake said.

‘You’re welcome,’ Abby said, rising and going to open the blinds. ‘Now get in the shower. I’m starving hungry, and it would be rude to start without you.’

Blake didn’t move, preparing to go back under the covers and defy her sister’s orders, but Abby was having none of it.

‘You know something else I remember from being a teenager?’ She pulled the covers back a little and took Blake’s hand in hers this time. ‘It was that I was a right pain in the arse, and I never said thank you for all the times you cared for me. So, this is me thanking you the only way I know how.’

‘I don’t want to get up,’ Blake muttered.

‘And we don’t want to have Sunday dinner without you,’ Abby said. ‘So please, Blake. Please get up and come and eat with us? We miss you.’

It was as if Abby had a magic line to her heart, because Blake couldn’t wallow knowing that her siblings needed her. She groaned and got up, going straight into the bathroom and closing the door behind her. She stared at her reflection in the mirror—hair sticking up on end, bloodshot eyes with mascara smudged beneath them, and pyjamas that needed a wash. She was a mess, and Blake was never a mess.

She could hear Abby singing to herself in the bedroom as she turned on the water. And this time when the tears started, it wasn’t because of Henri, or Paris, it was because her sister had thanked her for all those nights, all the hours she’d held her through her pain, wishing there was someone who would hold her through hers.

When Blake emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later, with her hair freshly washed and her skin scrubbed clean, smelling like her vanilla-scented soap, she was pleasantly surprised to see her bed made, with her dirty sheets in a pile at Abby’s feet. What she wasn’t so happy to see was that her sister had her sketchbook open, and was silently flipping through the pages.

‘When did you start designing again?’ Abby asked.

Blake sighed and walked over to her, closing the book and picking it up. She would have scolded her for looking in the first place, but they were sisters—they looked at each other’s everything.

‘When I was in Paris.’

‘I love what you’ve done,’ Abby said. ‘Are you going to keep sketching?’

Blake shrugged. That was the problem; she had absolutely no idea what she wanted to do next.

‘Have you written your final story yet? Or are you still working on it?’

‘I’m still working on it. It’s, well, it’s just hard to know what to include and what to leave out.’

There was silence for a moment, before Abby stood and brushed her hands down her jeans. ‘Blake, can I ask you something?’

She nodded, rummaging through her drawer for something to wear so that she could get out of her dressing gown.

‘Why did you come home?’ Abby asked. ‘When you were in Paris, you seemed alive. I heard something I’d never heard in your voice before.’

‘Because I have a job, and I have a family, and a flat…’

‘Then quit your job, leave your family and end the lease on your flat. Or make your sister take it over, because she needs a new place.’

Blake turned round and shook her head. ‘Abby, you just don’t get it! I’m not you, I can’t just up and leave whenever I want when I have responsibilities, and, and?—’

She’d purposely said words that would hurt her sister or make her feel guilty, but Abby didn’t seem wounded. Instead, she smiled, seemingly unaffected by her big sister’s rant. ‘Blake, you can leave. You’ve been telling yourself that story your entire life, but it isn’t true anymore. We’ll survive without you, and Deborah will find another writer to fill your position. But you? You will never forgive yourself if you don’t finally follow your heart.’

‘What if I’m not as brave as you?’

Now it was Abby shaking her head. ‘You’ve always been the brave one, Blake, you always have been and you always will be.’

‘Knock, knock.’

The sound of Tom’s voice broke the heaviness sitting between them, and Blake looked up to see her brother standing in the door with two plates.

‘I guess we’re eating in here?’

‘Yes,’ Abby said. ‘We’re eating in here like old times. Remember when we were kids, and we’d all snuggle up and watch a movie while we ate noodles?’

‘I loved that,’ Tom said. ‘But I never got to choose the movie.’

‘You always get to choose the movie, Tom,’ Blake said, giving him a pretend slap about the head before taking the plate from him.

‘But tonight, I get to choose,’ Abby said, as she took the other plate before her brother could keep it. ‘We need a belly-laugh kind of comedy, not an action flick.’

Tom disappeared to get his plate of lasagne which, despite being bought and not home-made, smelt absolutely delicious, and when he returned, he gently bumped his shoulder into hers.

‘You okay, sis?’

She gave him a little bump back. ‘I will be. And thanks, for bringing dinner and coming over, it means a lot.’

As her siblings started to bicker over which movie to watch, and Abby pleaded with Tom to go out to the kitchen and get the wine, Blake sat back and slowly forked lasagne into her mouth. As much as her heart yearned for Paris, she also loved this, just being with her family and knowing what a tight unit they were. But she couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen one day, when Abby inevitably met someone and started a life or even a family with that person, and Tom finally found the right girl. Would she be left alone, resentful of the siblings she’d dedicated her life to?

Blake shut her eyes as tears formed again, because even if she wanted to go back to Paris, it wouldn’t be to Henri, not after the way they’d left things. But being in France, even without him, had brought her back to life; it had reminded her of the little girl she’d once been, with dreams. And discovering what she had about Evelina had made her want to be as fierce as her great-grandmother, too.

If only she was brave enough to do what she knew she needed to.

‘Twice in one week?’ Blake said when Abby walked into her apartment unannounced.

‘I actually called your office first, but they told me you hadn’t come in today.’

‘I decided to work from home.’ Blake gestured to the laptop on her knee and the notes beside her.

‘Are you still working on your final article for the website?’

‘I am.’ Blake sighed. ‘I thought it would be the easiest of them all, but somehow, it feels like the hardest. I feel like I’ve let everyone down by not discovering who Evelina’s lover was, but then I keep telling myself that it was Evelina’s story they wanted, and I’ve uncovered so much.’

‘I can understand why you’re feeling conflicted. You’ve dedicated a huge part of yourself to producing these articles, and it’s taken a lot out of you. It must be hard imagining that it’s over.’

‘I keep thinking about Evelina and what it must have been like for her, and I wish that Grandma was still here. It would all have been that much more special if she could have been part of the journey.’

Abby came and sat beside her, producing two paper bags. ‘I would have got coffees, but I wasn’t sure if you’d definitely be here and I didn’t want them to go cold.’

‘So you got…?’

Abby grinned and passed her one of the bags. ‘Croissants.’

Blake opened the bag and looked inside, and she was immediately transported back to France. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

‘I’m actively trying not to think about Paris,’ she said, holding up her croissant to take a bite. ‘But thank you.’

It was then that Blake realised Abby had another bag with her. She set it down between them on the sofa.

‘This is for you.’

Blake put down the croissant and brushed the crumbs from her fingers. ‘What is it?’

‘Just open it and you’ll find out.’

Blake reached in and took out an envelope, but Abby shook her head. ‘Open that last.’

She did as she was told and reached back into the bag, taking out a large book. It was matte black with a gold-foiled Eiffel Tower on the front, and she didn’t have to open it to know what it was for.

‘Design brings you to life, Blake, and I thought if I gave you this, you’d have no excuse not to start drawing again.’

Tears immediately formed in her eyes, and she took a moment to run her hand across the cover before leaning forward to give her sister a hug. ‘This is the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me—it’s beautiful. And you’re right, I won’t have any excuses now.’

‘When you were in the shower the other night and I saw your old design book,’ Abby said, ‘I just, I guess it broke my heart to think that you’d turned your back on something that clearly brings you so much joy.’

The next thing in the bag was in a box, and when Blake opened it, she discovered a framed photo of the three of them, taken a few years earlier. They were all laughing, heads bent together, and she smiled just looking at it and remembering what a fun day they’d had.

‘Thank you. I love it.’

‘I wanted you to have a reminder of us with you, all the time.’

Blake looked up, confused. ‘Reminder of you? You’re talking like I have Alzheimer’s, or that I’m not going to see you again.’

‘Open the envelope.’

‘Abby—’

‘Please, Blake, just open it.’

The back of the envelope wasn’t sealed, and she took out the rectangular piece of card inside. Her heart skipped a beat as she stared down at it, immediately recognising what she was holding.

‘Abby, you didn’t…’ But as she turned the card over, she saw what it was.

A one-way trip to Paris, leaving in three weeks’ time.

‘I can’t accept this,’ she said, shaking her head as she dropped the ticket. ‘No, Abby, I can’t.’

Abby took hold of both her hands and locked eyes with her. ‘Yes, Blake. You can.’

‘I can’t, Abby, I’ve already told you, I?—’

‘Blake, it’s time you did something just for you,’ Abby whispered. ‘Go to Paris, stay for a week or a month or a year, but do it just for you. Do it because you can. And maybe your articles don’t have to stop yet, perhaps you still have more of the story to write? Maybe that’s why you’re finding this one so hard? But make it your story this time.’

‘Abby—’

‘And while I’m dishing out advice, don’t give up so easily on love, either.’

‘I don’t need romantic advice from my little sister.’

‘Well, you need it from someone, because your voice when you were with that guy in Paris? What was his name? Henri?’ she asked.

Blake nodded.

‘I’d never heard you like that before. I know you don’t want to talk about it, but what if he was the one ?’ Abby asked. ‘And have you even looked through the comments section of your articles lately? I think every woman on earth wants to know what happened there. They don’t want to give up on the romance just yet, which made me wonder why you were.’

‘Honestly? I don’t think he ever wants to see me again.’

‘But if he did?’ Abby pressed.

She didn’t answer. After the way he’d behaved, she shouldn’t want to see him at all, but her heart said something completely different. And Abby wasn’t wrong; Henri had made her feel things she’d never felt before—it was like she’d come to life when she’d been with him. Besides, he had apologised to her before she left, so it wasn’t as if he was a complete jerk. Part of her wished she hadn’t cut him off before he could finish his final words to her, because she’d wondered ever since just what he’d been about to say.

Blake took her hands from Abby’s and picked up the ticket again.

‘I know it’s a lot to think about, but you can always come back home. Tom and I will always be here, if you need us.’

A solitary tear slid down Blake’s cheek, both at Abby’s gesture and because she’d made her think about Henri, and she brushed it away with the back of her knuckle.

‘Thank you,’ she said at last, embracing her sister and fighting a fresh wave of tears.

Abby hugged her back, hard, her arms wrapped tight around her. ‘You’re very, very welcome.’

When she finally let her go, it was Abby who wiped the moisture from her cheeks.

‘I’m going back to Paris,’ she whispered.

‘You’re going back to Paris,’ Abby whispered back.

She could barely believe it, but as she stared down at the ticket in her lap, there was no way she was going to let her fears hold her back. Not this time.

And maybe, just maybe, she would be brave enough to read the comments section and see exactly what everyone was saying about her romance with Henri.