Bound by Ivy (12 page)

36

Dad says that while we’re separated, Marc and I can have one half hour phone call a week. That’s it. Other than that, I’m not allowed to see Marc at all. And our separation begins from tonight.

As we head away from t
he dining table, I’m holding Marc’s hand but I don’t really feel him. I’m just in shock.

Marc is silent, deep in thought. I guess he’s pr
eparing himself.

‘Are we really going to do this?’ I whisper, as everyon
e takes seats in the lounge.

‘It could be
for the best,’ says Marc. ‘A break will help you think about your future. And whether or not I should be in it.’

‘Of course you should be in it. Marc, I love you.’

Marc’s jaw tightens, and at that moment all my worries about his love for me vanish. I know he’s feeling this pain just as badly as I am. He’s just coping with it in his own way – by trying to stay in control.

‘I love you too,’ Marc replies, as we s
it next to each other on the sofa.

T
here’s a knock at the front door.

I tense, wondering whether Genoveva has come back, but then the front door creaks open and I hear Jen call out,
‘Well hell-oo everyone!’

Je
n comes into the lounge, blowing a noisemaker. ‘Happy Christmas!’

She’s wearing
a bright red dress with a white fur trim, and carrying a shopping bag full of presents and wine.

‘Hey Jen.’

‘What’s up with everyone?’ Jen says. ‘It feels like I’ve walked into a morgue. It must be present time, mustn’t it? You’ve had your dinner.’ She glances at the empty dining table, now strewn with empty Christmas pudding plates and cracker paper. ‘Wow! Fabulous tree.’ She drops her present bag under the branches.

‘We hadn’t got around to hand
ing out presents yet,’ I say.

Jen notices Annabel and Denise. ‘You
must
be Marc’s sister.’ She totters over and gives Annabel a kiss on both cheeks. ‘Nice to meet you. And I don’t need to ask your name.’ She gives Denise a kiss too. ‘I saw you in
Les Miserables
years ago. You were amazing. And Soph says you’re a fantastic teacher too.’ She turns back to me. ‘Is everything okay?’

‘Not really
,’ I admit. ‘Marc and I … Dad thinks it’s best if Marc and I spend a little time apart.’

‘Oh.’ Jen looks from me, to Dad
, and back again. ‘Time apart?’

‘Three months to be precise.’

‘Why would you do that?’

‘Because otherw
ise, Dad won’t give us his blessing to get married.’

Jen’s jaw drops open. ‘You’re kidding.’

‘Nope.’

There’s an awkward silence.

Jen plonks herself down on a sofa arm and turns to Dad. ‘What’s this all about then? Doesn’t sound very Christmassy.’

‘I don’t mean to be the big
, bad ogre,’ says Dad. ‘But if Sophia wants my blessing to get married, I think she and Marc should have some breathing space.’

Jen
raises her eyebrow. ‘Why can’t you just trust Sophia’s decision? She’s in her twenties. It’s not like she’s a teenager.’

‘I don’t want her to get hurt
,’ says Dad. ‘If the two of them are meant to be, a break will do them no harm at all.’

‘Don’t hate me for saying this
,’ says Denise, leaning towards me. ‘But I can see where your dad is coming from. Love when you’re young isn’t necessary the same as being married. You can fall in love many times when you’re young, but a lifetime commitment is different.’

‘I’ve only ever fallen in love
once,’ says Marc. ‘With Sophia.’

‘You might feel
that way,’ says Denise kindly. ‘But what about Sophia? Mike’s right, she hasn’t seen nearly as much of the world as you have.’

‘I’m aware of that,’ says Marc.
‘And I don’t disagree with the decision either. I think it would be good for Sophia to have some time to consider what she’s getting herself in to. There may be a better life out there for her – a life I can’t provide.’

‘Are
you really going to do it?’ Jen asks me. ‘Spend all that time apart?’

‘I don’t wan
t to,’ I say. ‘But … I don’t see that we have much choice.’

Jen turns to my dad. ‘Mike. Look, are you sure you’re not letting other things cloud your j
udgement? I heard about Genoveva …’

Dad
frowns. ‘I think the Genoveva situation has made me see things clearer than ever. She came over earlier. And now I see a lot of things I didn’t before.’

There’s that
awkward silence again.

I think of Genoveva’s present, wrapped under the tree, and wond
er why I ever held out hope that she’d act like a decent human being this Christmas.

Poor Sammy.

‘Shall we open our presents?’ I say, in a bid to change the subject. ‘Annabel. Denise. I’m so sorry I don’t have anything for you here.’

Annabel smiles and pulls a silver
locket free of her jumper. ‘I got your present in the post a few days ago. It’s beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.’ She clicks open the locket. ‘How did you get the picture of Daniel?’

I smile
at the child with blonde hair inside the locket. He looks a little like the childhood picture I saw of Marc. ‘I asked Marc.’

‘And thank you for my book
,’ says Denise. ‘I love Robert Burns.’

‘I noticed a few
poetry books in your classroom and sort of guessed.’

I hand out prese
nts to Jen, Dad and Sammy. Dad gets stuff for his car, and I give Jen some movies I know she likes and the tea set from Marc. Sammy gets a little plastic elastic man that folds in all sorts of directions. Then I give Marc his present.

‘It’s not much,’ I say, embarrassed suddenl
y to have everyone watching. The gift is wrapped in black tissue paper and suddenly looks ridiculously small and humble.

Marc shakes his head and smiles.
‘What happened to not getting me a gift?’

‘I sort of ignored you.’

He gives that quirky grin of his. ‘You sort of ignored me?’

‘Yes.
Well, I’d already made it for you when you said that. So ... open it.’

Marc pulls off the black p
aper.

‘You made
this?’ he asks, pulling out a hand-woven wristband of black and silver silk. The band is woven with silver ivy leaves and has a little silver clasp to fasten it around the wrist.

‘Yes,’ I admit. ‘It’s really not much. But
I enjoyed making it for you. I hope you like it.’

‘I do
,’ says Marc, fastening it around his wrist.

God, I love his wrists. They’re so stro
ng, so dipped in light and shadow.

I b
lush. ‘You don’t have to wear it all the time or anything. I mean, it’s nothing special.’

‘It is to me,’ says Marc.
‘Time for your gift.’ He goes to the tree and picks up a tiny, wafer thin square wrapped in gold and silver paper. There’s a huge sprig of mistletoe decorating the corner.

‘Nice wrapping,’ I say
, stroking the mistletoe. I’m relieved that the gift is small. I didn’t want anything extravagant from Marc. It just would have made me feel uncomfortable. But then again, as Jen always says, big things come in small packages.

Carefully, I open the paper a
nd stare at what’s inside.

37

I turn to Marc. ‘Is this … this isn’t what I think it is, is it?’

‘What do you think it is?’

I look down at what’s lying within the folds of gift wrap. It’s a photograph of a beautiful black horse with a white spot on its nose.

‘It’s a picture of a horse,’ I say. But I know Marc better than that. He wouldn’t just give me a picture of a h
orse as a present. Which means ...

‘She’s yours,’ says Marc softly.

‘You’re kidding me.’ I stare at the picture of the beautiful horse, with its shiny coat and beautiful black eyes. ‘I … Marc I …’ I shake my head. ‘I don’t know if I can accept this. I mean, I only got you a homemade bracelet, and this is …’

‘She’ll keep you company while you’re away from me,’ says Marc. ‘Her
name is Ebony. She’s has a very good nature. I have people at my stable who’ll take care of her. But you can see her, ride her, whenever you like.’

I get to my feet and throw my arms around Marc, hurling myself into his body. ‘Thank you,’ I whisper. ‘This is … an amazing present.’

‘I’ll take you to see her today,’ says Marc.
‘She’s an hour or so from here. On the farm we visited before.’

‘
Your
farm,’ I say.

‘Our farm.’

I’m suddenly aware that there are other people around and peel myself away from Marc.

‘We should … shall we all have a cup of tea?’

*****

Later that day,
while the others are relaxing in the lounge, Marc offers to take me to see Ebony.

‘Will Keith drive us?’ I ask.

Marc shakes his head. ‘My Aston Martin was couriered over while we were preparing the dinner. I’m going to drive us.’

I smile
. ‘Sounds good.’

Jen and Annabel are having fun playing
Scrabble, and Denise and my Dad are talking away, drinking tea and eating chocolate biscuits, so nobody misses us when we head out.

We
drive to the farm in silence, happy to be together, but both lost in our own thoughts. There’s a lot to think about after what Dad had to say.

When we arrive at
the farm, I notice security guards surrounding the perimeter.

‘Marc.
’ I turn to him as the car bumps over the muddy track towards the main house. ‘You said you were going to tell me what’s going on with all the security after Christmas. Well. I think my Christmas is pretty much over. So. Will you tell me?’

Marc pull
s the car to a stop. ‘Okay.’ He stares out of the windscreen at the open countryside and I follow his gaze, seeing the bare trees sway in the icy wind. ‘Maybe it’ll help you understand why I’m not fighting your father’s decision too much.’

A pause.

‘Marc?’

‘
My legal team are taking care of Getty. You don’t need to worry about him coming anywhere near you. But there’s something else.’

‘O
kay.’ I swallow.

‘T
here are others.’

‘Others?
What do you mean?’

‘Getty was part of an underground network. They
’re known as PAIN. They have clubs throughout London. Few people know about them. But they’re very protective of their members. Word has got out that Getty has been imprisoned. And so it looks like the leaders of this group want to take revenge on the people who put him behind bars.’

‘They want to take revenge on us?’

‘That’s what it looks like.’

I feel sick
. ‘Do the police know about this group?’

‘Not exactly.
’ Marc shakes his head. ‘Not yet, anyway. That has to be handled very delicately. PAIN are clever. If we make the wrong accusations too soon, the police might not be able to prosecute them at all.’

Silence.

‘Marc?’

‘There’s
something else too.’ Marc grips the steering wheel. ‘Someone else, actually. Wrapped up in all this. Out for revenge.’

‘Who?’

Marc turns to me. ‘Cecile.’

38

‘Cecile from Ivy College?’ I ask.

‘
Yes. PAIN sought her out after Getty was taken into custody. She’s been seen in their night clubs.’

‘She’s never liked
me,’ I say, feeling strangely numb inside. ‘And now she has more reason to hate me than ever.’

‘I don’t know
for certain how Cecile could be involved with them,’ says Marc. ‘But what I do know is that, right now, it’s not safe for you to be at my townhouse.’

‘That I don’t understand,’ I say. ‘I tho
ught your townhouse was secure.’

‘It is. Against almost everybody.’

‘Almost everybody?’

‘There’s a woman.
One of PAIN’s leaders. Her name is Yasmina. She knows the townhouse inside and out. Security systems. Layout. Everything.’

M
y blood runs cold. ‘How?’

‘She
worked for me. As my PA. Years ago. I hired her at Getty’s suggestion. She was Getty’s way of hooking into me. Of making sure he had a hold over me. She knows things about the townhouse. And about me. She’s clever. Very, very clever. And ruthless. She and PAIN’s other leader, Warren, have been accused of some fairly sickening crimes. But nothing has ever stuck.’

I nod slowly, feeling even
sicker now. ‘This Yasmina. Were the two of you …’ I let the question trail away.

‘No.’ Marc shakes
his head firmly. ‘Never. She and I had different tastes in that department.’

‘Oh. Right.’

‘PAIN are clever,’ says Marc. ‘Discreet. I need to wait for them to make a move. But until then, I don’t think it’s such a bad thing that we’re apart. I don’t want you getting caught in the crossfire.’

‘I don’t want
you
in the crossfire either,’ I say, sliding a shaking hand into his. ‘Marc, I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.’

‘You needn’t worry about me,
’ says Marc. ‘I can look after myself. It’s you we need to watch out for.’

‘
I guess I should warn Tom and Tanya. Cecile might try and cause trouble for them at college.’

‘Cecile is no longer at Ivy College.’

‘She isn’t?’

‘No. She’
s been asked to leave. It was clear she was having psychological difficulties, and I won’t have anyone threatening one of my pupils. You or anyone else. She was offered the chance to get psychological treatment at our expense, but she refused. So right now she’s on her own. But she’s being watched. They’re all being watched. I promise this will be handled.’ He squeezes my hand. ‘Let’s go and see your horse.’

*****

As soon as I clap eyes on Ebony, it’s love at first sight. She’s absolutely beautiful, and a good size too – not huge like Taranu, but not too small either. Her coat shines like stars on a clear night.

Marc gives me some oatmeal to feed her, a
nd after a few handfuls she whinnies, nuzzles my hand and lets me stroke her flank.

‘Do you want to ride her?’ Marc asks.

‘I’d love to,’ I say. ‘But I can’t leave Sammy with Dad for too long. I’ll come back when Christmas is over. She’ll help me, I think. When I’m missing you.’

*****

The rest of Christmas day feels a little subdued. We eat cheese and biscuits for tea, drink champagne and play more games, but every moment is blackened by knowing that before long Marc and I will be forced apart. How am I going to stand it?

We squeeze each other’s hands every so often, telling each othe
r, wordlessly, how much we love each other. But when I look at Marc, I can tell he’s deep in thought, trying to get his feelings under control about what lies ahead.

When late evening comes,
Denise, Annabel and Jen say their goodbyes and Dad stumbles up to bed. With Sammy already fast asleep, Marc and I head out to the garden to be alone together.

We stand
by the tall trees looking up into the black sky, knowing we don’t have long before Marc has to leave.

I can feel Marc’s
warmth against my face and neck. Having him beside me is both beautiful and heartbreaking.

Eventual
ly, I say, ‘How was your Christmas?’

‘Not quite what I had planned.
But I’m still glad I got to spend the day with you.’

‘Me too. It really was the best Christmas, if only for that reason.’

I watch a squirrel run up into bare tree branches.

‘I guess I
should go,’ says Marc. ‘It’s nearly time.’

‘I guess it is
.’ I swallow, trying to be hard and practical like Marc. Trying not to let thoughts of our separation overwhelm me. But I can’t. My face crumples.

‘I hate to see you hurting,’ says Marc through g
ritted teeth.

‘And here I was
trying to be strong,’ I try to laugh, but the laugh gets all choked up with tears. I let out a long breath. ‘It’s only three months. Not an eternity. And we can still speak to each other once a week.’ I place both palms flat on his chest. ‘And when it’s done, we can be together. Forever.’

Marc’s lips quirk up at the corners. ‘Does that mean you’re accepting my proposal, Sophia Rose?’

‘You’ll have to ask me again, if you want an answer to that question.’

‘I intend to.’