Checkmate (17 page)

She's stopped crying now. The tears didn't last very long. I hate this. She's radiating defeat and it's like x-rays passing straight through me. I never meant to make her cry. But that photograph . . .

Mum and Dad together.

Proof positive that they were an item. And Dad was smiling and he looked so happy. That's why I tore it up. I couldn't bear it. Him and Mum looking so happy. What about me? He had no right to be happy after all the things he did, all the things I've read and heard about. He had no right.

But he was still my dad.

I've followed in his footsteps, 'cause I'm my father's daughter. But I hate him so much. He left me with no path but his. And following it has left me so tired. My head is all over the place. My throat has swollen to twice its normal size so that I can't swallow and I can hardly breathe. I grit my teeth and stretch out my fingers until my joints ache. I make a fist so fierce and strong, it's watertight. The floor starts to swim and blur beneath me.

Mum wipes her eyes. I wanted her to hurt like me, a way-down-inside, deep-rooted kind of hurt. So deep inside it can't be separated from anything else.

But I didn't mean to make her cry.

Callum, if you're up there, somewhere, I need your help. Our daughter hates you and me and the whole world. And I did that. Because I wore my fear like a dress of nettles. Because I lied to her. And when I was ready to tell the truth, it was too late. Oh Callum, what should I do? I have to do something or all this will be for nothing. You and I will have been for nothing.

Mother said the only way Callie Rose and I were ever going to resolve our differences was if we sat down and talked together, really talked. But it's hard to talk when the other person doesn't want to listen. Not that I blame her. If my life were a canvas, I'd paint over it and start again from scratch. I left my canvas semi-blank for years, terrified of messing it up. A little daub here, a smear of paint there and I convinced myself I was doing great work. I was just deluding myself.

Callum, please open her heart to hear me.

Please, God, give me another chance.

What a joke! Except the joke's on me. I'm praying to a God I told myself I didn't believe in any more. When Callum died, I stopped believing.

But, God, if you are up there, somewhere, then please help us.

It was Mother's idea to put us both in here.

'She'll have no choice but to listen to you and you'll have to listen to her,' Mother argued.

'But she'll just walk out,' I said. 'Callie Rose can't even bear to be in the same house as me, never mind the same room.'

'We'll just see about that,' said Mother. 'I'll get her into the cellar, then the rest is up to you.'

But now I'm sitting here, worrying about Mum handling Callie's carrier bag. And Callie Rose and I are as far apart as ever.

I don't wish for impossible things. I don't expect Callie Rose to love me or respect me. But I want her to find peace. I want her to stop hating the world. I need her to believe that people are worth fighting for, that life is worth not just living, but celebrating. But how can she ever learn that? Certainly not from my example. I buried myself in the past for years, until it was almost too late for me and definitely too late for my daughter. I wasn't there, but Jude was. And now she's walking down Jude's road.

And I know only too well where it ends.

Please, God, I don't want that for my daughter.

Am I being naive in thinking that hating and dying for a cause is the easy way out? Surely it's far harder to live and love and fight and survive? I remember a lifetime ago when I was locked in a dirty room and held for ransom. I remember when there was just me and Callum.

I tried to tell him the same thing, but he wouldn't listen. He didn't believe me any more than his daughter does now.

'Was that really the only photo you had of you and my dad?' Callie's voice made me jump.

'Yes,' I replied, not looking at her.

Silence.

'I bet you hate me even more now,' Callie said at last.

I turned shocked eyes towards her. 'Never. I could never hate you, Callie Rose. And there's nothing you could do that would ever make me hate you.'

'Yeah, right,' Callie scoffed.

'That's the truth.'

'Don't pretend, Mum. You've hated me from the day I was born,' she flung at me.

'I could never hate you.' I would repeat it and repeat it until she heard me. I'd repeat it until my dying day if I had to.

'You don't hate me, Mum?' Callie said with scorn. 'Then why did you try to kill me?'

Sonny came round to childsit today. (Not babysit. I'm not a baby any more – thank you very much!) I like Sonny. He makes me laugh. We went to the park for a walk and to feed the ducks on the kidney-shaped lake, which was his idea, not mine. After that we had lunch outside the local café even though the wind was sharp enough to make me shiver once or twice. We both had a couple of buttery baguettes stuffed with sausages, fried onions and enough dripping tomato ketchup on mine to make my hand look like a crime scene. And I enjoyed it all the more because I knew Nana Jasmine would be horrified to see me eating on the street, and eating something so messy. Ha! After that we ambled home and sat together on the sofa watching cartoons on the TV.

'Rose, I need to ask you something,' said Sonny.

I turned to face him. Sonny pressed the button on the remote control to turn off the TV – which was a shame 'cause it was right in the middle of one of my most favourite bits. But Sonny looked very serious so I didn't argue.

'Rose, what d'you think of the idea of your mum and me getting together?'

'To do what?' I asked. 'Sing some more?'

'No, love. What I mean is, I want your mum and me to live together. What d'you think of that idea?'

'Where would I go?'

'You'd live with us too, silly head,' said Sonny ruffling my hair
–
which I hate.

'Why d'you want Mum and me to live with you?' I frowned.

'Because I love you both very much, silly head,' said Sonny. He tried to ruffle my hair again, but I was too fast for him. I ducked out of the way in time. Ha! And then I realized with a start what he'd just said.

'Do you really love me?' I asked Sonny.

'Of course I do,' said Sonny. 'What's not to love?'

No one had ever told me that before.

'Wait till I tell Mum

'No, don't do that,' said Sonny quickly. 'I want to tell your mum myself. These things have to be done just right.'

'Oh, OK,' I said, feeling like a balloon with all the air let out of it. Then I thought of something else. 'Would you be my dad then?'

Sonny didn't answer at once. Then he said, 'I wouldn't try to take the place of your real dad, but I'd be happy to call you my daughter. I'd legally adopt you
–
if you were willing. And in the future if you ever wanted to, I'd be proud to have you call me your dad.'

Which meant a lot to me
–
and the words hadn't even sunk in fully yet. He was saying that I could call him Dad if I wanted to – which was so, so wonderful. To have a real, live dad. Not a substitute, but kind of like an addition.

'So when are you going to ask Mum about living together?' I asked.

'As soon as she gets home,' smiled Sonny.

As if she knew we were talking about her, Mum chose just that moment to step through the front door. I sprang up from the sofa and ran into the hall to meet her, skidding a bit on the wooden floor as I was still in my socks. Mum put down the four bulging carrier bags she was carrying before turning to shut the door.

'Mum, guess what? Sonny wants to—'

'Rose, let me tell your mum myself,' Sonny interrupted from behind me.

I clapped both hands over my mouth. I'd forgotten that I wasn't supposed to say anything.

Sonny picked up Mum's shopping and carried it into the kitchen, winking at me as he walked past. Mum and me followed him.

Mum smiled suspiciously. 'What're you two up to?'

'Sonny has something to ask you.' I nodded at Mum. I knew something she didn't. Ha!

'I'm listening,' Mum said directly to Sonny.

'Actually, I was hoping we could discuss it over dinner later,' said Sonny.

'Sounds serious,' said Mum, her smile slowly falling off her face.

'It's nothing bad,' said Sonny. 'Meggie has agreed to babysit, so I thought we could have a few hours to ourselves. I've booked us a table at your favourite restaurant.'

From the look on Mum's face, I thought she was going to insist that Sonny spill the beans immediately, but she said, 'OK then. Pick me up at seven-thirty?'

'That's fine. I'll see you later, Sephy. Bye, Rosie.' Sonny walked past me, ruffling my hair again. When I gave him my very best stern look, he grinned at me, which didn't help. He and Mum had a kiss (yuk!) which would've grown up into a snog but Mum pulled away first. Sonny smiled at Mum then headed out the door.

'What was that all about?' Mum asked me when the front door was shut.

'I promised I wouldn't say,' I said in my most grownup voice. 'It's a surprise.'

'I don't like surprises.'

'You'll like this one.'

Mum shrugged and started unpacking the groceries.

'Want some help? No? OK!' I said quickly before scooting back into the living room.

'Callie Rose, get your lazy bum back in here please,' said Mum.

Charming!

I headed back to the kitchen.

'Nice try, love,' Mum said wryly. 'Grab a bag.'

'I just need to run away faster,' I replied.

I looked at Mum and started smiling – and then I couldn't stop.

'What's the matter with you?' asked Mum.

'Nothing. I'm just happy,' I told her.

The look Mum gave me was almost . . . worried. But then she smiled and I shook my head, telling myself not to imagine things. Mum and Sonny were going to live together, maybe even get married. How cool was that!

Specimens was a strange name for a restaurant, but I loved it there. It was classy and understated and they served the best monkfish in lemon sauce I'd ever eaten. I looked around, soaking up the mellow atmosphere. Sonny and I got the occasional look but on the whole, nothing too hostile. Mostly just curious. Well, let them look. Let the whole world look.

'Sephy, can I ask you something?'

'You don't need my permission, Sonny,' I smiled. Why did he always ask that before every question? It drove me mad!

'I want you to count to at least ten before answering,' said Sonny. He rubbed at his right eyebrow, the way he always did when he was nervous.

'I'm all agog!' I teased.

And still he didn't spit it out. I took a sip of my white wine, waiting for Sonny to get to the point. He took hold of my free hand, which up until that point had been resting on the restaurant table minding its own business.

And it still didn't click. I took another sip of my wine. I never had more than one glass a day, under any circumstances. I was good at making a glass of wine last all evening. Sonny raised my hand to his lips and kissed it.

'I love you, Sephy – you know that. So . . . will you marry me?'

My mouthful of white wine decided to make a break for it. Some shot out of my mouth and most shot out of my nose. I was mortified. I grabbed my napkin and tried to dab up the last of my shattered composure. I coughed and spluttered into the napkin, trying and failing to not draw attention to myself.

'Is that a yes or a no?' said Sonny wryly.

'Are you serious?'

Sonny's smile faded. 'Yes, of course.'

'Oh, Sonny

Sonny raised a hand to stop me in mid-flight. You promised me ten seconds before you answered.'

Ten seconds or ten years – my answer would still be the same.

'Sonny, why can't we just carry on as we are?' I asked.

'Because I love you and what we have isn't enough any more. I want to be a permanent part of your life. I want you to be a permanent part of mine,' said Sonny seriously.

'Isn't that what we have now?' I tried desperately.

'You know it isn't,' said Sonny.

I tried to find some way to answer him, but my mind had emptied, all rational thoughts vanishing in a puff of panic. Sonny took the napkin off his lap and threw it down on the table before he sat back and studied me.

'Sometimes I think it wouldn't bother you if you never saw me again.'

'That's not true.'

'Isn't it?' Sonny crossed his arms.

His body language was speaking volumes.

'If that's what you really believe then why marry me?' I asked.

'I'm an optimist,' Sonny shot back. 'I'm hoping you'll let yourself love me
–
one day.'

'Sonny, I don't want to marry you or anyone else,' I said unhappily.

'Why not? I know I'm not Callum but—'

'He has nothing to do with this,' I said more harshly than I'd intended.

'No? Then why do I always feel like a minor player in a
ménage à trois
whenever we're together?'

'What're you talking about?'

'Callum surrounds every part of your life, but in bed with you is where I feel his presence most strongly.'

'That's not . . .' I lowered my voice, aware that we were beginning to attract a great deal of unwelcome attention. 'That's not true. If I felt that way about him, you wouldn't've made it past my bedroom door.'

'So how d'you feel about him?' Sonny challenged. 'You've never said.'

'That's because you've never asked.'

'I'm asking now.'

Sonny was making a poor job of masking his disappointment, although I knew I was doing him a disservice to call it that. His feelings went far deeper, ran far hotter.

'Callum is . . . was the past. I let go of the past a long time ago.'

'You've never let it go, Sephy. The past rules your life, it dictates your actions and clouds your judgement.'

'What're you talking about?'

'You judge everyone you meet by what happened to you and Callum. You don't let anyone get close to you because you immediately judge the whole world to be your enemy. You expect everyone to be against you so you never let your guard down.'

'That's not true.'

'Isn't it? If you'd really let go of the past like you claim, then you'd love me the way I love you.'

My heart doubled in size and weight inside my chest and told me
–
as if I didn't already know
–
just how unwelcome were Sonny's words. My gaze danced away from his as I struggled to find the right thing to say.

'I want us to get married, Sephy,' Sonny continued.

Had I imagined the trace of desperation in his voice? Unfortunately I didn't think so.

'Sonny, we're happy the way we are, aren't we? I don't want to lose that.'

'Marrying me will give us both more. That's what I want. More,' Sonny immediately replied.

But there was no more.

Sonny sat back, never taking his eyes off me. 'Do you love me?'

I couldn't lie. Even my silence couldn't lie.

Sonny nodded to himself, acknowledging his own private thoughts. I wondered what he was thinking but I was too afraid to ask. I so desperately didn't want to lose him.

'I guess if you don't love me by now, you never will,' said Sonny. The finality of his tone was soft and sad and brought unbidden tears to my eyes.

'Sonny, I—'

'No.' Sonny raised a hand to stave off my words. 'I lost you when Jaxon threw you out of the band just after Callie was born and I did nothing to stop him.'

'Sonny, that was many moons ago. When you came back into my life, I was glad to see you. You know I was.'

Sonny came knocking on my door less than a year after I came out of hospital, when Callie was a toddler. I still remember how happy I was to see him. It'd been instant hugs and smiles
–
and a certain amount of relief on Sonny's part. I think he half expected me to slam the door in his face. And a few months after that, we'd started working together.

'But I didn't stand up for you, did I?' said Sonny. 'Jaxon bounced you out of our band and I never argued. That's when I lost your respect and you'd never love someone you couldn't respect.'

'Sonny, that's nonsense. I forgave you years ago.'

'But you haven't forgotten, have you?'

How to answer that? I couldn't lie.

'I . . . I don't . . . forget . . .' I murmured unhappily. How many times over the years had I wished I could do exactly that? How many times had I longed for even my dreams to be free from memories? 'But that doesn't mean anything. Sonny, what happened before, that's not why I don't want to get married. It's not that I don't want to marry you. I just don't want to marry anyone.'

'You just haven't found the right man yet,' Sonny surmised.

'Even the right man couldn't convince me to marry him,' I dismissed carelessly.

'Thanks, Persephone,' said Sonny quietly.

Oh hell! 'I didn't mean it like that,' I tried.

Sonny didn't reply. I didn't know what to say to make things better. He regarded me with such resigned sadness that tears pricked my eyes again. God knows, the last thing I wanted to do was hurt him.

'I need to get out of here.' Sonny started to stand up.

I grabbed his arm. 'Sonny, please

'What?'

'Don't go.'

'Why?'

What to do? What to say? 'Thousands of reasons.'

Sonny looked at me before he said at last, 'Just one would've done.'

We regarded each other, the same quality of sadness on both our faces. And where we'd been swimming together before, I could now feel the current tearing us apart and pulling us in opposite directions.

'D'you hate me?' I whispered.

Sonny looked at me, his eyes shimmering with tears he didn't even try to hide. 'I couldn't hate you
–
even if I wanted to. But I don't think we should see each other any more.'

And I thought about how much Callie Rose was going to miss him.

And I thought about how much he'd done for Meggie over the years, without any sign of welcome or appreciation or gratitude from her.

And I thought about how lost I was going to be without his warmth and friendship.

But I couldn't speak.

I watched as Sonny pulled some notes out of his wallet. He dropped them on the table, more than generous in his estimate of the cost of our meal.

'Shall we go?' he asked, standing up.

I followed his lead and stood up. We walked out of the restaurant, neither of us saying a word.