great deal of affection for her. Alex watched as she seemed to
search his face for a moment.
“You’ve been a stranger for too long,” she announced. “You
must do some theatre.” Alex smiled with a nod. “And come for supper soon.” He
watched Eleanor disappear and he pushed further in to the house, searching the
faces for his sister. He turned towards the kitchen and sighed as he spotted
Helena’s friend, the one who’d shot him a venomous look in the church. She was
standing by the back door, her body resting against the doorframe. There was a
stillness about her that made Alex feel as though he was intruding. He searched
his memory for her name, Talia. That was it. He must have coughed, because she
spun round startled. For a moment they stared at one another and Alex was
struck by the unguarded look of unhappiness in her eyes. He saw her blink
quickly and the look was gone, replaced by the irritated look that he was more
familiar with.
“Talia.” He murmured moving towards her.
“Alex,” she said the words cautiously with a question in her
eyes as he came to stand directly in front of her.
“It’s been a while,” he said staring into her face, surprised
that she seemed even smaller than he remembered. In his head she’d always been
his sister’s little friend and it was probably close to a decade since he’d
last seen her and then she would have been only 18 or 19. She was radiating
keep away signs and something about the look in her eyes, made Alex want to
test her. He leaned in close to her noting that her breath hitched in surprise
and then stilled. Gently he kissed her softly along her cheekbone. “You look
exactly the same,” he said and with a smile he turned and walked out of the
kitchen with a smile, knowing that if she could, Talia would have spat daggers
at him.
Helena
reclined in the weathered leather Eames chair in her grandfather’s study. As a
founding partner in one of the country’s oldest literary agencies, Richard
Golden had had a hand in nurturing some of the country’s finest playwrights and
he had continued working right up to the end, still negotiating contracts for
the stable of writers that he represented. From downstairs Helena could hear the
dull hum of conversations from the wake but she leaned back in the chair
closing her eyes, breathing in deeply to smell the books and papers, smells
that were inexorably linked in her mind with her grandfather. She took a moment
to savour the sense of him that was still in the room, knowing that before
long, this tangible feeling of his presence would start to fade. She turned to
a framed photograph that stood on a bookshelf, carefully picking it up. It was
one of the last pictures of her grandfather and she herself had taken it. She
stared at it for a long time before setting it back down on the shelf. For a
moment she closed her eyes, not ready yet to let tears fall. She took a deep
breath and then opened her eyes slowly, just as Alex entered the study.
“This is where you’re hiding,” he said with a wry smile,
closing the door gently behind him. They had had little time to talk at the
crematorium and Helena watched the way he ran his hands down the back of his
neck as he perched on the edge of their grandfather’s desk. She smiled, amused
at the gesture, a sign of nervousness that only those who knew him well could
spot. She watched him squirm for a moment, looking anywhere but at her. “I
didn’t see Grant,” Alex continued and Helena winced.
“I imagine he took his fiancée home,” Helena replied, unable
to keep some tartness from her voice.
Alex blanched and then he looked embarrassed. “When did you
guys break up?” He finally asked.
“Six months ago,” Helena replied, not bothering to hide the
look of hurt and accusation in her eyes.
“You’re mad with me,” Alex said.
Helena shrugged. “I just wish you’d been here. Gramps kept
asking for you.”
“I would have been here if I’d
search his face for a moment.
“You’ve been a stranger for too long,” she announced. “You
must do some theatre.” Alex smiled with a nod. “And come for supper soon.” He
watched Eleanor disappear and he pushed further in to the house, searching the
faces for his sister. He turned towards the kitchen and sighed as he spotted
Helena’s friend, the one who’d shot him a venomous look in the church. She was
standing by the back door, her body resting against the doorframe. There was a
stillness about her that made Alex feel as though he was intruding. He searched
his memory for her name, Talia. That was it. He must have coughed, because she
spun round startled. For a moment they stared at one another and Alex was
struck by the unguarded look of unhappiness in her eyes. He saw her blink
quickly and the look was gone, replaced by the irritated look that he was more
familiar with.
“Talia.” He murmured moving towards her.
“Alex,” she said the words cautiously with a question in her
eyes as he came to stand directly in front of her.
“It’s been a while,” he said staring into her face, surprised
that she seemed even smaller than he remembered. In his head she’d always been
his sister’s little friend and it was probably close to a decade since he’d
last seen her and then she would have been only 18 or 19. She was radiating
keep away signs and something about the look in her eyes, made Alex want to
test her. He leaned in close to her noting that her breath hitched in surprise
and then stilled. Gently he kissed her softly along her cheekbone. “You look
exactly the same,” he said and with a smile he turned and walked out of the
kitchen with a smile, knowing that if she could, Talia would have spat daggers
at him.
Helena
reclined in the weathered leather Eames chair in her grandfather’s study. As a
founding partner in one of the country’s oldest literary agencies, Richard
Golden had had a hand in nurturing some of the country’s finest playwrights and
he had continued working right up to the end, still negotiating contracts for
the stable of writers that he represented. From downstairs Helena could hear the
dull hum of conversations from the wake but she leaned back in the chair
closing her eyes, breathing in deeply to smell the books and papers, smells
that were inexorably linked in her mind with her grandfather. She took a moment
to savour the sense of him that was still in the room, knowing that before
long, this tangible feeling of his presence would start to fade. She turned to
a framed photograph that stood on a bookshelf, carefully picking it up. It was
one of the last pictures of her grandfather and she herself had taken it. She
stared at it for a long time before setting it back down on the shelf. For a
moment she closed her eyes, not ready yet to let tears fall. She took a deep
breath and then opened her eyes slowly, just as Alex entered the study.
“This is where you’re hiding,” he said with a wry smile,
closing the door gently behind him. They had had little time to talk at the
crematorium and Helena watched the way he ran his hands down the back of his
neck as he perched on the edge of their grandfather’s desk. She smiled, amused
at the gesture, a sign of nervousness that only those who knew him well could
spot. She watched him squirm for a moment, looking anywhere but at her. “I
didn’t see Grant,” Alex continued and Helena winced.
“I imagine he took his fiancée home,” Helena replied, unable
to keep some tartness from her voice.
Alex blanched and then he looked embarrassed. “When did you
guys break up?” He finally asked.
“Six months ago,” Helena replied, not bothering to hide the
look of hurt and accusation in her eyes.
“You’re mad with me,” Alex said.
Helena shrugged. “I just wish you’d been here. Gramps kept
asking for you.”
“I would have been here if I’d
Similar Books
