“We’d crush the petals with water to make perfume, and put it in Isabelle’s tiny glass bottles,” I went on, lost in the memories of happier times. A time when my sister was my whole world, and I was the person she loved most in it. “We thought it was the most beautiful fragrance ever. It probably smelled terrible! But Isabelle would wear it, whenever we gave her a bottle, do you remember?” Ellie smiled – just a small, half smile, an absent gesture, but it warmed my heart to see it.
But then the smile faded. “I remember the last time we did this,” she whispered back, her voice tight. “The day before my wedding. The day after you slept with my husband.”
Ellie had woken me up really early, I remembered, far too excited to sleep. We’d picked the white roses for Isabelle to tie into a bouquet for Ellie, and a few golden yellow ones for me to hold. We’d talked about the future, about their plans, and mine. And I’d almost forgotten about Greg, until Ellie asked me what was wrong, why I was quiet. And I didn’t tell her.
“I should have told you that day,” I said, now, finally. “I should have told you the minute it happened.”
“But Greg told me instead, later that morning. You just ran away the minute the confetti was thrown.” She snipped another rose head free of its stem, and it felt like she was cutting my heartstrings. Apparently forgiveness was still firmly off the cards.
“And I think that’s all the roses we need.” Gathering up her flowers in her arms, Ellie headed away from me, towards the house.
I followed her, as always.
Once Ellie and I had distributed our makeshift centrepieces, I headed upstairs to get changed, luxuriating in the feel of the pale green silk of my dress against my skin, and hoping I could stay upright in the heels. With the matching headband and my slick bob, I felt just like a 1920s’ flapper girl.
As I teetered down the stairs, I spotted Greg standing in the hallway below, and my heart beat twice in one moment as I stopped, halfway down. I’d been home two days, and I still hadn’t been alone with Greg yet. Part of me had been grateful not to have to go through that – trying to find the right words, if any, to say. And part of me had been desperate for it, just to know for sure that everything between us was in the past. Perhaps even to learn how he’d managed to be forgiven – why he deserved forgiveness and I didn’t. So, did I stay or did I run?
Greg looked up and saw me, and the choice was out of my hands.
Swallowing, I resumed my descent. “Any sign of our missing matriarch?”
Greg shook his head, slowly, staring at me until I began to feel uncomfortable. “What?”
“Nothing.” He caught my eye as I reached the bottom of the stairs. “You just look nice, is all.”
God, what I’d have given to hear him say those words two years ago. I could picture it perfectly, if I tried. But I wouldn’t. This wasn’t two years ago. I wasn’t going to blush prettily for him and try to deny it. I wasn’t going to smile shyly at the compliment.
It wasn’t even three, four or five years ago, when we were all friends, growing up with the world at our feet and sure that we would explore it, the three of us, together. I missed that feeling, but even I was realistic enough to know it wasn’t coming back.
This was now, and Rosewood was a different world, these days.
“I’m looking for your wife,” I said, pointedly. “Any ideas where she’s got to?” If Isabelle still wasn’t back, then Ellie was probably going frantic.
“Join the club,” Greg said. “I’ll help you look.” Which wasn’t quite what I’d intended.
He followed me out into the bright sunshine; it was half past ten, and the sun was creeping higher over the house. Guests were due from midday. If Isabelle didn’t come home soon, she’d risk missing her own party.
It felt strange, being alone with Greg. Like we should be sneaking about, watching out for anyone who might see us. Except we’d never done that, even back then. It wasn’t how things were between us.
Over on the lawn, the tables and chairs had been set out perfectly according to plan, and decorated with white linens, chiffon sashes and our makeshift centrepieces, a splash of yellow in amongst the white. Places were laid with the hired white china and polished silver cutlery that glinted and sparked in the bright sun.
Backing onto the woods, even the catering tents looked starched and bleached. Outside each entrance was a pedestal flower arrangement filled with white and yellow flowers, and deep green leaves. From inside, some very tempting aromas were already drifting out as the food was assembled and reheated.
There was plenty of activity; I could see Mum settling the musicians on one side of the dining area, and Dad’s voice was clearly audible from inside the tents, asking questions about ingredients. But there was no sign of Ellie.
Greg didn’t seem bothered. “I’m glad I’ve got this chance to talk to you, actually,” he said, as I walked purposefully towards the Orangery, Greg ambling along behind. “There hasn’t been an opportunity since you came back. And I think there are some things we need to say.”
I knew what he meant. Even if I’d wanted to talk to him, with my family running interference, there wouldn’t have been the chance. Ellie wasn’t the only one they were steering me away from. But I didn’t want to talk to him. I didn’t want the conversation. Didn’t want to discuss our mistakes, or talk about how in another time or place things might have been different. How we just weren’t meant to be, right here and now. I just wanted to pretend that two years ago never happened at all.
I’d thought that Greg would feel the same, but apparently not. And that made me very nervous indeed.
Suddenly, our meeting in the hallway seemed less serendipitous. “Greg, this really isn’t the…”
“Actually,” he interrupted, his voice sharper than I’d ever heard before, “I think it’s the perfect time.”
The Orangery was empty, and I was running out of places to look. “Maybe we should try the catering tents.”
As I spun on my heel, sinking into the grass, Greg grabbed my arm and said, “Saskia,” his voice firm.
I sighed. “Greg, we don’t have to. Really.” As I turned and looked up at him, I half expected all the old feelings to come flooding back. The obsessive need to watch him, to read his smiles, to catch his eye. The heat that touched my skin every time he looked at me. The connection we hadn’t been able to deny. “Look, we made a mistake, we both know that. We…we fell in love, when we weren’t free to do that. We shouldn’t have acted on it, but…we couldn’t help how we felt. But it’s over now.”
Greg let go of my arm with a laugh – a harsh, bitter laugh that grated against my ears. “Do you honestly still believe that?”
I blinked. “Believe…what? That’s what happened?”
“That’s the story we told ourselves to try and make what we did less horrific,” he said. “I guess you’ve been telling it to yourself so long you really believe it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” We’d fallen in love. We’d given in when we shouldn’t. We’d made a mistake. What was I missing?
“That wasn’t love, Saskia,” Greg said, and I felt my stomach drop at his words. “And you know that, deep down. We were selfish, lonely people who thought that Ellie was ignoring us while she was so caught up in all the wedding stuff. I was scared about the future, about everything changing. And yes, I wanted you. And I knew you wanted me too – you weren’t exactly subtle, you know. I was looking for some comfort, Ellie wasn’t around and you were, and I was weak. I gave in. I risked everything that mattered to me in the world for a few minutes of feeling better, and it was the biggest mistake I ever made.”
I stared at him, unable to speak, unable to process his
words, unable to even think beyond the realisation that he was right.
Greg shook his head. “If you think that was love, Kia…then you haven’t got a clue about what love really means. Love isn’t roses – it isn’t long glances across a room or secret rendezvous or any of the stuff we had. Love is owning up, saying sorry, and working like hell to make things right again. It’s sticking around to fix things, even when it’s the hardest thing in the world to do.”
“Ellie said…” The words came out raspy, and I swallowed and started again. “Ellie said you tried to call off the wedding.”
“I had to give her the option to walk away, with all the information. I’m just grateful as all hell that she gave me another chance.”
And maybe, if I’d stayed, if I’d confessed that morning in the Rose Garden…maybe she’d have given me one, too. But it was too late now. I’d never know.
I turned, wrenching my heels from the grass, and walked away. I couldn’t look at Greg another moment, not now I’d realised the truth. I didn’t love him. I never had. And he’d never loved me. No wonder it hadn’t hurt to come back and see him here, happy with Ellie.
It was all just a story, a way to make my peace with what I’d done. Only now, I knew there was no truth in that fiction.
The truth was I’d done the worst thing I could imagine to one of the people I loved most in the world. I’d betrayed her, and she was right not to forgive me.
With that one act, I’d torn myself away from Rosewood, away from my family. I’d run, and no one had followed. I’d slammed that door behind me, and I might never be able to go back through it. It wasn’t just my relationship with Ellie I’d ruined – it was with everyone. Nathaniel, Isabelle, Therese, Mum and Dad, Caro… Things could never be the same between us, ever again. Hell, it had even coloured any friendship I might hope to have with Edward. The first and only thing he knew about me was that I betrayed my sister. Not a great start.
I heard Greg calling after me and picked up my pace, until I was running across the grass on my tiptoes, racing towards the edge of the garden.