Forget Me Not (The Ceruleans: Book 2) (9 page)

‘Are you sure?’ said Jude later, much later. After the
storm.

We were standing, side by side, in my sister’s bedroom, at
the window that gave the best view over the cove, staring out into the last of
the night. We’d been there a while, but not remotely as long as we’d remained
at the kitchen table.

‘I’m sure,’ I told him. Again.

‘When the time comes, you’ll choose me?’

There was nothing to see through the window, only shadows,
but I fancied I could make out, far off in the village, an angular house with a
pinkish hue. The Cavendish house.

‘I will choose you, Jude,’ I said. ‘I promise.’

The words felt wrong on my lips, but they were unequivocally
right. I could not choose Luke. It was not an option. I could only choose to
save the sister who had saved me.

Was she out there right now, thinking of me? Missing me? Was
she hurting? What was her life like with those people? Jude had been adamant
that she wouldn’t be harmed; the Fallen didn’t hurt their own. But they’d
wanted her enough to Claim her – why? What use was she to them?

Or me, for that matter. They’d wanted me as well. Until
she’d bargained with them for my life, my second life, to give me a future free
from the Fallen and all they stood for. The memory she’d written of in her
diary – her shielding me from the sight of paramedics dealing with our
unconscious mother.
I tried to stand between Scarlett and the Bad Thing
,
she wrote. All these years later she’d done it again. She’d faced the horror so
I wouldn’t have to. But this time, I would not leave her standing alone.

Jude believed I could save her. He had tried, in the
kitchen, to explain how. I’d cut him off. I didn’t care how – his conviction
was good enough for me. If there was even the slimmest of chances that I could
get Sienna away from the Fallen, I would take it. She deserved that. Because
once I had been her everything, and she mine.

Flashes of blue in the reflection on the glass distracted
me. Across the room, in the light of a lamp, Jude was slowly rotating the rock
he had given my sister.

‘I gave it to her to symbolise Becoming,’ he explained.
‘It’s called chalcanthite. A copper mineral that reforms. It crystallises, and
then dissolves. And then, afterwards, it
re
crystallises. Different to
before, but in essence the same. Like you will be.’

The colour was mesmerising. Like the Cerulean light. Like
Luke’s eyes. Like, as my sister had written, the wildflower meadow we’d once
played in together as children.

‘You don’t need to be afraid, Scarlett. You won’t be lost,
or alone. When you wake up I’ll be right there, and you’ll be everything you’ve
always been. And in time, you’ll be happy again.’

‘Where will I be?’

‘Cerulea.’

‘What’s it like there?’

‘Peaceful. Beautiful.’

‘You move between there and here. I want to do that too.’

He put the rock down then and came to stand close to me.
‘We’ve been over and over this. You know it doesn’t work that way. You can’t
come back. You won’t be able to Travel. Or stay in touch at all. It’s just not
possible.’

‘Please, Jude.
Please
. There must be a way. There’s
more than you and my sister and me to think about in all this. There’s my
mother, and Luke, and Cara. I can’t just abandon them, I can’t do what Sienna
did. That would be unnecessarily cruel.’

‘But don’t you see? You’ll have moved on. And to keep those
people hoping, waiting, when you’ll never return to them –
that
would be
unnecessarily cruel.’

‘Never?’

‘Never. You’ll be dead to them, Scarlett.’

The word resounded in the stillness of the night.
Dead
.
Dead
.
Dead
.

He saw me flinch and added quickly, ‘I’m sorry, but there’s
no other way. They’ll have to let you go. And you’ll have to let them go.’

There was no arguing with him. The future he represented was
right now as solid as that blue rock. I turned away and leaned my forehead on
the glass of the window. It was cold on my skin. The darkness outside was so
thick I may as well have had my eyes closed. But I kept them open. Until,
finally, I saw it: the first glow of dawn on the horizon.

‘How many more sunrises do you think I have?’

‘How many do you need to say goodbye?’

‘All of them.’

‘Are you sure?’

That question again, but odd in the context. I looked around
to find he was studying me carefully. ‘What?’ I said. ‘What do you mean?’

He took a deep breath, but then shook his head. ‘It doesn’t
matter.’

Sighing, I turned back to the sunrise. ‘I want to know how
much time I have, Jude. It affects everything I do from here.’

‘I don’t know exactly,’ he said. ‘Sienna lasted several
months before the sickness really set in. But you’ve pushed further than her.
With Luke the other day, all that light you gave him – that kind of healing
comes at a cost. I can sense it in you, the darkness. It’s slight still. But
it’s growing.’

‘Will I see the leaves turn?’

‘I think so.’

‘Will I see them fall?’

‘Perhaps.’

‘Will I see them regrow in the spring?’

‘No.’

Time – that was what I’d wished for. It would be selfish to
wish for it now, knowing that the longer I lived, the longer Sienna was alone.
But all the same, I did. I wanted every moment I could have. I wanted to choose
life, choose Luke, for as long as possible.

I thought about my sister’s diary entries, undated but depicting
a journey from normality to death that spanned some time – enough time to make
memories, to discover what it means to be truly alive, to feel ready, finally,
one night to give it all up. She would want that for me, I thought. She would
understand my wish.

Warm fingers brushed mine.

‘Is it… can I?’

I nodded, and Jude took my hand.

Amber warmth was leaking across the sea now, chasing off the
shadows.

‘You seem so… calm,’ he said.

‘I
did
not being calm,’ I reminded him. ‘Downstairs.’

‘But then something changed.’

‘Yes.’

He didn’t push for an explanation; he just held my hand and
stood silently beside me. As he would to the very end, and beyond. He was the
only one who could do that for me. He was the only one who could really know
me. He deserved my honesty.

‘I guess it’s about meaning,’ I said. ‘It always has been,
really. When Sienna died, I couldn’t accept it, because there was no meaning to
it. It made no sense for her to just give up on life. Then, finally, when I
found out that she was ill, it made sense. Her death had meaning.

‘It was quieter inside me then. I was happy. The best summer
– the best days I’ve ever had. But then Bert’s spirit… and Luke, healing Luke…
and you in the garden telling me you’re here to take me. Every bit of calm
shattered. Since then, all I could think was that I don’t want to die – I’m not
ready, not now, when I’ve finally found the place I want to be and the people I
want to be with.

‘But not wanting it doesn’t stop it happening. Death is
coming – even without you telling me I can feel it. It’s inevitable. I can’t
change it. So all I can do is surrender. Accept it. And find some meaning.’

‘That’s what changed tonight.’

‘Yes.’

This is what really matters
, my sister wrote:
‘What would you die for?’

The answer: to protect the person you love the most.

‘I have every reason to live, Jude. But tonight I found a
reason to die. My sister died for me. And so when I die, it will be for her. I
will go with you. I will Become a Cerulean. For her.’

He quit standing beside me then, quit holding my hand. He
wrapped his arms around me and hugged me tightly. I hugged him back – God knew
I needed to be held.

‘What will you do now?’ he said when I broke away.

I looked out once more, not at the glorious sky but at the
sea, which would soon be blue, not black. I pressed my palm to the glass, as if
I could touch all that was waiting for me out there. ‘I’ll see a world in a
grain of sand,’ I told him, ‘and a heaven in a wildflower. Hold infinity in the
palm of my hand, and eternity in an hour.’

‘Huh?’

I smiled. ‘William Blake. Romantic poet.’

‘Oh. What does all that mean?’

‘It means I’ll live a lifetime in the moments I have left,’
I said. ‘I’ll live. I’ll
live
. I’ll make the living meaningful. And
then… I’ll die.’

‘Holy –’

‘Jeez Louise!’

‘My giddy aunt…’

‘******!’

‘Wow. Oh, wow.’

‘Si – what the…?’

Of the excited people standing on the vast balcony
overlooking Fistral Bay, Newquay, I was the only one who was silent. All I
could think was I’d never seen so much sky in all my life.

‘Seriously, Si,’ said Luke beside me, ‘when you said you’d
sort the accommodation, I was thinking caravans, or a grotty B&B. This is…’

‘Paradise,’ sighed Cara to my other side.

She was right.

A five-bedroomed penthouse in an exclusive development right
near the tip of the headland. Inside, the finish was bright and modern and
luxurious, from the sixty-inch TV and the ten-seater corner sofa to the vast
polished dining table and the candy-striped Smeg fridge. Even the bin was
fancy. But it was outside that drew the eye – through row upon row of
floor-to-ceiling windows. Here, out on the wide, decked balcony that wrapped
around three sides of the apartment, the panoramic views through and above the
glass panelling were breathtaking: across the golf course to the town of
Newquay beyond, and over all of Fistral Bay, from the crescent moon of sand to
the wide expanse of sea. There couldn’t have been a better view in the whole
town.

Lined up along the barricade, we took in the sight. There
were thirteen of us: Luke and me, and Cara and Kyle. Si, of course, the
organiser, and his date for the weekend – an impossibly beautiful brunette from
London who’d introduced herself as ‘Tamara with a T’. Geoff, and a petite
Chinese girl called Lucy, whom he’d recently started seeing. Big Ben, a huge
blond guy, and his stunning, dark and dusky Amazonian girlfriend, Mouse. And
finally, the footloose and fancy-free threesome: freckly, lanky Liam, ginger
Andy and olive-skinned Duvali. The only missing member of the gang was of the
furry variety; we’d left him with Bert’s neighbour, Mrs Hobbs. Good job too, I
thought, given the swankiness of this place. Chester wasn’t an executive
apartment kind of dog.

‘Si, fifty a head?’ Andy was saying. ‘I know you’re a
smooth-talking son-of-a-, but how did you swing that?’

Si gave one of his trademark grins. ‘It’s all legit. Well,
except the three of you, who’ll be crashing on the sofa while we couples have a
room each.’

‘Doesn’t bother me, mate,’ said Liam. ‘I’ll sleep anywhere,
me. Bath. Floor. Hot tub.’ He eyed the huge spa on the deck longingly.

‘Go ahead, fire it up,’ said Si. ‘Andy, tunes?’

‘I’m on it.’

‘Duvali, come and help me lug the booze up from the garage.’

And in a moment, the ‘Ooo, view!’ session was over and
people were marching about everywhere.

‘Come on,’ said Cara, grabbing Kyle’s hand. ‘Let’s bag us a
room.’

Luke watched them go, and then said, ‘Shall we?’

I blinked at him. ‘Shall we what?’

‘Go choose a room?’

Oh boy.

The original plan had been for Cara and me to share a room,
and Luke to bunk in with Kyle (the king-size beds were zip-and-locks that could
split out into twins). But somewhere along the journey here, while I’d been
half-asleep on Luke’s shoulder catching up after my very long night, the plan
had apparently changed. Leaving me to spend the next three nights in a big bed
in a romantic setting with Luke. Hence:

Oh boy.

‘Lead the way,’ I said with gusto, and he grinned and draped
an arm around me to guide me inside.

Beyond the lounge four bedrooms were lined up, each with a
wall of windows looking out on the view and a door leading onto the balcony.
They were spacious and designer in feel, with white walls and white bedding and
white carpets and bright green accessories. I’d have happily slept in any, but
Luke had caught sight of a spiral staircase leading off the main hallway and he
pulled me up behind him. We emerged in the fifth bedroom, which had a level all
to itself. It was cosier than the other rooms, and had no en suite, but it had
a big bed and a long green sofa set at the window from which the view was
unsurpassable.

‘This one!’ I said at once.

‘This one,’ he agreed. ‘Wait here – I’ll get our bags.’

I plomped onto the sofa and stared out at the bay, hungrily
drinking in every atom of blue laid out before me.

‘There!’ announced Luke behind me, and I heard the clatter
of bags dropping to the floor. He strode over, leaped over the back of the sofa
and settled beside me.

‘We’re here,’ he grinned.

‘We’re here.’  

He brushed a hand down my cheek. ‘You okay? You totally
conked out in the minibus. Even slept through Andy’s Beach Boys karaoke
session.’

‘I’m fine. Just didn’t sleep much last night.’

‘Something worrying you?’

‘No,’ I said firmly.

Somewhere below, a song began playing, and then the volume
was hoicked up and I recognised the opening verse of one of my favourite songs
for playing loud in the cottage and shouting along tunelessly.

‘I love this song!’

‘Me too! Come on, dance with me!’ He grabbed my hand and
pulled me up.

‘Er, it’s not really a slow dance kind of –’

‘So dance like a loony then. Shake it out!’

And he proceeded to jump about like a deranged rabbit. For a
long moment I stared at him – wow, this was a new and surprising side to Luke –
and then I was up and with him, and we were jiggling and wiggling and singing
and jostling our way around the room to ‘Town Called Malice’.

Finally, The Black Eyed Peas replaced The Jam on the stereo
and Luke and I collapsed, panting and laughing, onto the bed.

‘You got some moves, Cavendish.’

‘Learned them all from my dad. Dad dancing rocks.’

I rolled onto my back and laughed.

‘I love your laugh.’

‘I love
you
.’

‘It’s going to be a great weekend.’

‘Absolutely.’

He sang a line of ‘I Gotta Feeling’, loudly.

I winced and covered my ears. ‘It’s gonna be a
long
night, if you keep that up.’

The smile dropped from his face.

‘Uh-oh.’

‘What?’

‘You’ve got that look.’

‘What look?’

‘The serious one you get when you’re chopping onions, or
bossing Cara, or telling me off for getting totalled on tequila…’

He smiled then. ‘You don’t plan to do that this weekend, do
you?’

‘Depends.’

‘On what?’

‘Whether you plan to recreate your
vodka-kipper-traffic-cone-tutu adventure.’

He gave me a shove.

‘Hey. I bet your legs look great in a tutu.’

‘Scarlett…’

‘Okay, okay. No, I’m not going to get smashed. I know my
limit. And this weekend is about having fun, not passing out drunk.’

He kissed my nose. ‘Speaking of fun…’ He poked the bed.

‘It’s a bed.’

‘Your powers of observation are dazzling. Yes. It’s a bed. A
nice, comfy bed. And we’re going to be sharing it.’

‘How come? I thought I was in with Cara, so she and Kyle
were –’

‘Separate?’ He grimaced. ‘Yes, well, let’s just say my
sister can be very persuasive when she wants to be.’

‘What did she do?’

‘Well, she started out reminding me that she’s only a few
months off her eighteenth birthday. Then she gave me a loud, extensive,
energetic, blow-by-blow recap of her sex education classes to prove to me that
she was informed and responsible enough to make her own, sensible decisions. It
was horrendous. She had a book. With illustrations.’

I smothered a laugh.

‘And a banana.’

A snort escaped.

‘And she sang that song out of
Grease 2
– that one
about stamens and pollen.’

That was it; I lost it. Poor Luke.

‘So you caved?’

‘Actually, that wasn’t what did it. Eventually, she gave it
to me straight. She has no intention of sleeping with him – well, only
literally.’ He paused and then continued sadly, ‘She doesn’t want him to see
her legs.’

That sobered me up. Poor Cara.

‘But listen, about the bed sharing. I don’t want you to feel
any pressure.’

‘I don’t feel pressured, Luke.’

‘We can just spoon.’

‘I know.’

‘We don’t have to –’

‘I know.’

‘But will we –’

I reached over and put a finger to his lips. ‘Luke, I love
you. I want to be with you. Stop thinking. Stop worrying.’

He looked in my eyes, searching for the answer to the
question I wouldn’t let him ask. Somewhere in the green, he must have found it,
because he said softly, ‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, I’m sure. Life is for living, Luke.’

And then his lips were on mine, and the duvet was tangling
around us, and the dance track booming out downstairs was no match for the
beating of our hearts.

It was him who broke away in the end, stumbling back off the
bed and steadying himself on the chest of drawers.

I pushed up onto my elbows and watched him. ‘You okay?’

‘Yes!’ he said. But the way he ran his hand through his hair
suggested otherwise. ‘I want… I don’t want… the others are all about… we’re
meant to hit the beach soon… it’s not…’

‘… the right time. I know, Luke!’ I got up and went over to
him. ‘You’ve got to chill out. This trip is meant to be fun – no pressure, no
frowning.’ I reached up and smoothed away the lines on his forehead.

He caught my hand and kissed it. ‘Love you.’

‘Love you too.’

*

I knocked tentatively on the door to Cara’s room. I didn’t
want to interrupt.

‘Come in!’ she called, and I opened the door a crack and
peeked in. She was sitting on a bed – twins in this room, I noted – surrounded
by clothes.

‘Scarlett! Just the person. Get your butt in here.’

I stepped inside and closed the door behind me.

‘Hey. Where’s Kyle?’

‘Outside with the others.’

She pointed through the window, and I walked over to look.
Along where balcony broadened to terrace, I saw the gang sitting about on
rattan furniture, beers in hand.

‘We’re heading to the beach in a bit – you coming?’

‘Sure.’ I came to sit with her on the bed. ‘What’s all
this?’

‘Outfit selection process. Given that I’ll be the one
standing out like a sore thumb for not being head-to-toe in neoprene, I figure
I’d better look smokin’.’

I smiled at her. ‘You always do, Cara. Listen, while we’re
alone – I have something for you.’

‘Yeah, what?’ she said, surveying a long green skirt.

I held up the white pot in my hand.

The skirt fell to the floor. ‘The miracle scar cream?
Already? You have it already?’

I nodded. ‘Can I – will you let me put it on you?’

‘No. Just leave it. I’ll do it.’

‘I don’t think so, Cara. You only use the tiniest bit, and
you have to apply it really, really carefully. I have steady hands.’

‘I can manage.’

She reached for the cream, and frowned when I held it back.
I couldn’t give it to her; it was crucial that she let me handle the old
moisturiser pot filled with basic emollient. But how to convince her to let me
see her legs? I tried to think of a lie that she would buy, but in the end I
resorted to the simple truth.

‘Please, Cara. I want to do this for you.’

She stared at me for a really long time. Then, finally, she
said, ‘Okay, if you think you’ll do a better job than me…’

Smiling this widely felt –

‘Great!’

‘You’re pretty odd, sometimes, Scarlett Blake,’ she said.

‘Yes, I am,’ I said. ‘Now lie back on the bed. It won’t take
long. One treatment today, then we’ll go from there.’

She shoved some clothes to one side and lay down. I sat down
on the edge of the bed, beside her legs, and gently took hold of the hem of her
skirt and began to lift, but she shot up and stilled my hand.

‘Will it hurt? When you used it on your arm, what did it
feel like?’

‘Don’t worry, it’s a nice feeling. Kind of warm and tingly.’

She lay back down.

‘Treat it like a pamper session,’ I said. ‘Close your eyes
and drift.’

I watched her eyelashes flutter shut. Then, slowly, I eased
up her skirt. Somehow, I managed to silence the gasp that came at once to my
throat. I had prepared myself for an unpleasant sight – but this, this was
horrific. From the mid-calf to the top of each thigh, Cara’s legs were laced
with deep, angry lacerations and gouges, as if a psychopathic slasher had taken
a meat cleaver to her legs. I felt a surge of rage. Why hadn’t Jude healed her
the night of the accident? To leave her like this; it was heartless. He’d told
Sienna he wasn’t meant to heal Cara. Well,
I
was meant to, I decided.
Never mind the warnings about healing before Becoming. Never mind those words
in Sienna’s diary:
use the light, die sooner
. I was damned well going to
help my friend.

‘Pretty gory, huh?’ said Cara.

I looked away from her legs, up to her face. The contrast
was staggering – smooth, pink skin that would be the envy of any cosmetics
model.

‘It’s okay to be repulsed,’ she told me. ‘I can’t stand the
sight of them, and they’re attached to me.’

‘I’m not repulsed,’ I said. ‘I’m just sad you’ve been
through so much pain. I want to make it better for you.’

‘Well, off you go then,’ she said, closing her eyes again.

I checked for a moment that she was keeping them closed, and
then I opened the pot and put a tiny amount of cream on my fingertips. I
reached over and gently, lightly, began stroking it onto the scar nearest to
me. As I did I willed it to heal – just a little, not entirely, just enough to
make a small difference. My hands blurred and I saw the slightest hint of blue
at the fingertips.

‘Oh!’ said Cara.

Her eyes flew open and I snatched my hands away.

‘Don’t stop,’ she said. ‘That felt lovely. Better than a
Kyle shoulder massage…’