Page 23 of The Trouble With Love

And then . . .

Cerys and I were lounging around in the living room at the Old Lodge. Guy had postponed the external shoot he’d been planning until the weather improved, so we’d been cheated of the promised sight of Jude Law prancing about in the warlock’s shrubbery, and Cerys was feeling peevish.

‘Ow. The doctor says they’re lying back to back in there.’ She prodded her bump. ‘I bet the boy is hogging all the covers.’

‘Not long to go now though.’ I kicked the footstool over so she could put her feet up. ‘Stay in touch, won’t you? Facebook me or something. I really want to see pictures of the twins when they arrive.’

‘You’ll be the first. Well, after old sulkyboots.’ She nodded at the ceiling; Kai was upstairs in his bedroom. We heard his footsteps pacing up and down every so often.

‘What’s he doing up there?’

‘Working, I guess.’

There was a particularly loud set of footsteps which ended with a bang, as though Kai had kicked something over. ‘Do you think I should go up? Check he’s okay?’

Cerys raised her eyebrows at me. ‘Oho, my dear. Are you sure you don’t have a case of the hots for the lanky one?’

I sat back down. ‘Don’t be silly.’

There was another crash from overhead and Cerys leaped up. ‘Ow, he’s making the twins jump. And that feels uncomfortably like being possessed, so please would you have a word, Holl? I’d go but by the time I get up those stairs these two will be teenagers. Ask him to keep the sulking down, or whatever it is he’s doing.’ She turned on the TV. ‘And this is on to cover the sound of anything you feel like getting up to, but I warn you, if you come through that ceiling I won’t be responsible for my actions.’

‘Cerys?’

‘Yes?’

‘Shut up.’

I walked quietly up the stairs and to the door of Kai’s room, tapped and waited. The striding footsteps stopped, there was a pause as though he was trying to decide whether or not to answer, then the door flew open and he stood in the doorway, staring down at me.

‘What?’ He sounded annoyed. No, more than that, wound up. Tight.

I said the first thing that came into my head. ‘God, you’re tall.’

‘No, you’re short. Now, if that’s all,’ and he went to close the door again.

‘Is something wrong?’ The winter afternoon light barely penetrated this far into the House of Goth, but reflected from the snow it managed to edge its way up the landing as far as his eyes, which gleamed amber. His face was pale and pulled thin over his cheekbones, he smelled of sweat and damp laundry and his hair looked unbrushed. ‘We could hear you stomping about.’

Another long pause. He was staring out onto the landing but he didn’t seem to be looking at me. It was as though another person stood between us, like a ghost he didn’t want to acknowledge. Then he closed his eyes and stepped back inside the room. I took this as invitation and followed.

‘Close the door.’

I did so, then my heart sped up. What was he about to do that he didn’t want Cerys to hear? He had his back to me, staring out of the long window, over the balcony ledge and into the forest beyond. His fingers tapped against the glass.

‘Kai?’ Using his name felt strange. Almost as though I shouldn’t, there was some taboo on calling him anything. ‘Would you like me to make you a drink? Cerys has got the kettle on almost permanently down there.’

He didn’t turn round. By the snowlight his skin looked almost blueish pale. ‘I need . . . something. Something else. Something even I don’t recognise.’

‘Are you all right?’ His voice was wrong, strained, and his shoulders dipped and curved inwards as though to hold something invisible closer to him. ‘Kai? Is there anything wrong?’

His nails tapped the glass again. The tiny noise rang into the quiet like a solid thought. ‘I had a letter,’ he said finally. ‘This morning. I don’t know what to do.’

Then he did turn round, his body a streak of darkness against the window. My heart gave an uncomfortable squirm inside my ribs at his shadowed expression. ‘What kind of letter?’ I asked. ‘Oh, the kind that’s written on paper, I suppose, sorry. Just, you know, thinking with my mouth open again.’

‘It was . . .’ Kai moved away from the window and folded down onto the edge of the unmade bed, sitting with his arms on his knees, head in hands. ‘It was someone looking for me.’ A bitter kind of smile. ‘I don’t know. What’s got into me? Why do I have the urge to tell you anything at all about my life?’

I shrugged. ‘Because I’m here?’ There was that smell of dampness again, as though he’d put on wet clothes, a sour, uncaring sort of smell, and not only was his hair unkempt but he didn’t look as though he’d showered today either. It was so far from his normal, careful, image that I felt my heart writhe. Something was very wrong with this man, something soul-deep. ‘And you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. But, you know, growing up with Nick . . . I’m a good listener, Kai, and I’m used to hearing terrible, scary stuff. And I know that letting it out of your head can help.’ I gave a quick smile, remembering. ‘Thoughts lose some of the power to hurt if you share them.’

‘Was it hard? Having a brother like him?’ Kai was looking at the floor, twisting the thumb ring around and around, screwing it up and down over his knuckle. The question sounded unconsidered, as though the answer didn’t matter as much as simply keeping me talking.

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