Page 6 of Kept 4
“Uh, do we have to leave straight away?”
“No, Madam, we can park here as long as you wish.”
“Would you mind then, if I had a shower, maybe a meal, before leaving for the airport?”
He smiles, obviously genuinely relieved that he would be able to honestly tell his boss that I had been delivered safely and in good order.
“It will be my great pleasure, Madam if you would come this way.”
Rising on wobbly legs, I cradle my tea, the cup rattling in the saucer due to my unsteady fingers, as I allow him to carry my bag and follow him to a sumptuous sleeping carriage. The room has no windows, and I see why when I notice the open shower recess and bath at one end of the bedroom, huge bed in the middle, and cosy reading area at the other end – this was Nicholas’ bedroom, and it was vampire light-tight.
Part of me, a small part that I am desperately trying to squash, wants to curl up in that bed and smell the pillow that his head obviously had laid upon. But the other part of me, the practical part, knows the linen had probably been washed since the last time he took a journey – and anyway, I need a shower, not more sleep.
Nodding to the conductor as he leaves, I lock the door, strip off and step into the cascading water.
I push my plate back and smile for the first time in days, my tummy full of delicious food, and my mind full of hope.
Over a meal of tagine d’agneau aux aubergines and a bottle of Beaujolais delivered by a liveried waiter from one of London’s finest restaurants, I have studied my map of the world and determined where I want to go; Spain.
I have also made a note to buy a tajine when I get settled so I can try to make the main I had eaten tonight. Lamb and eggplants are not something I am familiar with cooking together, and I have little experience with a tajine.
Now, tucking into dessert, ‘rabotes aux pommes’ I take another bite of the pastry-wrapped apple and almost laugh out loud, knowing that if I’d ordered this in a restaurant with Margarita, she would exclaim exactly as she did the very first time we ate illegally in a five-star restaurant; “tell me that isn’t bunny.” And I would have had to explain no, it is just what the dough is called.
Thinking of rabbits also reminds me how I had initially thought the journal I found in the park in Boston, all that time ago, Nicholas’ journal, might have been a book on rabbits. The Latin inscription ‘Mors Rapit Omnia’ had confused me. Of course, it’s true meaning ‘Death Seizes All’ was far more apt once I started reading – and later, as I ran, because hadn’t death pretty much seized anyone I’d known since then.
Except for Daniel and Margarita.
I shake my head, reminded that I had left my best friend living under the shadow of death with that disgusting Gerald, and I wonder for the millionth time if I did the right thing leaving her there. I also wonder, now that I am away from Ereston, if I should have told Nicholas about my conversation with her, about Gerald having extra powers; mind powers, flight, who knows what else. But I know he needs his friend now, and he would know him better than anyone after 500 years, surely?
And surely, I misunderstood Gerald when he said Elsbeth was under his protection? After all, Nicholas and Gerald have slaughtered vampire hunters for centuries, and if shemadethem, then that makes her their mutual enemy. Doesn’t it?
I chew my nails and think this through, my emotions warring with my intellect yet again; part of me thinking I should tell Nicholas, desperately wanting to hear his voice. The other part knowing I was just looking for an excuse to stay in touch, and the sooner I forget him, the better off we will both be.
‘Maybe I should call Nicholas. No, I need to leave that world behind. Just a quick call. No. Where did I put the phone?’
I check my bag, pulling out the small amount of clothing I had taken with me, mostly jeans and t-shirts, a few pairs of undies, and my books. I’d left all the gowns, bar one, he had bought me; I would never need such clothing again, not if I planned on pursuing my dream of becoming a chef – a white uniform was all I aspired to.
Nevertheless, the one gown I had taken was the long, black Grecian number with the little art deco diamond clasps that I had worn for our very first dinner. Partially it was because it was simple, yet elegant. Partially it was in remembrance of our time together. Mostly it was because I needed at least one dress that was classy enough to dine in, given my penchant for expensive restaurants, which was one thing that definitely hadn’t changed in my time with my vampire.
My bag contains more than clothes though, which was why I am reluctant to hand it over to the train conductor, or anyone else for that matter. It contains my mother’s recipe books, and my own beautifully bound recipe book, the one Nicholas had surprised me with. I’d had to leave behind the gorgeous pots he had given me though, travel would be too difficult lugging around antique cookware. I hoped he didn’t think I left them because I didn’t want them, I did. But then, I rationalised, he would be unlikely to ever venture downstairs to the kitchen again, now that I was gone. His world was upstairs and his meals, I shudder, were not always from the kitchen.
As I reach the bottom of my bag now, I frown. Nicholas had managed to slip the sapphire and diamond necklace, secure in its velvet box, into my luggage when I wasn’t looking.
Shaking my head, I put everything back into my bag, recalling I had jammed my phone into my jacket pocket before jumping onto the train. Sighing in relief, I pull it from the coat and turn it on. Remarkably it is still charged.
The first thing I see are umpteen old Messages from Margarita, and two from Daniel. I frown at these. I’m not sure how I could ever face him again, I feel so guilty that by helping me, his friend Ricardo, was killed.
Still, I have to pay the piper.
His first message is not what I expect. He is phoning to see if I am OK and begging me to call him if I am. I guess he must have learned about Ricardo by this stage.
Chewing my nail in consternation, I play his second message, and immediately feel even more guilty, if that is possible. His message is one of utter devastation and contrition that he had placed me somewhere unsafe, having learned that the woman who died with Riccardo was not me, and that a gas leak had caused the explosion. Daniel being Daniel he offered, should I still trust him, to supply me with another ‘safe house’ should I need one, one without leaky gas pipes.
His third message is a reiteration of the second, and a plea to set his mind at ease that I was indeed still alive, not unhappy with him, and to let him know where I was if I could.
Shaking my head, still unsure what to say, but moved to tears, I phone him back.
“Daniel?”
