Page 54 of The Lawyer
“Sorry, know what?”
“About Scott. How did you know he was worth leaving us for?”
“I didn’t leave you. Well, I guess I did, but I didn’t want to. Not really. You gave me no choice.” I don’t answer that. Choice is relative; she always had one—she chose him. “I love him, Landon, and you and Father made it so hard for me to just be happy that I couldn’t find a way to be with him without leaving you.”
Silence stretches over the line for a while as I take in that information. She loves him. That’s all. No other explanation to give or a steer on what immature inflections make that feeling plausible. “That’s an odd question coming from you,” she says. "Is everything alright?"
“How’s he treating you?”
“Do you really want to know that? I will say, he’s a new man over here, and, if I’m honest, I’m loving being here with him. Paris is everything London isn’t. Fresh, dynamic, and we can be who we are here.” My smile broadens as I think of her being happy. “And romantic. You could come over, you know, see us?”
“I’ve already seen you. You both looked happy then, and by the sound of you now, you still are.”
“You have?”
“Mmm. His opening night. I’m still disturbed by the paintings of my baby sister, though. And not the slightest bit fond of him.”
“I'm not a baby anymore.”
“You’ll always be the baby to me. I would have thought you’d be used to that by now.”
She giggles and goes quiet again. It’s relatively nice, and I end up concentrating on the road again, getting lost in thought about my own state of affairs. Happiness seems an odd concept to me. Laughing, smiling, being with someone who gives you something others can’t. Women have always been a simple means to an end for me, and yet Willow is embedded somehow, or Juniper is.
“Landon? Are you still there?”
“Yes.”
“What’s the matter? I can hear that brain whirring away from a different country.”
“I think … It doesn’t matter.” It doesn’t. Not as far as she’s concerned anyway. Whatever this is inside me, it’s not something I’ll be sharing with anyone until I’ve considered it more thoroughly than I have. Certainly not with someone whose welfare is my concern. “Look after yourself, Persephone. We’ll speak again soon.”
“Landon, I'm—”
I cut the phone off before she finishes, unable to give her the attention she probably deserves. It’s then that I notice a road sign. I’m turning off onto a side road without much deliberation on the matter, easing the Aston along country roads and through villages I know all too well. Why I’ve decided this destination is useful, I’m not sure, but maybe the peace of the countryside might make me understand something I’m currently lost in.
Another half an hour of nothing but me and roads and thoughts, and the phone rings to break my silence as I’m driving into the grounds. I look at Ivy’s name on the screen and let the voicemail kick in. I’m not ready for more family discussions. Not in the mood either. It isn’t until I eventually pull up to the main house that I realise I’m not even ready for my own thoughts to start connecting with each other. Last time I was here, I was with her. And now I’ve driven here without even recognising that’s probably the reason why I have.
I get out and look up at the old place, watching as Derek Lauder, the caretaker, comes out to greet me.
“Landon?”
I smile at him and think back on years ago, remembering him when we were children. “Derek.”
“We didn’t know to expect you.”
“Flying visit. Might stay the night, if that’s alright?”
“If that’s alright? It’s your house. Of course, it’s alright. I’ll get Betty to see to your room.” He waves me in, and I follow until we’re in the grand hall. “She’ll be pleased to see you.”
“Relatively certain I don’t require nappy changes. Please let her know that.” He chortles to himself and hovers as if he should be doing something for me. He shouldn’t. “Don’t let me keep you, Derek. I’ll find my own amusement. I'm sure you've got something to fix.”
He nods and walks off, leaving me standing in the huge expanse filled with nothing but silence again. It’s back to the way it always is. No sign of the extravagant party that was held only a few weeks ago. Unfortunately, the constant vibration in my pocket interferes past my patience levels, and I end up moving towards the drawing room and pulling my phone out.
Filling a large glass with brandy, I listen to the voicemail from Ivy and then call her because of her insistence that I do so—immediately.
“Has Father been in touch with you yet?” she opens with.
“Yes. Several times. I’ve ignored every one of his demands that I call him back since yesterday. I am not in the mood.” The drink gets knocked back, and I refill another. “Why?”
