26

Tiv

Thursday 8th March, Year 825

My Mother's funeral came and went. It was the most painful thing I had ever endured. It didn't seem real. A seemingly endless queue of mourners had extended their hands, offered embraces, their faces awash with tears. Yet, among these strangers, my grandmother's face was the only one I knew. She had not changed in the three years since I had last seen her. Her tight curled hair was grey with random strands of black still visible. She still wore her statement thick gold jewellery that looked more like weapons than accessories. Her face, etched with the years, still managed to reflect a kindness, mirroring the smile that once belonged to my Mother. She embraced my siblings and I tightly, allowing me to bury my head in her shoulder, feeling like a boy again.

"Ophelia," Father addressed Granny stiffly.

She gave no indication he even existed other than a brief coldness settling over her countenance. He didn't try twice. I was mildly surprised he tried at all.

Everything felt jarring. Out of place. I was not ready to think about Mother yet. It was almost like we were on the most horrible holiday one could imagine; that we would be going home soon. Unfortunately, that wasn't true. The vast mansion in Staventon, devoid of warmth, was my new home. I had not slept a full night since my move to Staventon; it was too bright.

In Harroworth we had the largest house by a wide margin and everyone treated us like royalty. In Staventon, our manor was even larger, yet it was not the biggest in the neighbourhood and nobody knew who we were. Father had instantly secured a job as the defence minister in Lambent. His position was high up the ranks however he was not considered someone who should be in the public eye unless there was a war… Here, I was known as the man whose Mother had died in a terrorist attack. People left me alone after offering condolences. Nobody enquired into me. No cameras followed me. I was normal. Overall, it felt good to be a regular person who did not have to worry about every move I made in public, however the sacrifices that had been made to give me my freedom were too great.

I did not manage to speak with Alayna again. I wrote a letter but when I tried to send it, my Father snatched it from my hands, commanding me furiously never to try and contact her again. After I tried to ring the service provider to find out the mobile number, the frustrating woman told me I needed my Father's permission to access that information. I felt like a child. I much preferred it when he worked away, however, even that seemed like an impossibility. He never left the manor and did all of his work in his office which was the biggest room in the house. He kept telling me I was being used every time he caught me trying to contact Alayna and I always ignored him. I did not stop my endeavour which infuriated him. The last letter he caught me trying to send resulted in a black eye. Meredith frowned when she saw my face and fixed it as she had when Marco and I had fought back at home. She gave me a stern warning not to test Father's patience further.

On Thursday afternoon, I was sitting in my new bedroom. Golden light filtered through the voile curtains, illuminating the terracotta tiles swirling with intricate patterns. My new four-poster bed took centre stage, dressed in sea-coloured linens and embroidered throw pillows. A grand fireplace was another focal point, its mantle carved from local stone. A pointless design; it was too hot here to ever consider lighting a fire. Tall windows revealed views of gardens where orange trees and bougainvillaea swayed gently against stone walls. It was all very Lambentian. Bright. Warm. Pretty. Awful.

To pass the time I created a new game called 'Deface the Bedroom'. The activity of that day was throwing darts at the wall trying to hit the same spot twice. Instead, I had simply created hundreds of tiny holes in my wall. My game was interrupted when Marco invited himself into my room. We had not spoken since the border crossing. I almost felt compelled to throw a dart at him.

"Are you busy?" he asked.

"Yes. Get out," I replied sourly, throwing another dart at the wall.

"Listen, I know you're still upset and I really do not want to get punched again. Can I simply talk to you?"

"No," I retorted.

He came in anyway and made himself comfortable by spreading out on the plush chaise lounge beneath an embroidered canopy, offering shade from the afternoon sun. I ground my teeth together.

"I know you liked Alayna. I'm not going to pretend I know why; she was a headcase. Yet can't you try to see reason?"

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

"Marco, I'm not going to listen to your bilge. Get out of my room or you will get punched again," I growled.

He let out a sigh, the sound exasperating me further. "Alayna told me she was using you to get back at me and to get free things. You are never going to see her again, and I have no reason to lie."

"Will you just get out? Or jump out the window," the words were spat through clenched teeth.

"Tiv, Father hates to see us fight. So do the girls. Isn't it bad enough that Mother has left us?" His voice cracked at her mention, drawing my gaze. By the time we made eye contact, he had regained his composure. "We shouldn't be fighting and making them feel worse."

Despite numerous reasons for despising Marco, his point couldn't be ignored. Recently, my actions had only added to the family's strain—Meredith, Beau, even Father bore the brunt of it. If Mother could have seen me she would have been ashamed.

A calm assertion replaced my earlier anger. "You're lying because she chose me over you."

"Whatever feeds your ego brother," he mocked, standing up. "I didn't want to see you taken for a fool. After Mother died, we didn't need more turmoil... We are here for the long haul so take it from me when I say you should be starting fresh."

As he exited my room, I suppressed the urge to throw a dart at him once more.

Perhaps jealousy fuelled Marco's actions however his message was true; lying served no purpose if we would not return. Yet Alayna's affection was genuine. I was sure of it.

Lying on my bed, memories ached as I imagined touching her soft skin in the meadow. Her sitting in my lap… circling her hips.

Shit. By

If a week without her had been bad, a month without her was like thirst in an endless drought. Thoughts of Mother's wishes for a suitable match circled back always to Alayna. She was the match. However, she was gone and I had no way to rectify that. That was until a thought occurred to me; I could email her. Of course, she would not get it immediately but it couldn't take her that long to access a computer. Rushing to my laptop, my fingers rapidly started typing.

I started to write an email demanding an explanation however after reading it over I couldn't press send. Worried Marco was lying, I decided the first contact I had with her would not be me throwing vicious accusations her way.

From: Tiv Hawes 16.15 14/02/825

To: Alayna Nicole Jameson

RE: Hi.

Hi Aly,

I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to speak to me again after Marco’s episode. I know your family would see our heads on spikes. I’m sorry. I wish this was not so complicated.

I’m also sorry I haven’t been able to contact you yet but it’s not through lack of trying. I lost your number and my letters have been intercepted. I will fix that soon. I hope you are well. I don’t know how long it will take you to receive this message, however I needed to contact you. I feel like I am losing my mind. I must get home. Mother had a will in which I was a beneficiary. This should allow me to return to Harroworth soon.

Staventon is huge and busy. Everyone over the age of fifty knew my Mother, which is an odd notion.

I start the new college next week which I am also not looking forward to. Father wants me to work for him however I’m not sure how I feel about politics. There is also the option to join the military services and work for my Father’s defence department for a while. Both options fill me with misery.

If I’m being bluntly honest, I am struggling here without you. Thoughts about what happened to Lucy and Sarah Hall run rampant in my head frequently. You were the only thing that ever blocked that out and with you gone, it feels somewhat suffocating. I regret their deaths so much.

I really hope you’ve made it this far and not just deleted the message the moment you saw my name.

Tell me everything I’ve missed since my departure so my thoughts can be occupied with something worth thinking about.

I miss you.

From Tiv x

I knew mentioning Sarah and Lucy was a moronic idea; Alayna would no doubt ask questions to which I had no answers. Yet guilt over my role in their deaths plagued me. It felt easier to admit what I had done in electronic form when I could not see the devastation on Alayna's face. I would tell her, however not in the first correspondence she received from me.

The tiny, white snowdrop Alayna gave me lay dead on my computer desk. All but a few petals were brown and wilted. Meredith had suggested pressing the flower if I wanted it to last. I looked down at it sadly before grabbing a large book, sandwiching the snowdrop in its pages, and replacing it back on the shelf in a vague attempt to preserve it. Today was the day Alayna claimed she would stop using the mobile phone. I hoped she was bluffing or I had vastly reduced my chances of talking to her for a very long time. Yet if she was bluffing, and she had kept the mobile for herself, didn't that make Marco right?