walks away from me into the next pane of silvered glass. And the next and the next — his tall frame crossing smoothly from one mirror to another, as if such a thing could even be possible. Until he’s circumnavigated the entire room and is standing, facing me again, in the last mirror to the left of the velvet-curtained doorway.
I see him shake his head in negation, in warning. I hear his voice in my mind like a breath of fire.
Soon, he says. Be ready.
Then the looking glass is suddenly empty of his image. Only Irina and I are left there, staring, ashen- faced.
It’s a long time before I realise that Bianca’s made it all the way to the outer room, her eyes wide, her face drained of all colour.
‘Who are you?’ she says shakily. ‘You’re not Irina.’
I move out of the dressing room towards her and she places the leather tub chair and ottoman between us, for safety.
‘Who do you want me to be?’ I say wearily, bypassing her entirely and heading for the outer door. I feel her surprise more than see it. ‘You’ve said what you came to say,’ I mutter. ‘Go ahead and ruin Irina’s life. I’m not going to stop you. Not today. I’m tired. There are too many of you to guard against, to guard, to save. Maybe Gabriel was right, maybe I should’ve just kept my head down all along and done nothing. Let life tear each of my fragile charges, my flawed vessels, to pieces, while I simply stood by, watching. It’s what my kind does best, after all. Watch.’ My voice is bitter. I hope K’el hears it.
I place a hand upon the outer door, heartsore and on edge. I know it must seem crazy that Irina’s talking about herself as if she isn’t even in the room, but I’m tired of pretending. I’m never going to see this girl again, so what’s a burning bridge or two?
‘I’ve got enough going on in my own messed-up existence,’ I add quietly, ‘without having to deal with people like you coming at me for things I don’t even remember doing. Felix is a cheater. He showed you his true colours. You got lucky that it happened now, and not twenty years after the happy day. Be grateful and move on. That’s the best advice I can give you.’
Bianca cries, ‘Wait!’
Though I shouldn’t be able to hear them through the soundproofed wood, I can discern Gia’s voice and Juliana’s, in the hallway outside, as they talk to each other in low voices, in Italian.
And it’s spooky, but as I listen to them, their words seem to meld together in my mind and reform, growing comprehensible to my ears.
‘Dopo un anno? Forse …’ Gia says. After another year, perhaps.
‘Then maybe I’ll come and work for you, eh?’
‘You should,’ Juliana replies earnestly. ‘Tommy has only the best things to say about you. We could use your skills very much at Atelier Re. You would be the perfect fit, in talent, in personality.’
Hour by hour, minute by minute. Everything’s slowly coming back to me except the one thing I so desperately crave. Freedom.
‘Wait!’ Bianca says again behind me, so forcefully that I turn and regard her with surprise. What she sees in my face makes her flinch, but she stands her ground bravely. ‘I saw something.’
I growl in Irina’s heavy Russian accent, ‘And I’m telling you, I don’t care what you saw — do your worst. Descend upon Irina like a plague. She’s Teflon-coated anyway. She’s got nine lives, maybe more. She’ll survive anything. Now, since you’ve gotten everything you wanted to say off your chest, I’m going back to my hotel so that I can get up again in the morning and take my clothes off in front of more strangers, okay?’
‘No, you don’t understand,’ Bianca whispers, and there’s fear but also wonderment in her voice. ‘I saw something. Back there, before you started talking to yourself. Just a flash. But I saw something. Someone. You don’t even talk like Irina, do you know that? Oh, I mean you sound like her, you sound Russian. But she just complains and complains about everything. Nothing’s ever good enough. And she hardly ever meets your eyes unless she wants something from you. She’s a vicious mix of towering arrogance and total insecurity. But she’s not even here, is she?’
My eyes fly back to Bianca’s as I finally grasp what she’s saying, and I feel Irina’s heart skip a beat.
‘If you say you saw something,’ I challenge, mouth suddenly dry, ‘describe it. Describe what you saw.’
‘I saw a, a … young woman with brown hair that hangs down just past her shoulders and brown eyes. She was very pale and very tall, and I don’t know how it’s possible, because she was so faint, but I could kind of see her within you, or around you, like a … glow. She looked beautiful. And kind. And very, very sad.’
Tears spring suddenly to Irina’s eyes, roll down her cheeks, her hands fly up to her wet face and all of these things are like reflex actions.
Kind? What would I know of kindness?
Now, sadness. Sadness is something I’m acquainted with.
Bianca could see me, if only for a moment? How would that even be possible?
Was that what Felipe meant when he screamed ?Demonio! in my face? Had he seen something of me, too? In the driver’s mirror?
Crying is for humans, reminds that voice in my head, as I cry.
And what am I these days? I tell myself, dashing tears off my face with the back of my hands, if not human?
‘It was just a waking dream,’ I say aloud through the strange ache in Irina’s throat, ‘an hallucination.’
When what I want to tell Bianca is: Yes, that’s me. You’ve described me perfectly.
I realise that the linkages between myself and Irina must be at breaking point if Bianca could somehow see me inside Irina’s skin with her human eyes. Though I haven’t felt a thing this time: no jarring shift, no sense of dislocation, of unlinking, nothing. It had just happened.
I close my eyes, willing myself to dissolve, to search out and test those invisible bonds that somehow anchor me to Irina.
The hard knot that binds me to her is still there; it still holds firm. Irina’s still there, too, locked away. That part hasn’t changed. And though I struggle and twist within her boundaries, I cannot draw away from her entirely, however desperately I might wish to. Then, abruptly, I feel myself pulled back, as if by a cord, or an elastic band.
Bianca moves a little closer, fascinated despite her dread. ‘All I see and hear is Irina but I’m getting someone else completely.’
She walks around me, studying me from every angle in silence and I meet her gaze steadily. ‘No ghosts, no evil spirits here,’ I challenge quietly.
Bianca’s eyes well again suddenly as if she might cry. And I know how she’s feeling, because I’m feeling it, too. I move away from her and lean back against the door, crossing my arms tightly to try and ward off the hurt that always accompanies the thought of Ryan Daley being out there in the world without me. And then I see Luc’s eyes again — that strange mixture of fury and dark need in place of the love that used to greet me — and the pain intensifies, making me lean forward and draw a quick, sharp breath. How much more must I be made to bear?
Bianca hesitates, picking up her designer bag and slinging it back over one narrow shoulder like a shield, ‘Well … Irina,’ Bianca says with a small, sad smile, ‘you’ve pulled off at least one miracle today. All I’ve wanted to do, ever since Felix decided he didn’t want me any more, is murder you with my own hands. I did think about doing that today, but … fate very kindly intervened.’
‘Fate?’ I murmur. ‘Fate has nothing to do with any of this.’
I turn and open the door before Bianca can say anything more. Gia and Juliana look up immediately, then hurry towards me.
‘You’re still alive,’ Gia says wonderingly.
‘What of the dresses?’ Juliana queries, shooting Gia a warning look.
I glance back at Bianca, and she returns my gaze steadily before she replies, ‘The red and the silver, I think. Designs 13 and 28.’
She takes Juliana’s arm in hers and the two women set off up the corridor ahead of us towards Giovanni’s office. ‘I’d like them sent to my villa in Lake Como — Giovanni knows where it is,’ Bianca adds, her voice growing fainter as she reaches the end of the corridor. ‘By the water in Moltrasio.’
