Luke was just walking through the great hall with two mugs when he heard the noise. He frowned. It sounded like something had smashed.
And again.
One Ear leapt out of his basket and whined as another smash came and Luke hastily put down the mugs and ran out of the room.
‘Orla?’ he called as he heard another smash. He knew what it was now, and he knew where it was coming from.
He headed to the china room.
Chapter 25
Orla wasn’t sure how it began but, all of a sudden, she found herself in the midst of it, the deep fear and anger she’d been carrying inside her erupting in a force she couldn’t quite control. The fear of finding Bill collapsed at the allotment, the anger at the way her mother had left the castle, and the horrifying memory of seeing Brandon in the sacred space of her home. It was all too much.
One minute, she’d been hyperventilating in the middle of the china room and then, the next, she’d grabbed hold of her camera tripod and was swinging it through the air like an angry baseball bat, smashing and thrashing all the china around her.
She swung to the left and an enormous jug came crashing to the stone floor, where it broke into a thousand red and gold pieces. She swung to the right, and rainbow shards and splinters flew across the room. The tripod felt lighter in her hands now – she was wielding it more like a sword than a baseball bat, cutting through the cups, bowls, plates and vases that filled the room, and screaming like somebody possessed.
Reds, blues, greens and pinks, silvers and golds, roses and cherries and blue and white willow leaves – all flew through the air before smashing to the floor. Pretty patterns she’d spent hours photographing, gorgeous antique pieces that had featured on her Galleria feed – all were being sacrificed, dying on the grey stone floor of the castle. It was as if all the energy of her body was passing through her arms and into that new weapon – all the anger and the fear that she’d been holding inside her for goodness only knew how long.
The sound was almost deafening and she was only half aware of One Ear barking and Luke shouting something over the noise from the safety of the door. But she couldn’t stop now. She just knew that this had to be done.
Her dark hair flew in a frenzy, partially obscuring her vision, but it didn’t slow her down as she continued thrashing, her heart racing and her breath ragged.
And then she stopped.
Her whole body was heaving and she was gasping for breath, but the sudden silence that flooded the room was wonderful. It felt wonderful.
She sank forward, dropping the tripod and placing her hands on her knees, glad that Luke didn’t speak for a moment, but aware that he’d walked into the room, his feet crunching on the china shards.
‘Oh, dear!’ she whispered, slowly coming back to herself, her eyes focusing on the devastation around her. Just a few items had escaped her wrath and now seemed to tremble in the deep recesses of the castle’s windowsills and on the far shelves. ‘What have I done?’
Luke came forward. ‘I think you needed to do that,’ he said, gently putting a hand on her shoulder. ‘How are you feeling?’
She looked up at him and blinked, as if settling back into herself at last.
‘Strangely calm.’
‘Good.’
‘Good? Look what I’ve done! All my beautiful things!’
They both looked around the room again. The floor was covered in a china carpet. It was a strange, but rather wonderful, mosaic.
‘Well, a lot of it was already broken,’ Luke pointed out. ‘Wasn’t it?’ Orla saw a smile tickling the corners of his mouth.
‘Yes, but only hairline cracks or little chips. None of it was actually smashed!’
‘Well, it is now!’
‘Luke!’ she cried as he continued to smile at her, but she was smiling too. ‘Oh, my God!’
‘This happened for a reason,’ he told her.
‘You think so?’
‘I really do.’
‘I’ll keep telling myself that then.’
‘I think you needed to get whatever was inside you out, and quickly. You’ve been carrying a lot, Orla. And I’m not just talking about today, but for the last few years.’
Orla gazed down at the floor again, knowing that Luke understood.
‘I was so worried about Bill,’ she said at last.
‘I know.’
‘He’s been such a good friend to me. More than a friend. Like a father, really.’
‘He’s a very special person.’
Orla nodded. ‘I should tidy this up.’
‘Not now. It doesn’t need to be done now.’
‘But it’s dangerous. One Ear might . . .’
‘We’ll make sure the door’s closed.’ Luke put out a hand, encouraging Orla to leave the room, and that’s when he frowned. ‘You have a splinter of china in your wrist.’
‘Where?’ Orla asked. She hadn’t felt any injury.
‘Right here,’ he said, turning her pale arm so she could see it. ‘Let me help you.’
He led her gently to the bathroom, holding her arm over the sink and pulling the piece of broken china from her skin.
‘Ouch!’
‘Best wash it now. Have you got some antiseptic?’
‘Yes, in the cabinet. I’ll do it.’
‘Okay.’ He made to leave.
‘Luke?’
‘Yes?’
‘I’m ready for that cup of tea now.’
He grinned. ‘Me too.’
Ten minutes later, after letting One Ear out in the garden, they were both sitting in the great hall drinking their tea. Orla looked calm – perhaps the calmest Luke had ever seen her – and he thought it the right time to broach the subject that had been playing on his mind for so long.
‘Orla? You know when I left? I feel so awkward about it, and I want to apologise.’
‘Oh, Luke! If anyone should apologise, it should be me. I’m afraid I let my mother drive you away and I was too weak to stop her. I wasn’t coping.’ She
