“What are you doing here?”
“What do you think I’m doing here? I’ve come to see you.”
“I realise that. But why now after all this time?”
“Are you going to let me in or make me talk to you from out here?”
Reluctantly, but seeing no other option, Julian buzzed the gate open. On his way to the front door, he paused to look in a mirror, smoothing his hair and rearranging his face into a bland mask. He’d only seen Eleanor once since that night in the barn. At his dad’s funeral she’d caught his eye and smiled sympathetically, but he hadn’t smiled back. He’d avoided her at the wake and ever since, ignoring her calls until she eventually stopped calling. At first, Mike had kept him updated on how she was doing. When he heard she’d gone to university, he’d been both relieved and devastated. After that he hadn’t asked about her anymore, hoping that with the passage of time he’d begin to think about her less. But the opposite was true. When it was going crazy with the police and the journalists and the trial, he’d barely had a spare second to think about her. Gradually, though, as things settled down, she’d crept back more and more into his thoughts.
When Julian opened the door, they stared at each other without speaking. Eleanor looked the same, except her skin had lost some of its freshness. No doubt the result of too many late nights of studying and partying. Julian knew he looked a lot older than the last time they’d been together. Every time he looked in the mirror, he saw the premature lines that worry, work and whisky had etched into his face. Eleanor broke the silence. “Hello, Julian.”
“I assume this isn’t a coincidence.” Julian’s voice quivered a little, despite his best efforts to keep it even. The sight of Eleanor was like a knife cutting at the strings of his mask.
“You’re right, it’s not,” admitted Eleanor. “Your mum rang me tonight.”
Julian pursed his lips, hissing air through his nose. “I told her it was none of her business.”
Eleanor’s eyebrows gathered into a reproachful frown. “She’s worried about you.”
“Well she’s no need to be.”
“Really? From the looks of you, I’d say she has every need to be.”
“I’ve been working too hard, that’s all.”
Eleanor stared at Julian, clearly unconvinced. When he blinked away from her gaze, she said, “Look, can we go inside. I’ve just driven for three hours. I could do with a drink and maybe something to eat.”
Julian stood aside. “Do you want a coffee?” he asked, as Eleanor made her way to the couch.
Shaking her head, she pointed to the whisky. “I’ll have one of those.”
“I didn’t think you drank spirits.”
“I didn’t until I went to uni.”
Julian poured Eleanor a drink. “Do you want a sandwich or something?”
“This’ll do for now.” Eleanor patted the couch for Julian to sit down. He lowered himself onto it, careful not to sit too close to her. Another silence passed between them. Again, Eleanor broke it. “Your mum seems to think you’re heading for a breakdown.”
Julian laughed softly through his nose. “Sometimes I think my whole life’s been one long breakdown.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way, though. If you’d just open up and let someone help-”
Julian cut Eleanor off with a shake of his head. There was only one person he could ever imagine letting see inside him, and she was gone, probably dead, maybe by his hand.
“Why are you doing this to yourself, Julian? Why do you always keep everyone at arm’s length?”
Once more, Julian found himself avoiding Eleanor’s eyes, which searched his as if looking for a way in. “I’m not the person you think I am. I’m not a good person.”
Eleanor shook her head in disagreement. “Look at what you’re doing for Jake. Why would you do that if you weren’t a good person?”
Because I owe him that much at least, thought Julian. But he said, “It’s just perception.”
“What’s just perception?”
“Truth. And the truth is, you only see two things when you look at me: what you want to see, and what I want you to see.”
Leaning forward suddenly, Eleanor clasped Julian’s hands between hers. “I see someone lonely, confused and hurting. I don’t know what this thing is you’re carrying inside you, but I do know this, you’ve got to let it out, share it, otherwise it’ll poison your whole life.”
Julian stared at Eleanor with a frightened longing in his careworn eyes. His lips worked soundlessly. They stopped. They started again, but still no words came. He pulled his hands away from hers, lowering his gaze.
“Why won’t you trust me?” said Eleanor. “What are you afraid of?”
“You don’t understand.”
Gently, Eleanor lifted Julian’s chin with her hand. “No, you don’t understand. I love you, and nothing will ever change that.”
“What about what happened in the barn? I could’ve hurt you.”
“But you didn’t.”
“Only because you stopped me.”
“No, Julian, you didn’t because you couldn’t hurt anyone.”
Julian’s eyes grew incredulous. “I killed a man!”
“That was different. You were trying to protect your dad.”
“And now I’m trying to protect you.”
“By shutting me out of your life. That doesn’t make any sense.”
“I know it doesn’t seem to, but believe me, Ellie, you’re better off out of it. Way, way out of it.”
“Well here’s what I know. I know you’re the kind of person who’s willing to risk everything for someone they owe nothing. I know you’d rather hurt yourself than anyone else. And…” Eleanor hesitated. Then, almost under her breath, she continued, “And I know you feel the same way about me that I do about you.” Now it was Eleanor’s turn to lower her eyes. She stared at her lap, as if afraid to look in Julian’s face for confirmation or refutation of her words. “Just tell me I’m wrong, and you’ll never have to see me again.”
Julian’s gaze moved past Eleanor to the mantelpiece. His vision bounced between his dad’s photo and her, between the past and the future, like a beam of light trapped between facing mirrors. She was right — at least, she was right about his feelings for her. But it made no difference. Not while Mr X’s threat was hanging over him like a ticking bomb. And, above all else, not while he didn’t know what’d happened to Mia. If she was dead and buried somewhere in the forest — as the police feared — then so was any possibility of allowing himself to be released from his self-imposed prison of emotional isolation. When he finally spoke, his voice was as flat as his eyes. “You’re wrong.”
Face taut, lips compressed into a pale line, Eleanor stood and moved away from the sofa. Guilt clawing at his insides, Julian followed her. At the front door, with difficulty, she brought herself to look at him. He could see she was fighting back tears. “Don’t be angry with your mum,” she said. “She only wants to see you happy.”
“I know.”
“Take care of yourself, Julian.”
“You too.”
“I only hope that one day you find someone you can trust enough to share your inner self with. Because that’s when you know you love someone, isn’t it? When you feel like you can share anything with them — your hopes, your fears, your dreams, even your nightmares.”
Julian made no reply, but his teeth came together like a spring-loaded trap. Somehow he managed to keep his face impassive, although the blood was churning through him. Eleanor hesitated to leave, as if hoping for a change of heart. Julian felt his mask begin to crack. He knew he couldn’t hold it together much longer. He was about to shut the door in Eleanor’s face, when she turned away. As fast as she walked, she hadn’t made it to the gate, by the time the first tears were running down Julian’s face. Shoulders quaking, he hurried towards his bedroom. He didn’t go into it, though. He went into his mum’s room, and dropped to his knees at her bedside, laying his head on her paralysed hand. Stirring, drowsy-eyed, she slowly moved her other hand to his head. “Shh,” she soothed, her voice breathy, just barely there, stroking his hair as if he was a child that needed calming. “It’ll be alright.”
“No it won’t,” said Julian, inconsolable.
After a while, Julian’s sobs faded away. He lifted his head and saw that his mum had sunk back into her
