‘I’m sorry to put you through all this,’ he told her. ‘I’ll be on my way.’
He made to move and found that he couldn’t. His head felt as if it was going to explode and he cradled it in his hands.
‘Oh!’ Orla cried.
‘It’s okay,’ he assured her. ‘I’ll be fine in a minute.’
Orla shook her head. ‘Perhaps – erm – you should rest? Just for a little while.’ Her fingers were tying themselves into knots and she’d gone horribly pale.
‘No, no – I’ll make a move.’ But the truth was, Luke found that he couldn’t. ‘Whoa!’ he said as he tried to get up again. He glanced up at Orla, who was looking around the room as if in distress. ‘Just give me a moment.’
Orla took a deep breath. ‘Look, you’re obviously exhausted. Why don’t you rest here? Or I can make a bed up for you if you think you’d be more comfortable.’
Luke felt awful at putting her out like this. ‘But I can’t stay here.’
Orla looked as if she were instantly regretting inviting him to stay.
‘I don’t think you’re in any state to go anywhere,’ she said eventually, her voice full of anxiety. Luke felt it was more for herself than for him and felt guilty all over again.
‘But I’ve caused you enough trouble already. First I scare you and then I go and pass out.’
‘It’s okay,’ she said, but she sounded far from sure about the situation he’d put her in.
He shook his head. ‘No, it’s not.’
‘We don’t need to talk about this now,’ Orla said. ‘The important thing, I think, is to get some rest.’
‘I should just go home.’
‘And where’s that?’
‘Kent.’
Orla looked momentarily shocked. ‘You’re seriously thinking of driving to Kent?’
‘Sure. Why not?’
‘Because you’re as weak as a kitten,’ she told him. ‘You really shouldn’t move at all.’ She chewed her lower lip. ‘Why not just lie back and rest and I’ll make a bed up for you?’
‘I can’t,’ Luke said, attempting to get up again and swaying unsteadily once more.
‘Still dizzy?’
He sunk back onto the sofa. ‘Maybe I’ll rest – just for a moment.’
Orla nodded and gave a hesitant smile.
Still feeling anxious and perplexed by the events of the day, Orla made up a bed in one of the castle’s many rooms. It was only a small one with simple white walls, a pretty rug thrown over the dark floorboards and a pair of curtains in a heavy navy and gold fabric. The bed at the centre was a fine piece at least two hundred years old, with an ornate headboard in dark oak which Orla had bought at an online auction. It was the only guest room she had in the place and was only ever used when her mother, Bernadette, visited.
As Orla quickly fitted clean sheets, she wondered if she should ring her mother now and tell her what was going on. From past experience, she knew that Bernadette would have something to say about things. However, the more she thought about it, the more she bucked against the idea of ringing her. She just couldn’t deal with the deluge of advice her mother would be sure to give on top of everything else that had happened that day. Anyway, she knew what Bernadette would say.
‘Get him out of there! What were you thinking, bringing him into your home?’
Yes, Orla thought, Bernadette was of the opinion that her daughter should have nothing to do with the outside world. She’d been only too pleased when Orla had bought the castle and locked herself away inside it.
‘It’s for the best,’ her mother had told her, and Orla had believed her.
Now, she drew the curtains and then returned to Luke, carefully leading him up the stairs, showing him where the bathroom was and leaving a glass of water by the bedside.
‘Can I get you anything else?’
‘No, thank you,’ he said, looking as if he was ready to collapse into a deep sleep at any second.
‘Did you want to see a doctor?’ she asked.
‘God, no!’
Orla was relieved. She felt she had to ask, but the last thing she wanted was another stranger in her home.
‘I’ll leave you to it, then,’ Orla said, backing out of the room and closing the door.
‘Thank you,’ he called after her.
It was beyond strange, having somebody in the castle with her. Even stranger that the person was a man. That, she thought, was a first.
‘You do trust him, don’t you, One Ear?’ she asked the dog when she returned to the great hall. ‘And you will protect me from him if you change your mind?’ The big dog cocked his head to one side. ‘Well, you’d better.’
She still wasn’t sure it was wise having this man in her home. She’d spent the last few years hiding away, avoiding people, and then she opened her door to this stranger. Only he wasn’t a stranger, was he? He was Helen’s husband. That made it only slightly less strange. At least she’d stopped shaking now. That was an improvement. But she still had misgivings about the whole thing. Surely Bill could have arranged something else? He could have called for help by now and had Luke taken elsewhere. But would that have been the right thing to do? What would Helen have wanted her to do, she wondered?
Helen.
She’d only just learned the name of her friend. Her dead friend.
She walked across to the table where her phone was and logged on to Galleria. So, she’d been right to miss her friend’s posts, she thought, feeling guilty now for not having reached out more in the past. Now, she scrolled through the photos on her friend’s page, reading some of the captions again and feeling all the warmth and humour which had delighted her just as much as the day she’d first seen the photos and read the accompanying words.
As with Orla’s own posts, there weren’t any actual photos of Helen herself – at least not beyond a hand holding a bunch of flowers or a pair of shiny boots amongst autumn leaves. Orla hadn’t known her name nor what she’d looked like, but that hadn’t really mattered, had it? She had known that Helen was married, but not her husband’s name nor the exact place she’d lived. They hadn’t talked about such specific things. Their conversations had been more about thoughts and feelings, hopes and dreams, and a shared love of the beautiful things in the everyday: shadows playing across a lawn, the changing colours of the seasons, the moment when a flower opens or the patterns clouds made in the sky. They’d also spoken about Helen’s need for change and how unfulfilling she found her job, and Orla had encouraged her to pursue her passion.
And now she was gone.
Orla could feel a void opening up inside her at the loss of this person she’d never met. Was that crazy? Could you mourn for somebody you’d never met? Tears blurred her eyes and she let them fall as she put her phone down and walked to one of the windows. It was a cold, cruel world that had taken so bright a gem. She could only imagine how Luke was coping with it all. It couldn’t have been that long ago either, she realised, and yet one of the first things he’d thought to do was to tell her. And she’d behaved so very badly. She felt awful now. This poor man had driven across the country when he was still in mourning and she’d shut him out and then run away from him. Well, she’d have to do her best to make up for that now.