‘Very fragile when I visited last time.’
Orla closed her eyes and sighed inwardly. Her mother probably didn’t realise it, but Orla couldn’t help feeling more fragile when her mother was around than when she wasn’t. Bernadette could be a formidable presence and Orla always felt herself slinking away inside herself, becoming the dependent daughter instead of the strong, independent woman she longed to be.
‘I’m feeling fine.’
‘Are you sure? You don’t sound fine.’
‘I’m sure. You don’t need to keep worrying.’
‘Well, that’s easier said than done, isn’t it?’ her mother snapped.
Orla glanced around the room, looking desperately for an excuse to end the call.
‘I’ve got to go,’ she said. Again, she wasn’t able to say she was going out because that would raise too many questions and would probably have Bernadette on the first train out of London. ‘I’ll call you later.’
‘Make sure you do!’
Orla quickly switched her phone off in case her mother tried to ring back and breathed a sigh of relief at the silence which greeted her. Bernadette Kendrick meant well, Orla was quite sure of it, but her intentions and the actual effect they had on Orla were two very different things indeed.
‘Orla?’ Luke called, entering the great hall a moment later. ‘You ready?’
Orla nodded, glad of the distraction from her mother’s call, although she had huge misgivings about the whole idea of going out. Why had she let herself be persuaded to do this? She took a deep breath. Maybe she was ready. Maybe the time had come at last to put her fears and doubts behind her and step into the wider world, and Luke was the catalyst to help her do that.
She opened the front door and walked outside. No, she thought, she definitely wasn’t ready.
‘It’s okay, Orla,’ he told her, obviously sensing her fear. ‘I’m right here with you. One Ear too.’
She swallowed hard, closing her front door and locking it and then placing a tentative foot on the first step down to ground level. One step at a time. She could do this, she told herself.
‘You’re doing great!’ Luke said in encouragement.
She glanced at him. He looked so calm and happy to be venturing out. Was that what normal looked like, she wondered? She’d forgotten. She’d closed normal out of her life that day in the park when she’d sunk deep inside herself, trying to find a space where nobody and nothing – not even acid – could touch her.
With shaky legs, Orla descended the steps from her front door. Normally, she left the castle by the back door, sneaking out into the garden and along the secluded footpath which led to the beach. She rarely, if ever, saw anyone by that route. Now, leaving the castle by the front entrance, she felt horribly exposed. It wasn’t just the village of Lorford that lay beyond the gates, but the whole world – the world that had wounded her so deeply that she hadn’t wanted to have anything more to do with it.
Suddenly, Orla felt her vision blurring and an icy coldness washed over her skin.
‘No!’
Luke turned around at her cry.
‘I can’t.’ Orla was frozen in panic and she felt as if she was going to hyperventilate as her breath became fast and furious.
Luke was by her side in an instant. ‘It’s all right.’
‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t apologise.’
One Ear, who’d run up to the van in happy anticipation, was now by his mistress’s side, and the three of them returned to the castle. Orla’s hands were shaking too much to be able to use the key so Luke gently took it from her and let them in.
‘Lock the door!’
‘Of course,’ he said, locking them inside once more as Orla retreated to her bedroom. Once the door was closed, she leaned her head against it, the dizzying sensation she’d felt outside slowly lifting now she was safely back inside. What must Luke think of her, she wondered? Turning around, she walked across the room to her bed as hot tears slid down her cheeks. She’d tried, she told herself. She’d dredged up every bit of courage she had and she’d walked out of her front door with the intention of going out into the world. It hadn’t worked, but she had at least tried.
Luke had done his best not to show his disappointment as they returned to the castle. Getting Orla to even agree to leave the castle was progress so they were definitely moving in the right direction.
He gave Orla all the time and space she needed and, as he expected, she hid herself away in the china room for the most part, photographing cups and bowls for Galleria. He understood why; he too found solace in his work and he had felt a kind of peace settling upon him recently.
For a moment, he thought back to the Luke he had been at home – the one who had counted down the hours of each day until he’d felt it was a reasonable hour to pour himself a drink. He had only had one single glass of wine since he’d been at the castle and that had been on the night Orla had told him about her attack. She’d been drinking too, and he was glad that he hadn’t seen her drinking since. That, he knew, wasn’t the answer to anything.
He was hoping that he and Orla being under the same roof was of some benefit to both of them. He certainly felt calmer living at the castle, and being able to help Orla by listening to her and encouraging her was, in some small way, helping him with his own pain, and that could only be a good thing, couldn’t it? Helen would approve of that, wouldn’t she?
He’d been thinking about how Helen would have reacted to Orla’s story. Helen had known that Orla had been hiding away from the world and had wanted to reach out to her, but could she ever have guessed what had happened to her? There was a huge part of Luke that felt that he was very much carrying the spirit of Helen with him in helping Orla, and that made him feel good.
Luke continued with his work. He was just about to return to the basement to inspect the boarded-up section of wall when he noticed that a window frame in one of the passages was in imminent danger of disintegrating if not attended to, so he began making arrangements to repair that first.
The next day, Orla surprised Luke by saying that she’d try again. Like before, she made it down the steps of the castle and began walking across the driveway to Luke’s van. This time, however, she managed to get inside. Luke had made room in the back for One Ear, who hopped in without any great concern, instantly at home.
‘Right – ready?’ he asked Orla. ‘Belt on?’
Orla nodded. She’d lost the power of speech, it seemed.
Luke had already opened the gates and he slowly put the van into gear and drove through them. But, before he’d managed to turn onto the road into the village, Orla screamed.
‘Stop!’
‘You don’t want to go?’
She shook her head.
‘Okay, no problem.’
‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry!’ The tears were coming thick and fast now.
‘It’s all right, Orla. Don’t get upset about it. It’s okay.’
As soon as the van was parked, Orla stumbled out, almost falling up the steps to the front door. As before, her shaking hands wouldn’t allow her to use the key so Luke unlocked the door and, like before, gave her plenty of space to recover.