The twentieth of July.
He’d known it was approaching, and he’d known he’d have to face it. It was one of the reasons he hadn’t wanted to be at home. Maybe it was one of the reasons he’d been dreaming about Helen too. The last few nights, her face had been so clear to him. Her voice too. Like the dream he’d had just the night before.
‘Let me read you something,’ she’d said, and he’d been smiling, shaking his head, as he knew what was coming.
‘“With the new moon in your sign this week, change is on its way.” Isn’t that exciting?’
‘I don’t believe in star signs,’ he’d told her.
‘I know. I don’t either, but they’re fun, aren’t they?’
She’d laughed at his seriousness.
‘Let me read yours, you crotchety old Capricorn!’
He’d sighed in resignation. ‘Go on, then.’
‘“Don’t let your ambition stop you having a good time. Remember to relax! Life isn’t all about work, you know, so put that toolbox down and spend time with loved ones.”’
‘It doesn’t really say that, does it?’ He’d moved to pull the magazine from her.
‘It jolly well does and you should pay attention to it, too.’
When he’d woken, he realised he’d been crying in his sleep. It had all felt so real. Helen had been there. He’d not just seen and heard her; he’d felt her. Waking up had felt like losing her all over again and the echo of the dream had haunted him throughout the day.
Looking at the blank wall of lime plaster in front of him now, he still couldn’t shake the mood which hung over him no matter how much he tried to focus on the job in hand, switching his radio on in an attempt to fill his head with inane music and DJ babble.
He wasn’t quite sure how he got through the day, but he did and, by the time he got into bed that night, he felt utterly drained. He still hadn’t seen or spoken to Orla and he was glad he hadn’t because he knew he was dreadful company and it wouldn’t be fair to inflict himself on her.
He let out a long sigh, staring up into the darkness of the room, and then he closed his eyes on the day, whispering three words before he fell asleep.
‘Happy birthday, Helen.’
It was a couple of days later when Orla decided that something needed to be said. Whatever Luke was doing and whatever mood he was in, she was going to confront him because things simply couldn’t go on in the way they had been. Selfishly, she thought that she’d been making such good progress and that the gulf that had come between them was a setback. Luke hadn’t offered any days out since the day she’d said she’d listen to him if he ever wanted to talk to her. But it was more than that – she was seriously worried about him. Whereas she’d been making progress, she truly felt that he was getting worse. Part of her wanted to confront him about it and just get it all out in the open, but she’d held back because she remembered how difficult it had been for her to navigate her way through troubled times and the last thing she’d wanted was some mad person shouting at her to buck up. So she’d given him time and space. Only she believed he’d had plenty of that now and it was time to start talking.
It was easy to lose somebody in a castle, particularly if you didn’t even know they were actually inside, Orla thought as her search for Luke began. He might have taken himself off, for all she knew. With not speaking properly, she wouldn’t blame him if he’d downed tools and gone off for the day. In fact, thinking about it now, she wasn’t really sure why he was still here. Perhaps he was a man of integrity and wouldn’t just walk out on a job he’d promised to do, she thought. But there was another possibility. Perhaps him remaining at the castle was preferable to going home to an empty house – a house Helen wouldn’t ever be returning home to. The thought made Orla intensely sad and all the more determined to find Luke and sort things out.
‘Luke?’ she called as she went from room to room and floor to floor, One Ear by her side. ‘LUKE?’
‘I’m in the basement!’
‘Oh, thank goodness,’ she said under her breath, glad that he was still under her roof.
Reaching the basement a moment later, Orla stood at the bottom of the steps anxiously as One Ear barged in ahead of her.
‘Hello, boy!’ Luke said, ruffling the dog’s head affectionately. He then looked up at Orla. ‘Hi.’
‘Hi.’
Luke cleared his throat. ‘I owe you an apology.’
‘And I owe you one too.’
‘Are you going to make me go first, then?’ he asked, a tiny smile lighting his face.
‘Yes.’
‘Okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being moody and withdrawn and gruff and—’ He paused. ‘You can stop me whenever you like.’
‘No – you can go on,’ she told him.
‘Well, I’m sorry. There’s no excuse for bad behaviour.’
‘Yes, there is.’
‘No,’ he said.
They looked at one another, the space between them suddenly seeming a little less intimidating now that they’d both apologised.
‘I missed you,’ Orla said.
Luke smiled at that. ‘I missed you too.’
‘Liar!’
‘I’m not lying!’
‘You missed One Ear.’
‘Well, of course I missed One Ear! That goes without saying.’ He bent to make a fuss of the dog again, who was very pleased indeed to have so much attention. ‘I missed our walks.’
‘You could’ve come along.’
He shook his head. ‘I would’ve been bad company.’
‘What have you been doing?’
‘Mostly plastering. A bit of carpentry. Got those shutters sorted for you in the west turret, so that room should be cosier, come winter.’
‘Thank you.’
‘My pleasure.’
‘You working in here now?’
‘Not sure. I’m still wondering what’s behind this,’ he said, tapping the board.
‘Why don’t you find out?’
‘I think I will,’ he said. ‘Maybe tomorrow. Fresh start in case it turns out to be a big job.’
‘Fancy a walk now?’
‘Yes! I really do.’
One Ear barked at the mention of the word ‘walk’ and the three of them left the basement together and headed out into the bright sunshine. As usual, Orla wore a hat, but she didn’t bother with the large sunglasses today, and Luke noticed.
‘I like your new look.’
‘What new look?’
He drew a circle around his own face. ‘The confident look.’
‘I’m feeling braver.’
‘You look it too. It suits you.’
‘Does it?’
‘It really does. You’re looking good, Orla. I mean, you always did, but you’re not carrying that – that . . .’
‘What?’
‘That haunted look about you.’
‘Oh.’
‘Is it all right to say that?’
‘Yes, of course. It just feels funny to hear it. But it’s good that I’m changing.’