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Two possessed Blues had surrendered themselves, but bothMoths had died at separation.
It hurt to walk about, but it hurt to lie down, so there wasno real reason to stay in bed. Noi hadleft her a choice of painkillers in the en suite, so Madeleine first took afresh dose, then went through her bags until she found her original phone. A little reassembly, and a brief charge whileshe washed and dressed, and then she was listening to a stream of voicemail. Her parents had called every day, despite herwarning that she wasn't using her phone, just to leave a message, to let herknow where they were. Her own call wasmet by a busy signal, so she sent a text and email.
Then, taking a sketchbook and pencils, she went outside.
The backyard was long, with a central gazebo, a number ofblazing Japanese maples, and a wisteria arbour winding to a te
The house was Fisher's. With half the Musketeers in various states of collapse, he'd suggestedit as an alternative to the hectic confusion of the Elizabeth Streethotels. Because it was away from thecentre of the fighting, and wasn't known to others, they'd been able to use itas a retreat, moderately confident of not being attacked. Noi had told Madeleine this carefully, as ifshe'd half expected Madeleine to immediately try to escape out of thewindow. But the place didn't botherMadeleine, just the prospect of talking to Fisher and finding someoneunrecognisable.
Almost everything Théoden had told her had to be Fisher'spast and Fisher's opinions. A smart,incisive boy, layered over with a quiet consideration which didn't match up tothe Fisher Pan had first described. Ithad not been Fisher's deep anger and black fear, nor Fisher who would stop andbe amused at himself. How many times hadshe tried to draw that expression?
Madeleine found herself impatient, wanting to get it all overwith, to face the fact that she'd killed the person she loved. A conversation as a burial, a wake, and thenperhaps she could find the strength to not keep pushing everyone elseaway. Lacking a necessary participantfor the conversation, she opened the sketchpad and balanced it on herknee. If nothing else, not wanting tosketch people would give her a chance to improve her non-figurative work.
"You're drawing again. I'm glad."
Working on a study of the arbour had helped immensely, andMadeleine felt only a sense of inevitability as she looked up at Fisher. But there in front of her was the belovedshape of him, the face she had kissed, that direct gaze. She turned all her attention back to thepage, to gnarled cords of wisteria, and the slight problem of perspective she'dbeen trying to correct.
After a pause, Fisher sat down on the opposite side of thegazebo stairs, where he would have to reach to touch her.
"Hello," he said, and held out his hand. "My name is Fisher."
Madeleine stared at the pad, entirely focused on herperipheral vision. She understood thegesture, but could not bring herself to move. He sat with hand held out, waiting long after the moment had becomeawkward. A stretched eternity, and hisarm shook a little, reaching the point where muscles would be longing forrelease.
The pencil Madeleine was holding snapped, and she looked downat the faint suggestion of marks on her blue palm, wondering at herself. Had she always been this person, completelyunable to cope with any private crisis? The tightly-wound paralysis was familiar, was, as Tyler had pointed out,very like her reaction when she'd been knocked down a flight of stairs forhaving a cousin.
Carefully she put the pencil on the wooden boards beside herand felt ill and alive to take the hand which a spare few days ago she hadreached for with complete confidence.
"Madeleine."
The hand clasping hers tightened in a way which was achinglyfamiliar, then let go.
"Why does your cousin call you Leina?"
The casual, neutral question helped. Perhaps it was real, this introduction. Strangers who had just met. She could deal with that if she didn't lookat him. And tried not to react to hisvoice.
"When I was, oh, five I think, I lost my temper atsomething at the family Christmas party. My uncle – Tyler's Dad – told me I was a 'real little Maddie' and teased me a tiny bit during lunch. My family had always called me Maddie, but I had no idea the word meant anything but'me'. I spent the afternoon – and muchof the next few months – insisting that people call me 'Leina'instead. Tyler was the only one whodid. Everyone else thought ittremendously fu
"Why not introduce yourself as Leina,then?"
"I prefer Madeleine. And I've gotten over caring about being called Maddie. Leina's just becomeTyler's name for me."
Fisher was looking at her sketch, and she checked aridiculous impulse to hide it, lowering her hands to her sides.
"I wouldn't have reacted to your painting in the sameway," he said then, with the air of a confession, and beneath thatsomething like a challenge. "I'minterested in art, and I think I would have enjoyed watching you paint, but it'sdifficult to imagine – imagine the me before this – sitting for hours, sosingularly absorbed. I would have atleast read a book at the same time."
Madeleine glanced at him, uncertain. To start by making that clear...
"The others are talking over Melbourne andBrisbane," he went on. "TheSydney situation is stable enough we could leave tomorrow, perhaps splittinginto two groups." He took a deepbreath. "I had such a...visceralreaction to the idea. That I didn't carewhat group, which city. The onlyabsolute was that I go with you."
She sat frozen, found that he was waiting for aresponse. "You said you thoughtthose feelings weren't real."
"I said I don't know how much of these feelings aremine. I wasn't in control, but I wasthere, for all of it, every moment. Thepretence that we just met falls down straight away, because every time I lookat you I'm slammed in the gut. It's notpossible to start fresh, to go back. Feelings so strong and deep they make you stop and catch your breathdon't need rediscovery. They needdecisions."
He rose, but to her relief paced a few steps away, and stoodwith his back to her. His voice wascrisp and almost combative when he went on.
"I'm not the same person. I would not have behaved as Théoden did. I would have admired your painting, yourtalent, but I would not have sat and watched you. I would never have made so much interestclear, or told you half the things he did, things that I don't admit. I would have put up walls against you becauseI've spent years being bored by people, finding them an a
He paused, turning just enough for her to see his profile.
"I also refuse to be the kind of person who follows youaround making you flinch. So, I'm notgoing to follow you. I'm choosingMelbourne. If you want time, or want tonever think about the parts of the past few days which involve me, go toBrisbane. If you want to findout–" He broke off, and summoned awry, self-mocking expression which faded as he glanced at her. "I sound like I'm throwing down agauntlet. Perhaps I am. I want you to come to Melbourne, to letyourself find out if any of what you felt was for me."
Without giving her any chance to respond, he turned on oneheel and strode off, back to the house.
Madeleine looked down at clenched hands, then slowly openedthe right to inspect the tiny scratch which marred her view of her stars. There had been a lot of pride in that speech,and hurt. Had she really been flinchingfrom him? She'd been trying not to.