Chapter Sixty-Two

Havermouth, Present Time

Aislen decided that what she needed was to get drunk. She tidied herself up and drove to the local bottle shop and spent half an hour browsing the aisles, selecting bottles. The drive through section was busy, and she had the aisles mostly to herself.

She hummed along to the radio as she idled down the rows of wine and thought of Heath and how she had always been impressed by his casual ease in ordering wine. Even five years on, she had no idea what she was doing and selected mainly by how attractive the label, name, or bottle shape was to her.

“That’s a good one,” Chris Arren, her father’s friend, said from behind her.

“Oh,” she put it back on the shelf.

“You remember me?” He picked up the bottle and tucked it under his arm. “Chris Arren?”

“Yes, I remember,” she said uncomfortably, continuing down the aisle, pretending to browse. “It’s nice to see you again,” she lied. She was not in the mood for other human beings.

“You haven’t called, about the group…?” He followed her.

“I’ve been busy.”

“Packing up your father’s house. I saw a skip bin out front.”

“Mhm, that’s being picked up tomorrow.” She really wanted him to go away and leave her in peace.

“Busy packing up the house?” He guessed incorrectly. “You haven’t come across anything? Have you checked in the roof space?”

“No,” Aislen picked another bottle of wine. “I’ll have a look up there, but spiders and ugh,” she shuddered.

“I can come and have a look for you,” he offered.

“No thanks,” she replied quickly. She did not want to be alone in the house with him. “I’ll look.”

“Okay,” he seemed to finally sense that she was wary of him and backed off a little. “Will you be staying in town much longer?” He asked, still trailing her around the shop with his one bottle of wine tucked under his arm and the shop lights reflecting off his bald spot.

“As long as it takes,” she replied evasively.

“To sell the house?”

“Something like that,” she was on the edge of being rude, she knew, and he didn’t deserve it, hadn’t done anything but try to be friendly, but she did not want him near her, possibly due to residual trauma from her time with the Triquetra, she speculated. “Look,” she said, feeling guilty for her attitude. “I’m sorry. I’m having a very bad couple of days. I’m really not good company right now.”

“Of course, I’m the one that’s sorry,” he replied, with warm sympathy. “I shouldn’t be pressuring you. It’s just… the evidence is so important to so many families.”

“I know,” she felt guilt for that too.

“I’ll leave you in peace then,” he told her. “Have a good night.”

“You too,” she watched him go and pay. “Fuck,” she muttered under her breath. She was going to have to read the documents and decide whether to destroy them or to pass them to Chris’ group of parents. She didn’t want to read about the misery of other people when she was so raw from the Triquetra.

As she took the bottles up to the cash register, she saw that a copy of The Secret Keeper was tacked to the board behind the register.

“You’ve seen it?” The clerk followed her gaze and grinned. “Our town vigilante has got a lot of people scratching their heads and looking sideways at their neighbours.”

“Anyone worked out what it’s about?” Aislen asked with interest.

“Well, there’s lots of whispers and speculation. I knew Guy,” he added, as he carried Aislen’s haul to her car and slid it onto the floor behind the driver’s seat. “And Lucy, a little. I don’t think that he meant to kill her. He wasn’t like that. And, the Secret Keeper’s obviously saying that he wasn’t even the dad, so it’s not like he would have had to pay child support or anything. He could have just dumped her and moved on. I think that in his own fucked up way, he was trying to help her out, and it’s a shame that he’s spent five years in jail for that.”

“Mhm,” Aislen opened the driver’s door. “Well, thanks, and have a good night.”

“You too.”

Aislen’s headlights picked up off a pair of reflective eyes lurking in the shadows along the side of the house. “You’re breaking your own rules,” she called out, as she carried the box of wine to the front door. “Stay the fuck away,” she muttered as she unlocked the door. “I don’t forgive you.”

Despite her words, the heat had gone out of her anger. She took the wine down to the kitchen and opened a bottle whilst she called the real estate office, leaving a message on their voice mail delaying marketing the house for a couple of weeks. “Need time,” she said aloud to herself as she hung up. She needed time to work out what the fuck was going on in her own head.

She had just poured a wine when the doorbell rang. “What the fuck now?” She demanded, as she made her way down the hall. “If that’s any of… Oh,” her jaw dropped as she opened the door to find Talen leaning against the doorframe.

Despite the confidence of his casual posture, filling the doorway with his broad shoulders, his eyes were uncertain of his welcome. “Little demon,” he said in greeting with a slow sensuous smile. “Someone told me that my name was written on a white board in the hospital,” he told her. “I came back to find out why. A nurse told me that Morgana Ivy had fallen in the river, and that Talen Gawaine was the person Morgana asked for when she needed someone.”

Her breath caught in her lungs. “I did.”

“I am here.”

“You are.” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes filled with tears. “I am very… Oh god,” she threw her arms around his neck and sobbed. “I’m so happy to see you.”

He wrapped his arms around her and lifted, carrying her into the hallway, kicking the door shut behind him. “I am happy to see you too, little demon,” he said into her hair as he embraced her. “When I came back on Friday, and you were gone… I flew to Kabramatta looking for you.”

“I know,” she clung tightly to him. “My friend told me that she had seen you.”

“Mhm,” his fingers dug into her hair, cupping her skull, and lifting her face so that he could look down at her. “You decided to stay in Havermouth?”

“I have stuff I need to do here before I leave.”

“Hmm,” he used the pad of his thumb to wipe away her tears. “It just so happens that I’ve been asked to stay on for a while longer. I had declined, but Havermouth has suddenly become a hell of a lot more appealing.”

“You’d stay,” she smiled coquettishly. “For me?”

“You’d have to ask nicely,” he leaned down and kissed her, his lips soft against hers, his hair falling forward to frame them in a golden curtain. “Or better yet,” he added, as he kissed along the line of her jaw and she melted, her eyelids falling and her jaw lifting. His lips grazed her ear. “Beg.”