All These Things I've Done (Birthright #1)(22)

‘You did,’ I agreed. ‘Why don’t you bring some blankets out to Win in the living room?’ I suggested.

Scarlet smiled. ‘That boy,’ she said in a strange, vaguely Spanish accent. ‘He is not for me.’

‘But you do both like hats,’ I said.

‘I know.’ She sighed. ‘And he is adorable. But, alas, no’ – she returned to her weird accent – ‘how you say? No chemistry, señorita.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said.

She switched to French. ‘C’est la vie. Cest l’amour.’ She removed her make-up with a cloth. ‘You should bring out the blankets, Anya.’

‘What are you saying?’ I asked.

‘I’m saying that I won’t mind if you bring the blankets to Win.’

‘I’m not into him,’ I protested, ‘if that’s what “bring the blankets” means.’

Scarlet kissed me on the cheek. ‘Well, I don’t know where you keep the bedclothes anyway.’

I went to the hallway and took an extra set of linens out of the closet for Win.

In the living room, he had taken off his dress shirt but was still wearing his trousers and a plain white undershirt.

‘Thank you again,’ I said to him.

‘Is your brother OK?’ Win asked.

I nodded. ‘Embarrassed mainly.’ I set the linens on the couch. ‘These are for you. Bathroom’s in the hallway. Second door after my room and before Natty’s and Leo’s, but if you hit my dying grandmother’s room, you’ll definitely know you’ve gone too far. Kitchen’s right over there but it’s basically empty. You’re here on a Friday, and I can only bring myself to haggle for rationed products on the weekend. Well, goodnight.’

He sat down on the couch and his face was illuminated by the table lamp. I could see he had a red mark on his cheek that would likely be black-and-blue by the next day. ‘Oh no! Did Leo do that?’

He touched his cheek. ‘He elbowed me, I think, while he was having his – it’s a grand mal seizure, right?’

I nodded.

‘My sister used to have seizures, too,’ he said. ‘So, right. The elbow. It didn’t hurt very much when Leo did it, so I was hoping there wouldn’t be a mark.’

‘I should get you ice.’

‘It’s fine.’

‘No, the mark’ll be less,’ I insisted. ‘Wait here.’

I went into the kitchen and took a bag of frozen peas out of the freezer, which I brought to him in the living room. He thanked me and pressed the bag against his cheek. ‘Stay a minute. I can’t go to sleep while I’m holding these peas to my face.’

I sat down in the overstuffed crimson velvet chair that was next to the sofa. I wrapped my arms around a turquoise chinoiserie pillow – my shield, I suppose. ‘Bet you’re sorry you ever came out with us,’ I said.

He shook his head. ‘Not exactly.’ He paused to rearrange the peas a bit. ‘Seems to me there’s always something interesting happening whenever you’re around.’

‘Yeah. I’m trouble.’

‘I don’t believe that. You’re just a girl with a heck of a lot on her plate.’

The way he said it was so sweet, I almost believed him. I certainly wanted to believe him. ‘Before. You mentioned your sister used to have seizures. Did she ever stop having them?’

‘Yes.’ He paused. ‘She died.’

‘I’m sorry.’

He waved his hand. ‘Long time ago. I’m sure you’ve got a whole novel’s worth of sad stories, too.’

Of course, nobody was much interested in novels back then. I stood up and set the pillow back on the chair. ‘Goodnight, Win.’

‘Night, Anya.’

Around 5.00 a.m., I woke to the sound of screams. I never allowed myself to sleep very deeply, so it only took me a second to figure out that the screams were down the hall and coming from my sister.

When I turned on the light, Scarlet was sitting upright in her sleeping bag. Her eyes were drowsy and terrified.

‘It’s just Natty. She’s probably having another one of her nightmares,’ I told Scarlet as I got out of bed.

‘Poor Natty. Do you want me to come with you?’

I shook my head. I was used to handling Natty’s bad dreams. Natty had been having them since Daddy’s death nearly seven years ago.

Win was in the hallway. ‘Can I help?’

‘No,’ I told him. ‘Go back to bed.’ I was annoyed that he was there at all. People knowing your private business gave them power over you.

I went into Natty’s room, shutting the door on Win.

I sat down on Natty’s bed. She was tangled in the sheets and sweaty. The screams were weaker now, but she still hadn’t woken up. ‘Shhhhh,’ I said. ‘It’s only a bad dream.’

Natty opened her eyes and immediately started to cry. ‘But, Annie, it felt so real.’

‘Was it about Daddy?’ Natty’s typical nightmare centred on the night Daddy had been killed. It had happened in this same apartment, and we had both been home at the time. She had only been five years old; me, nine. Leo had been at boarding school, something for which I am very grateful. One person shouldn’t have to be an eyewitness to the murder of both parents.