my face. Cheska sat beside me, hand on my back. “They were killed, princess.” She nodded, tears slipping down her pale cheeks. “They were fucking killed.”
“I know, baby.”
I sighed, then my stomach plummeted as I wondered if Mum could see me now. If, wherever she was, she could see me here, finally finding out the truth about her death.
But my fucking heart stopped at that thought.
“You think they’ve seen what I’ve become?” I asked. Cheska tried to read my face, and I thought it was because she didn’t know which way to take the question. I wasn’t sure which fucking interpretation of it I was asking myself.
Was she proud of me, or horrified at what I did for a living, who I was?
Cheska put her hands on my cheeks. “I think she sees you. I think she sees you and smiles and loves you and is so proud it makes her ache to see you again. To be able to touch you and kiss your cheek and tell you how proud she is that you take care of your family the way you do. How you sacrifice your own happiness time and time again so you don’t break, so you don’t fall.
“But I think it would break her heart to see those things too. To see the burden such heavy duties press down on you. How you push people away so you don’t buckle under the weight of loss.” Her bottom lip trembled. “How you have love, and have found love of the deepest kind but have fought it for so many years that it’s made you battle-worn and feeling unworthy of such a gift.”
“She’d love you,” I said.
Cheska’s face crumpled in sadness. “And I’m sure I’d love her. Your sister too.”
I nodded, a smile pulling on my lips. Because Pearl would have loved Cheska. She’d told me many times that she wished she’d had a sister instead of me—her annoying big brother.
I stayed kneeling on the ground until the sky started to lighten. Until the pitch black of the sky started to turn royal blue. Taking Cheska’s hand, I said, “Let’s go home.”
“Is it my home?” Cheska whispered, showing me how the wounds I’d inflicted last night had cut her deep.
I didn’t know if it was feeling my mum around me that pushed me, or whether it was just Cheska. My heart and fucking black soul recognising her as ours and claiming her for all time. But I pulled her face to mine. “Princess …” I said, feeling my pulse throb in my neck. Feeling heat scald my skin even though it was baltic here outside. Cheska held her breath. “I …” I squeezed my eyes shut. “I love you.”
“Arthur,” Cheska cried and crushed her mouth to mine.
So I fucking took her mouth right back.
“What I have is yours, princess,” I said, and Cheska folded into my chest. “Everything, it’s all fucking yours.”
“I just want you.” She sighed. “I’ve always just wanted you. Only ever you, Arthur.”
The drive back to London was quiet, the winter sky lightening until the sun was out and we pulled up at the church. Cheska had fallen asleep on me, head in my lap. Not wanting to wake her, I carried her into the church. Betsy and Charlie came to the hallway, checking who’d just come inside.
When Betsy saw Cheska in my arms, with her arms hooked around my neck even in sleep, she gave me a relieved smile and went back into her room. Charlie winked at me, choosing not to give me shit about leaving the house when I’d ordered everyone else to stay locked down.
I placed Cheska on the bed, removed her trainers and put her under the covers. I watched her move around, but ultimately sleep took her under again. I threw off my jacket and went into the kitchen. I boiled the kettle and made myself a cup of tea. I was knackered, fucking empty inside, but … but I felt different. Like I’d just woken up from a decade of being knocked out cold. Like I’d just stepped out of a year-long storm into a fucking summer’s day.
I went into the living room to drink my builder’s tea and saw Vinnie was sat in his usual place. The fucker hardly ever slept. He was beside the fire as always. I almost left the room, needing to be alone. But I stopped in the doorway when I thought of Cheska. Of the night he told her about her mates,