He enraged her with his blunt questions. ‘I don’t love anyone except my daughters.’
‘Do you blame him for forcing you to put up with this cantankerous old fool?’
‘I make my own decisions, Jack.’
‘How is Luke?’
‘Lost.’ The word came unbidden to her and he nodded, as if he understood. ‘It’s a long journey back. My brother was a gambler. He carried his addiction with him to his grave.’
‘I’m afraid Luke will do the same.’
‘If you think that, you’ll never be able to trust him again. Don’t you believe in redemption?’
‘He must look after his own redemption.’
‘What about forgiveness?’
‘No more questions tonight, Jack. You need to rest.’
He closed his journal and pulled down the lid on his bureau. He was stiff when he stood. She imagined his skin stretching, the pain it caused him. It was difficult to remain annoyed with him. His shoulders slumped as he crossed the floor to his armchair and lowered himself into it. A memory of Maddie came to mind, her grim resilience during her final months as she fought pain with her willpower and the same defiance Jack Hyland continued to display.
Victor had replaced the scattered cushions on the sofa and the music room had an unruffled appearance when she returned downstairs. Dizzy, reckless madness. Was she so hungry for attention that she would fall in love – no, not love, lust – with the first man to cross her path since Luke left? She needed to find her own way back from their break-up. Love on the rebound had no substance and could, like her marriage, be founded on quicksand.
Over the following days, Jack continued his struggle to regain his strength, placing one foot in front of the other as he crossed the courtyard and reached the avenue, celebrating each small triumph with a raised fist. He was determined to push his body to the limit of his endurance and on a sigh of pain he could still move Sophy from anger to tenderness and pity.
Chapter Sixteen
Isobel
‘I see you have quite an interest in the Gothic,’ Debbie Gibson, the librarian in Clonmoore Library, remarked when Isobel stopped at her desk. ‘Vampires are very popular subject matter for authors at the moment.’
‘Do you believe in them?’ Isobel asked.
‘There are a few bloodsuckers around here all right.’ Debbie laughed as she stamped the books Isobel had borrowed. ‘They come out at night but whiskey is their tipple, not blood.’
‘So, you don’t really believe they exist?’
‘I was terrified by the thought of vampires when I was small,’ Debbie admitted. ‘I stopped believing in them when I was ten. To be honest, I still enjoy a good horror story. That’s why the Horror and Fantasy section is so well stocked. But we also have a diverse selection of contemporary fiction for young adults if you’d like to try something different for a change.’
‘Maybe next time,’ Isobel promised. It would have been a relief to confide in Debbie but the librarian hadn’t believed in vampires since she was ten and would think Isobel’s suspicions were ridiculous.
‘Don’t you want to use the computer?’ Debbie asked before Isobel left.
‘Not today,’ she replied. Or any other day, she thought as she placed her books in her bike pannier. She cycled past The Queen of Angels Secondary School. August was drawing to a close. Soon she would enter those gates as the new girl in town. Her uniform was hanging in the wardrobe. Grey, cream and maroon – the three colours she hated most.
A van with a sign on the side that read Bracken Plumbing passed her out on Marsh Road. She followed it to the Hyland Hall entrance gates. A second van was parked outside the gate lodge and two men in jeans, hi-vis jackets and hard hats waved as she cycled past. The gate lodge had a new red door. It still looked like it belonged in a fairy story filled with evil but the boards had been removed from the windows and latticed panes of glass installed. Her mother said The Recluse was going to hire security to stop the fly tippers returning. What about security for us, Isobel wondered? A silver bullet, a crucifix, holy water, garlic. A stake through his heart.
Two weeks had passed since that awful night when she and Julie had fled from the poisonous fumes to the shelter of Mount Eagle. The Recluse had been given more blood and had returned to Hyland Hall stronger and more powerful than ever. All thanks to her. By