The Witch Elm - Tana French Page 0,45

tell her that this magical future wasn’t going to materialize. And with that realization something surged up in me, a confused reckless swirl of defiance and destructiveness: fuck it, everything was wrecked anyway, what the hell was I trying to salvage? why not go for broke, gun the motorcycle straight for the burning bridge, bring the whole doomed mess tumbling down? At least it would be my call this time; and at least it would make Melissa happy, and Hugo—

Out of nowhere, before I even knew I was thinking it, I said, “Come with me.”

The surprise stopped her crying; she stared at me, lips parted, hand loosening on mine. “What? You mean . . . like, for a visit?”

“For a few days. Maybe a week. Hugo won’t mind. You got on great at my birthday thing.”

“Toby, I don’t know—”

“Why not? We’ve always had people in and out of that house. One time Dec had a fight with his parents and stayed for basically the entire summer.”

“Yes, but now? Do you think your uncle really wants anyone but family around?”

“It’s so big, he’ll barely even notice you’re there. I bet Leon brings his boyfriend, who, God, I can’t even remember his name. If he’s not a problem, neither are you.”

“But—” My rush of giddy energy had caught her; she was almost laughing, breathless, wiping her eyes with the back of her wrist. “What about work?”

It was hitting me that maybe it hadn’t been a crazy thing to say, after all. Maybe with Melissa there, my small shining amulet, I could handle the Ivy House, maybe— “There’s a bus straight into town. It’d only add like ten minutes each way. Not even.” And when I saw her wavering: “Come on. It’ll be like a holiday. Only with shitty weather. And brain cancer.”

I already knew she was going to say yes: to keep me like that, fired up about something, joking even, she would have said yes to almost anything. “I mean, I suppose—if you’re sure your uncle won’t—”

“He’ll be delighted. I swear.”

With a watery laugh, she gave in. “OK. But next year we’re going to Croatia.”

“Sure,” I said, and a part of me almost meant it, “why not?” And before I knew it, Melissa was singing to herself as she tidied away the pizza things and I was pulling up Hugo’s phone number, and just like that, I was going back to the Ivy House.

Three

The drive to the Ivy House, that Sunday afternoon, felt a lot like an acid trip. It had been months since I’d been in a car or been anywhere much outside my apartment, and the sudden torrent of speed and colors and images was way more than I could handle. Patterns kept popping up everywhere, frenetic and pulsing, dotted lines leaping out at me from the road, strobing rows of railings zooming past, grids of apartment-block windows replicating themselves manically into the air; the colors were all too lurid and had a shimmering electronic zing that made my head hurt, and the cars were all going much too fast, whipping past us with a ferocious whoosh and smack of air that made me flinch every time. We were in a taxi—Melissa’s car was somewhere else or being fixed or something, she had explained but the explanation had been too complicated to stay in my head for any length of time—and the driver had the radio up loud, some talk show with a woman getting hysterical about being housed in a hotel room with her three kids while the host tried to make her cry harder and the taxi driver shouted an outraged running commentary over it all.

“Are you OK?” Melissa asked in an undertone, reaching over to squeeze my hand.

“Yeah,” I said, squeezing hers back and hoping she wouldn’t notice the cold sweat. “Fine.” Which was sort of true, at least on some levels. As soon as the initial rush of reckless abandon wore off I had started wondering what the fuck I had got myself into, but luckily I had managed to get an appointment with my GP and ask for a top-up on painkillers and a hefty Xanax prescription—which he had had no problem writing, after he skimmed my hospital records and I whipped out the full-color heartrending story of my sleep woes. I had zero intention of taking downers as long as I had to spend nights in my apartment, but I had made sure to swallow the first one right before we got into

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