been sent a transcript, so they knew most of what was coming, but they sat side by side on the couch, thighs pressed together, and read every word.
Ink’s parents had been interviewed too. They hadn’t seen their comments before and Tay could almost feel Ink fade to a shadow as he read what they’d said. Neither of them had anything kind to say about him. Moody. Awkward. Badly behaved. Stayed in his room. Defiant. Rebellious.
“Life wasn’t like they said,” Ink muttered. “I wasn’t the boy they described. I wasn’t.”
“They’ve made up a version of you to fit with what they believe you did. It’s easier to blame you if they remember you as being bad. It makes them feel less guilty about the way they treated you.”
Tay hugged Ink while he cried. He guessed it was like Ink losing his parents all over again.
The magazine included pictures of Ink wielding the crutch in Covent Garden, a few images of him as a child with his brother, and recent ones on the beach, but apart from the early pictures, his face wasn’t clear on any of them. Ink ran his fingers over the face of his brother. Ru was smiling at Ink.
Then it was a matter of waiting to see what happened, if anything would. Only a few people knew where Ink was, and only one was likely to tell anyone. The beach had given nothing away.
George called to say he’d read the magazine. He didn’t sound pleased about it, but he did tell Ink that Carter had been officially warned not to reveal his location, his new name or any details that could lead to him being identified. Tay thought that would make Ink happy, but he still rarely went out unless it was to the beach. If the doorbell rang—it rarely did—Ink always got there first. Tay knew he was trying to protect him and it broke his heart.
Tay had just finished a WhatsApp call in the kitchen with his parents—Ink always disappeared now when he talked to them—when the doorbell rang. He heard Ink clattering down the stairs, but he went into the hall with his phone because if there was a problem, he wanted to be ready to call the police.
Ink opened the door and Tay came up at his side. There was a car in the drive with someone behind the wheel, but a young guy stood about ten feet away. He looked from Ink to Tay, then back to Ink before he glanced up into the air.
A moment later, a black bird flew straight at Ink and Tay. Tay reeled back, but the bird landed on Ink’s shoulder. Ink gave a loud moan.
The young dark-haired guy walked towards them and held out his arm. “Here, Bela. You’re freaking him out.” The bird flew back to him.
Ink gasped.
The driver of the car got out. Vicki Leeson. “Can I take a picture?”
Ink fell back against Tay and collapsed.
Chapter Twenty
INK COULDN’T UNDERSTAND WHY HIS legs weren’t working. Nor his brain because that couldn’t be his brother in front of him. This didn’t make sense. Ru was dead. Much as Ink didn’t want that to be true, he was dead. Their father had identified his body. So who was this guy standing in front of him? A guy who had a crow called Bela? Some scam artist? Or…the impossible?
Tay hauled Ink to his feet and Ink clung to him. The journalist was standing behind his…brother. Is it? She was smiling. What the fuck is happening? Ink was having trouble breathing now. His lungs weren’t working.
Ru? Is it really you? Wouldn’t I recognise you?
“Ruari saw the article,” Vicki said. “He’s come over from Ireland on the ferry. I’ll let you talk privately, but I’d like to come back and do another interview. This is just incredible.”
“Can I stay here tonight?” the guy asked.
“Course you can,” Tay said when Ink didn’t speak.
Ink tightened his grip on Tay. Breathe!
Vicki brought a bag from the car and a birdcage and put them by the door. “Give me a call tomorrow. Okay? There’s a lot you’re going to need help with. Reporters from all over the world will want a part of this. You have my number. Call me if you need anything. Any of you.”
She smiled again and left in her car.
“Can me and Bela come in?”
“Yes,” Tay blurted. “We have a dog. Is Bela okay with that? Are you?”
“I love animals. Bela’s picky. If I put her cage where the dog can’t