The final chapter is here and this story is now complete!
I decided to write the epilogue from a certain character's point of view, rather than in the third person like the rest of the story. For some reason, I really identified with her and thought she'd be well-placed to update you all on the happenings of the Swan/Cullen family.
Huge thank you to my pre-reader and beta SunflowerFran. She has been a real support over the past few months.
I do not own Twilight or any of the wonderful characters that Stephenie Meyer created to bewitch us all. I also do not own Jane Austen's Persuasion. I am merely her humble admirer, and in borrowing plot points from her final published work, I mean only to honour her memory. Song lyrics in this chapter are borrowed from Latch by Disclosure featuring Sam Smith. This story is rated M for bad language and lemons. If you don't like these, please don't read it.
Thank you muchly!
Chapter Thirty-Eight: Epilogue
Late October 2022
Gemma
Wartime poetry essay. Done.
European politics presentation. Done.
University application form. Done.
Song lyrics for George's latest composition. Done.
I love it when I get home having completed everything on my list. Now I can spend the evening getting lost in Arden's Delights. I've read the trilogy countless times, and seen every single episode of the three TV mini-series at least ten times, but I love it. My Aunt Bella, who wrote it, is an absolute genius. Since then, she's written another three novels, and she's written two screenplays as well, but Arden's Delights and The Nadir and the Zenith, her very first novel, are my absolute favourites.
I drive home from school, walk into our house, run upstairs to change out of my school uniform and then head into the kitchen for a snack. George is already there, fixing up tea and a massive plate of sandwiches and cookies for himself and our brother and sister, Eddie and Millie. They're eight, and also twins like me and George.
"Gem, I got a gold star for my India project!" shouts Eddie. He has two volumes … loud and deafening. He's named Edward Anthony Cullen III after our uncle and grandfather, but is the absolute spitting image of Dad with his curly brown hair and blue-green eyes, and just as jovial and warm-hearted.
"Only because you spent a whole night pestering Aunt Bella and Uncle Edward about the place, just 'cause they went there for their honeymoon. Really, that gold star is half Aunt Bella and Uncle Edward's," Millie huffs, crossing her arms. She looks exactly like Mum, especially when she's annoyed. Same golden head toss, pouty lips and glaring hazel eyes. It's bloody frightening.
"Emilia Mae Cullen, did someone have a bad day?" I ask her gently. She nods. "What happened, Mils?"
"Stupid football! Why do I have to do football for P.E anyways? I'm rubbish at it!" she wails. She's such a perfectionist.
"Millie, sweets, you can't be good at everything."
"But Georgie and Eddie can do all sorts of tricks, and I can't even kick the ball!"
"But it takes George and Eddie ages to do maths in their head and you can do it like that," I tell her, clicking my fingers. "I'm rubbish at sports too, you know. But that's okay because I'm good with words."
My pep talk is interrupted by Mum and Dad coming through the door. It's barely five o'clock so we're a bit surprised to see them home so early.
"Hello my angels." Dad wraps his huge arm around my shoulders and gives me a smackeroo of a kiss on my cheek.
"Hi babies," echoes Mum. It doesn't matter that George and I are going to be eighteen in a week's time. We're still her babies and no amount of whining from George will get her to stop calling us that. She hugs me, Millie and Eddie, and kisses George's cheek.
"You're home early," George observes, offering the plate of sandwiches to Dad who hoovers one up in three bites.
"Yes ..." Mum and Dad look at each other worriedly. "Listen ..." Mum motions for all of us to sit down around our big kitchen table. Hmm ... something's big is going down if we're having a midweek family conference. "Your dad and I are going to have to go away on a business trip tomorrow. We're hoping it's just going to be a couple of days, but it might be up to a week, which means that we might not be here on your actual birthday, Georgie and Gem."
"If it weren't absolutely unavoidable, you know we wouldn't be going, right?" adds Dad as he swallows the last of his sarnie.
"Why are you going?" asks Eddie.
"It's really important work stuff, baby," Mum replies.
It's not work related, for damn sure. Mum and Dad don't work together for a start. Mum is the Chief Operating Officer of AJE Records, second in command only to Uncle Edward, Alice and Jasper. Dad is Chief Crown Prosecutor for Warwickshire and the West Midlands. Their jobs do not cross over. But also, if Mum has to go away for work, we usually hear about it weeks in advance, not one day.
She glances at me, knowing that I know differently, and implores me to agree. I nod my head slightly and nudge George who does the same.
"But if you're both going away, does that mean Gemma and Georgie will be looking after us?" enquires Millie.
"Mmm ... we've talked a lot about this, kids," starts Dad, "and if we were going away for just one night, we'd be all right with that, but because we'll be away longer, we decided that the best thing would be for Millie and Eddie to stay with Uncle Carlisle, Auntie Esme and Beth at Riverview Place, so you can still be near school." He turns to me and George. "We trust you implicitly, but it's a lot of responsibility to look after your baby brother and sister for a whole week, and also do homework and exam prep, not to mention George's band practice and the meetings at AJE ..."
Alice just provisionally signed George's band Wide Open Heart (WOH for short) on a two album deal. They play amazing rhythm-driven pieces, with George, the percussionist and songwriter, at the centre of the line-up. Mum and Dad agreed to the signing on the understanding that George had to finish school before any heavy-duty recording or marketing.
"So we're going to stay here without the little 'uns?" checks George.
"Yes if you want to, but both Carlisle and Esme and Edward and Bella have said you can stay with them," replies Mum. "Edward and Bella have said that you can use their barn for your birthday party, if you still want to."
"Yes!" cries George as I roll my eyes. A huge party is not at all my idea of a good time. But there's no way I can't go if George wants it to go ahead. That would make me one bad sister.
"I think I'd rather stay with Aunt Bella and Uncle Edward," I venture. George murmurs in agreement. "I don't really want to be kicking around here all alone. I know Uncle Carlisle and Aunt Esme are also looking after Beau next week while Alice and Jasper are at her dad's funeral, and I think it would be crowded with us there too."
Beau Brandon Whitlock is four and an absolute tearaway; he looks like a blonde haired, blue-eyed little cherub, but he's inherited all of Alice's energy, and she's practically the only person who can keep up with him. Aunt Bella and Uncle Edward did offer to take him for the week, but Beau tends to rile up their otherwise sweet kids, and they work from home a lot, and need peace and quiet. He's calmer at Riverview Place, mainly because he adores Beth. Also, Aunt Esme only works two days a week, and doesn't take work home.
"But we'll still be there to pick you up from school, Mils," says George before Millie can say anything. "Just think of it as a week-long sleepover with Beth." Millie's face lights up. Beth is her best friend as well as her cousin.
"I'm fine with it!" she says.
Later, when Eddie and Millie are in bed, George and I find out what's really going on to take Mum and Dad to London.
"This is why we have to go, babies," Mum says, passing over a piece of paper with a shaking hand. Dad drapes his arm around her waist and kisses her temple.
"It's going to be okay, Rosie," he murmurs.
Her Majesty's Prison Service, Wormwood Scrubs, 1st October 2022
Dear Rosalie
Bet you're surprised to be hearing from me, huh?
The thing is, I'm not well. It's my kidneys. They're knackered, apparently from a combination of drug use and infections. I have to go through this dialysis bullshit three times a week. There was talk about a transplant, but they don't think I'd survive the operation.
It's made me do some thinking, and the bottom line is that I want to see you and the kids, just once. I don't have a lot of time left, so I'd really appreciate it if you didn't jerk around about this. Just bring them to see me sometime soon. I don't want to get lawyers involved, but I will if I have to.
How you doing anyway? I sure hope you didn't let that tight ass of yours get all fat and spread out.
Royce
Gross. I knew anyway, but Royce King, aka Sperm Donor, is a total scumbag.
"Mum, we don't have to go, do we?" George's eyes are blazing.
"We hope not," replies Dad.
"Of course, we didn't reply to the letter, and a week later, I got a demand from the County Court saying that I had to attend mediation with Royce. If we can't reach an agreement, the judge will ask a court officer to come interview you in preparation for a hearing."
"But we're going to be eighteen in a week and no longer minors!" I cry.
"We're hoping that we can get Royce to back off, but if he won't, then we're going to try to prolong the mediation until your birthday without involving the judge so that the decision can be left entirely to you without anyone having to go to court," explains Dad. "If a judge makes the decision to proceed with the hearing before then, you'll have to cooperate. Some judges don't care about a father's convictions; they believe that parents have the right to contact no matter what. Therefore we're going to do our best to prevent any kind of hearing from taking place."
"Can we write something or sign something to say that we don't consider him our father and have no wish to associate with a convicted rapist and fraudster?" asks George. "That's why we changed our surnames to Cullen, after all, because you're our dad, Dad. Not him!"
"You can, babies, but we didn't want to assume that you'd want nothing to do with him. If you want to see him, we won't stop you, although we would definitely advise against it, right, Emmett?"
"Right," echoes Dad.
"No way in hell do we want to see him, right Gem?"
"No way in hell," I agree, shuddering at the thought. "Mum, Dad, we'll sign any official document you put in front of us. Go do whatever you have to do."
-cc-
I can't believe the sheer number of people at this party. George, social butterfly that he is, wanted 'an epic bash,' and now I'm surrounded by all these drunken drama queens and precocious stage-school brats, who claim to be friends of his. Thanks to his status as 'percussion genius'- I think that's how New Musical Express described him- he attracts hangers-on like flies to honey. Even my own friends have gotten caught up in the party atmosphere, but I just can't settle. Tomorrow's family dinner and a trip to see Ibsen's A Doll House at Birmingham's Repertory Theatre next week, were the only special events I wanted for turning eighteen.
I dart into my Aunt Bella and Uncle Edward's house when I see Junior Ateara, who plays keyboard in WOH, lolloping my way. Ick. Junior's a great musician, but he's puerile. Whenever he sees me, he does an impression of a drooling Homer Simpson. It's just disgusting.
"You all right, sweetie?" asks Aunt Bella when I walk through into the kitchen. It's an enormous, but warm, country style one, except that all the appliances and gadgets are state-of-the-art. That's Uncle Edward's influence.
Their whole house is amazing. It's an old, converted watermill a few miles out of town, and they have a stream that runs right under the house. There are six, enormous bedrooms upstairs, and a games room, cinema room, small recording studio, writing lab and two massive lounges, as well as a playroom for the little ones. It's only about ten minutes out of Stratford, but it feels like the middle of nowhere. They bought it when Aunt Bella was pregnant the first time, when it was a wreck, and they moved in after extensive remodelling, just two weeks before she gave birth.
"Yeah, it's just a bit much ... don't get me wrong, I'm really grateful to you and Uncle Edward for letting the party happen in your barn so George's friends didn't wreck our house, but ..."
"It's just not your scene."
"No," I agree. She grins at me and passes me one of her amazing, double choc chip cupcakes. I accept it gratefully, along with a cup of tea. "Where are Nicky and Micah?" I ask of my little cousins, who are two of the cutest little boys on the planet.
Nicholas Emmett, or Nicky for short, is the older one at six years. Micah, whose middle name is Charles, after our Grandpa, is four years old. They both have huge, wide eyes like Aunt Bella's, but Nicholas has grass-green ones with curly, dark brown hair the same shade as Aunt Bella's, while Micah has dark brown eyes and Uncle Edward's wild, wavy, auburn locks. They're both so sweet and polite.
"They'll be down in a minute. Edward's taking them to Riverview Place so they can join in with the sleepover, seeing as your brother and sister are already there with Beth and Beau. They'll get too excited here while the party is going on and won't sleep. You know how they love hearing George and the band play."
"True."
As if on cue, George starts to play the distinctive intro to Latch, one of the best known, biggest hits of the 2010s, and the song Aunt Bella and Uncle Edward wrote together by way of telling each other they wanted to be together forever. I can remember when Seth Clearwater sang it for the first time, at their wedding; it was pure magic. Uncle Edward managed to persuade him to record it as a single, with the acerbic, sassy Attracting Flies as a B-side. Seth thought it was just for fun; nobody anticipated that it would go viral on the internet, sell over a million copies in 2014 and make him, Aunt Bella and Uncle Edward super multi-millionaires. He didn't give up his work as a lawyer though; my dad promoted him to Sector Crown Prosecutor for Warwickshire two years ago, just after he got promoted to Chief Crown Prosecutor.
I look over at Aunt Bella, who puts down the spatula she has been mixing cake batter with and just listens with a goofy grin on her face. She and Uncle Edward have written thousands of amazing songs over the years, but she always says that the songs she wrote in the first year of their partnership have a special place in her heart.
"He does play so very well ..." she murmurs proudly. "By the way, your mum called. She and Emmett will be back tomorrow, in plenty of time for your birthday dinner. She said she tried your mobile, but it was off?"
I pull out my phone from the back pocket of my jeans. Dead as a dodo.
"Oops." I show her the black screen, and she laughs before taking it from me and plugging it into her charger.
"Rosalie said to say, again, how sorry they both are that they weren't here tonight."
"It's fine, probably for the best, actually. That way, they won't have to witness the debauchery going on. I'm pretty sure some of those skank-ettes are intending to jump George. Eww!"
"He's a good-looking boy ... all of you are just gorgeous."
"You're biased Aunt Bella," I tell her. She smiles a little and shakes her head. The truth is that George is the sociable, handsome, musically talented one. Millie will be the drop-dead gorgeous, snarky, sharp one when she's older, and Eddie will be the funny, cute, sporty one. As for me ... I'm the shy, awkward, bookworm.
"One day, Gemma, you'll see ..."
I eyed her sceptically and decide to change the subject.
"Have you heard from Jessie and Mike? Weren't they supposed to be coming over for a visit?" I ask her. My second cousin Jessica lives with her husband Mike in Birmingham. Mike used to work for Uncle Edward, but he and Jessie now run their own charity helping homeless and disadvantaged young people with drug problems. They help them find suitable rehab programs and then work with them to find housing and employment opportunities. You'd never think Jessie was the type, because she seems like a total airhead when you first meet her, but she's actually very driven and cares deeply about the plight of her clients.
"Yes, they just confirmed that they're coming over tomorrow for your birthday dinner too. They're bringing Mike's cousin, who's visiting from Australia. We didn't think you'd mind."
"Not at all."
"Oh good. I told Jess you'd be fine with it, but she wanted me to ask you."
"No, I'm looking forward to it," I tell her, although I'm also really worried about the news Mum and Dad will bring.
"Gemma!" I'm suddenly surrounded by Nicky and Micah, who latch onto my legs like limpets. I pick Micah up. He's wearing the Spiderman pyjamas George and I bought him for his birthday last month. "We going sleepover!"
"I know, little man! I bet you two are going to have loads of fun!"
"We're going to watch Shrek and eat popcorn!" Nicky is so excited. "Can you come too?"
"I wish I could, Nicks, but I have to stay here. Next time, okay?"
"Come on boys" says Uncle Edward, leaning over to take Micah from me. "Let's get going."
"Okay, Daddy," agrees Nicky. "See you later, Gemma." I lean down, and Nicky kisses me on the cheek before taking Uncle Edward's free hand. He starts to lead the boys towards the back door.
"Err … Uncle Edward?"
"Yes, princess?"
"You might want to go out the front door …"
"Huh?"
"Let's just say that George's female groupies are out there in droves and already have you earmarked as a 'DILF' … go out that way and you'll be surrounded."
"Over my dead body!" cries Aunt Bella, hands on her hips. Uncle Edward strolls over to her with Nicky and Micah in tow and kisses her soundly. You'd think I'd be embarrassed but we're all so used to it. They're the worst of all my relatives for PDA, but only because they are so freakin' in love with each other, it's like something out of a novel.
"I would much prefer you alive, love."
"And I would prefer you untainted by … what did you call them, Gem? 'Skank-ettes?'"
"Uh-huh."
"Go out the front door, Mr Cullen," she murmurs gently, but there's a commanding tone to her voice, and it's a given that he will do what she asks. He could never refuse her anything.
"Your wish is my command, Mrs Cullen."
-cc-
"Babies!" Mum cries when she sees us in the doorway of Aunt Bella's house. "Happy birthday!" She pulls both of us into the biggest hug ever and doesn't let go for the longest time. I'm sure she even lets out a little sob. She doesn't even complain about the fact that George reeks of booze and has a monstrous hangover.
"I think you're cutting off their air supply, gorgeous." Dad comes over, and hugs us when she lets us go. "Oh, kids, we missed you so much," he adds.
"You need to talk," states Aunt Bella. "I've made you lunch, and I'm leaving you to it. I'm going to meet Edward, Nicky and Micah at football and we're going sailing on the narrowboat with Grandpa Charlie and Nanny Anna."
"Thanks Bellsie," says Mum.
Once we're settled around Aunt Bella's vast kitchen table, Mum and Dad, holding hands, tell us what happened.
"Royce wouldn't back down, and he wouldn't say why he wanted to see you two now, when he'd not bothered for eighteen years, other than saying that he was unwell," Mum begins.
"Yeah, he didn't seem sorry for never being there for you kids, or show any sorrow for any of his crimes, and I think that you were looking for any little sign that he felt remorseful, weren't you, love?"
"I was," agrees Mum, "but he simply doesn't care. We just went round and round in circles. He said that I was punishing him by keeping you away from him."
"Did you show him the letter we wrote and signed?" George demands, a slight hysterical tone to his voice.
"He accused us of signing it for you. He still thinks you're little kids. He couldn't seem to comprehend that you're practically adults and sentient beings with your own mind."
"But you managed to make the mediation last until Friday, right?" I check.
"No ..."
"Great!" I throw my hands up in the air and a tear escapes from my eye. "Perfect!" My skin crawls at the thought of having to be in the same room as him. He's a rapist and a crook!
"Baby girl, listen ..." starts Dad, taking both my hands into his giant paws, "you don't have to see him," he says softly.
"No?"
"Listen to your mum a bit more, okay?"
Bewildered, I look back at Mum. She's still as beautiful as ever, but she looks tired and drained.
"Gemma, baby, just after we returned to Edward and Bella's apartment on Thursday night, we got a phone call from Royce's lawyer. He collapsed after mediation and got rushed into hospital. He had a massive stroke."
"Is he going to survive?" George says what I am thinking.
"No, he died yesterday morning at 10.15am. He wasn't kidding when he said his time was running out," replies Mum.
"His lawyer told us that he has a will and that he's basically left all his worldly possessions to you two. He had some grand plans for his funeral, but he wouldn't tell anyone what they were."
"Not even his lawyer?"
"No, Georgie. The lawyer said that he only wanted to share them with you two."
"So it's up to us to organise his funeral? What about his parents?"
I don't call Royce's parents our grandparents; they never showed any interest in us, not even when Mum and Royce were still together. Similarly, we never talk about Mum and Aunt Bella's mother Renee. All I know is that she lives somewhere in Kent with her husband who was fired from his London law firm for professional misconduct. She emailed Aunt Bella once, right around the time when Aunt Bella was on TV a lot, promoting the first series of Arden's Delights, asking for a loan. Aunt Bella deleted it and blocked her from her account. She hasn't called since.
"They're long dead," Mum tells me. "What do you want to do, kids?"
"I am so not equipped to deal with this right now," George murmurs, holding his head in his hands. "Can we talk about this in a while, after this weekend?" I couldn't agree more. I'm beyond overwhelmed.
"I'm going home to my room, and I'm going to watch the entire second series of Arden's Delights, uninterrupted," I state, getting up. "And nobody's going to ask me about this. When I'm ready to talk, I will, okay?"
"Sure Gem," Dad whispers. He gets up too, and opens his arms. "Hug for the road?"
I fall into his arms. I never, ever, say no to a hug from my dad. They're the best.
-cc-
By the time I walk over to Riverview Place, where our birthday dinner is being held, the place is full of family. Even though Aunt Bella and Uncle Edward's house is bigger, Riverview Place is like the heart of the Swan-Cullen family, and we nearly always end up having the big family dos there, with everyone pitching in to help so Aunt Esme and Uncle Carlisle don't end up doing everything. When I walk inside, I'm assaulted by the delicious smell of garlic and basil.
I pop my head into the kids' playroom, to find them all engrossed in one of the Despicable Me movies. Beth is sitting in one corner of the sofa. Beau is in her lap, quiet for once, sucking his thumb while twirling some of her long, caramel-coloured hair in his fingers. Millie is sprawled along the rest of the sofa, using Beth's thigh as a pillow. Sitting on the floor under her is Lola, Angela and Ben's eight year old, who is a mini version of her slender, brunette mother, half watching the film while drawing on a retro Etch-a-Sketch. Her cute, pudgy, fair-haired, five year-old brother, Zach, is lying on the beanbags with Nicky and Micah, all three of them staring rapt at the screen. Finally, Eddie has draped himself across the armchair, and looks half-asleep.
I follow the buzz of adult chatter to the piano room, where Uncle Edward is casually playing the piano melody from George's latest composition, as family and close friends mingle with glasses of champagne or sparkling grape juice in hand.
"Gemma!" Aunt Esme bounds over to me and kisses me on both cheeks. "Happy birthday!"
"Thank you. Sorry I'm late."
"No worries."
I work my way around the room, first chatting to Angela and Ben, who tell me excitedly that Lola has been accepted into a prestigious art programme for gifted young painters. She's supremely talented, so I'm not all surprised.
I spend some time with Alice and Jasper, touched that they're here, given the fact that they arrived back from Florida yesterday. Alice is not her usual sparkling self as she's clearly still grieving for her father, but she still gives me the warmest of hugs and promises to take me shopping in Birmingham when she's up to it. I nod and smile; it's more a present for her than me if I'm honest, but I'd never begrudge her the experience. Of course, her grief just reminds me of the conflict I'm feeling about Royce, but I push it away.
Next I wander towards the piano, where Aunt Bella has joined Uncle Edward at the piano bench. He is now playing Bree Tanner's Running, and she is softly singing the words to him with her hand on his knee. They are lost in their own little romantic bubble, so I divert towards the far end of the room. Grandpa Charlie and Nanny Anna, who look suntanned, happy and healthy following their three-month cruise holiday, are talking to Mike, Jessica and a tall guy with light brown curly hair tied in a stubby ponytail, who is wearing a black, Muse tour T-shirt and long, khaki cargo shorts. Unlike everyone else, he's barefoot, despite the fact that it's freezing cold. I'm guessing he is Mike's Aussie cousin. I can't see his face because he's got his back to me, along with Nanny Anna.
Jessie spots me as I approach and breaks into a big grin.
"Hey birthday girl!"
Nanny Anna and the tall guy turn around.
Holy bloody hell! He's um, like, yeah, wow ... beautiful.
I freeze, and then try to move both my feet at the same time, which of course results in me tumbling forward. The only thing that stops me from a full on face-plant is said, beautiful, tall guy, who catches me and hauls me back to my feet. My whole body rumbles with some strange sort of static, and my tummy flips over and over. He smells wonderful, like sunshine and sea salt.
"Whoa, careful there, girlie! Can't have you sport a shiner on your big day!" he laughs in his broad Australian accent. My face goes proper tomato. God, I want to crawl into myself and just die.
"Yeah, thanks ..."
"Gem, this is my cousin David," introduces Mike. "David, this is Gemma, as you've probably gathered."
"Hi Gemma," he says, looking me over with curiosity-filled blue eyes. He has a couple of days' worth of stubble on his square jaw. He's even taller close up. He has at least half a foot on me, and I'm 5' 8". He flashes me a dimply smile, and I feel that static-y feeling again. It's not actually unpleasant.
"Hey ..." I decide to shake it off and bring out my tried and tested small-talk patter. "So whereabouts in Australia are you from?"
In the next few minutes, I find out that he's from Fremantle, on Australia's west coast. He's nineteen and has spent the past year working as a veterinary assistant. He's been in England since mid-September and has applied for vet school here. He's staying with Jess and Mike, and is working at an RSPCA animal rescue centre. He's 'stoked' to be in Stratford because he loves Shakespeare and has always wanted to visit his birthplace, which he did this afternoon. I melt a little when he talks about As You Like It being one of his favourite plays; it's mine too.
I don't get any further because my dad comes up to tell us that dinner is ready. I notice him frown at David, which is odd. Normally he's friendly and jokey with everyone. I shrug it off, and follow him to the dining table, where I end up sitting between Ben and Uncle Edward, almost on the other side of the table to David, who is sitting between Mum and Nanny Anna. I try not to look at him too often, but it's really bloody hard. It's like my eyes just want to stare at him and his chiselled, quirky perfection. Whenever I stop resisting, however, he's looking back at me, but then he ducks away and makes conversation with someone nearby.
After George and I blow out the candles on our shared, red velvet birthday cake, everyone takes slices on paper plates and heads back to the living room. I linger in the kitchen, however, and then duck out into the garden through the conservatory doors to the riverside bench. It's my favourite pondering spot.
I'm really restless because my mind is all over the place. One minute I'm thinking about Royce dying, and the possibility of having to organise his funeral, the next I'm thinking about Alice, and the pain of losing a real parent. Then I'm thinking about what my life means and what I want to do with it, and then my thoughts keep straying to David with his lovely hair and dimply smile, and how he fascinates me and yet petrifies me. I want to get to know him, and because of that, I also want to run a mile. I feel like I'm having the mother of all teenage existential crises, which of course makes me a complete cliché.
"Want one of these?" A bottle of beer appears over my shoulder. It's David. "May I join you? A beautiful girl shouldn't be sitting by herself in the dark. It's against universal law or something."
"Well I don't know about the 'beautiful' bit, but sure, sit down," I murmur, tapping the bench behind me.
"The 'beautiful' bit is the only bit I'm sure about," he replies, taking a seat next to me. I can't help but blush and duck. This kind of stuff just doesn't happen to me.
We sit in silence for a few moments, just sipping at our beers.
"Sorry, I'm not the best company tonight. I've got a lot of stuff on my mind," I eventually tell him.
"If you wanna share, I'm a great listener. It might help to get it out." He's looking at me so sincerely; it makes me want to totally spill my guts, yet I'm still so afraid he's going to think it's too much.
"I don't know ..."
Suddenly, David's hand is covering mine and he's turned towards me. That electric feeling runs through me again.
"Whatever you tell me, I'll keep just between us. It's not my burden to share, it's yours ..." He squeezes my hand and I'm lost. Everything just comes spilling out, except, of course, the fact that I think I might be crazy about him.
"... Wow, what a bastard!" David says when I'm done telling him about Royce. "Him and his friend too. No wonder you're so distracted."
"I hate that he's in my head. He doesn't deserve to be. I wish I knew what to do."
"What does your heart tell you?" I pause to think about his question.
"He deserves a funeral, but not an all-singing, all-dancing extravaganza, which I think is what he wanted. It's not fair to his victims to celebrate his life."
"Do you think your brother would agree to organise it with you?"
"Probably. George is fairly agreeable when there's a plan he's not had to come up with himself," I acknowledge. "Although neither of us have a clue about how to go about sorting out a funeral."
"Your mum and dad will help, though."
"Yeah ..."
"Gemma!" We both turn to see my dad coming towards us.
"Oh, you're wanted. Have you got your mobile with you?"
"Yes ...?" I fish it out of my pocket. He takes it from me and starts tapping. "Why?"
"If you ever want to chat ... I don't have a phone here yet, but I'm good with email and Facebook, so get in touch, anytime."
"Yes, thank you," I reply, rather dazzled by his forwardness.
"Gemma, we're heading home in a few minutes, baby girl," Dad says when he gets to us. "The little twins are asleep, and George is heading that way."
"All right, Dad. I'll be there in two ticks, okay?"
He looks between us and glares at David again.
"Be quick." He turns and heads back to the house.
"Sorry," I tell David quietly when Dad's out of earshot. "He's normally friendlier. I don't know what's gotten into him."
He shrugs and smiles.
"Most dads don't like their little girls talking to strange boys, especially ones from Oz who have weird hair!"
"Yeah, well ... I should go ..."
"Sure. It was amazing to meet you, Gemma." He leans forward and brushes my cheek with a light kiss. "Hope we see each other again soon."
"Me too."
-cc-
Mum and Dad help me and George organise the most basic funeral for Royce. He is cremated. We don't attend the service. We receive his possessions a few days later. We sell anything of value and donate the money to Mike and Jessica's charity. There are a few letters between him and Jacob Black, planning an appeal against their conviction, but they were denied Legal Aid and no other law firm would take on their case, so Royce was left to rot in Wormwood Scrubs.
Jacob's letters reveal that his state of mind was seriously deranged. He was actually transferred to a prison hospital near Manchester after his father Billy died of a heart attack a few years ago because he went certifiably batshit crazy. Dad says he's probably never getting out because he's been deemed a serious, permanent danger to the public. The letters and everything else goes into the bonfire on Guy Fawkes' Night.
I spend what feels like hours staring at David's email details in my phone, but I hesitate to contact him. I can't believe that he's interested in me as anything more than a friend, but all I can think about is that little kiss and how I wanted it to be more. At night, I've woken up on more than one occasion having had some pretty racy dreams about him, which brings up a whole other set of anxieties. I have zero experience when it comes to boys. My closest friends are girls, and gay guys, and none of them have any tips to share, not that I've told them about David.
Two weeks after our birthday, I head to Aunt Bella and Uncle Edward's house to try out some song lyrics I've written with the new music George and his band have written. George's skill is with rhythm, but he's still learning about harmony, melody and timing, under Uncle Edward's tutelage. Meanwhile, Aunt Bella is helping me broaden my skills when it comes to lyrics. I'd love to be able to contribute something to George's first album if I can.
After about half an hour of brainstorming, she stops me from scribbling by touching my wrist gently.
"Sweetie, your words are constructed perfectly, but they lack a bit of oomph, you know? There's very little production to hide behind on this album; it's very percussion-driven, which means that the words must resonate with the listeners. Write from the heart, Gem."
I nod my agreement, but if I actually put down what I'm feeling right now, I'll start bawling my eyes out. Aunt Bella looks me over for a moment.
"Edward, I think Gemma and I need a few minutes of girl time, mon ange," she says. "Could you give us five minutes?"
"Of course, love." He gets up, kisses her quickly, and heads out of the writing lab. "I'll go make us some tea."
When he is gone, she holds my hand.
"Is this about David?"
"Yeah, am I that obvious?"
"Both of you were. You couldn't take your eyes off each other at dinner, and your long conversation outside did not go unnoticed."
"Damn," I say, blushing. "I really like him Aunt Bella. He's so lovely, and he's so good-looking. I've never felt anything like it."
"Like your whole being was a live wire?"
"Yes! That's it exactly. How did you know?"
"Because that's how Edward makes me feel" she smiles. "The first time we touched, it was unlike everything I'd ever experienced. I'd never been attracted to a guy sexually before, so I didn't recognise the feeling. All I knew was that I wanted to be around him, to know him and to feel those feelings again."
"But what if David was just being nice to me because it was my birthday and I was dealing with stuff?" I wonder. "What if he's not interested in me that way? I mean, look at me, Aunt Bella. I'm not exactly glamorous."
"Firstly, you're beautiful Gemma, inside and out. I'm not biased, sweetie. You're tall, blonde, doe-eyed, and you turn boys' heads everywhere you go. It sends Emmett's 'protective daddy' gene into overdrive. Second, regardless of your actual looks, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and David most definitely beholds you as beautiful. Thirdly, 'glamour' is only window-dressing, and it's what's inside that counts. Any decent guy knows that."
"Hmm ..." I eyed her sceptically.
"If you don't get in touch, you'll always wonder what could have been, Gemma," she tells me. "'Audaces fortuna iuvat', sweetie."
It takes me a moment to translate the Latin.
"Fortune favours the bold?"
"Exactly! It's the Swan family motto, and a pretty good one. A life lived wondering 'what if,' is a life half-lived. Believe me. I learned that lesson the hard way."
"What do you mean?"
"One day, I'll tell you in glorious detail, but right now, I think you should email David."
I pick up my phone and pull up David's details.
"Fortune favours the bold?"
She nods, grinning.
"All right then."
Fin
The outtake written for Fandom4Oklahoma will be published, in two parts, over the next week, and then the story will definitely be over.
Thank you for all your reviews and support. If you're looking for something new to add to your TBR lists, please consider reading my new story, Liberation, which was a Dirty Talkin' Edward contest entry. I'm updating it today as well.
CC xxx