Chapter Seven
Present Day
The fields and trees zipped by and disappeared into the fading light as the car sped along the road. The air was close, heavy with the scent of peppermint candies and cologne. Elizabeth rested her head back, her coat draped over her like a blanket. The cool glass fogged beneath her breath. And her mind swam with snatches of thought.
Whether you like it or not, this interview is happening. People's perceptions will change. The information is out there; it's only a matter of time. There's something sexy about a woman who enjoys her food. Some people distance themselves or disappear completely, others change the way they act. Maybe if she spent a little more time getting to know him in the first place. It's naive to think that people won't judge you. A strong likeable woman? Maybe one day…
October 1984
Tick, tick, tick. The indicator beat out the time as the car slowed and curved onto the driveway that wound its way through the grounds. The gravel crunched and prickled beneath the wheels, and Elizabeth's stomach clenched. 'Houghton Hall'. The name was emblazoned in bold white letters across the maroon sign. The car sailed between the two stone pillars and eased along the track towards the red brick building that loomed ahead.
Elizabeth's aunt glanced at her. "I've told the school that you spent the summer with me in London. That's what you'll say if anyone asks. Do you understand?"
Elizabeth paused. Summer in London. It couldn't be further from the truth. "But—"
The car jerked to a stop. Elizabeth grabbed hold of the seat beneath her, her heart pounding. Her aunt turned to her, crimson lips drawn tight. "Elizabeth, listen to me." She jabbed a manicured nail at Elizabeth's chest. "You are a woman; you needn't give anyone anymore reason to think you're weak."
"But I don't want to lie," Elizabeth said. There's nothing more valuable than the truth, her father had told her, and it's a gift you can give for free.
Her aunt shook her head to herself and let out an exasperated sigh. "You're gifted, Elizabeth, but it's naive to think that people won't judge you for this. Maybe one day…" Her expression softened, and she rested her hand against Elizabeth's knee. "Look, you have a chance now to make something of your life. It's time to put this whole episode behind you."
Elizabeth's lips pressed into a taut line. She turned away from her aunt and stared out of the side window, through the row of poplars that lined the drive. In the silence, the toll of the bell rang out, as solemn as the knell that saw her parents to their graves. Perhaps her aunt was right, perhaps that's where that summer belonged, hidden beneath the earth until flowers grew atop and people no longer cared what had nurtured them from underneath.
Her aunt's hand retreated to the steering wheel. As the car pulled away again, the tyres skidding over the gravel, she murmured, "Please, Elizabeth, don't let this define you."
Will was waiting on the steps outside the main entrance. His blonde hair had grown longer, a messy fringe falling in his eyes. His shirt was untucked, and the knot of his tie was askew, but he wore a smile so bright that it flooded Elizabeth's chest with a golden light.
Elizabeth opened the car door and then stood facing Will. He waved, and his smile turned bashful, as though they were meeting for the first time. "Um…hi…" He looked down at his shoes as he scuffed them against the stone.
"Hi," Elizabeth said. And which one of them took the first step, she didn't know, but within a breath they were in each other's arms. She clung to him so tight, and then tighter still as tears threatened to prick her eyes. "I missed you," she said, and she swallowed back the thickness in her throat.
"You too." Will let out a deep breath that trembled through them both. Then he stepped away as if the hug had never happened. "So, how are you?"
Such a basic question, yet full of so many meanings. "I'm fine," Elizabeth said, and she glanced back at their aunt who watched them through the car window, her thin eyebrows ever so slightly raised. Elizabeth turned to Will and tugged her lips into a taut smile. "London was fine."
Will bit down on the inside of his lip. And the reckless boy now held fear in his eyes. "Just don't go back again, not even for the weekend. Okay?"
"I promise," Elizabeth said. "I won't even think about it." And she wouldn't, she wouldn't become that person again, not when there was so much more to life. She nodded to the large oak doors. "Show me around?"
Will nodded, and his face lit with his smile. "You're going to love it here, Lizzie."
And maybe she would. Maybe with Will there and that episode behind her, this place would feel something like home.
Present Day
"Matt," Elizabeth called through to the front seat. "Change of plans. Take me to my brother's house."
"Yes, ma'am."
Elizabeth rang the bell three times then rapped at the door. Come on, Will. What was taking so long? She shivered and hugged her coat tighter. Seconds later, Will wrenched the door open. He stared at her, his brow furrowed in a deep frown. "Lizzie, what the—"
Elizabeth held up one hand and silenced him. "I didn't go to London in summer 1984." The words spilled out so fast that they melded together.
Will looked at her as if she were half-mad—and perhaps she was—but then his expression thawed. His lips tugged into a sorry smile, and he nodded. "I know."
"Well," she said, and she gave a stilted shrug, "I want to talk about it." Her voice cracked, and heat prickled up through her cheeks.
Will's gaze lingered on her, and she could almost see the fourteen-year-old boy who had stood on the porch that day, when their aunt and uncle had hauled her from the house. His lips drew into tight line, and he gave a half-nod. "I'll grab my coat."
The moon hung over the park, ghostly grey amongst the shadows of the clouds, and the lanterns tinged the air with a hazy, almost golden, glow. Elizabeth and Will walked side by side, the DS agents a safe distance behind. Her heels tapped against the paving stones, a metronome to their silence.
"So," Will said. He sat down on one of the green metal benches, let out a huff of breath that fogged in the air and then looked up at her. "Are we going to talk?"
Elizabeth lowered herself onto the seat beside him. She stared at her shoes, her hair falling forward like a veil between them. When she spoke, her voice was harsh, grating against the breeze that stirred the air. "I'm recording an interview on Tuesday, and they know where I was in 1984. The hospital, the ward, my notes…everything." She shook her head to herself and then glanced at Will. "Apparently there was a data breach…"
Will frowned. He shrank back and folded his arms across his chest. His gaze raked over her, utter disbelief. "So that's why you called the other day?" His voice rose. "You thought I'd told them."
"Of course not," Elizabeth said—and thank God the darkness concealed the blush that warmed her cheeks. "Can we just stick to the point? My medical files, out there for the world to see." She gestured to the park around them, but the cold bit her fingers and she stuffed her hand back into her pocket.
"You did, didn't you?" He let out a bitter chuckle. "Christ, Lizzie…" Then he stood up from the bench, one hand rising to rub at his mouth. He turned back to face her, eyebrows raised, hurt flecking his eyes. "You honestly thought I would sell out my own sister—"
His gaze broke from hers, and they fell into silence as a man jogged past. The beat of music pounded through his earbuds, whilst his ragged breaths clouded the air and the reflective strips on his jacket threw off glimmers of light.
Elizabeth waited until he had gone, wound his way along the stone path and into the night, and then she said in a low hiss, "I know you wouldn't, Will." Her pulse thrummed, a steady buh-boom, buh-boom, buh-boom that rippled through her body. "You haven't breathed a word about it since the day I left, you were so ashamed."
"Ashamed?" Will's gaze darted up and locked on hers. He shook his head as he frowned. "Lizzie, I wasn't ashamed."
Elizabeth's brow pinched. "What?"
"Our parents had just died." He stared at her hard, eyes glistening in the dim light, and then his gaze dipped to the ground. He ran one hand through his hair. When he spoke, his voice was far softer than before. "I was afraid that I was going to lose you too."
Elizabeth's heart ached. Oh, Will. She opened her mouth, the words ready to leap from her tongue. You weren't going to lose me. But she closed it again and swallowed them down. He could have, quite easily, had Aunt Joan not nipped it in the bud. "How come you never said anything?"
Will shrugged. "Because I didn't think you wanted me to." He sat back down on the bench, closer now, thigh to thigh. "Plus Aunt Joan told me not to."
Elizabeth arched her eyebrows at him. "And you always did what Aunt Joan told you to?"
"She wasn't wrong, Lizzie. The stigma was real." He shook his head to himself. "She might not have looked after us, not like Mom and Dad, but at least she shielded you from that."
"And now?" Her tone spiked. "It's out there, Will." How many people had already read through her file, knew every sordid detail of her past? Things she hadn't even shared with Henry, things that were meant to be hers and hers alone. "Who's going to shield me now?"
In the pause, a hedgehog crawled across the grass on the other side of the path. It stopped and snuffled at a fallen leaf and then bumbled on.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and let out a long sigh. She leant her head against Will's shoulder. When she spoke, her voice was as subdued as the glow of the lanterns, and in the same way, it diffused into the night. "I went back to the hospital today. Thought it would help."
"Did it?"
"No." Her heart sank. Why couldn't Alice have just told her that everything would be fine? "And now I just feel even more lost and terrified."
"About what?"
"About what people will think…" How they'll treat me when they know.
Will shook his head, his cheek bumping against her. "It's not the '80s anymore, Lizzie. People are more open about their problems, and the public…most of the public…understand."
But there was a line. A line between 'acceptable' illness and something that people couldn't comprehend. To struggle was one thing, but to be admitted to a psychiatric ward…? Not to mention the difference between being a celebrity and being a candidate for the presidency. And it wasn't just the public who needed to understand.
"What about Henry?" she whispered.
"What about Henry?" Will said. Then he pulled away, freeing his shoulder from beneath her and forcing her to sit upright again. He twisted round, his gaze darting over her. His tone sharpened. "You didn't tell him?"
"Of course not." Her voice fractured, and she threw one hand up. "It wasn't an issue when we met—I barely even thought about it—and it certainly hasn't been an issue ever since."
"You need to tell him," Will said. "Before it comes out."
Elizabeth folded her arms across her chest, bunching her hands beneath her elbows and hugging tight. "I know that, Will."
"Then why are you sat here—" He opened his arms and gestured around them. "—in a park in the middle of night with me, rather than at home talking to him?"
"Because…" Elizabeth fought to hold his eye, but her gaze fell away.
"Lizzie."
"Because…" A flush of heat flooded her cheeks, whilst the cold air stung at her eyes. "What if he never would have married me if he'd known? What if this changes the way he thinks about me? What if I become a different person to him, a person he can't be with?"
Will stared at her for a long moment. "Okay. You really are crazy." Elizabeth glared at him and tried to shove his chest, but he swatted her away and then rested his hand against her knee. "For some unfathomable reason that man adores you. He's not going to care that you were ill when you were sixteen."
"But what if he thinks I'm fragile or weak? What if he treats me differently and things between us change?" That's what Alice had said. People distancing themselves, monitoring her food…She didn't want that. She just wanted everything to stay the same.
"You are many things, Elizabeth—" Will shook his head to himself. "—but weak is not one of them." He squeezed her knee, and though his gaze faltered, he still managed to look her in the eye. "You getting better—that's the proudest I've ever been of you. It takes a hell of a lot of strength to recover, even more to speak out. People will appreciate that. Henry will appreciate that. I appreciate that." Will stood up and held out his hand to her. "Now come on."
She trusted her hand to his and let him haul her to her feet. "Where are we going?"
"I'm going home," he said, as she linked her arm through his, "and you're going to talk to your husband."
They strolled together along the path, and the cage of DS agents moved around them. "But what am I meant to say?"
Will patted her arm. "I know it must be difficult when you have a speechwriter to construct all of your sentences for you, but sometimes the words don't have to be pretty; what matters more is just that you say them." He looked down at her and caught her eye. "Lizzie, he will understand."
Shadows swamped the house, and the only sound came from the motorcade engines that still hummed outside. Elizabeth slipped off her shoes and carried them with her as she padded up the stairs. She eased the bedroom door open and then stopped. In the glimmer of streetlights that snuck through the curtains, she could just about make out Henry bundled under the covers, fast asleep. He gave a soft snore, and she smiled. Tomorrow. Let him sleep. She'd tell him tomorrow.
