Stay Away

escape

I haven't spoken to Fleur. I can't bring myself to.

Lize tells me that she is pretending nothing happened, going about her life as normal. She is finalising her move to Barcelona; Chelsea have given up on trying to convince her to stay. I think she has just sorted out where she will be living, but I'm not sure.

It takes three days for Leah to move from the living room. She refuses to go upstairs because there are pictures of Scarlett on the photowall leading up to the first floor, and she only leaves the room to use the toilet. Every evening, I bring her the lasagne Amanda dropped round the day after the news was broken, but, every evening, the plate is left full and I am tasked with eating it for her.

I sit beside her, mostly, watching the TV. I hate Downton Abbey, but she occasionally looks up at it so I keep it playing. There are enough seasons for the episodes to play one after the other, providing light when it gets dark. She only seems to sleep for ten minute increments, slumped on top of me, holding on as if I will push her off and run away.

After those painful three days, she stands up and yawns. "I can't be in England." She sounds like Fleur. "I can't be in England when Georgia and Keira aren't. I feel so alone."

It's Christmas Eve. Keira and Georgia are in England, but I don't think that's what she means.

I look at her, studying her features. Her hair would be matted if I had not brushed it earlier today, and she managed to shower after a fair bit of bribery, but her physical appearance amounts to nothing when the look in her eyes is that of such devastation.

They remain red, rubbed raw when she is too exhausted to cry and glossy from the tears that haven't yet gone away. I stand up too, joining her in the middle of the blanket pile on the floor. "There is a hotel in Austria that my family always goes to at Christmas. No one is there this year, and I am sure they have a room." I realise what I have implied. "Or two rooms."

Scarlett comes on these holidays. Came. With Fleur.

"Where in Austria?" Leah asks curiously, wrapping her arms around my waist.

"Gerlos, but we don't have to ski." We usually ski. "Shall I get a plane ready?"

She laughs; something quiet and shaky. It is the first time she has done that in a while, though. "You have too much money." Then, "Can we get there before Christmas?"

I glance at the clock nearby. It's early in the morning, but the days have blended into each other in a way that makes everything feel like one long night. "They need four hours to prepare, so if I tell them now, then yeah. Do you want to pack your suitcase?"

"No," she mumbles.

"Okay, I'll bring your things down here and then you tell me what to put in the suitcase." Plans like this have become the only way anything gets done. "Do you need anything else? Do I need to go out and buy anything?"

"No." Her curt response is hard to fixate on because she rests her head on my chest, listening to my heartbeat.

"How about breakfast?" I try, knowing what the answer I receive will be. (Another 'no'.) "A nap? TV? Do you want to talk to Keira or Georgia?"

"No."

"What if they want to talk to you?" I have seen her phone blow up with all the messages, and I have seen the way she turns it off and 'loses' it in the mass of cushions on the sofa. "What about Amanda? You spend Christmas with your family." They are expecting her, I'm sure. I think Amanda is expecting me, too.

"Call Mum. Tell her we're away." She steps back and returns to the sofa, sprawling out. I sigh – that's the end of the conversation, then. It was nice while it lasted.