1
I flashed the customs officer a reluctant smile as he scanned my mugshot, silently saying a prayer he found a valid reason to rescind my visa and put an end to this living nightmare. But my plea went unanswered when he ushered me through with a lackluster wave. One that said he enjoyed his job about as much as I was excited to be in his country.
Dad was already at the luggage belt waiting for our worldly belongings to appear. “All set?” he asked, barely able to contain his relief at being back on American soil. I offered him a polite smile from behind the safety of my sunglasses. Large enough to cover half my face, they hid a multitude of sins.
“Your Uncle Gentry should be waiting in arrivals.”
Excellent.
Not.
Dad paused, searching my eyes, and then let out a heavy sigh. Giant sunglasses, one, Dad, zero. “It'll be okay, you know, Lo. Gentry is family. He can’t wait to see you again. I know it's a big change, but we'll make a good life for ourselves here, sweetheart, you'll see.” He reached for my shoulder but I slunk away, unwilling to do the whole father-daughter thing in the middle of LAX airport.
If Dad was offended, he didn't show it as he turned to face the luggage belt, hands jammed deep in his trouser pockets, heavily creased from our sixteen-hour journey.
I wanted to be more enthused, I really did. But up and leaving your home and moving halfway across the world wasn't something I could just 'get over'. Not to mention the stress of the long-haul journey.
Uncle Gentry might have been family, but how could you really call someone you'd met once—for a brief stint last summer—family? Sure, he was Dad's brother, but since the events of the last seven months he was no one to me. A distant relative I’d met once and now I would be living with him and his wife, Rebecca; and their four children.
The Stone-Princes.
I wanted to give them a chance—they’d been nice enough last year when we’d visited and all—but I just couldn't find it in me to care. Not when, sometimes, just getting through each day was a mammoth task.
“I think this is the last one.” Dad's voice cut through my thoughts and I looked up to find him behind a trolley piled high with our luggage. The last remnants of our life in England. What couldn't be packed into a suitcase, had been sold on eBay or donated to the local charity shop. Lucky for me, I’d managed to condense most of my bedroom into the two suitcases Dad allocated me for the move.
“All set?”
I gave him a tight-lipped nod and followed him toward the arrival lounge, and to our new life.
“Robert, Eloise, over here.” A tall man with eyes identical to Dad's waved us over with a warm smile. Dressed in black trousers and a sage-green polo shirt that hugged broad shoulders, his sandy hair from last summer was now peppered with grey. He was a taller, fitter version of Dad, even if he was four years older.
“Gentry, it’s good to see you.” Dad took his hand, clapping him on the back with his other. I let them have their moment while I watched the other travellers search for their families in the awaiting crowd, anything to take my mind off how busy the place was. A young girl launched herself into the arms of a teary-eyed couple, letting them envelop her in a parent sandwich. It was impossible not to smile at their reunion, but as the corners of my mouth lifted my chest constricted, sucking the air clean from my lungs.
“Lo… Eloise.” A hand landed on my arm and I jerked back to my father. “Sorry,” he added. “I didn't mean to startle you. Your Uncle Gentry would like to say hello.”
I swallowed down the lump in my throat, pushed the glasses up my face and rested them on my head. “Hello,” I said holding out my hand, but Gentry laughed, knocking away my arm and wrapping me into a bear hug.
“It's really good to see you again, Eloise.” He held me tight while my arms hung limply at my sides. “I'm so sorry for your loss.”
My body tensed and I clamped my eyes tight, counting down from ten. At zero, I inhaled deeply, forced them open, and stepped out of his hold. “Thank you.” The words still choked me, even after seven months.
“Right, well then, shall we?” Gentry took control of the trolley and motioned to the huge exit doors. And just like that we were welcomed into his family.
Only, it occurred to me, he was the only one here.
Dad and Gentry sat upfront in his sleek black Range Rover while I watched California whizz by from the back seat. I'd only visited the States once before, but I’d forgotten how different it was from our home back in Surrey, England. Old home, I reminded myself.
“Kyle and Summer can’t wait to see you again. He’s stoked to have you starting junior year with him. Macey too. And I’m sure Maverick will make you feel very welcome.”
How wonderful, I inwardly groaned, letting my head fall against the cool tinted glass. As if being a Brit in an American high school wouldn't be hard enough, I was going to be paraded around like a freak show.
Gentry continued, apparently unaware of my lack of excitement about starting a new school. “Rebecca made the arrangements. You’ll meet with the Principal first thing on Monday.”
And not only would I be the British freak show, I had to endure two more years of high school, whereas back in the UK, I would have been in my final year at college. But Dad and my new school had decided it would be better for me to stay back a year and sit all the classes I needed to get the high school diploma. Something about making it easier to apply for colleges. Although part of me wondered if my behaviour of late had anything to do with his decision.
Fuck. My. Life.
“Isn't that great, Lo?” Dad covered for my silence and I managed to grumble out something about being excited to see them again.
I wasn't.
Life will do that to you though. Rip out your heart and leave it bleeding all over the floor, then expect you to pick up the pieces and get on with it. I got on with it, but I was only going through the motions.
Like right now, being in a new country. There was no crackle of excitement in the air. No seed of anticipation blossoming in my chest at the endless possibilities and adventures that could await me.
I was numb.
A hollow pit of nothingness carved deep in my stomach.
The sea glistened in the summer sun. It was beautiful, and, in another life, I would have appreciated it, but right now I just couldn’t. And as the 4x4 sped past a sign welcoming us to Wicked Bay, I shuddered. I’d been here once before, it should have felt familiar. But all I could remember was a pair of intense eyes, the colour of dark chocolate interspersed with flecks of gold, and a wicked smile that could charm even the most impressionable young girls.
Shaking the unwelcome thoughts out of my head, I observed the big detached houses flanking us on either side. All unique with fancy brickwork, sloping driveways and perfectly pruned lawns, the whole place looked like something out of The OC. Uncle Gentry drove to the end of the street before turning off onto a road steeped with tall billowing trees. I shifted into the centre of the backseat, watching with morbid fascination as he rolled to a stop, parking next to a fancy sports car. I’d forgotten just how big their house was.
“Welcome home,” he said with a strange note of hesitation in his voice. As my eyes swept over the mini-mansion in front of me, the joke—and his sudden change in mood—was lost on me.