Secrets & Souls - prequel to The Soul Guide
Chapter 8

Mellissa grabbed enough clothes for a few days away and stuffed them into her holdall. She was still reeling from what Bertram had said. He had lied to her, and yet he had the gall to turn it all around. What she kept from him was different. She couldn’t tell him about her past. She just couldn’t. She kept her past a secret for a reason, a good one. He had lied because he was jealous. It was not the same.

It couldn’t be just a coincidence that the only place they had come across after walking through the door was Carlo’s café. She was furious at Bertram for wanting to ignore that because he was jealous of Carlo. She’d only known the man five minutes, so Bertram’s jealously was misplaced. It wasn’t as though she was in love with Carlo, she’d just felt comfortable in his presence. She no more loved him than she did Bertram.

But that was the thing wasn’t it. Bertram was in love with her. Despite their own connection, the one that ebbed and flowed within them both, she couldn’t love him the way he wanted her to and he couldn’t stand it. Well, she wasn’t going to live like this anymore. She would be a prisoner to his feelings no longer.

Tomorrow was the last Sunday of October. Carlo had asked them to return, and she was going to do that right now. Besides, she had a few questions for Carlo, questions that had everything to do with the coffee he had given her. She had poured the last of the coffee grinds into her mug two days ago, savouring the last, delicious, cup. For the past twenty-four hours, she had been feeling out of sorts, as though she’d had a heavy night drinking and was hung over. Then, this morning, she had awoken to a barrage of Bertram’s thoughts. They tumbled and twirled over one another, all clambering for her attention. There were so many and they were so jumbled she couldn’t make sense of them at first. Then, slowly, as she relaxed into the rhythm of his thoughts, they became clearer. Much clearer. She had wanted him to tell her the truth, had just given him the opportunity to own up, but he’d persisted in his lie and it made her furious.

Mellissa couldn’t help but feel disappointed with Bertram. He’d let her down. She’d thought he was different, but as it turned out he wanted to control her too. She picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder, it was time to go. Besides, she had a bone to pick with Carlo, and she was going to pick it today. He was going to explain to her just what he had put in that coffee, and then he was going to tell her who the hell he was.

She made her way down to the kitchen to replace Bertram at the table. He had the first-aid kit open and was trying to stem the flow of blood, whilst attempting to wrap up his finger.

“Here, let me help,” Mellissa said. She hadn’t realised he had injured himself so badly. She’d been too enraged by his lie to notice.

“I can do it myself,” Bertram bit out.

Placing her bag on the floor, Mellissa walked over and took his hand in hers. The cut run from the base of his forefinger right up to the tip. It was deep, and would probably need stitches. For now, he needed to keep it clean.

“Run your finger under the tap while I get a clean towel,” she said, as she headed to the broom closet in the corner of the kitchen. She heard him turn on the tap as he sucked a pained breath through his teeth. “Christ, that hurts,” she heard him say.

“Keep it under the water for as long as you can stand. I won’t be a moment.” She searched through the shelves and finally found what she was looking for. A clean cloth to hold over the wound whilst she prepared the dressing.

“Here, take this and wrap it around your hand as tight as you can. Then hold your hand up, above your heart. That should stem the flow of blood long enough for me to dress the wound.”

Bertram took the cloth from her and did as she asked. She could feel him silently watching her. She could feel him. She pushed his hurt aside. It wasn’t as if he was the only one who was hurting.

“It would be easier if you sit,” she said.

Bertram sat.

“Hold out your hand please.”

Bertram did as he was told. She took his wrapped-up hand and started to unravel the cloth. “Good, the bleeding has almost stopped,” she said, as she pinched her fingers along the cut. Bertram hissed through his teeth.

“Sorry.”

Bertram sat in silence as she wrapped wadding, then a layer of gauze, over the wound. He was having an internal battle with himself, she could hear every single thought. On the one hand, he wanted to tell her what he felt for her, on the other, he wanted her to leave because he couldn’t bear to be in the same room as her. Her words had cut him deep, as deep as the wound on his finger.

“There,” she said, “all done.”

“Thank you.” He pulled his hand away from her touch and stood. “I see you have your bag ready. I’ll take you to the door now.” He avoided her gaze, picked up his keys and headed out the back door. Mellissa followed him.

Bertram stopped in the exact same spot that they had stood almost a month ago. She knew he wanted to say something to her. She felt his apprehension, but his thoughts were too jumbled to make much sense of. She waited.

“You told me that I was the Caretaker, that my job was to look after Clayhill, look after you. That’s what I thought I was doing. I never had any intention of keeping you prisoner and I am sorry I made you feel like you were. I hope you understand that I only have your best interests at heart.” His shoulders slumped. She didn’t need to read his thoughts to know that he was telling the truth.

“Bertram, you don’t have to…” she started, feeling ashamed suddenly.

“No, please, let me finish,” he said, turning to face her. He caught her eye briefly, then looked away. “I lied because I wanted to keep you safe. I also lied, because I was jealous. You were right about that. I have no claim over you and I am sorry that I have lost your trust because of my misguided intentions. You are free to do whatever you choose, I won’t stop you.”

He turned back to the door without giving her the chance to respond. She didn’t know what to say. She had been so angry at him for lying to her that she just wanted to get as far away from him as possible. Yet, he wasn’t lying to her now. It was true, a large part of him had been jealous, but that hadn’t been the only reason he had lied, just one of them.

Mellissa felt her anger ebbing away. Underneath it all, he was a good man, she knew that.

“Bertram, I appreciate your honesty but I cannot live like this. I cannot pretend to be someone I’m not to save your feelings. For this to work I need you to understand me, us, and what we have here.”

Bertram locked eyes with her. Expectant.

“Perhaps I hadn’t made that clear the night we talked on the bluff. Perhaps, of late, I have given you a reason to hope for something more between us, and I am sorry for it. You and I can only ever be friends. We cannot ever be together, not in the way you wish. Do you understand?”

She knew she was being harsh, but there was no point in prolonging his agony. She had to make it plain right now that there would never be anything between them. It was impossible.

Bertram remained still, his eyes never leaving hers. She hadn’t really noticed before, but they were a beautiful shade of rich mahogany with tiny flecks of gold.

“Bertram, I cannot love you the way you wish.” She had to say it. She had to be cruel, to be kind. It was the only way.

“I understand,” he said.

She watched him raise the key to the invisible lock and turn, pushing the door open. The same alleyway appeared just like it had a month ago.

Mellissa stepped up beside Bertram. “Thank you,” she said.

He dipped his head. “Will you come back?”

“Well, that all depends on you. Can you be my friend Bertram, only my friend?”

“Yes,” he said, simply.

“Then I’ll be back,” Mellissa said, as she walked through the door. She turned to watch it close. Bertram stood in the grounds of Clayhill, his face impassive.

Without even realising it, she had closed the door on their connection as surely as she had closed her heart to him.