They Who from the Heavens Came (The Wisdom, #1)
Chapter 21

As usual, Oz dropped his sister at home, that afternoon. During the car ride, she’d managed to arrange to meet Aidan for pizza later that evening. On Oz’s instructions, Itzy suggested somewhere in central London, where it would be busy – just in case.

‘You really think Aidan might be dangerous?’ Itzy asked.

Oz pulled up outside her house and turned to her. ‘I’m undecided. I believe he didn’t mean for things to happen like they did, in that cornfield. Even so, we don’t know him yet, and we don’t know what he can do. Sometimes you can have the best intentions and still do great damage.’

Itzy nodded in understanding. ‘I guess I’ll replace out, tonight.’

Her brother pressed his lips together. ‘Be careful,’ he said.

She smiled. ‘I will.’ It was nice to have someone worry about her, for a change. It had been a long time.

Oz looked past her, at the house. ‘Your mum home?’

Itzy spotted the old Hyundai parked up the road. ‘Looks like it.’ She glanced at the car clock. It was too early for her mother to be home from work. What was going on?

Oz touched her arm. ‘You going to be alright?’

She nodded again. ‘Thanks for driving me home. Bye.’ She opened the door and stepped out of the car.

‘Bye,’ said Oz.

He waited until she’d gone inside and waved to show she was okay. Then he turned and drove away.

* * *

Itzy shut the door behind her and kicked off her shoes. She walked slowly down the hallway, nervous about what she might replace. ‘Mum?’ she called.

Her mother appeared in the doorway of the lounge looking surprisingly lucid. She was dressed in soft navy blue pyjamas and she’d pulled her brown hair into a ponytail that dusted her neck. Her eyes were alert in a way Itzy hadn’t seem them in…she couldn’t remember when.

‘Hi, Itzy,’ Myra greeted her. She smiled. Itzy had forgotten how much she loved that smile.

Itzy stared. She clung to her bag for support. ‘How’ve you been?’ she asked cautiously.

‘Better,’ Myra said. ‘My head’s been killing me all day, but I expect that’ll wear off in time. I took the day off to sort myself out.’

Itzy’s eyes widened in disbelief.

‘I threw it out,’ her mother announced. ‘The alcohol. All of it’s gone.’

‘It…it is?’ she squeaked.

Myra smiled again and nodded. ‘I don’t know what happened, but I woke up this morning and it was like I’d…I don’t know, seen the light or something. I thought, I can’t do this, anymore. It has to go. Then I was digging out all the bottles and pouring everything down the kitchen drain. You can check the recycling, if you want proof. It won’t look good to the neighbours, but I probably deserve the gossip.’ She took a deep breath and exhaled. ‘I don’t want to drink anymore. I’ve…I’ve missed you.’

Itzy blinked in astonishment. ‘You have?’

‘Of course.’ Myra walked over to her daughter and put an arm around her shoulder. ‘We should talk,’ she said.

As if in a dream, Itzy allowed herself to be guided into the lounge, where they sat side by side on the sofa. There, Itzy experienced fresh shock. The blankets and bottles she’d grown used to seeing strewn over the sofa had been replaced with a neat arrangement of cushions she hadn’t even known they owned.

‘How was the funeral?’ Myra opened the conversation.

‘Um….’ Itzy was overwhelmed. ‘It was a funeral,’ she finally said.

Myra nodded, her eyes half-closed. ‘Are you alright, is the thing.’

‘What do you think?’ It came out harder than she meant it. ‘I’m sorry,’ Itzy said.

Her mother stroked one of her cheeks, a sad look on her face. ‘It’s alright to be angry with me. God knows you’ve put up with enough.’ She ran her fingers through her daughter’s hair and smoothed down the wilful black that had been blown around in the wind outside. ‘What’s your brother like?’ she asked quietly.

The question took Itzy by surprise. ‘He’s nice,’ she said. ‘Really nice. And I think probably a lot like me.’ She looked down at her feet and chewed her lip.

Myra put her arm around her and drew her close. ‘That’s so good to hear,’ she told her.

Itzy grew still with amazement. ‘You’re not upset by it?’

Myra laughed in surprise. ‘Why would I be?’

‘I don’t know. Bad memories and all that.’

Myra sighed and drew back so they could face each other. She put her hand under Itzy’s chin and tilted her head up so they held each other’s eyes. ‘None of it’s Oz’s fault – or yours. I’m glad you’ve managed to connect with your brother. I’m sure Evelyn is glad of it, too, wherever she may be.’

Amazed, Itzy smiled in gratitude – not just for what Myra had said, but for the fact that Myra was there at all.

An electronic melody suddenly cut into the moment.

‘What’s that?’ Myra questioned.

‘An alarm.’ Itzy pulled out her phone and switched off the music. ‘I’m going out,’ she explained.

‘Oh. Again?’

‘Do you not want me to?’ In her heart, Itzy hoped her mother would say she had to stay home for a change, give her the boundaries she’d never had.

Myra disappointed her. ‘I’m just surprised,’ she said. ‘You’re usually such a homebody. No, go ahead. Don’t let me stop you. It’s good you’re not letting everything crush your social life.’

If she only knew.

Itzy cursed the timing. It seemed her story had worked, after all. But after so many years of living with Drunk Myra, part of Itzy wondered if this were a dream and tomorrow she’d replace everything had gone back the way it had been before. She didn’t want to waste any time she might have with her mother when she was lucid.

Even if it wasn’t a dream…they had a lot of lost time to make up for.

But she had to meet Aidan. She’d die of curiosity if she didn’t replace out what was going on and why she’d been dreaming about him.

‘You could…help me work out what to wear, maybe,’ she said shyly.

Myra raised one of her eyebrows. ‘Is it a date?’

‘I’m not sure,’ Itzy admitted. ‘He didn’t say.’

‘Who is he?’

Good question.

‘His name’s Aidan. I don’t really know him, I just met him for a few minutes yesterday,’ she breezed out. ‘He accidentally left something with me and asked me to return it.’

Myra grinned at her. Her eyes sparkled in a way that reminded Itzy of her old mother, when Itzy was still a child. ‘Uh-huh. You don’t think he left it with you on purpose? Just to see you again?’

‘It really wasn’t like that,’ Itzy told her, unsure she believed this herself. ‘Anyway, will you help me?’

Myra nodded. After all, that was what mothers and daughters were supposed to do. They didn’t huddle in dark corners crying the way Myra and Itzy had done so many times. They were meant to go shopping so they could both try on outfits each other vehemently disapproved of.

They headed up to Itzy’s room. Myra sat on the bed and leaned back against a pile of pillows, cuddling Parson Brown to her chest.

Itzy flung open her wardrobe. She ran her fingers along the edges of the fabric, hoping inspiration would strike. She wasn’t sure how she should play things. Should she dress up? Or would he show up in jeans and laugh at her for imagining it was a date?

But what if it was a date and she turned up casual, while he was dressed to the nines?

‘What about this?’ Itzy threw over her shoulder as she pulled things out of the wardrobe for inspection. She turned around so her mother could see the black dress she’d worn to the funeral.

‘Are you visiting his grave?’ Myra retorted.

‘Hm.’ Itzy turned back around and hung the dress in her wardrobe. She retrieved a button-down top, still black, and spun around once more, holding the top in front of her chest. ‘This?’

Myra shook her head and got off the bed, tossing the bear against the wall. ‘I’ll be right back,’ she said, and she slipped out of the room.

Itzy frowned at the contents of her wardrobe. She’d never realised how drab and depressing it was. Nearly everything was black, navy blue or grey. Aside from that ridiculous Heartbreaker top Devon had forced on her, everything looked like she was a teenager with a hang-up on The Cure. Nothing suggested she might be exciting or adventurous or, dare she even think it, powerful.

Because she was. She knew that, now. And it was time she started looking the part.

Myra returned with a bundle in her arms.

‘What’s that?’ asked Itzy.

Myra dropped the bundle on the bed and it revealed itself to be a fitted silk plum-coloured blouse and a knee-length violet crushed velvet skirt. ‘Try that,’ she said.

Itzy stared at the clothing like she thought it might jump off the bed of its own accord. She knew what it was: the vestiges of Myra’s golden days, before Stephen had knocked the individuality out of her. Now, Myra was passing it on to her. She felt the emotion build in her chest.

When she tried it on, it was like slipping into a different skin. Looking in the mirror, she looked nothing like the girl she’d grown so used to thinking of as herself. This girl looked several years older, for a start. And she had the beginnings of curves. She looked like a gothic model fit for the streets of Camden.

Myra was in her face with a stick of eyeliner. Then she brushed out her daughter’s hair and took a strip from each side, just above her ear, pulling them around to the back of her head, where she secured them with a tiny silver clip.

They both stared at Itzy’s reflection in the mirror. Myra’s mirror image said, ‘You look beautiful.

Itzy stared at herself more, unable to believe her eyes. For once, she could see how she resembled Myra. For once, she didn’t just see Stephen looking back at her through her eyes.

She threw her arms around her mother and hugged her tightly. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

She thought Myra knew she meant much more than just the clothing.