+1+
Rose’s welcome back party had a lovely fake shiny veneer with a clandestine setting. Rustic stressed wood picnic tables were spread across the wide green lawn of Ashford Cottage. Fairy lights hung from the trees and bushy country roses decorated the tables. I had an ethereal classical playlist on in the background, that would hopefully distract from all the awkward silences.
The circle of cars stationed on the driveway of Ashford Cottage was a testament to what curiosity could do. The wide smiles and well wishes demonstrated how well people could lie and act just to get a peek at an enigma that was Rose and I. Maybe Mr. Fierro too.
“I’ll take those dear”, Mrs. Lancaster comes up behind me and lifts a tray of Bellinis from my hand. Her words were Legitimate
“What a lovely dress”, Mrs. Margot, my former boss says. Liar.
“So glad to have you back”, Barry, Emile’s noisy neighbor says. Liar. I barley knew him.
“What a beautiful house”, . . . someone says. Legitimate
To bad it’s haunted. I wanted to say but held my tongue.
“She looks great,
you look great.”, liar. I’m not really
sure who said that one. Rose didn't look 'great'. She was still underweight and her hair refused to grow back evenly.
I like that the British are calm and indirect. Their gossip is well-hidden in whispers. What’s the story here ? She’s old money isn’t she ? Is this really his house ? Why are they together ? Are they together ?
“Clara, it’s okay to be happy”, Emile takes my hand and I try to give him a smile. Legitimate
It’s May and the weather is splendid, not a cloud in sight and everyone was having a good time milling around the lawn. The only reason I’d even agreed to let Emile host the party here was because he’d swore no one would have to go inside the house.
It was actually pretty lovely.
Occasionally I watched the strange way the curtains parted and closed on various floors of Ashford Cottage. It seemed that what was inside. . . couldn’t get out.
I drew my eye from the windows and to the sunroom where I can see Mr. Fierro in deep conversation with Robert Essex. Essex hadn’t been invited, but talked his way in. Even though Fierro didn’t care for the man’s zealousness for the unusual. he didn’t turn him away.
“Emile”, I said, “I am happy. I’m glad she’s okay. I’m glad we are back”. Liar. Obviously
“Clara !”
I still snap in surprise to that voice. My elder sister Claudia was quite a sight. She had been wrapped in pale yellow dress with her long thin legs planted firmly in white flats. She had on a bright yellow hat and shades. She and her new husband were on vacation in Italy and I’d invited her on a whim.
She’d arrived that morning and bought just her daughter Alma, who at 6 was a little under two years younger than Rosalie.
“. . . awful”, Claudia continued to complain, “I had to leave him with Duke. Clarence is such a handful. . I just don’t have the patience. Oh and Mother. . . oh Clara you simply won’t believe... "
I tuned
Claudia out. For Once didn’t have the luxury of hanging up on her. Claudia was
always complaining. Nothing made her happy, not even after she had the audacity to elope with a real estate agent named Duke.
I ignored Claudia and watched where Rose was “playing” with Alma and Mrs. Margot's granddaughter.
Rose had all but messed up her lavender sundress, as she’d been hiding all afternoon in the glasshouse trying to avoid the party. I’d dragged her out and forced her to be nice to her young guest.
The three girls were underneath an oak tree and looking up at Rose’s treehouse. It was a simple structure that had been built into a large sturdy thick branch. As far as I knew Rose had never ventured up there.
Lyndsey, Mrs. Margots's granddaughter, was pointing to the ladder and Rose was shaking her head and scowling at the girl.
“Let’s go up”, Lyndsey said, “I want to see, it looks like it’d be beautiful.”
“No”, Rose said simply
“Why not ? Are you scared?” Lyndsey sounded sympathetic, “We can go up together”
She held Alma’s hand at that. Lyndsey was so sweet, trying to make the girls into a trio of friends even though she’d just met them both today.
“No”, Rose said.
“Rose”, I said walking over, “It’s okay, show them your treehouse.”
“No”, she said louder. Some people in earshot laughed, “It’s not safe”
“It’s fine. Come on, Rose. I’ll go with you.” I offered cause I could use a place to hide.
I put my wine glass down and picked Rose up, she was so underweight for a nearly nine year old, that it was effortless to pick her up.
“No, Mommy”, she said.
“It’ll be fun. We’ll go together. I could use a little escape.”
I picked Rose up and climbed the first rung while Rose dug her nails into my arm with each rung I grabbed.
“Stop, Mommy”
I was already half way up and had no intention of stopping.
“Rose it’s fine, I’ll make sure it’s safe.”
“But. . . Mommy.”
“What Rose ?”
“She’s in
the treehouse, she wants to play with me. It's been a very long tie"
“What --
My hand missed the next rung and I quickly balanced myself as something rushed out of the treehouse in a blur. I grabbed the closest rung and held on tight. We were about 15 feet up and My legs felt unsteady. Shit. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea maybe—
The ladder started swaying.
I tried to stay calm, it was probably just the wind. Then I heard a loud snap from above.
The junction
that connected the top of the ladder to the base of the treehouse had snapped.
Rose clung tightly to me and a crowd was starting to form as the rung under my
foot splintered I tried to place my foot on another rung but it was starting to break under the pressure.
“Mommy. . .”, she sounded worried. The more Rose started to panic the more the ladder swayed.
“Don’t let go of me”. I said, “Just calm down, Rose. You have to calm down.”
All the guest were starting to notice something was wrong and what had seemed cute a few moments ago was now terrifying.
Rose was
still panicking and the ladder continued to sway until it detached from the
treehouse and collapsed beneath us Rose screamed as we plummeted down to
the ground. She landed hard on top of me and I felt the back of my knee slam into the ladder that had fallen beneath us. I felt hot blood stream down my leg.
“Fuck”, I
screamed. Not one of my better moments. I saw Claudia clutching her daughter
and barking orders at guests.
I pushed Rose off of me and Emile scrambled over to pick her up. My leg was clearly broken and it was like one thousand splinters at once. I felt faint looking at my bloody leg. I think I was in shock.
“Is she dead?”, someone said.
“She’s dead?”, A guest said
“She’s not moving.”
". . . Oh, Lord. She's dead.."
Rose screamed again and I opened up my eyes. Above me the treehouse was
starting to sway. The more Rose screamed the more afraid she was. . . the more
it started to sway. The more fraught and anxious Rose became . . . the more the
treehouse began to tilt. The ghost in the treehouse may have started it, but Rose was going to end it.
Oh God.
It was going to fall.
No.
Stop screaming Rose. I’m fine
Rose wrote about the treehouse incident one time. She kept a journal for about 3 weeks until I found it, then she never wrote in it again. Anyway on the day of the garden party Rose thought she was being punished for not being healthy, for loving Lucie for making me and her Papa fight. She wrote that she didn’t always want me around yet she didn’t want me to die either.
All of this went through her mind and caused what happened next.
Rose managed
to wiggle out of Emile’s grip and run as far away as she could.
“Rose”, I called, “I’m fine. Rose it’s okay--”
My former boss’s husband (God, I hate that
I’ve forgotten his name) broke from the pack of gawkers and kneeled by me. He looked up at the swaying treehouse
and tried to pick me up. I screamed in protest because of a little pain.
“I’ve got you Clara”, Legitimate
“No”, I said, “The treehouse is going to fall. Go. Please. It’s fine. Leave me.”
“I almost got it-”
Without warning, ceremony or even common decency for physics the treehouse tipped over and crushed us.
+++
The entire house slammed into my lower body with a gut wrenching force. My former boss’ husband had broken the impact of the falling treehouse with his body. His upper was body pinned against me, his legs stuck out at an awkward angle. I will never forget the feel of the dead man’s weight on me. He’d just been trying to help.
I heard a high pitched wail come from my boss as the realization of her husband’s heroic death overtook her. That she’d witnessed it and so had their granddaughter.
“Rose ?”, I managed.
Rose still needed to calm down. She needed to control herself.
I watched one of the gas lamps next to the sunroom click on and off at a frightening pace.
“Rose”, I begged silently even though she was nowhere to be seen,”Please. It’s okay. You have to calm down. . .”
She didn't calm down and the flame in the gas lamp grew hotter, causing the lamps to burst. Slowly an angry hungry flame began devouring Ashford Cottage. Slowly at first and then multiplying.
No one noticed as the greedy flames over took the west portion of the house. They were all too busy attending to the dead man and the living woman trapped underneath a treehouse. The house burned so fast, so quickly. I laughed to myself wondering if the ghost had time to escape.
I remeber hearing the screams when the onlookers realized the house was burning down. It was funny that somehow that house
that had survived WWII but couldn’t survive a temper tantrum.
+2+
Rosalie was dangerous.
Rosalie, in her own way, had killed a man.
I later learned that after the treehouse fell Rose had tried to runaway. She’d made it nearly a mile up the country road in her dress shoes before Robert had found her.
Mrs. Margot had been generous, she truly believed the treehouse collapsing was a freak accident and didn’t try to press charges or ruin my name. The treehouse collapsing was declared an Act of God. At least that’s what we called it in the settlement we signed. Mrs. Margot took the 4 million dollar settlement quietly, wrote me a letter of recommendation and very politely never spoke to me again.
Ashford Cottage
had burned to the ground. It happened so neat and fast that the fire marshals
simply couldn’t explain it. It simply hadn't been a normal fire. Fierro had lost everything he owned . . . except
the glasshouse and his overnight bag which had been in a car.
That summer was one of my worst.
I spent June hobbling around Emile’s townhouse while he tried to nurse me back to health. I’d started sending out audition tapes and CVs across Europe. I had to get out of London, everyone I barley knew had been a the party. Eventually someone would ask to many questions. Dig a little to deep. I had to keep moving forward.
Even more urgent was that between Rose’s hospital bills and the legal settlement. . . I was running out of money and fast.
That summer Mr. Fierro had been kindly taken in by Mrs. Lancaster. In the middle of July he left and moved into a mid size hotel in the city. I still have so many questions about that but never had the nerve to ask.
By the middle of August I’d decided to head east and take a job in Vienna.
Word must have reached Mr. Fierro because he came by to visit me while I was in the midst of
packing up my room at Emile’s. I still had one crutch and was getting around
rather well. From the open door I could hear Emile singing along to the only
children’s film Rose would watch.
Fierro knocked and appeared once again without a tie and slightly disheveled, and slightly disheveled for him was normal for everyone else.
“I heard you
were leaving town, ”, he said. His eyes following around the room as I taped up boxes. I also had a list of items color coded on whether they were in storage, in Emile's garage, or otherwise missing.
“I have to. This place feels ruined. I need to move on. I start a new job in Vienna in the Fall. I need to leave early to get settled.”
“ So it is true then. Emile said you weren't taking Rose with you. “
“Rosalie is dangerous”, I said throwing my shoes into my shoe suitcase, “I’ll send for her once I get settled.”
“Were you planning on leaving her at my doorstep with a note on her coat ?”
“No”, I said dully and sitting on the bed, “It’s summer, I wouldn't put her in a coat.”
“Clara.”
“Mr. Fierro. . .Someone died. Your house burned down all because she’s got anxious and scared. This isn’t right. She’s not normal. She can hurt people. I want to be with Rose just not right now. I need to be settled in my new place and not afraid of my daughter”
“Ms. DeLune—“
“I can’t ignore this anymore. She needs to be somewhere where she can’t hurt anyone and I need to be someplace where I can make a life for myself. Those places do not co-exist.”
“. . . I
might know just the place for Rose". Mr. Fierro said closing the bedroom door.
“Where? Please don’t say a mental institution.” I said even though the thought had crossed my mind.
“ Carriglaine.”
“. . . Ireland ? That sorry excuse for a town ? Yes, I’m sure the superstitious Catholic locals will just love her.”
“Not Carriglaine proper. . . Wicklow Abbey.”
I stood back up and pretended to organize my make-up bag.
“Back to Lucie and that decrepit old abbey ?”, I said then in a lower voice, “It always goes back to Lucie. Your precious wife.”
“It’s not about Lucie. To be quite honest Ms. DeLune, I could use some time away myself. Time for reflection. To work on my craft in peace and quiet. The weather is quite forgiving there and Rose would like it in Carriglaine. Up at the abbey there would be no one for miles for her to hurt. No specters to taunt her.”
“She can’t live there . . . that abbey is falling apart, also what about her schooling.”
“I’ll make arrangements.”
I zipped up my biggest suitcase and sat on top of it. I needed to get more luggage for my dress clothes.
"I suppose she could stay in Carriglaine for a few weeks at a time."
"I think it would be good for her."
“Well. . .If there is only been once constant it’s that you love Lucie. I’m not going to stand in the way of that. You must really truly love her. It's lovely really.”
“I don’t think it’s quite that simple. I. . .I wish you the best of luck Ms. DeLune.”
“Thanks. . . I think.”
He turned to
leave but stopped at the door. He
stepped back inside and closed the door. I always got chills whenever he closed bedroom doors.
“Clara, I
should have told you I was seeing Lucie.", Then he locked the door, "That I was visiting her I should say."
“I-I- I only really cared because you took Rose with you.” I said but he didn’t buy it. I didn’t either.
“Secrets have never done us much good. I’m not going to keep anymore secrets from you.”
I sat back on the bed and held a pillow close to me.
“What’s this about ?”
“Who.” , he
said sitting down next me.
“Who ?”, I said softy. My mother and sisters running though my head
“Clara there is something I have to tell you concerning Peter Morrati.”
+++
So this is a transition chapter. Fierro is going back to Wicklow Abbey (just like in chapter 7 of HOF) and Clara is heading off to a new job in Austria And yes, Fierro finally told Clara what happened to Peter in DSI. In the end of DSI Clara/Fierro have to kill someone to "seal the deal" with Victor. They think they are killing a stranger but it's really Peter.
In DSI, Fierro goes back to the body and realizes it was Peter. He riffles through Peter's pockets and finds out that Peter had an engagement ring in his pocket.