Secrets & Souls - prequel to The Soul Guide
Epilogue

Mellissa placed the last of the decorations on the Christmas Tree. It sat in the corner of the dining room, tucked in the alcove by the fire, and was covered in silver baubles and red, tartan bows. It looked and smelt divine. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine what it would’ve been like to wake up with her son on Christmas morning. She could picture his mop of unruly hair, his dimpled cheeks and gummy smile. She could smell him, that mix of baby fresh skin and talcum powder. She missed his smell. She missed everything about him. He would be one in January. She felt a pain in her chest at the thought. Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ FɪndNovᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

For now, she tucked all thoughts of her son aside. He was safe, he was happy and he would live a life free from all of this. She stepped back from the tree and studied her handiwork.

“Looks nice,” Bertram said from behind.

Mellissa turned and smiled. “It does, doesn’t it?” she said, as she handed him the empty decorations box. All that was left were a couple of cracked baubles. The rest were on the tree.

“It’s a shame there aren’t any presents to go under it,” Bertram said.

“We don’t need presents. We have each other’s company. That’s enough.”

Bertram didn’t say anything, but it didn’t matter, she knew what he was thinking. He was glad of her company too, even if that company was less than what he desired. Still, there was no longer any tension between them. Somehow their month apart had done them the world of good. Mellissa didn’t know what had changed, she was just relieved that it had. It made living together that much easier.

The day they’d left Carlo’s was a bit of a blur, it had been strange waking up on the sofa next to Bertram with this weird sense that she was missing something important. Bertram had been pretty embarrassed for knocking himself out, but Genevieve had been so sweet to him that his embarrassment was short lived. She’d wanted them both to stay for the Gathering, but in the end Mellissa decided that the less Bertram knew of the Pure, the better. Carlo hadn’t tried to persuade them to say. When he had hugged Mellissa goodbye, he had whispered something in her ear. “The first opportunity you get you must pass the message on, si?” Mellissa had agreed. Of course, she would tell Bertram about Victor’s thanks, it was the least she could do. They’d left that morning with well wishes and assurances of their return. They hadn’t managed to go back yet. Perhaps they would visit in the new year.

“What have you been up to?” Mellissa asked Bertram who was admiring the tree.

“I’ve just finished tidying the front lawn. There are a few bags of greenery I need to compost, but I’ll take this box to the storeroom first. Meet you in the kitchen in ten? I’ve just popped on a brew. Carlo’s finest, of course,” Bertram said with a smile.

“Sure, sounds good.”

“Great,” Bertram said, as he made his way to the opposite side of the room to a door that led to the outhouse at the back of the Manor. They used it as a storeroom and it was where Mellissa had found the box of decorations.

“I’ll slice up some cake as well,” Mellissa called over her shoulder as she headed to the kitchen.

On her way past the front door, she noticed something lying on the mat. Thinking Bertram had dropped some rubbish from the garden, she went over and picked it up. But, it wasn’t rubbish, it was a letter, and it was addressed to her.

Mellissa felt her stomach drop. She’d been waiting so long for this day, could she cope with what it held inside? There was only one way to find out. Mellissa ripped open the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper. Tucked inside its folds was a postcard with the image of a sandy beach and the words ‘Holiday in Hunstanton.’ With shaking hands, she turned over the postcard. It was blank. Mellissa opened the folded page it had been wrapped in. Written neatly were the words, “Your secret’s safe with me. G.”

Mellissa crammed a hand over her mouth to prevent the shout from escaping. She’d thought long and hard about involving Genevieve, had even considered giving her the Forgetting that Genevieve had told her about. Genevieve was her friend and she loved her, she really did, but he was her son, and she needed to know he was OK. She was Mellissa’s only link to him and she could not sever it, no matter how selfish that made her. Besides, Genevieve wanted to help her, and who was she to stop her? She had no-one else. She couldn’t tell Bertram, that hadn’t changed. Accepting Genevieve’s offer was the only way, and all thoughts of the Forgetting were forgotten. She hadn’t missed the irony.

Tucking the postcard into the back pocket of her jeans, Mellissa walked back into the dining room and headed to the fire. She traced a finger over the letter one last time, then threw it into the flames. Mellissa watched the paper curl then disintegrate, knowing that this was one more secret her soul would take to the grave.

She was the master of secrets, secrets and souls. Even the ones she couldn’t remember.

The End

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