Killing Me Softly, page 6
She nodded. ‘As long as that “shite” doesn’t follow you here and interfere with our work or the farm, then I’ll be happy.’
He focused back on her. ‘Me too.’
She cleared her throat. ‘Well . . . let’s get going. We’ll catch Craig down at the pool and then I’ll show you both around.’
She walked out of the study and he fell in beside her. ‘If you’re happy with the set-up then tell your manager to get into contact with mine. Emma will let you know all my requirements and will be happy to try and accommodate yours. If you decide against working with me, I’d appreciate it if you don’t mention this meeting. I prefer to keep out of the public eye.’
‘I envy your ability to do that.’
She coughed. ‘Yes, well, it’s been out of necessity.’
He didn’t have time to question what she meant by that when she announced, ‘Here we are.’ She pushed open the door to the pool and gym area and he followed her in.
It was like walking into a greenhouse. Floor-to-ceiling windows surrounded them on three sides, making it feel like he was standing by a tranquil green pool in the middle of a ferny glade. Beautiful dark slate tiles, streaked in shades of deepest red through to burnt orange, skirted the pool. Through the peaked glass ceiling he could see the vastness of the blue sky. He could imagine floating in the water, looking out at the velvet night, overwhelmed by the millions of stars you could always see so clearly when you were in the country. He wondered what it would be like in winter, with all that glass covered in the snow that drifted across the fells.
Craig stood at the other end of the room talking to Billy who was in the pool, doing physical therapy with a woman who had to be Cat. Her head lay on his shoulder and he moved her arms against the pressure of water shooting out of jets from the walls of the pool.
Craig called something out to Alexia as they started to walk toward them, but Daemon didn’t hear what he said, his attention diverted by the woman in the water.
What he saw made his heart stutter in his chest.
He could see that Cat had once been Alexia’s identical twin. The similarities were unsettling: the shape of the face, the tilt of the eyes, the high brow, all shadowy suggestions of the woman at his side and yet there was a terrible, horrifying difference. A difference created by trauma and the surgery made necessary to fix the damage. A fine scar ran from just below her nose to mar her otherwise perfectly shaped lips. Another, longer scar ran from brow to cheekbone. With a shock he realised one of her earlobes was missing.
But it wasn’t how she looked that he found the most unnerving. She stared up at the skylights, her eyes focused on something he couldn’t see, as if she wasn’t truly there – the blank stare of someone so traumatised, they’d hidden themselves away so deep they couldn’t get back out.
What had caused such damage? And how had it affected Alexia? Because he knew, from what little Craig and Billy had said, that Alexia was incredibly close to her sister, and dealing with what had happened to Cat must have taken its toll.
He knew from bitter experience that the shite that infested a person’s past always managed to resurface, and right when you least expected it.
It was more important than ever he find out what had happened. He desperately wanted to work with Alexia, but not at the cost of his music. Not at the cost of his soul. Not again.
Despite Craig’s reassurances that Alexia’s past wouldn’t affect their work, Daemon couldn’t go in blind. He needed to know. He needed to be able to relax and let go of his worries. He couldn’t do that if he couldn’t trust her. He needed to know for certain that whatever tragedy had touched the sisters wouldn’t also touch his music. Not when he’d only just started to pull himself out of the mire.
He had to arm himself with the truth.
Trying to cover his shock, he walked over to the window, looking out on the wildness of the land that already called to his heart, making his fingers twitch to write.
He needed to stay here. It was the first time in ages he’d felt inspired. And he knew the songs he wrote here would be the best he had ever written. He couldn’t give up on this, on staying here, on working with Alexia. He would just have to tread water until he knew it was safe; hold back the songs dearest to his heart. They would work on some of the stuff he’d written last year before the shit of his past had hit the fan, see what she could do. And when he knew he could trust her, they would create something truly special.
The voices behind him filtered through his thoughts and he realised someone had spoken to him.
‘What?’
‘I said, we’re finished here. How about that tour?’
He nodded and followed Alexia and Craig out the door.
‘What’s up with you?’ Craig asked in a whisper as they walked down a path toward the Dower House.
‘Nothing. Just cold. I should have brought a warmer jacket.’
Craig rolled his eyes. ‘You can’t bullshit a bullshitter, mate.’
Daemon’s lips thinned. ‘It’s fine. It’ll be fine once we get started.’
Craig nodded, understanding lighting his eyes. He clapped Daemon on the shoulder. ‘Just relax. She wants to work with you, I can tell. It’ll happen.’
Daemon nodded. Just relax. He took a deep breath and looked around him. As he took in their surrounds, he felt some of the weight of his worries slipping away.
Alexia showed them to the guest accommodation in the estate’s refurbished Dower House. It had eight large bedrooms upstairs, each with their own ensuite and all the modern amenities you could want. Downstairs was a small soundproof music room and practice studio, a library, a fully operational kitchen and a large open-plan living and dining area with a huge bank of windows that bracketed a dramatic view of craggy windswept hills, a dense wooded copse and the mist above the fells in the distance.
It was modern, sleek and stylish yet warm and homely at the same time.
Daemon knew he could definitely work here.
‘Impressive,’ he said as she led them back outside.
Alexia’s eyes lit up with pride as she looked around. ‘Wait until you see the studio.’
She led them to a two-storey wood and stone barn, talking as she went.
‘Ladies from the local town will take care of the cleaning and washing, but you’re responsible for your own meals. Although, there are local ladies who can take care of that too if you wish. I would prefer your personal assistants stay away. You can take care of business via phone and internet. Wives or partners and children can stay, but I discourage other visitors and absolutely forbid entourages and the press.’
‘Sounds perfect.’
She glanced askance at Daemon. ‘Really? I always got the impression you were into all that stuff.’
Daemon had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. ‘My ex-wife was into all that stuff. I’m not. It takes me away from what I really want to be doing.’
‘And that would be?’
‘Music. Writing, playing, recording, jamming, listening. Any way I can get it is all right by me.’
She nodded, studying his profile. ‘I know what you mean.’
Daemon turned, their gazes met, unspoken words shifting between them. A simple understanding. A touching of souls. A love of music. He felt shattered by the strength of the connection. He couldn’t look away. Their eyes clung to each other. This was what he’d been hoping for and yet . . .
Craig’s chuckle broke the connection. ‘I didn’t think I’d find anyone as obsessive as Dae is about music, but I think I was wrong. It’s like you guys are soulmates or something.’
Alexia shifted uncomfortably. ‘I don’t believe in stuff like that.’ She turned and marched ahead of them.
Daemon dug an elbow in Craig’s ribs. ‘Good going, mate. I’d just got her to relax again.’
‘Hey!’ Craig protested, rubbing his side. ‘I was only joking.’
‘It wasn’t funny.’
They came to the door of the barn. Alexia punched in a code on the security panel, swung the door open and gestured them forward. ‘You’ll be given security codes for your accommodation and the studio when you move in, but for now, come in and have a look around.’
The studio was fully equipped. Rehearsal rooms, a lounge area and kitchen for breaks, and a smaller studio for specialised vocal and acoustic work were downstairs. Upstairs belonged to the main studio, large enough to fit an orchestra but with partitions that could turn it into a smaller, more comfortable space if required. She had state-of-the-art equipment using a mix of specialised computer software for editing and remixing as well as the large, complicated sound desks.
The whole place was a musician’s wet dream.
‘You didn’t go for the newer model of this?’ he asked as they walked back into the smaller acoustic studio downstairs.
Alexia shook her head, fingers nimbly working along the sound desk, stopping to press a couple of the pots and set the foldback knobs to neutral. The gestures were affectionate, almost intimate. A smile played at the edge of her mouth as she looked down at the desk. ‘No, I didn’t. This was the first desk I bought. I know it looks a bit banged up but I have to say, I haven’t come across anything I like better. The mids and highs I can get out of this baby are sweet and clear and perfect for the more intimate work. I love my desks upstairs, but the polished finish the computer software can give just doesn’t suit every piece.’
‘So, what do you think?’ She crossed her arms and leaned back on the desk, waiting for a response.
‘This is impressive,’ Craig said. ‘I had no idea you were this big.’
‘Why would you? I’ve never advertised what I do. The proof is in the music. How I do it is frankly irrelevant to anyone but those I work with.’
‘Good point.’
‘So, the question remains. Are you happy to come out here to work?’
Daemon continued to look around. After a long silence he smiled. This was all better than he’d imagined. Except for what had happened to the sister. But for now, he would trust Craig’s word. Soon enough Nigel would come through with the goods and if Craig was right, he would have nothing to worry about. Maybe it was unwise to give in to this all-consuming need to work here with Alexia when he had such reservations, but the Lord only knew, after the year he’d had, he needed something good in his life.
Smile widening, he stuck his hand out. ‘I think we have a deal.’
She hesitated, as if she didn’t want to touch him again. He met her gaze. A dare. If he was going to take a chance, then so could she.
As her hand slid into his, he purposefully rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. Melting warmth curled inside him as her hand jerked. Her eyes narrowed. He could see pride stopped her from pulling away as she had before. Instead, she grasped his hand more firmly, matching his smile.
‘I think we do.’
Oh, this was going to be good.
Chapter 5
The dream caught her the way it always did, in the deepest dark of the night. Apparitions appeared and vanished in a swirling noisy void. Cries of anguish and despair mixed with whispers in the dark; unintelligible garbled words.
In her sleep, Lexi trembled. A nameless face drifted close, mouth like a black maw swallowing her whole.
She screamed . . .
And awoke with a start, the empty echo of her scream ringing in her ears. Her eyes darted nervously around the darkened room looking for the intruder.
There was no-one.
Oh God! A nightmare. Just a stupid nightmare. The worst one yet.
Probably caused by that stupid letter.
Taking in deep, gulping breaths, she thought about the letter that had arrived today, the second in the last few weeks. She should have known better than to read the filth spewing from the page. Should have known it would seep into her subconscious; poisonous images forcing themselves into her dreams.
Stupid! So stupid!
Hand shaking, she turned the light on. Perspiration beaded her forehead. Her pyjama top was damp. Shuddering, she climbed out of bed and staggered to the bathroom.
Tossing her damp pyjamas into the hamper, she turned on the shower. The hot spray rinsed away the perspiration but not the images still playing in her mind.
She rubbed hard at her skin with the loofah as if to scrub away the crawling sensation her nightmares engendered. One thing was certain – there would be no more sleep tonight.
Turning off the shower, she grabbed a towel and rubbed her wet hair vigorously, but still she couldn’t rid her mind of the nasty images and the feeling of being touched by filth.
Work. Only work would help.
Five minutes later, dressed in her favourite velour tracksuit, she tip-toed downstairs, let herself outside, and ran down the path to the studio. The night air, damp but crisp, clung to her skin. Frost crunched under her boots. A blackbird called in the distance, the lonely sound echoing in the dark. A horse snorted gently in a nearby meadow.
To the left of the studio, a light shone from a single window in the guest-house. The band had moved in that day. The two weeks since they signed the agreement had seemed to pass by at a snail’s pace. She’d filled her days looking after Cat and learning more about running the farm and had enjoyed most of it, yet she longed for music.
Shivering as the cool night air seeped under her tracksuit, she worked her way past the cars parked in front of the Dower House. The phalanxes of trucks she’d expected had never materialised. The band had arrived in their own cars with one van to carry their instruments and equipment. There had been no entourage – just Phil’s pregnant wife, Melissa.
Lexi felt a little guilty about not sticking around to welcome them, but meeting a bunch of strangers and playing the fabulous host wasn’t really up her alley. Bev and Billy were much better at that sort of thing. Instead, she’d set off with Karl to ride the fences.
She’d hoped working with Karl would exhaust her enough to sleep without nightmares.
If only she hadn’t checked the mail before going to bed!
Reaching the studio, she punched in the access code and let herself in. She switched on the light, glad to get out of the lonely dark, and headed to the small studio to turn on the equipment. Once the old desk was buzzing, she returned to the kitchen to make a cup of tea.
As she waited for the water to boil, she walked through the studio. The band had been busy setting up their gear yesterday. They didn’t waste time. Good. Lexi hated working with time wasters. After making her tea, she grabbed a jar of her favourite lemon biscuits and headed back to the small studio, turning her mind to work. In minutes she was wrapped up in music, completely oblivious to everything but her composition.
She was coming to the finale of a larger work she’d been writing for years; something that had unintentionally turned into an orchestral piece telling the story of her life. She’d begun the opus the summer before her life had crashed around her. Listening to the opening movement, she heard happiness and hope. A tear tumbled from her eye as she mourned the loss. She would give anything to feel that kind of wonder at the world again.
The music made her smile now at the ambitious use of strings and boasting drums, a perfect representation of that girl on the verge of womanhood, the part of her she’d lost not long after she’d written it. But she wouldn’t change a thing. Wouldn’t deny herself memories of a better time; memories of a better self.
The music changed. Dark and despairing, the second movement lacked the full orchestral power of the first. Piano, cello and bass cello, with the occasional hint of some haunting refrain from the clarinet, harked back to the innocence now lost. The bass and piano dropped out, leaving the clarinet and cello, a duet for her parents, signifying the joy of their life, their love for each other and their daughters. A piano solo brought the movement to an end; Lexi’s mourning of their deaths, with no comfort to be found.
A clash of angry guitar and drums brought in the third movement; the agony of having to institutionalise Cat. A clarinet entered; a lost, flighty sound picked up in echoing refrain by other woodwind instruments, the flute flying in relief above, her sister finding refuge in a world other than this one.
The music changed once more, a reflection of her struggles as she made her way in the industry she had a passion for. Disappointments and times of despair mingled with the joys of working at what she so loved. The fourth movement was full of a maturity that had been lacking in the earlier ones; an onset of hope in buying the rundown estate and bringing Cat home. Yet sadness still prevailed. She hadn’t noticed that sadness in this movement before, reflected in the voice of the piano – her voice – undermining the happy tone.
Lexi frowned as the piece came to an end. Where had that sadness come from? She had everything she’d always wanted, so what was wrong with her? She shook her head. Nothing was wrong except sleep deprivation. She’d rearrange the last section later to echo how she felt. Happy. She was supposed to be happy.
Why wasn’t she happy?
Shaking off the annoying thought, she stood up and walked to the desk beside the piano, the tune she wanted in her head; the melody line clear and full. She took up a pencil and paper and began to write. Her hand flew along the lines. Before long, pages of musical notation took form. She stopped, hands trembling. Her fingers tingled to touch the black and white keys beside her, to hear the music not just feel it inside her.
Placing the sheet music on the piano, she took a seat and began to play.
As she played she found a lead refrain creeping in from the last movement. Haunting and solemn, speaking of something missing, something lost. She frowned, tried to change the music, but it wouldn’t budge. This thing deep inside her was coming out unbidden, undermining the happiness. Frustrated, she banged her hands down on the keys.
‘That was bloody marvellous. Why’d you stop?’
Lexi jumped, her hand flying up to stifle a scream. Eyes wide, she turned. Daemon leaned casually against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, black hair ruffled, his jaw darkened by stubble. He pushed away from the doorframe and sauntered into the room towards her.
