Page 73

“Everything okay here?” Francine asked as she neared, eyeing them both suspiciously.

Morgan averted her eyes, and Alex nodded for them both. “Yes, everything is fine. Do you have the keys to our room? I’m feeling quite tired and would like to go to bed for an hour or two.”

The awkward silence reverberated around the room as they both stood on either side of the couch waiting for the porter to finish unloading their bags. The room wasn’t as big as the last one, but it was still as beautiful. Huge floor-to-ceiling windows with heavy drapes and nets allowed a huge amount of light to come in but would offer privacy as the night drew in.

Francine hovered, following the young man in his red uniform from bedroom to bedroom, organising where each case or bag should go. When he was finally done, she fished out a £20 note and handed it to him.

“Thank you,” she said, ushering him from the room. When he was gone, she closed the door quietly and then turned to look at the pair of them. “Anything going on that I should know about?”

Morgan sucked her lower lip into her mouth before slowly shaking her head.

Alex said simply, “No.”

Looking from one to the other, it was pretty clear to Francine that something was up, and she would get to the bottom of it eventually. “Alright, I’ll be around if you need me.” One last glance at them, a hesitation to see if either of themspoke, but nothing. “Three hours, and then we need to go.” She opened the door and left them to it.

“Sit down,” Alex all but demanded, taking a seat herself. She watched intently as Morgan’s decision-making process kicked in, ultimately deciding that doing as she was asked was going to be the best option, given the fact that she was behaving like a petulant child.

She sat on the couch opposite Alex and waited. Hands in her lap, fingers fidgeting, like a child did when they were being reprimanded.

“I’m sorry, I was out of line,” Morgan said quickly.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” Alex asked when Morgan finally looked at her.

“I don’t know,” Morgan admitted honestly. “I just felt…rejected?”

“In what sense?” Alex sat forward, listening ears open.

Taking a deep breath, Morgan let it out. “You’re not the only one who has been in therapy.” She smiled sadly. “I’ve done my fair share, and I worked out that my childhood was…” Morgan looked up at Alex, her eyes glistening. “I’m still working on it, clearly.” She laughed at herself and flicked her hair out of her face.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Alex asked gently, kindness and concern etched upon her features.

“Yes, I guess so. You need to understand me as much as I need to understand you.”

“Very true, and I very much want to understand you, Morgan.”

Sitting back, Morgan started to relax, physically at least. Her shoulders lowered, her fingers stopped fidgeting, as she looked across at Alex.

“When I was a kid, everything was great, until it wasn’t. We went from being this normal family who loved each other and spent time together, to this dysfunctional setup where everything became a battle.”

Alex said nothing, keeping her attention firmly on Morgan, even when her phone beeped a text message had arrived.

“You can answer it,” Morgan said, jutting her chin towards the device on the table.

“I know I can, but I want to listen to you.”

Morgan clasped her hands together, rubbing her thumbs vigorously over her skin, but she smiled at that. She was important; she knew that.

“Okay.” She breathed in and exhaled slowly, trying to remain relaxed, but the tension was creeping back in again. “So, Mason, he’s my brother. I was six when he was born. My mum and dad had tried for years to have another child and it hadn’t happened, but just when they’d given up, he came along. He was like my little doll. I helped Mum get him dressed, bathe him, feed him, it was great.” She looked away sadly.

“You don’t have—”

“I do, I want to. It’s just hard.” Morgan stood up quickly. “Drink?”

Alex shook her head. “No, I’m fine. But you help yourself.”

There was a thought process going on in Morgan’s brain again as Alex observed her. Ultimately, logic won out and she sat back down again.

“I don’t need a drink, I just…I guess finding where to start is the difficulty. Things didn’t change overnight, it was gradual. But when Mason was six, he started to play football for a local team. He wasn’t going to be the next Maradona, but he enjoyed it, so Mum and Dad took him, dropped him off and then took me to whatever interest I was involved in at eleven years of age. They’d do the weekly shopping while we were busy and then pick me up, and then Mason. His coach never minded if we were delayed. He’d always wait with him.”