Memories
For the first time in four years Irissa Galloway was back in the loft apartment of Detective Sergey Solarin. Every year on her birthday since the Awful Night Sergey had called her and arranged to meet at one of the best restaurants in Darksprings. Irissa had always been sure that Zara Ottaker had been behind those invites. Zara had become quickly aware that Irissa had refused to enter a restaurant during the months after that night. Zara had found facing going out and doing the things she had done before difficult, but Irissa’s fear had gone deeper than hers.
When they had parted the morning after the Awful Night, Irissa had been sure that she would never see the big detective again. Solarin had seemed to think that it would be safer if she was moved out of Darksprings and that she cut all ties with the few friends she had had in the city. Promises could be broken and was the mob boss who had let Irissa and Zara live a man of his word?On her fifteenth birthday, six months after the Awful Night, Sergey had called and insisted she come out for dinner. She had been shaking as they had entered the restaurant. By the time she had left she had been relaxed and happy.
Tonight, her eighteenth birthday she had brought her half sister Jalonia Gallagher with her. The evening had gone on far longer than usual, time slipping away so fast as Jalonia had kept them entertained with her warm humour and wit. Once or twice Irissa had met Sergey’s glance and smiled at her sister’s flirtatious manner and her jokes. ‘See what you did for me?’ Her eyes said. ‘The family you found for me?’Then it was too late to travel home and Sergey had decided they should stay over at the apartment. Ladislaus was going to be out all night. They could have his room. The night had turned to early morning as the three of them sat and chatted.
It was after three before the girls went at last to Ladislaus’ room, carrying nightwear Sergey had found them.
“I wonder whose girlfriend these belong to?” Jalonia giggled as they changed. She was still very excited and not at all ready for sleep.
Irissa didn’t answer. She was looking around the room. It hadn’t changed. Her mind turned back to the last time she had been here. A cold January night, the air filled with the sound of sirens and images of blood in her mind, the smell of cordite in her nose. They had almost had to prise her apart from the blonde girl, Zara, who had clung to her as if she were the only safe thing left in the world.
Zara had been taken to a waiting Aunt and Irissa had been brought here.
“There are four officers downstairs, Irissa. It is more comfortable than the station. I need to find somewhere safe for you to go, and there are other things I need to take care of. Slava!”
A dark haired boy had come out of this room, looking confused. Sergey had spoken rapidly to him in another language. Russian obviously, stupid, Irissa had told herself. The boy’s eyes had gone wide as his father had spoken and several times he had looked at Irissa in astonishment.
“My son, Ladislaus, will look after you,” Sergey had told her.And he had. He had made her hot chocolate and had found her a sweater to go over the top of her formal gown.
When she still had not stopped shaking he had brought her to this room and tucked her into the large bed, then he had sat on a chair beside the door and watched over her.
She had tossed and turned, unable to doze for more than a few minutes at a time. When she had slept at all she had wakened with small cries of fear. After a while she had felt someone join her on the bed. His voice had soothed her. His arm across her body had calmed her and finally she had stopped shaking and had slept deeply until morning had brought his father home.
The only time in her life she had slept in a boy’s arms. She had wakened to the smell of breakfast cooking and voices. She had eaten and then Sergey had driven her to her new life.
She had seen Ladislaus once since. He had arrived in time for coffee to her seventeenth birthday dinner and they had chatted for a while.
‘Have you got a dress yet, for the dance?’ Jalonia was asking. ‘I was hoping you would help me with my makeup. You are so much better at it."
"I’m not going,’ Irissa replied. ‘I’m not like you, Jalonia. I need to work really hard to pass my exams.’
‘That’s always your excuse,’ Jalonia complained. ‘You never let yourself have any fun. Sure, when you came to stay with us you had huge gaps in your education but Zara and I worked so hard with you that you caught up long ago. You need to chill a bit.’
‘I don’t have anyone to go with,’ Irissa replied. ‘I’m not being gooseberry with you and Alan again.’
‘Oh, I dumped him. I’m looking for a date, too,’ Jalonia retorted.Irissa rolled her eyes and headed to the big bed. Jalonia grinned.‘Don’t look at me like that. He was getting too possessive. Talking marriage.’
‘So, why don’t you have a date?’ Jalonia demanded. ‘I heard that Cholla Nevada was going to ask you. Alma Carter said he was talking about you. He said, apparently, that you were ‘beyond sexy’ and that you had an ‘unattainable beauty’. How’s that for compliments’ Jalonia teased.
‘Yeah, I heard that too,’ Irissa scoffed. ‘I asked Jamie, the waiter at Amarose’s place about that. His take on it was funny. ‘Beyond sexy’. So far out the other side that you just aren’t. ‘Unattainable beauty’. Looks so damn frosty and up herself that she’ll definitely never give you a shag. So by his reckoning I’m a frigid bitch without a sexy bone in my body. Nice.’
Jalonia stared at her sister and started to laugh so hard Irissa thought she was going to suffocate. Tears streamed from Jalonia’s eyes and she thumped the pillow on the bed.
‘SSssshhhh. You’ll waken Sergey,’ Irissa pleaded.
‘You are the END,’ Jalonia gasped at last. You can’t even take a compliment without analysing it to death.'
‘I need some sleep. Shut up.’ Irissa said amicably, climbing under the blankets and turning on her side.
Beside her, Jalonia was amazed at how quickly Irissa fell asleep. Usually in a strange place Irissa did not sleep well. She obviously felt comfortable and safe in this apartment.
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