Goodnight (Broken Heart Series)

‘You’ve had plenty of time, but she still called for me.’ Goodie froze outside the library as she heard Tasha’s voice float through the door. ‘I’m not leaving without her. Not if she wants to go. I won’t let her down. God knows she’s never, ever failed me before.’

‘She’s running away because she’s scared; she –’

‘Goodie is not scared of anything. You don’t know what she’s faced … what she’s done …’

‘I know.’ Nick’s firm declaration hung in the air, silencing Tasha.

‘What did you say?’ Goodie could only just make out Tasha’s whisper through the crack in the door, and felt her chest constrict at the fear she could hear in her sister’s voice. It was Goodie who had put that fear there – her need for secrecy at all costs that made Tasha so terrified of the truth.

‘I know who you are.’ Nick’s voice had softened and she heard him take a step towards Tasha. ‘I know what happened; how you were separated.’

‘Then you know what she sacrificed for me,’ Tasha said, her voice choked with tears. ‘How she went with them willingly so long as I, the older sister, the one who should have been doing the protecting, was adopted into a good family. I had every opportunity, every chance at happiness whilst she was trained to be …’ Tasha trailed off, her sobs filling the library, and Goodie was done. She hobbled forward as fast as she could and both Nick and Natasha turned as they heard the door push open. Goodie paused at the doorway for a moment, her eyes on Tasha’s tear-streaked face.

‘Kotyonok,’ Goodie called softly across the room. Tasha’s shoulder stopped shaking and her mouth fell open in shock.

‘Myshka?’ she asked slowly. ‘What did you call me?’

‘I remember,’ Goodie said simply. Tasha closed her eyes, took a deep breath in and then shot across the room to engulf Goodie in a hug.

‘You remember?’ she asked, pulling back and searching Goodie’s face. ‘Do you … can you remember her?’

‘Everything.’ Tasha’s body sagged into Goodie’s, which with her bad leg nearly caused them to go down. But just as they were about to stumble Tasha was extracted from Goodie’s arms and Nick was there for Goodie to lean into heavily. To her surprise when she looked up from the floor she saw that a red-faced, clearly furious Bertie had stormed into the room and was holding Tasha, staring daggers at Nick and Goodie.

‘What the bloody hell is going on here?’ he snapped. ‘Why is Tash crying? You lot and your confounded drama that follows you around. I’ll thank you to leave Tasha out of it.’

‘Bertie, you numpty; I’m happy,’ Tasha said through her sobs.

‘You’re … what in the blazes?’ Bertie sighed and held her closer, letting her cry into his shoulder. ‘I will never understand ladies,’ he admitted helplessly.

Goodie looked up at Nick’s concerned face, then stood on her one functioning tiptoe to give him a kiss on the cheek. He frowned in confusion but gave her a small squeeze in response. Her leg had started throbbing again and as if he could read her mind he moved her to the sofa, sitting her down next to him.

Tasha eventually lifted her head from Bertie’s chest and gave him a watery smile, which he returned. ‘Look, I’m sorry but you lot are going to have to explain what’s going on.’

Tasha looked across at Goodie who nodded her head in agreement.

‘Goodie and I are sisters, Bertie,’ Tasha told him as she took his hand and led him to the opposite sofa.

‘Uh … sisters? … But?’

Goodie laughed. ‘I know we look nothing alike … different fathers. But we lived with my mother until I was nine and Tasha was twelve. There were difficulties but …’ Goodie paused and looked at Natasha. ‘Mama was a wonderful woman. She loved us, she cared about us and she did what she had to do look after us.’

Tasha’s eyes again filled with tears and Goodie felt a shard of guilt for all the cold things she had said about their mama in the past. She realized that it had hurt Tasha to think Goodie couldn’t remember any of the good in their childhood, any of the love the three of them shared. Goodie had shut her down every time Tasha brought it up, not allowing either of them to relive any of the happy memories together. Goodie knew why her mind had shut off that part of her childhood. To know how she was loved and what she had lost would have made her weak. For the last twenty years weakness was not something Goodie could allow. But now …

‘What happened?’ Bertie asked, his eyes darting between Goodie and Tasha. Goodie felt Nick stiffen beside her and she laid her hand on his.

‘Mama died,’ Goodie told him, her voice steady. ‘And we were separated. Tasha went to a family and I … I went somewhere else.’

‘Not just any family,’ Tasha said, her voice breaking with small sobs again. ‘Goodie made it so that I was with the best family available. I had everything whilst she –’

‘We are different, Tasha,’ Goodie told her. ‘I was fine. I’ve always been fine.’

‘How did you find each other again?’ Bertie asked. Goodie noticed that Nick did not ask any questions of his own. No doubt his private detective had rooted all this out as well. Goodie thought that maybe she should have been angry, but how could she really complain when she knew everything single detail about him before they even met?

‘Tasha had a stalker. She needed protection. I had always known where she was and how she was, but avoided contact. When I found out about the stalker I manoeuvred myself into her protection.’

‘Jeepers! A stalker!’ Bertie looked shocked and concerned. A flash of an image Goodie kept locked away and brought out from time to time when she needed cheering up came to mind. It was how Tasha’s stalker had looked after Goodie had finished with him. She smiled at the memory.

‘Don’t worry, Bertie. I don’t think he’ll surface again.’

‘No,’ Nick said, a small smile tugging at his lips. ‘I don’t expect he will.’

Tasha gave Nick a sharp look. Goodie thought that he probably knew better than she did what had happened to that piece of shit.

‘Anyway, after all the stalker business Goodie kept and eye on me, and of course I run the –’

‘Enough,’ Goodie snapped in Russian, cutting Tasha off.

Tasha rolled her eyes. ‘What’s wrong with talking about it? How can anyone use that information against you?’ she said back, also in Russian. Goodie looked away from her to the window and shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. Tasha didn’t understand, but it did make a difference to how people perceived her. She needed them to believe how ruthless she was. Glancing down at her leg, she sighed as she thought that maybe that wouldn’t be such an issue anymore.

‘I know about the foundation,’ Nick said quietly, in only slightly broken Russian. Goodie’s head snapped around and she looked at him with wide eyes.

‘Since when do you speak my language?’ she asked. ‘And how do you know about the foundation? There are no links back to me.’

Nick shrugged. ‘I started learning months ago after that charity dinner when I couldn’t understand you. It … annoyed me. It seemed like another way for you to keep things from me.’ (This was again spoken in Russian. He was actually pretty good, although instead of actually saying ‘charity dinner’ he’d called it a ‘free meal’, and Goodie was sure he didn’t mean to say ‘she was keeping frogs from him’).

‘Can you all bally well speak in the Queen’s,’ Bertie huffed. ‘Russian’s not really one of my strengths. Now, get me onto French and we’d be away. I mean –’

‘Ah!’ Goodie cried, unable to resist. ‘Vous parlez couramment Francais! Ou avez-vous appris?’*

‘Er … la gare est la prochaine a gauche?’*

Goodie pressed her lips together as she heard a muffled snort from Tasha, who leaned across to give Bertie a kiss on the cheek. Bertie’s frown disappeared and he blushed bright red, but managed to return the hand-squeeze.

‘Bertie, I run a foundation called No Strength without Heart. It helps people in cold climates with no money for energy. Funds projects to provide communities with energy, and links those that can’t afford it to the mains. I fundraise and I contribute from my modelling career, but …’ She looked across at Goodie who frowned at her and shook her head.

‘Most of the money comes from Goodie,’ Nick said, ignoring her warning glance.

‘Gosh, how did you come by all that cash?’ sweet, wonderful, naïve Bertie asked, and Goodie smiled.

‘The business I’m in can be quite lucrative.’ Her smile dropped and she frowned down at her leg. ‘Although … not recently.’ She looked up as she heard Tasha laugh.

‘I wouldn’t worry about funding, myshka,’ she said through her laughter, winking at Nick. ‘We’ve got more in the pot than ever.’

Goodie sucked in a sharp breath and looked up at Nick. He nodded once and she looked away, tucking her hair behind her ears. ‘Thank you,’ she said under her breath, and felt him squeeze her shoulders. The foundation meant everything to her.

‘Bertie?’ Nick asked, staring down at Goodie. Could you take Tasha to the kitchen, maybe get a cup of tea for her or something?’

‘Goodness, yes, of course, old boy!’ Bertie blustered, puffing his chest out like he’d just been asked to engage in mortal combat for Tasha rather than just make her a cup of tea. ‘Mrs B.’s got some ginger nuts in too,’ Bertie told Tasha, the genuine excitement in his voice (one of Bertie’s great passions, just like his cousin, were biscuits) making Tasha chuckle as he led her out of the room. Once they’d shut the door after them, Nick turned back to Goodie.

‘Are you angry?’ he asked.

Goodie cocked her head to the side and frowned. ‘Why would I be angry? You used the resources at your disposal to get the result you wanted; I do that all the time.’

‘Oh … I thought –’

‘I’m not angry but … no more. It’s dangerous what you have done. The past needs to stay in the past. The man you sent over there, the questions he asked; you put him in danger.’

‘Shit.’ Nick’s face paled. ‘I didn’t think of that.’

‘But I want to say thank you.’

‘What? Why?’

‘You’ve given me my mama back. Seeing her face, her eyes, her smile. Now I can remember. But you’ve been bringing her back to me for months, even without the photos you had found.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You look after me. Nobody since Mama has ever done that.’ Salem bumped her hand with his head as if he could actually understand her words, and she laughed. ‘Okay, big guy – nobody of the human variety, that is.’

‘Goodie, I’ve looked after you since we got you back, but before that I think we can all say you were fairly self-sufficient.’

She shook her head and Nick’s eyes widened with shock as hers filled with tears. ‘You don’t get it, do you?’ she said as one tear escaped down her cheek. ‘Asking Sam about me, wanting me to be safe, noticing my fear of confined spaces and making it so I had Salem; your patience, your kindness, coaxing me out of my self-imposed shell; the –’ she gave a small sob and he reached for her, engulfing her in his arms and pressing her face into his chest ‘– the Gogal Mogal …’ Her breath hitched again but she fought down the tears and pushed slightly away from him so she could look up at his face; she had to get everything out. ‘I don’t know why you want me. I’m not saying I understand it but … you’ve got me. You’ve brought me to life and I’m yours. I won’t leave you again unless you send me away, lyubov moya.’*

Nick was silent for a long moment. ‘Goodie?’

‘Yes?’

‘Do you know what you just called me?’

Goodie smiled. ‘Nick, I am Russian. I think I know my own language.’

He swallowed, his own eyes feeling suspiciously wet (which as far as Nick was concerned was down to the excessive furniture polish employed by an over-exuberant Mrs B.). ‘You know I love you too, right?’

‘I think I figured that out by now. It’s either that or you really are clinically insane.’ He smiled (and if Goodie hadn’t been totally sure of her decision, that dimple would have sealed the deal), then he took her face in his hands, running his nose along hers and kissing her briefly before muttering, ‘You’ll stay with me? You promise.’ She nodded, then kissed him again, laughing as he pushed her back into the sofa. Unfortunately by the time they heard the soft knock at the door things had heated up sufficiently for neither of them to notice or care.

‘Ah!’ a red-faced, horrified Bertie said from the doorway. ‘Er … Tasha sent me to check … well … um … looks like everything’s chugging along nicely here, I’ll just …’ and he backed out hurriedly through the door. Goodie face-planted into Nick’s neck, and then, to his shocked pleasure, she burst out laughing.

* Vous parlez couramment Francais! Ou avez-vous appris? – You speak fluent French! Where did you learn?

* Er … la Gare est la prochaine a gauche? – Er … The station is the next left?