Two years later.

A lot can change in a period of two years; France is a major change of scenery. It's not too sunny, which is too happy, nor is it too cloudy, making it too depressing. Aubella and Jude were thriving in what they were doing, Aubella stealing the show in all the French dance competitions, and Jude rocking the violin. He'd stopped learning the piano back when he was six, and said he wanted to play the violin. I wasn't a major ace on the violin but nonetheless I could give him the basics, but then I needed someone else to help him perfect his technique.

Aubella's room was basically a cache of trophies and tiaras she'd won over the period of two years, she loved dancing more every day and I loved seeing her bloom up on that stage. Jude was in his school's orchestra, and I'd taken a course for teaching, and was now doing English courses for tourists going to a pro-English country, alongside being a practicing psychiatrist. It was more of an after hours thing, or an excuse to get out of the house, since I worked from home now.

"Hello, Maud." I smiled, Maud was my assistant, when I first met her, and she couldn't speak a word English and desperately needed a job and a place to stay. I'd always been a giving person, and when I couldn't find her anything to do, because she was a high school dropout, I decided that she would be my personal assistant. She was great at what she did.

"Bonjour, Monsieur." She returned the smile, as I brought a plastic cup of coffee up to my lips. I still had a sleeping problem; I suppose some things never change.

"Anything for today?" I asked.

"Oui, you have three appointments before noon, and then three after, and you should be done today by about four, giving you enough time to swing by Aubella's private for her solo that she's doing this weekend in Avignon, and pick Jude up from orchestra practice." She replied swiftly.

"Where would I be without you, love?" I asked, smiling gratefully.

"I think the question is, where would I be without you, Monsieur?" She replied, and I laughed softly.

"Good point, when's the first, and brief me on him or her again, please." I took a seat next to her, and her cheeks reddened, I assumed she had a bit of a puppy crush on me, but she was twenty-one for crying out loud, I couldn't possibly date her?

"Well, his name is Francois." She said, and I nodded, recalling him.

"Manic depression, and if I recall, suicidal?" I asked, looking over into her notebook.

"Oui, this is his second session." She replied.

"Thank you, and what time again?" I asked.

"Nine." She smiled in reply, as I rose from my seat.

"Thank you very much, now, if you'll excuse me I think I have some kids to drive to school. Au revoir, Maud." I smiled, bidding her a quick farewell, before dashing to the other side of the house, to find Jude messing around with his tie, and Aubella doing last minute homework.

"Whoa, Bells, books down. Time to go." I said, helping Jude with his tie.

She groaned, shutting her book, "okay!"

But then again, France wasn't much different from England, same people, and different language. The nights were still bloody long, and lonely, I still felt like something was missing, but hey! At least nobody pitied me. I'll admit I regret moving, but at least now I wasn't being stared at like I had just killed someone all the time, honestly, I love my family, and I'm fortunate to have so many people that care about me, but sometimes, I wish they'd stop. I'm old enough to take care of myself, I don't need to be constantly pitied, and watched as if when someone says something wrong I'm going to rip a pistol out of my back pocket and shoot myself. (Well, I could, but for one, I don't have a firearm licence and two, I'm rational enough to realize if I go down, the kids go down with me.) Somewhat later in the week, around Thursday night, I got a visitor, and honestly it was the most unexpected thing ever.

"Insley?" My eyes were wide as my brother stood on my doorstep, sopping wet, only with a duffel bag by his side.

"Uh, hey." He said awkwardly, looking up, "you think I can stay here for a while?"

"Why?" I asked, "aren't you supposed to be in New York with Amanda?"

"Yeah, but uh-" he panicked, "look, it's bloody cold out here, I'm freezing my knickers off!" He exclaimed.

"Shh, it's late, the kids are asleep," I replied calmly, "firstly, you're a man, you don't wear knickers. Secondly, what the bloody hell are you doing in France?!" I asked.

"Oh for crying out loud, Harry, move!" He said, and I gave in, moving out of the way.

"Explain please?" I asked, folding my arms and looking at the sopping wet mess that was known as my brother.

"Got any coffee?" He asked sheepishly, and I sighed, nodding as I walked to the kitchen.

That's when he spilled his guts out to me, Insley was never a crier, and honestly I don't think I've seen him cry since we were kids, but that night I think something broke inside of him. He confirmed the reason he was in France was because him and Amanda had had a fight a couple hours ago, and she chased him out. He had an irrational fear of intimacy, and getting too close to people, I suppose she got tired of having to guess at what he's all about all the time.

"You're an idiot, y'know that?" I said after he stopped crying, he shoved me with his free arm.

"Shut up, not everyone's a ladies man like you." He replied, laughing weakly.

I laughed sardonically, "Says the original ladies man himself."

"Harry, I don't know what's up with me, I used to be great at women, hell I was fantastic, I mean, you saw me, confident, controlling, and this one, Christ," he sighed, running a hand through his damp hair, "it's like she's whipped the carpet out from under me, I don't care about anything else, honestly, I don't care if the Princess of Wales is begging on her knees to snog me, and Amanda's standing across the room, I would deny the Princess of Wales, Harry, the bloody Princess of Wales, if it meant she'd take me." He finished off, "I need medication, H, I'm losing my mind."

"I'm afraid so, my dear one, you are losing your mind. But in the best kind of way, you're in love, and love's just a socially acceptable form of insanity. I can't give you drugs for love, Insley." I said, smiling.

"Should've known you can't prescribe anything for getting your emotions together." He sighed once again, and then it was quiet.

Finally, Insley asked, "got anything for a headache though?"

"Yeah, I do. I also have something for insomnia, because I see those dark circles, Ins. When last did you get a good, solid eight hours of sleep?" I asked, rising from my seat, and going over to the little medicine cabinet in the kitchen.

"I can't remember, I think two weeks ago?" He replied, shrugging.

"Here, take these." I handed him two little white pills and he smiled gratefully. One was for the headache and the other a tranquilizer, he was out within ten minutes. I contemplated taking one myself, but decided against it, because I needed to wake up early anyway.

The next morning was seemingly more eventful as the previous night, I woke up, drove the kids to school, and then came back to make myself look more presentable, when I found Insley in the kitchen, looking as if he was wearing my sweater of self pity.

"Insley, are you wearing the sweater of self-pity?" I asked, gaping at him.

"No!" He immediately answered with a mouthful of something that resembled chocolate, now this was weird for two reasons; a) Insley was a vegan and b) even if he weren't he probably wouldn't eat chocolate.

"Are you eating chocolate?" I asked, my eyes widening.

"No." He denied it yet again.

Next to the plastic wrapper stood a bottle of... red wine? And then I was really thrown off the bus.

"And is that- alcohol?" Now I was stunned, my brother absolutely never drunk even the slightest drop of alcohol.

"Yes, for crying out loud, yes, I am wearing your god-awful sweater, yes I'm eating chocolate, and yes, there is wine in my coffee cup." He finally said.

"What the f-"

"Don't you dare say anything, I'm depressed, let me wallow in self-pity." He replied, and I sighed intensely.

"Oh, my God, Insley, get over yourself."

"We fought." He said, placing the coffee cup down, "we fought, Harry, and I left."

"I know, Ins. You told me last night." I was a little lost.

"No, like... Amanda and I, we were fighting, because she was tired of guessing all the time with me, so I told her that some mysteries beg not to be solved, so she replied with swearing at me and telling me to stop with my analogies, and I told her that if she didn't like it, then she could go find a perfectly normal guy anywhere else. And she agreed," he swallowed hard, "she agreed and said she was tired of it all, so I said, fine, I'll leave you to your quest in finding a normal guy. And she smiled, saying, good riddance. I don't know what to do, Harry."

"Oh, Lord help you." I replied.

"What?" he asked.

"Do I have to spell it out for you?" I said.

"Yes?" He asked, a little dumbfounded.

"Get. Back. To. New. York" I replied, "you obviously didn't mean all those things you said, and you're both impetuous as hell, so just apologize."

"What if we just have the same fight over and over again?" He bit his lip, "I hate fighting with her, honestly, it's bloody terrible."

"I know, I hated fighting with Rose too, I did. But that's what a relationship is about, compromise, accepting one another even with all our flaws, if she can't accept that you're a little scared, then she doesn't, but that's it, you need to accept the other person precisely the way they are." I nodded.

"Thank, God, I have a smart brother." He smiled.

"Take a shower now, please, and thank you." I laughed, and he playfully pushed me out of the way.

"Thanks, Harry. You're-you're really great, you know?" He smiled, and I swore I saw his cheeks lighting up with a soft blush.

Thereafter, I called Maud, to check up on my dailies.

"Bonjour, Monsieur." I could hear her smiling through the phone.

"Bonjour, Maud." I laughed softly, "got anything for me?"

"Just an e-mail from your, mother? It looks important?" She replied.

"Alright, can you read it to me?" I asked.

"Oui, it says, Annabelle Sinclair and Winston James request your presence at their wedding, on November 29th." She said.

"Thank you, Maud." I hung up, throwing open my laptop to check it out for myself. There it was, a wedding e-vite to my mother's wedding. There was a number attached, so I called it.

"Sinclair's Bakery, Jane speaking, how may I be of assistance?" I remembered Sinclair's. I grew up in Sinclair's, but my mum closed it after Sylvester's death.

"Sinclair's? Oh, God. Is there an Annabelle Sinclair or Holt there?" I asked.

"Yes, Ms Sinclair is the manager." The voice spoke.

"Can I please have a word with her?" I asked.

"Who is asking?" She replied.

"Her son." I said.

"Oh, my mistake, sorry Mr Sinclair." She replied, laughing softly.

"Actually it's Holt, but okay." I said, shrugging and typing Winston James into my search engine. I found a Facebook page, and he looked all right. He ran a flower shop, and had one child. Grey hair on the sides of his head, nice-ish blue eyes, and a great smile, also said he was around fifty-five.

"Harry?" Suddenly my mum's voice interrupted my thoughts.

"Mum, or should I say, Ms Sinclair. You're getting married?" I asked.

"Yes, Harold. I am getting married, to a lovely man. Oh, you'd love him, he's so funny." I could yet again almost hear her smile over the phone.

"Well, in that case, I'm absolutely ecstatic for you mum, I can't believe you're getting married." I replied.

"I suppose we all need a fresh start, love." She said.

"I'm supposing the wedding is back at Stockport?" I asked.

"Yes, it is, and I would absolutely love to have you and your fam there, and maybe if I'm lucky you'll bring along a lovely girl you met in France." She said, laughing.

"Now, mum, let's not be impetuous." I replied, laughing as well.

"You know it's okay to fall in love again, Harry?" She said, half in a question.

"I'm aware." I responded.

"That means you can go on dates, and see other girls, Harry." She said, and I could hear the sarcastic tone to her voice.

"I know, mother. It just doesn't mean I have to put myself out there again, it's beside the point anyway, you're getting married again, this is great." I willed myself to change the subject because I knew what talking about Rose did to my mentality, and I didn't need to derail again.

"Who's gettin' married?" Insley said, suddenly behind me with a toothbrush lodged in his mouth.

"Mum." I replied.

"Oh," he said, turning around, only to swing around a couple seconds later going, "wait, what?"

"Yes, Insley, your mother is being wed." Mum replied.

"Alrighty then, I will be putting on some clothes now." He said, and I laughed.

"We'd be honoured to be there, mum." I said.

"Thank you, it means a lot. I've got to run now, I love you, and I'll see you soon, H." She said, and I smiled.

"Okay, yeah, love you too." I hung up just as Insley walked back into the room, dressed crisply in his normal attire, the suit and a light blue tie.

"So, she's really getting married after James again?" He asked. James Sinclair was the man my mother met whilst Sylvester was still alive, and they committed the crime that set Sylvester off. He found them together once, and it was never the same again. See, there's something I never mentioned about my mother and father's relationship, mostly because I forgot about it. My mother couldn't handle Sylvester's breakdowns anymore, so she needed a break, and James Sinclair offered her that. When Sylvester found out, he was livid, and he left, we didn't see him for a week. This was about four months before his death, anyway they found him on a bridge, ready to kill himself one night and checked him into a nearby psych ward, when my mother and I visited, he refused to look at her, and only whispered things to me. It was terrible seeing him that way, for me, but mostly for Insley. I think him and Insley were just as close, because Insley threw a fit in the car, kicking and screaming, he didn't want to leave, he saw it coming. Flash-forward to after Sylvester's death, the whole world was practically in mourning, because Sylvester was one of the greatest composers of that time, and it was upsetting knowing he went down just like all the other great artists. She married James Sinclair, and it was one of the worst decisions she'd ever made. He pulled her down, and then he made her feel like nothing, he made Insley run away, and he was probably the main reason I was such a depressed child. My mother had Stockholm's for five years, until someone talked some sense into her and she divorced James, we remained the Sinclair's, but when I turned eighteen, I changed my last name to Holt, because I wanted nothing to do with the devil himself. My mum only kept his last name because she didn't want to be known as Sylvester Holt's wife. This is the reason I never play any of his pieces at family gatherings, or my mother always switches the radio off when her song 'Annabella' happens to come one every once in a while, we don't want to remember the dark times, we just want to get rid of them. I guess it's like that with all people, really, when you're sad you want to forget. That's why there's alcohol, and that's why druggies exist, that's why there's bad in this world. Sadness will slaughter us all.