“No. I don’t know. It was dark. There are windows, but they’re boarded up. There might be other rooms we can get into. I didn’t search the whole place. Like I said, it was creepy.”
“Right, then.” Oliver took the glass from Ellie’s hands and placed it on the bar. “No time like the present. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Ellie followed him to the door, while Maeve and Lorna lagged behind.
“We’re just going to leave him here?” Lorna asked.
“You want to stay here alone and keep him company, be my guest. Come on, Ellie. Maeve, show us the way.”
Oliver and Ellie left the study. Lorna spared James Caskie another glance, then followed. At the doorway, out of the others’ earshot, Maeve tugged on her sleeve.
“Lorna . . .”
But she shrugged Maeve off and kept walking without looking back. The only way out of here now was to keep moving forward.
Ellie
It had all started innocently enough, of course. A glance at one another during an Avon party she was hosting at Bethany Stone’s house. He was the only man there, meant to be watching the children while Ellie hosted and Bethany and the other women played little parlor games and oohed and aahed at the free samples. But the children kept screaming in the back garden, disrupting Ellie’s concentration. None of the women acknowledged the flaws in her performance, but she knew they noticed. As soon as she packed up her kits and drove off without a sale, her awkwardness would become the hot topic of conversation among Bethany and her friends, and Ellie would be back to spending hours at home, staring at the walls, pretending to care about linen selections while David worked fourteen-hour days.
She had left the women smelling samples of next spring’s fragrance line and excused herself to the kitchen, where she helped herself to a glass of water. Outdoors, the children—seven or eight of them—wrestled on the ground, pulling each other’s hair, a football forgotten by the fence.
He stood inside the garden doors, looking out at them with the same exhaustion she felt inside. He noticed her then, smiled and shrugged. The women in the front room burst into a laughter that pierced Ellie’s ears. She winced, and he saw it. So she smiled and shrugged. To her amazement, he’d laughed. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d made David laugh, and suddenly she didn’t feel as tired and distracted as before. She returned to the party with renewed vigor and pulled out her biggest sales of the year. Bethany, who received a commission for hosting, was well pleased and held her back after the other women and their children had left. The man, whom she had assumed belonged to one of those other women, remained. Bethany introduced them as she prepared some tea.
“Ellie, dear, have you met my brother, Gordon?”
He was tall and muscular, with thick, dark hair, white teeth all in a row like a Hollywood movie star. And nothing like David at all.
Gordon texted her two days later. He’d swiped her number from Bethany, he said, and wanted to meet her for a drink somewhere, and soon. Ellie, a good girl, immediately replied that she was flattered but also that she was married. His response had been simple: I know. That should have been enough of a warning, but Ellie had never learned to heed warnings. Sex followed quickly—the first time a hurried affair in the back of her car. Then later his flat, a hotel, even Bethany’s house when she and the family were away in Majorca, on the same table where she’d so carefully presented samples of hand lotion and perfume.
But as quickly as it had begun, it turned sour. As with many things in her life, Ellie got bored. She thought she could cast him off as fast as she’d led him on, but the text messages continued. She didn’t respond. Then came the phone calls. Then showing up on her doorstep. David had chased him away with a broom handle. After failing to convince David that the handsome young man had been some religious fanatic, Ellie crumbled under the weight of this new lie and promised to break it off. Promised she’d never do anything like that again. David promised to be a better husband, more loving, more attentive. And he was. But then Jilly was born several months later, and Gordon came back to her life. Whenever David slipped in his attentions, Gordon was there to entertain her. Sometimes it was only for a single day. One day spread out over years. Sometimes it lasted a week. A month. But she always broke it off again and she never told David.
After fourteen years, Gordon had become as familiar as an old handbag. One of sentimental value. Worth almost nothing but well-worn. Comfortable. A staple of her wardrobe that she liked to drag out of the closet now and then. Remember how it felt. The years had put lines on his face and gray in his hair. Made him unattractive to others. Kept him hers. How many times had she sat with him in that bustling Costa on the Kings Road, surrounded by mums with prams and students with laptops, each too engulfed with themselves to notice this strange couple always teetering on the edge? He was her junior, but it was she who enjoyed these childish games, played with him as she had with her toys when she was a girl. Picking them apart and piecing them back together so that they were never quite the same. Never letting anyone else touch them.
“No, Gordon.”
“But we—”
“No, I don’t think it’s appropriate that ‘we’—you meant you, of course—see other people. You pursued me all those years ago, if you’ll recall, knowing I was married.” She leaned in and whispered the word. “You wanted me. You have me. You should’ve thought of the long-term consequences if this wasn’t what you wanted.”
“I want something stable. Consistent. A relationship I can discuss openly. Not hide in the shadows.”
“Lower your voice, darling. People might stare. Look, I can see you’re upset. Why don’t you take a deep breath and go fetch us some more coffees? And one of those pastries I like. The millionaire shortbread. Then, when you get back, we can continue to discuss this like rational adults.” Her smile was like the snap of her fingers. He went from the table, and her eyes traced the familiar slouched lines of his figure.
The chime of her phone pulled her gaze away, which was when she first saw the message from the blocked number.
Would be a shame if your husband found out.
Ellie looked around the café, spotted Gordon in the queue but no sign of who texted her.
Keeping Gordon around after all this time.
And then came the picture. Her and Gordon in her car. The new car David had bought her last week.
Gordon remained in the queue, speaking to the barista. Her hands shook as she typed a reply. She took the time to go back and correct her mistakes.
What do you want?
She waited. The caffeine made her edgy. Her bouncing knee banged the underside of the table. Money, favors. What could she offer to keep this from getting out? Even her daughter’s hand in marriage wasn’t off the table at this point. But the words that popped up on the screen were the last she’d expected. She gripped the phone with two hands to be sure she was reading it right.
Caldwell Street.
Callum.
Wait for the email, princess.
A millionaire shortbread appeared on a plate. Gordon said something to her, but all she could see was her phone. Somehow, she had made it to her car before screaming.
How could a little decision she made years ago lead her here? If she had chosen to cut Gordon free when she was supposed to, would she even be here inside Wolfheather House now?