‘Shush.’ She smiled.
‘We can’t listen in,’ Chris whispered. ‘It’s rude.’
‘It’s also rather delicious,’ Abigail said. ‘I only came to get some fresh air, but this is rather more fun!’
From the other side of the door, Chris heard the conversation start up again.
‘What do you do with your money anyway?’ asked Charlie. ‘And why can’t you just ask your parents? Oh, that’s right, isn’t it? They’ve cut you off. Trying to teach you a lesson. And one you’re obviously refusing to learn.’
‘This is the last time,’ Mark said. ‘I promise. I’m seeing a therapist now. I just need to pay a few things off.’
‘And if you don’t?’
‘You don’t know these people,’ Mark said.
‘No, I don’t,’ Charlie replied. ‘And this is your problem, so you deal with it.’
‘They’ll kill me!’
‘Don’t be so dramatic!’
‘I’m serious!’
Chris realised she was holding her breath. She looked at Abigail who was smiling, clearly enjoying what they were overhearing.
‘And so am I,’ Charlie said. ‘The answer’s no.’
‘You heartless bastard! It’s not like you can’t afford it!’
Chris waited for Charlie to reply, only to hear footsteps. Then the door burst open and Mark stormed out and stalked off into the darkness, phone to his ear.
Chris watched him go.
‘Well, are you coming?’
Abigail was inside, staring at her.
‘What about Mark?’
‘He’s a big boy,’ Abigail said. ‘He can look after himself.’
‘But it sounds like he’s in trouble,’ Chris said.
‘And it’s none of our business, now come on, before they run out of gin.’
Back inside the house, Chris did her best to mingle and forget about what she’d overheard. Abigail was probably right, it was none of her business. Mark came back into the house a few minutes later, acting as though whatever he and Charlie had spoken about had never happened at all.
Later, and with dinner over, the evening had continued along the theme established early on, Charlie getting progressively more and more drunk and most of the others following suit. With the new arrivals, however, Charlie’s mood had certainly improved, and they had managed to distract him just enough to keep him this side of absolutely unbearable.
The meal was delicious, and though Chris had never had pheasant before in her life, she was rather impressed. It was all a lot richer than the food she usually ate, but it was fun to try something new. And the chef had been rather good-looking as well, something she hadn’t really noticed the evening before, so that had certainly added to her enjoyment. She’d even thought about getting his phone number, but what was the point? They were only here for a week and then it was back to London. Though perhaps that was the best reason ever, Chris thought. But as she now found herself rather sleepy and in need of her bed, she decided that tomorrow she would absolutely get his number, not least because she wasn’t quite sure that she could handle another six nights in the presence of her employer.
‘Not going to bed, are you?’ Charlie called over.
Chris was at the door to the lounge, which led into the hallway and the rather grand oak staircase which swept upwards to the bedrooms on the floor above. Anna had disappeared upstairs a few minutes ago, to find more cigarettes, and seeing her leave had reminded Chris of the frankly enormous bed waiting for her upstairs.
‘I’m afraid so, yes,’ Chris said, yawning, her head spinning rather too much than she liked from the wine. Also, her stomach was uncomfortably full, and she was pretty sure that if she stayed up any longer and drank any more, then tomorrow would be utterly dreadful. She really didn’t do hangovers, and the mere idea of having one and having to deal with Charlie at the same time was just too much. ‘I need my beauty sleep.’ She laughed weakly.
‘Of course you bloody don’t!’ Charlie said. ‘Come here, have another drink! Come on!’
‘Yes, do come on, dear!’ Abigail almost sang to her from where she was leaning over by the fire, champagne glass in hand. ‘The evening’s still young!’
‘It really isn’t,’ Chris said. ‘But you all have fun, okay?’
‘Leave her alone,’ Adam said, looking over at Chris and rolling his eyes. ‘She’s being admirably sensible, unlike the rest of us. Perhaps we should all follow her example?’
‘Like hell, we should!’ Charlie said, and Chris noticed now that his words weren’t slurring, so much as bumping into one another like penguins rushing across the ice. ‘Come on, Adam, open another bottle!’
Mark took the cue before Adam and reached for a bottle. ‘Where’s the bloody corkscrew thing, then?’
‘Here,’ Adam said and took the bottle from Mark.
Seeing Adam open yet more wine was more than enough of a sign to Chris that she’d made the right decision about bed. And after today, she needed to sleep, because she needed to process what had happened, what she’d learned.
‘I’ll see you all in the morning,’ Chris said, then left the room, closing the door behind her, sweeping away the warmth of the fire and the lingering aroma of the meal, to replace it with the chill of the hall.
She was in her room for all of two minutes when a knock came at the door. Chris didn’t want to open it, but she shuffled over and twisted the doorknob.
‘Ah, there you are,’ Charlie said. ‘Well, come on then, let’s have you back downstairs!’
Chris faked a smile. ‘Honestly, I’m really tired. I’ll see you in the morning.’ She went to close the door, but Charlie pushed himself into the room, barging past her to stand facing her with eyes bloodshot from the booze.
‘I wasn’t asking,’ Charlie said. ‘Now, you get yourself downstairs, you hear? You work for me and this is work. That’s what this is. It’s why we are here. And you don’t get to just wander off.’
‘I’m tired,’ Chris said, working hard to stay calm. ‘I’d be no fun. Tomorrow perhaps.’
‘Then you need to try harder at it,’ Charlie said.
Chris moved away from Charlie and went back to her door.
‘Look, I’ll see you in the morning, okay?’
For a moment, Charlie did nothing. He just stood there, staring at her, then he walked over to the door and kicked it shut. He then swung back around to face Chris, his face pinched, eyes narrowed.
‘Now, you listen to me . . .’
‘I think you should go, Charlie,’ Chris said.
‘You don’t get to order me about,’ Charlie spat. ‘I order you about, you hear? I employ you! You work for me! You do what I tell you to do! That’s how this works!’
Chris could feel herself losing the plot now. She was tired, a little too drunk, and right now just wanted to slap Charlie hard in the face and tell him, just tell him every damned thing about why she’d taken this godawful job in the first place and be done with it. No, it wasn’t what she’d planned, but still, right now, he was driving her to the point where she was going to explode.
‘You don’t own me,’ Chris said, her voice rising to a shout. ‘Now leave!’
Charlie grabbed hold of Chris’ arm.
‘You’re coming downstairs because I’m telling you to!’ he yelled. ‘Now bloody well move!’
The sharp pain caused by Charlie’s fingers on her arm, and the wrench he gave her when he pulled her over towards the door, caused something to snap inside her, something that was very fragile indeed, and which she had worked so hard to protect. If there were words to be said, she was beyond them now. A year of working with Charlie, of putting up with his rudeness, the way his temper would change like the wind, caught whatever she wanted to say in her throat and crushed it. Then, her arm swung around and she heard more than felt her hand smash into his face, whipping him hard across the cheek, the slap that of a huge fish landed in a boat.
‘What the hell . . .?’
/>
‘Get out!’ Chris screamed. ‘Get out, right now! JUST GET THE FUCK OUT!’
The door opened and there, standing in its place, was Eric.
‘You heard what she said,’ the old man whispered, his voice calm and yet filled with weight enough to smash apart a wall. ‘Go downstairs, Charlie. Leave Chris alone.’
Charlie hesitated.
‘I won’t tell you again,’ Eric said. Then his soft voice became suddenly scorched at the edges with the anger Chris saw in his eyes and he roared, ‘Get out! Now!’
Charlie huffed, then barged past Eric and back towards the stairs.
Eric slipped into the room and closed the door behind him. Then he reached his arms around Chris and hugged her.
‘Well done,’ he said, giving her a little squeeze. ‘I think you’ve just done something everyone’s wanted to do for quite some time.’
Chris’ rage was still burning.
‘I can’t do this anymore,’ she said. ‘I just can’t. He’s not worth it!’
Eric stood back just a little, holding her at arm’s length. ‘Can’t do what anymore?’
Chris shook her head, pushing Eric away a little. ‘It’s nothing, really. I’ll sleep on it.’
Eric didn’t move.
‘Please,’ Chris said. ‘I just need to think.’
‘I know you do,’ Eric said, his voice soft and calm.
‘Pardon?’
Eric went over to a couple of soft chairs on the other side of the bed and sat down. Chris followed.
‘Here’s what we’ll do,’ Eric said as Chris got settled. ‘I’ll say what I think is on your mind, and you just whistle if I’m wrong.’
‘It’s nothing,’ Chris said.
Eric smiled.
‘Well, let’s just see, shall we?’
Chapter Seven
Anna was still trying to find her cigarettes when the shouting from Chris’ room next door caught her attention. At first, she ignored it, her need for nicotine trumping the part of her that wanted to know what all the fuss was about, but as it continued, she finally gave up and sidled up next to the wall. Pressing her ear up against the wallpaper, which was the most awful flowery pattern she’d ever seen in her life, she could hear muffled voices on the other side. Was that Charlie? Yes, it was! What the hell was that idiot doing now? Chris was far too young for him, for a start, and too smart, and it was much too early to be trying it on with anyone, particularly with everyone still downstairs.
Anna pushed away from the wall and continued her search for her smokes. The bedside cabinet was where she was sure she’d left them, but they weren’t there. And neither were they in her suitcase. Or her jacket. It made no sense! She absolutely remembered bringing them up with her, so where the hell were they now?
The voices from Chris’ room jumped in volume, but no, Anna still needed to find her cigarettes, so she ignored them as best as she could and continued her hunt. Well, they weren’t in the wardrobe, and they hadn’t slipped under the bed, so she was completely baffled. It made no sense! How did things just disappear? Perhaps the house is haunted, she thought, laughing a little nervously at the idea of this creepy old place having a ghost. Though, what a ghost would do with a packet of fags, she had no idea.
Another shout, this one even louder.
Anna dashed into the bathroom to grab a glass she’d seen there on the sink, at the same time spotting her cigarettes balancing on the edge of the bath from when she’d popped up to the toilet earlier. Cigarettes rescued, she jogged over to the wall, pressed the glass against it, and her ear against the glass. And as if by magic, the previously muffled voices were clearer! Anna almost laughed at the fact that it worked, wondering if she had picked it up from something like Murder She Wrote, one of her guilty pleasures. But then what could beat a Saturday afternoon of back-to-back Jessica Fletcher, a cosy blanket, and a glass or two of red wine? Not much, that’s what.
They were arguing, that much was obvious, and Anna was rather impressed to hear Chris standing up to the arrogant bastard. Why she still loved the man herself she had no idea, but there was no accounting for taste. And her taste in men had always been on the wrong side of truly terrible.
Anna heard what she was pretty sure was the sound of someone slapping someone else very hard and she nearly dropped the glass.
‘Get out! Get out, right now! JUST GET THE FUCK OUT!’
You tell him, Anna smiled.
What followed was a moment of quiet, then another voice joined in. It was muffled and Anna couldn’t make it out. So, who was it interrupting this rather delicious little argument?
‘Get out! Now!’
The roar of Eric’s voice was so loud that Anna heard it, not only through the glass at her ear, but through her door. She had no idea the old man had such a pair of lungs on him!
The shout was soon followed by retreating footsteps and Anna was tempted to stop listening, but when she heard Eric and Chris still talking, she just couldn’t resist listening in a little longer. So, she lit a cigarette and took a wonderful, deep, soothing drag on it, wondering just what they were going to talk about.
Ten minutes later, the conversation between Eric and Chris now over, Anna stood alone in the centre of her bedroom, a freshly lit cigarette in her mouth. The argument between Charlie and his PA, well that had been rather fun to listen to, hadn’t it? Delicious even. But compared with what she’d now learned from Eric and Chris? Well, there was just no comparison. And as she left her room to make her way back downstairs to join the party, Anna couldn’t help but smile. If she thought she had something on Charlie before, thanks to Adam’s unexpected involvement three months ago, well, now she had him right where she wanted him.
Abigail woke with a start to a room so thick with darkness that she had a moment of heart-stopping panic, convinced someone was sitting on her chest and suffocating her with a pillow. But that wasn’t the case at all. It was just this creepy old house in the middle of nowhere. And why was it so bloody cold? Was there no heating other than the huge fire downstairs? Something had woken her though, she just wasn’t sure what.
Checking her phone for the time, and somewhat appalled to see that it was only half two in the morning, Abigail turned over in an attempt to get back to sleep and gave up almost immediately.
Lying there for a moment, staring up into nothingness, she wondered about what had really brought her here this weekend. Yes, there was the invite, wasn’t there? It had been lovely of Anna to ask her to come along, and when she’d heard that Mark and Adam were both going to be there, too, well she’d jumped at the chance. Surely she would get lucky with one of them! But sadly no, nothing had happened, but the weekend was still young, she thought. And there was still Charlie. After all, Anna and he were no longer a thing, were they, so where was the harm?
Oh, and there had been that little bit of extra gossip she and that sweet girl, Chris, had overheard, hadn’t there? Whatever Mark had got himself mixed up in, it was probably nothing more than one or two card games too many. And now he was in trouble again. He had sounded rather scared though, and that was a first, Abigail thought. But asking Charlie again was a bit silly really, wasn’t it? What had he been thinking? Was he really that desperate, that afraid?
Restless now, and despite still feeling very drunk and in need of sleep, Abigail slipped out of bed to sip some water, splashing some of it on her face. Her mouth tasted pretty rough, so she stood up on numb legs and walked through to the bathroom to give them another brush.
The sound of a door slamming rattled through the house. Abigail stopped brushing her teeth and stared out into her bedroom. What the hell was that? More to the point, who the hell was it? She wanted to investigate, but her legs refused to move, the weight of the darkness lying beyond her door enough to give her pause. Because who knew what lay beyond it, when the moon was high, she thought, but then forced herself to laugh, wondering why she was always so good at thinking the darkest of thoughts at the worst of times.
> Teeth done, Abigail walked over to her bedroom door and heard rustling coming from the hallway. She pulled her door open and stuck her head out into the chill air beyond it. At first, she couldn’t see a thing, just a thick grey gloom which seemed to seep from the very walls. Then, at the end of the hall, she saw movement. Someone was out there, walking towards the stairs, she was sure of it!
‘Abi?’
Mark was standing in the doorway of his own room opposite.
‘Who was that?’ Abigail asked.
‘Who was what?’
‘That!’ Abigail said, jabbing a point towards the stairs, but where she had seen the figure there was now just empty space.
Other doors opened, other faces revealed themselves.
‘Haven’t the faintest,’ Mark yawned, as movement caught both of their attention. It was Anna, dashing across to Charlie’s room, then Eric’s.
‘Eric? Charlie’s buggering off!’ she shouted. ‘Unbelievable!’
‘I know,’ came Eric’s reply, only from the stairs, not his room. ‘No idea where he’s gone.’
He emerged from the gloom, out of breath.
Abi saw Chris’ door open and she peered out into the hallway, holding her pyjamas tight about her. ‘What’s happening?’
‘Charlie’s buggered off,’ Anna said.
Eric, resting himself against the wall, said, ‘He must’ve knocked against my door and woken me up. I saw him heading off down the stairs, all dressed up. I grabbed my dressing gown and went after him, but he’s gone. Just wandered off into the dark outside. Couldn’t see him anywhere.’
‘He can’t have just disappeared!’ Adam said.
‘Of course, he hasn’t,’ Eric said, a snap in his voice, which wasn’t like the old man at all. ‘He’s probably still half-drunk and in a mood about yesterday. He’ll wander off into the woods, get a bit lost, a bit scared, then come back.’
‘Are you sure, though?’ Mark asked. ‘How can you be?’
‘This is Charlie we’re talking about,’ Eric replied. ‘He’s hardly built for the outdoors, is he? He’ll get cold and realise he would be much better off back here and inside. I give him half an hour, at best.’
Shooting Season: A DCI Harry Grimm Novel Page 6