My pace quickens when I spot a light ahead. Is it Archie, returned with a torch? I call out his name, over and over again as I race towards it, stumbling and slipping in my flip-flops in my haste. I feel twigs and foliage scratching against my ankles and calves, but I press on, my breath rasping from the exertion and my cries as I call out to Archie.
The light grows larger and larger as I tear through the woods and although it dawns on me that it can’t be the beam of a torch, I continue to careen towards it. Light means civilisation. I am rescued! I am not going to freeze out here. I am not going to be eaten by wolves (which, though ridiculous, has been playing on my mind).
I make it to the edge of the woods, still calling out to Archie as best as I can through my ragged breathing. I can see a cottage ahead, the glow from its windows creating the light I’d seen. I don’t care if that cottage is made of gingerbread and there’s a wicked witch inside. I’m so cold, I’d happily hop into the boiling pot on the fire.
‘Hey!’ A pair of arms envelops me, bringing me to an abrupt stop. Archie! Oh, thank God! I wrap my arms around him, leaning my head against his chest as I try to control my breathing.
‘I knew you’d come back for me,’ I gasp. ‘Thank you.’ I slump against Archie, letting him take my weight. My legs have turned to jelly from the run and I’m feeling a bit weak and emotional, which isn’t like me at all.
‘Come on, let’s get you inside,’ Archie says, except it isn’t Archie at all. I’m suddenly aware of the bulk of the man I’m clinging to. Where Archie is lean (some may say slightly skinny), this guy is broader, more solid. I leap away, crossing my arms over my body in an attempt to cover up as much of it as possible. I peer at the man in the dark and my heart sinks when I recognise the miserable face of gardener Tom. I’d rather my rescuer was the wicked witch in the gingerbread house.
‘You’re freezing,’ he says and I’m about to shake my head and argue his point when I realise my whole body is trembling and my teeth are chattering so hard I’m in danger of grinding them down to stumps. My arms, I now see, are covered in goose pimples.
‘My cottage is just there.’ He points ahead at the little cottage which provided my beacon. It looks so cosy and warm…
‘I need to get back to the castle.’ My voice is wobbly due to the teeth-chattering situation. ‘I need to let Archie know I’m okay.’ I turn back towards the woods, which seem even more menacing from the outside. ‘Oh God, he might still be in there.’
‘Archie will be fine.’ Tom starts to stride towards the cottage, flicking a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure I’m following, which I am, but at a more cautious pace. ‘He knows the woods like the back of his hand. We spent enough time in there as kids.’
‘He’ll think I’m still in there, though.’
Tom pushes open the door of the cottage and I’m sure I can feel the heat from several paces away. ‘I’ll phone over to the castle, see if he’s there. If not, I’ll go out with a torch and look for him.’
‘Thank you.’ I step into the cottage, almost weeping with relief at the instant warmth. The door leads straight into a tiny living room furnished sparsely with a cracked brown leather sofa set out in front of a log burner. The only other pieces of furniture are a chaise longue sitting beneath a small window and a claw-footed coffee table in the centre of the room. The ceiling is low and crossed with original beams, but the space, painted a bright white, feels cosy rather than claustrophobic.
‘This is nice,’ I say, teeth still rattling, but Tom doesn’t thank me for my pleasantry. Instead, he kicks the front door shut, making me jump out of my skin.
‘What the hell were you doing out in the woods dressed like that?’ He’s striding over to the kitchenette squeezed into the far side of the room. It only takes a couple of steps. ‘Or should I take a wild guess?’
My jaw drops as heat – somehow – fills my face. He thinks Archie and I were having a fumble out there! The cheeky, presumptuous…
There’s a large mirror hung on the chimney breast and I catch sight of my appearance. I’m wearing next to nothing and my hair has started to dry and is sticking up in all directions, resembling a bird’s nest. I look very much like somebody who has been enjoying a bit of alfresco sex in the woods.
‘Have you heard of a little thing called hypothermia?’ Tom grabs the kettle and fills it with water before practically slamming it down on the counter. I’ve never seen somebody flick a switch with such venom.
‘I didn’t mean to get lost out there.’ My chin juts out. ‘Have you ever heard of a little thing called an accident?’
Tom snorts as he grabs a mug from one of the cupboards. ‘You accidentally went out into the woods without your trousers? Or did you accidentally leave them behind?’
My hands are curled into fists by my side. I want to tell him to go fuck himself so badly, but I also need him to help me find Archie.
‘We’d been swimming and decided to go for a walk.’ I don’t mention the ditching Francelia part; I’ve already been painted in a bad light and there’s no need to make it worse. ‘We somehow got separated in the dark.’ I cross the tiny room to peer out of the window into the darkness. ‘I’m really worried about Archie.’
‘He’ll be fine, honestly. Archie can take care of himself.’ I can hear a spoon rattling against a cup, but I’m still watching for any sign of movement outside. Tom’s voice has lost a lot of its edge, but I still feel like a chastened child. ‘Sit down. I’ll phone across to the castle now.’
I turn to look at the sofa and then down at my damp clothes. Tom rolls his eyes as he strides towards me with the mug.
‘Don’t worry, I’m not precious about my sofa.’ He hands me the mug, which is filled with frothy hot chocolate. ‘Sit. Drink. I’ll be back in a minute.’ He strides – can he not walk like a normal person? – across the room and disappears up a flight of open-tread stairs. I perch on the sofa and take a tentative sip of the hot chocolate, which is both warm and comforting. I’m still shivering, but not quite so fiercely.
I take a look around the room while I wait for Tom to return. Though it’s minuscule, it’s been decorated to enhance the space. The large mirror above the log burner tricks the mind into thinking it’s much roomier, and the spotlights and floor lamps flood the room with light. Though the walls are blank, there are lots of little touches of colour around the room: the teal curtains at the window and matching scatter cushions, the terracotta pillar candles on the mantelpiece, the burnt-orange rug on the polished floorboards, the prints on the wall. The interior of the cottage doesn’t match its gloomy owner at all.
‘It’s okay.’ Tom bounds down the stairs and strides back into the room. ‘Archie’s back at the castle. He thought you might have made your way back there. Alice has been worried sick about you.’ He gives me a reproachful look and I turn away.
‘It wasn’t my fault. We were walking and then… I was on my own. I don’t know how it happened.’
‘I’m not sure what else you expect when you’re wandering around the woods in the pitch-black.’ Tom sighs and crosses to the kitchen in three strides. ‘Anyway, I’ve put some dry clothes on my bed for you. They should fit.’ I tilt my head as I look at the bulk of the man, my eyebrows knitting. I highly doubt it. ‘The bedroom’s straight ahead, and the bathroom’s the first door on the right. I’ll take you over to the castle once you’ve warmed up.’
I straighten in my seat. ‘I can find my own way there, thank you.’
‘Really?’ Tom snorts and leans against the kitchen counter. God, he’s annoying. I have no idea why Alice was keen to see him again. He’s a turd. A great, big steaming…
‘Like I said, the bedroom’s up there.’ He points towards the stairs. ‘There’s a brush in the top drawer of the bedside table.’ He smirks as his eyes flick up towards my bird’s nest hair. ‘In case you need it.’
I glare across at him, but make my way up to the bedroom. He may be an arsehole, but I would like to change into s
omething dry that doesn’t smell of chlorine. The bedroom, like the rest of the cottage, is tiny, with the double bed taking up most of the space. A wardrobe stands against one wall, and I’m greeted by my dishevelled appearance in the mirrored sliding doors. The full-length view looks much worse and I cringe at the sight.
Turning away from the horror show, I find a small pile of clothes on the bed and decide to take them through to the bathroom, where there will hopefully be a lock on the door. There are two more rooms upstairs, but I follow Tom’s instructions and find the bathroom, my mouth forming a large ‘O’ of surprise. It’s gorgeous. Glossy, pale-grey tiles cover the walls and floor, and there’s a maple wood-panelled corner bath and matching, mirror-fronted cabinets. With yet more spotlights and an array of candles around the bath and along the tops of the cabinets, the room looks like a mini spa rather than the bathroom in a rather small cottage. I suppose you’d want to relax after a hard day of digging and mowing and whatever else it is Tom does around here at the castle.
After locking the door behind me, I peel off my cover-up and swimsuit and pull on the pair of black jogging bottoms Tom has provided. They fit surprisingly well – in fact, they’re a bit snug around my waist. All becomes clear when I unfold the T-shirt. These clothes don’t belong to Tom, unless he really is ‘100% Wifey Material’ as the T-shirt suggests.
Of course there’s a wife. I should have known as soon as I stepped into the cottage. Men don’t choose teal curtains – and they certainly don’t match their scatter cushions. And then there’s the gorgeous bathroom and all those candles. His wife has impeccable taste when it comes to interior design (if not men). I’m not sure how I feel about wearing a stranger’s clothes, but then she probably won’t be too keen when she discovers I’ve borrowed them.
I return to the bedroom once I’ve changed so I can run that brush through my hair, as it really is in a state. There are two bedside tables – one on each side of the bed – so I plump for the nearest one. It’s empty, apart from a shiny slip of grey and white paper. My fingers, almost of their own accord, pick it up and I’m greeted by the grainy image of Tom Jr. So, he has a wife and a baby on the way.
Placing the scan photo back, I find the brush in the drawer of the opposite table and tidy myself up as best I can before gathering up my damp clothes and returning to the living room.
‘Ready to go?’ Tom asks as soon as I step back into the living area. Without waiting for a reply, he strides across the room and yanks open the front door. He clearly cannot wait to get rid of me and, to be frank, the feeling is entirely mutual.
Chapter Thirteen
‘Where exactly are we?’ I’m scuttling to keep up with Tom’s long strides, which isn’t easy when you’re wearing a pair of slightly damp flip-flops. Instead of heading back towards the woods, we’re skirting around the edge, following its curve.
‘We’re still technically on Durban’s grounds. The castle’s on the other side of the woods.’ Tom points towards the thick cluster of trees to our right. ‘But it’s safer to go around the outside in the dark.’ He arches an eyebrow at me and I fight the urge to stick out my tongue. ‘It isn’t far.’
Good, I think. The sooner we get back, the sooner Tom can stop treating me like a silly schoolgirl and bog off back to his cottage.
‘Are you warm enough?’ Tom stops suddenly, giving me the chance to catch up. ‘I didn’t think to lend you one of my jackets. I could nip back and grab one?’
I shake my head, not bothering to break my stride. ‘I’m fine, thanks.’ I really am eager to get back to the castle. Besides, I’ve warmed up now I’m wearing dry clothes. ‘Did I even thank you for lending me your wife’s clothes? I am grateful.’ Even if I still think he’s a grumpy sod. ‘She won’t mind, will she?’
‘Not in the slightest.’ Tom is striding again, already several paces ahead of me. ‘And she isn’t my wife.’
‘But it says…’ I look down at the slogan on my T-shirt.
‘Lydia bought it when we got engaged.’
So, he isn’t married yet. I wonder what his fiancée is like; is she as cranky as her betrothed?
‘You’ve got exciting times ahead, then.’ I’m not sure why I’m still talking. It isn’t as though Tom is the chatty type, but I can’t seem to stop myself. ‘A wedding and a baby. Sounds like most people’s idea of perfection.’
Tom stops again, wheeling around with such force I come to a stop myself and take a couple of steps back. His eyes are dark, his mouth a mean, narrow line.
‘What was that?’ His voice is booming in the quiet night and I take another step back. ‘A wedding and a baby? I never said anything about a baby.’
Jeez, talk about moody!
‘I saw the scan photo. In the drawer.’
Tom’s face is thunderous as his eyebrows pull down low. ‘You were snooping?’
‘Not at all.’ I’m carrying my damp clothes in one hand, but I clamp the other down on my hip. ‘I was looking for the brush – as directed by you – but chose the wrong drawer. It’s an easy mistake to make.’ I don’t add that I picked up the scan photo for a good old nosy in case it makes his head explode. I still need him to lead the way back to the castle.
Tom watches me for another moment through slightly narrowed eyes before turning and setting off again. We make the rest of the journey in silence, Tom striding purposefully while I practically jog to keep up. We end up at the back of the property, with the pool room lit up nearby, and Tom opens a door, holding it so I can step inside.
‘Will you be okay from here?’ Tom’s tone suggests the only acceptable response would be ‘yes’, but I may be about to annoy him. Again.
‘Um…’ The door leads to a corridor, which is identical to every other corridor I’ve seen in the castle so far. I have no idea which part of the castle I’m standing in, nor the route to take to my room. ‘It’s just, I don’t really know my way around the castle.’
Tom sighs, but steps into the castle and leads the way with his usual stride. ‘Do you know which room you’re staying in?’
‘Um…’ I bite my lip, wracking my brain for the number on the door. ‘It was on the first floor.’
Tom sighs again. ‘Well, that narrows it down. Do you even know which wing?’
I don’t have a scooby. ‘It was overlooking the orchard, if that helps?’
Tom doesn’t answer, simply continues to stride.
‘We went up the stairs in the big entrance hall,’ I say as Tom starts to climb a narrow staircase.
‘This is a shortcut.’ He continues to climb the stairs and I hurry after him. We end up on yet another identical corridor.
‘I’m sorry about the scan photo,’ I say as I scurry along. Can’t he slow down just a little bit? ‘It really was an accident.’
‘It’s fine.’ Tom rubs at the back of his neck. ‘Sorry for snapping. I shouldn’t have. It’s just…’
‘You’re a private person?’ I get this. It isn’t as though I’ve never bitten somebody’s head off for probing too much into my private life.
‘I guess.’ We turn on to another mirror-image corridor and Tom finally slows down. ‘Anything look familiar?’
I look up and down the corridor and spot a window seat at the far end. I sat on that window seat earlier, overlooking the village down the hill, to give Alice a bit of privacy while she Skyped Kevin.
‘Yes! We’re in one of the rooms down here…’ I start to move in the opposite direction of the window seat, but Tom doesn’t follow.
‘I’ll leave you to it then,’ he says, already backing away.
‘Thanks for your help,’ I call, but he’s already disappeared back around the corner.
Alice pounces on me as soon as I open the door, throwing her arms around me and trying her hardest to squeeze the life out of me.
‘We’ve been so worried about you!’ She kisses me on the cheek and I’m forced to wriggle free from her grasp. This is getting way too touchy-feeling for my liking.
&
nbsp; ‘I’m so sorry, Emily.’ Archie is perched on Alice’s bed, hands clasped tightly together. ‘I don’t know what happened. One minute we were together and the next I was on my own. I was so worried about you. I looked everywhere for you and kept calling your name, but I couldn’t find you. I hoped you’d found your way back here, to Alice, but you weren’t here.’
‘He was all ready for going back out to look for you.’ Alice sits down next to Archie and leans her head against his shoulder. ‘But luckily Lilianna was still in the office when Tom phoned and she ran up here to let us know you were safe. We were so relieved, weren’t we, Archie?’
Archie nods and takes hold of Alice’s hand, giving it a squeeze. ‘So relieved. You could have frozen to death out there! I’m truly sorry, Emily. You must let me make it up to you.’
‘There’s no need, really.’ I kick off my flip-flops and sink down onto my own bed. ‘I’m fine. Nothing bad happened, unless you count having to spend time with Tom. What is his problem?’ I massage my feet where the flip-flops have rubbed.
‘I really don’t know.’ Alice kneads her forehead with her fingers, as though she can smooth out the frown lines that have formed. ‘He was one of my best friends, someone I trusted and confided in, and now he’s like a stranger. I guess it’s my own fault for not trying hard enough to keep in contact, but I sort of tried to forget about this place and everyone in it after the necklace thing.’
‘And don’t we know it?’ Archie nudges Alice. ‘It’s like you fell off the face of the earth. Even I didn’t get to see you and we’re practically related.’
‘Sorry,’ Alice says in a small voice.
‘Don’t be.’ Archie presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head. ‘But please don’t disappear again.’
The Wedding that Changed Everything Page 9