by Karen Swan
Escape? Odd choice of word.
‘No.’ She shook her head, knowing full well that she blushed when she lied and having to resist the urge to put her hand to her cheek to check. ‘I just need to get back to Hump.’
She moved to step past him, but although he wasn’t touching her, his hands by his sides, she couldn’t get past without squeezing herself against him, and that was not going to happen.
‘Rowena . . .’
She swallowed, refusing to look at him. He was too close. Far too close.
‘I just wanted to . . .’ She felt his hand hover above her arm, not touching, but able to feel the charge of his body against hers, like magnetic north to south.
‘How’s Florence?’ she blurted out. ‘Have you seen her recently?’
The words fell like tiles on the ground between them as she watched his response.
‘Uh, yes. Yes, I saw her earlier, actually.’
‘Really?’ Ro inclined her head a little, trying to come across as surprised.
‘She asked me to be with her when the police came to report the conclusions of their investigation with her.’
‘What? You mean they’ve finished already?’
He nodded.
‘And?’
He put a hand in his trouser pocket and leaned against the wall, his eyes never leaving her.
Another house on the street had work done recently and they think it happened then. Her wiring system was over thirty years old and there were none of the safety cut-outs you’d need now. But Florence has still been advised to get a good lawyer. She’ll be due millions in a civil lawsuit.’
Ro’s heart was beating double time. ‘But . . . she’s convinced it was cut.’
‘And it was. Just accidentally. There’s no criminal case to answer.’
Ro looked away, feeling winded by the update. She had believed Florence that day on the bench. Everything she said had seemed plausible, and Florence had been coherent and calm.
‘Don’t worry, Ro – she’ll get justice. This episode won’t go unpunished. Florence is going to be a very rich woman after this.’
Ro looked back at him, seeing the picture beginning to emerge now, like an image onto film. The lawsuit.
He looked at the ground briefly. ‘If you don’t mind me saying, you look very beautiful tonight.’
‘What?’ Was this the charm, the flattery that ran rings round Florence? She looked up in surprise, his eyes catching hers like a pinned butterfly, and what she saw – fear ran through her, fast and cold. All her worst thoughts reflected back at her, right there . . .
‘Oh! Sorry!’
Ted stepped back smartly at the voice, revealing Hump standing behind them, no glasses in his hands.
‘Hump!’ Ro’s relief rang out like a bell between them all, prompting Ted to glance back at her.
Hump picked up on it too, stepping more confidently into their circle now, protective as ever. ‘Hope I’m not interrupting anything . . .’ His eyes slid between Ted and Ro, resting on Ro.
‘No, no. I was just coming to find you, actually,’ Ro said quickly, almost wanting to cry with relief. She looked pointedly at Ted. ‘The bracelet’s in the rosebush.’
‘What?’ Ted asked, astonished, looking over at the full-flowering red rosebush in the middle of the nook.
‘“See the roots for what they are. This story started from afar.” This is a rose, the symbol of England. The American War of Independence fought for separation from England . . . hence the flag,’ she said in a manic rush, the words falling over each other as she tried to look calm in front of them both. ‘Hump, where are our drinks?’ she asked, posting an innocently curious expression on her face.
‘We’ve got a small problem.’ Hump shook his head forbiddingly.
‘What sort of problem?’
He looked across at Ted quickly, but it wasn’t him Ted was watching. ‘Just come with me.’
Ro turned back to Ted, more confident now that Hump was here. ‘Well, bye, then,’ she said.
‘Bye,’ Ted said quietly, his hands in his pockets, his eyes steady upon her, discerning the obvious upbeat change in her behaviour.
She took Hump’s hand as he led her up the path, taking three strides to his one. She kept her chin high, refusing to look like she was running away, knowing – absolutely knowing – Ted was watching her the whole way. Because it wasn’t charm that she’d felt between them in that last moment alone together. It had been far more dangerous than that.
Chapter Twenty-Six
‘Hump, are you going to tell me what’s going on?’ she hissed, as soon as they were out of sight, struggling to keep up with his fast pace in her wedges as they crossed the lawn and jogged up the steps towards the house.
Hump, who’d been keeping a polite ‘nothing to see here’ smile on his face, looked across at her. ‘He’s in here,’ he said, striding through the French doors and into a gracious drawing room decorated in salmon-pink and pistachio tones.
‘Who, Hump? Who?’ she asked, dodging bullion-fringed ottomans and Victorian side tables.
He pushed open a door and Ro gasped to see Greg slumped on the floor, his arm resting on the loo, his head lolling on his chest.
‘Oh my God, what’s happened?’ she whispered, running in and crouching down in front of her housemate. He was barely conscious. ‘He was fine half an hour ago.’
‘That was before he necked a bottle of vodka.’ He pointed to the empty bottle beside Greg’s legs.
‘What? But why?’ Ro mouth hung open in surprise. ‘Greg, wake up. Can you hear me?’
‘He’s out of it. We need to get him to the hospital and have his stomach pumped. That level of spirits could give him alcohol poisoning.’
‘Oh God, Greg, what have you done?’ she whispered, cupping his handsome, catatonic face with her hand.
‘Ro, we need to get him out of here ASAP – and discreetly. His career will be destroyed if this gets out. Half the people here are clients or industry benefactors. I need you to get the car brought round to the front doors. Can you divert the valets?’
‘Yes, of course,’ she replied without thinking. How? How was she going to do that?
‘Good.’ He handed her the valet ticket. ‘Be quick. He’s a dead weight like this. I can’t hang around once I’ve got him on my shoulders. OK?’
Ro nodded nervously. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can. See you in two minutes.’
‘Don’t run. You don’t want to attract anyone’s attention.’
‘Right.’ Gripping the ticket firmly in her fist, Ro slipped out of the bathroom, checking the hallway was clear. It was. Everyone was outside, including the staff, who were rushed off their feet.
She crossed the gleaming parquet floor, her sequins rustling lightly from her hurried movements. She didn’t have time to notice the blowsy floral arrangements of old roses and sweet peas, or the silver Tiffany photo frames that housed black-and-white snapshots of an idyllic life shared over several generations. All she was focusing on were the enormous front doors, which were at least ten feet high and double width, and which she hoped weren’t locked.
They weren’t and she opened them soundlessly, trotting down the steps and turning right towards the side garden path they’d entered by and to where the valets’ booth was set up. There were five of them in there, leaning and playing on iPads, enjoying their lull before guests began leaving again in a couple of hours or so.
She gave a tight smile as she handed over the ticket and waited for one of them to bring the Defender round from the adjoining paddock, her eyes flicking back restlessly towards the house. How was she going to help Hump get Greg in the car without the valets seeing? He was one of the hosts and too conspicuous tonight to be seen in this state by anyone. This couldn’t get back to Erin or Todd.
She heard the Humper long before she saw it and twitched restlessly, sure she was going to let down Hump and Greg. What could she do? What could she do?
‘Cool car, ma’am,’ th
e valet said, as he jumped out, leaving the engine running. He couldn’t have been more than nineteen.
From the corner of her eye, Ro saw the front door beginning to open.
Out of time!
‘No!’ she shrieked loudly, and the front door’s progress halted. The valets jumped. ‘What’s that?’ she asked, adopting her poshest British accent and trying to sound like the queen. An imperial attitude might be an asset right now.
‘What, ma’am?’
She pointed towards the paddock just beyond the trees. ‘Is that kids messing about in there? Don’t they know the value of the cars? You do have security in there, don’t you?’
All five valets bucked up, straining to lean over the booth counter and make out what she was pointing at.
‘Surely you can see them? They’re right there.’ She jabbed her finger with annoyance.
The valets clustered out of the booth, not wanting to contradict her, but clearly there was nothing to see.
‘Oh, good God, don’t say they’re . . .’ She frowned and looked at the nineteen-year-old. ‘You have insurance, I take it?’
‘Why, ma’am?’ He looked terrified.
‘Well, they’re plainly keying the cars.’
‘Mother fuckers!’ one of the valets cried, forgetting he was in the presence of a customer. ‘Come on!’
‘They’re behind the navy Maserati,’ she cried after them, as they all raced across the drive, vaulting the white post-and-rail fencing into the paddock. ‘Quick! Now!’ she hissed to Hump, who had overheard her diversion and stood back from view from the open door.
She watched as Hump staggered down the steps, clearly straining to carry the full weight of his semi-conscious friend on his shoulders. A small step by the back door was just low enough that she could climb up in her dress and stand in the cab, taking the weight of Greg’s head and upper body as Hump gracelessly flopped him forwards, like a badly tossed caber, onto one of the bench seats.
‘You hold on to him. Make sure he stays on his side. If he starts throwing up, he’ll choke.’
‘Oh God,’ she muttered, steadying Greg by the shoulder as Hump jumped into the driver’s cab and pulled away in second gear, sending a spray of gravel onto the rose beds and mullioned windows. They hurtled down the drive as Ro saw the valets peering beneath and around the cars in the paddock, their arms outstretched in confusion.
‘Is he all right?’ Hump shouted over his shoulder. With the sound of the gravel and the engine, it was hard to be heard. Shouting was the only option.
‘Yes! Did anyone see you in the house?’
‘No! Don’t think so!’
They pulled out of the gates at the bottom and Hump went through all the gears again, Ro keeping her hand on Greg’s arm to steady him from the movement.
‘Hump, why has he done this? He was fine when we saw him earlier.’
‘Yeah, but that was before the evening’s big announcement.’
‘What? Thanking sponsors and supporters?’
‘Erin and Todd announced their engagement.’
‘No!’
‘Yep. Straight back to the old days.’
Ro looked down sadly at Greg, his superb body limp, his handsome face slack, his objective clearly achieved as the pain, any feeling at all in fact, was numbed – for now at least.
‘Can you get him under the other arm?’ Hump panted, trying to take Greg’s weight along with his own.
‘Yes, sure.’ Ro ran back down from unlocking the front door and tried propping Greg from the other side so that he was – marginally – more balanced.
Greg laughed, an indistinct, undefined sound that he had neither energy nor sense of mind to punctuate. They had been in the hospital for several hours as Greg’s stomach was pumped and he was fed a saline drip to rehydrate him, but the damage had already been done and he was as drunk as a skunk in drag. ‘You guys . . .’ he slurred, his feet leaden and useless beneath him as they part carried, part dragged him up the porch steps and into the house.
‘How are we going to get him up the stairs?’ Ro cringed, panting from the effort after only fifty yards.
‘We’re not. He’ll have to sleep it off on the sofa,’ Hump groaned, for he was bearing most of Greg’s weight. ‘I’ll stay down here with him.’
They turned to drag him into the sitting room, just as a pretty pair of toes appeared on the stairs. They looked up. Bobbi was tying a dressing gown around her, although it had slipped on the shoulder and her black bra strap was visible.
‘Sexy . . .’ Greg slurred.
‘Fuck! What the hell happened to him?’ she exclaimed in astonishment at the sight of Greg so incapacitated.
‘A bottle of vodka in under two minutes. Give us a hand, would you?’ Ro panted. She could only take pigeon steps in her tight dress.
Bobbi ran down the stairs, thighs flashing, and helped the others get him to the sofa. He fell onto it, almost face first, and Ro would have laughed if she hadn’t wanted so badly to cry. She felt distressed to see her dignified housemate in this state.
Bobbi sat beside him on the sofa, unable to stop staring at the sight of him, his dinner jacket lost somewhere – probably still back at the estate – his dress shirt untucked and only fastened with two buttons, his face pale and streaked from the tears that had caught up with him in the hospital as he’d revived just long enough for the pain to catch him up, burying his face in Ro’s neck, her soft skin a universal comfort men remembered from their mothers.
A creak on the floorboards upstairs made them all look up. Ro hitched up an eyebrow.
‘Kevin’s here?’
Hump stood in front of Greg defensively. ‘I don’t want anyone seeing Greg like this. You’d better keep Kevin upstairs.’
‘Can you just tell me what happened to him?’ Bobbi asked, looking up at him, unconsciously stroking Greg’s hair from his face. Even she didn’t like to see her sparring partner so wounded.
Hump lowered his voice, not wanting to distress Greg further. ‘Erin announced her engagement to Todd Blaize at the fundraiser tonight – even though she’s been secretly having an affair with Greg all summer.’
‘You’re fucking kidding me?’ Bobbi gawped.
‘Wish I was,’ Hump sighed, looking down at his old friend.
Greg’s eyes were open, although unfocused, rolling up occasionally before he snapped them back with a sudden jerk of his head. He looked at Bobbi as she took his hand in hers, rubbing his palm gently with her thumb.
‘You’re going to be OK, Greg. We’ll get you through this,’ she said firmly, brushing back one particularly floppy forelock that kept falling over his eye.
He grinned, a daft, wolfish grin that he couldn’t quite control and which tipped him over into tears in the next instant. ‘Have we met?’ he asked her, his face telling two stories at once as silent tears slid down his appled, smiling cheeks.
‘Unfortunately for you, yes. I’m Bobbi, your stroppy housemate.’
Greg stared at her as she wiped away the tears with her thumbs. His hand closed round her wrist. ‘No, that was what she said to you.’
Who? Ro frowned as Bobbi pulled back. It was easy enough to wrest her arm away from his grip; he had no strength to speak of right now.
‘I’ll go make sure Kevin doesn’t come down.’
‘Thanks,’ Hump said, as she rose and walked across the room.
‘I think you have!’ Greg called after her, every word linked to the next one like joined-up writing.
But Bobbi didn’t turn back. ‘’Night, everyone,’ she said, as she started climbing the stairs. ‘Sleep tight.’
Ro’s sleep was anything but tight. It barely held her through the night, its bonds loose around her, her mind frantic and racing – only one degree below waking – her ears pricked for sound, her body ready to run. The night was too hot for one thing; there was no breeze. And she was worried about Greg. Worried that he’d poisoned his own blood, worried that his fragile glass heart, which had alread
y been patched together once before, had now been smashed for good. She could glimpse a fragment of that emotional landscape he was now wandering in and she pitied him: the past four and a half months without Matt had offered her occasional moments of clarity as to what life would look like without him, and it was a desolate and bleak world in which she faded into her own shadow.
But what finally nudged her from her gauzy slumber wasn’t Greg or Matt at all, but another man’s face close to hers, too close to say to ‘no’, his lips on hers—
She sat up, her heart pounding like a bass drum, her lips still parted as she’d kissed him back. She threw the covers off and walked straight over to the window, furious with her brain for betraying her like that again even if it was simply a mash-up of last night’s events. She poked her head out, like one of the doves at the dovecote – albeit less fresh and pure-looking – and looked out onto the fresh day budding up.
The sea mist hadn’t yet rolled back, telling her it was still before six, although the flags were already in the pins on the greens at the Maidstone. People gladly sacrificed extra hours in bed for a round there.
A car parked outside the cottage suddenly started up and slowly pulled away. Ro looked down and watched it go. A Porsche. Wasn’t that what Kevin drove? Maybe it had been the sound of him leaving the house that had awakened her after all, not . . . not . . . Dammit. She rubbed her face hard, pulling down on her cheeks with the heels of her hands, trying to wake herself up fully.
She watched as the car indicated left, then immediately right – meaning he was either going to the beach or the Maidstone. It was a shame to have missed him by only a few moments. She was curious to see what type of man had tamed – at least temporarily – her feisty friend. Feeling nosy, and because it was too early to go downstairs and risk disturbing the boys, she remained by the window. If he was playing golf, she’d see him in a few minutes. The first green was visible from this spot.
She grabbed the laptop and fell into her usual early morning position at the window – sitting on the deep sill, legs jammed up in the frames, her knees level with her nose, the laptop on Skype speed dial.
She and Matt still hadn’t spoken since their fight ten days earlier. She’d been determined up till now not to be the one to call first. But last night had been a wake-up call and there was more at stake here than pride. She and Matt needed contact: they needed to talk to each other and see each other and make their old jokes, because she couldn’t find him on her own anymore – not in her yoga meditations, not in her dreams. She was getting too used to being without him. She needed to need him more.