It wasn’t the case at all. Jennifer was peaceable and chilled out. She walked her dogs that morning, leaving a note for us on the breakfast table that stated: Happy Christmas! Enjoy the salmon, it is a delight. Taken the dogs, back soon. Lunch at two. We’ll get the Queen’s speech on Sky afterwards.
I half laughed to think that I was with an American man whose only member of family was so English. He’d gone and gotten himself an English broad, too. Indeed, lunch was a traditional turkey with all the usual trimmings—minted stuffing, pigs in blankets, cranberry sauce, roast potatoes, mashed potatoes, bread sauce, sprouts, parsnips… the works. It was my first foreign Christmas but it wasn’t even as though I was in a different country—I felt comforted, relaxed, wondering whether maybe I was being lulled into a false sense of security.
Nursing our eggnog as the evening crept on, It’s a Wonderful Life played on the cinema screen, our butts firmly set into the cushions of a sectional sofa. I glanced at the fireplace clock and caught the time—five p.m. already.
A servant (I didn’t honestly know what else to call them) brought cheese and port around this time, with all the trimmings. Again, Jennifer picked at this. A grape or two, a cube of this or that, and quite a few drams of the gloopy, gorgeous port. I was inebriated and stuffed, lethargic and hazy from staring at either fires or the TV screen. I didn’t think we’d make love that night, my belly was just so full I needed all my energy to digest. The dogs had been so naughty over lunch that the servants had taken them to the kitchen to stow them there for the rest of the day. Jennifer didn’t seem to have any energy for them, either.
She hadn’t eaten much over lunch and I decided to remark on this (or hint at it) because it was more than just her fashionable conscience, I knew. Every time she brought anything near her lips, her mouth curled and she seemed to hold her breath.
“The food is really delicious, Jennifer. Is it local? Who sources it?” I politely offered.
She didn’t turn to face me, just muttered out of the corner of her mouth, obviously in a bid to humour me. “Claire arranges all that with local suppliers, only ordering from the city if she needs something a bit rarer. She’s been doing it since before my sister had this house. Would be stupid to change a routine that obviously works well.”
I sighed as I chewed through large, red cherry tomatoes, the sweet juices exploding on my tongue, mixing well with a corner of ricotta cheese.
“I agree, what she’s served up so far has been absolutely delicious.” The turkey at dinner slid down my throat, the parsnips were drenched in honey and sesame seeds, the pigs in blankets were not those processed things off shelves but real, farm-bought sausages and bacon—all of it like that, just too good, too yummy!
Cai looked at me underneath his thick brow, cautiously waiting for Jennifer to add more to the conversation. I side-winked him alone but he didn’t return any kind of response.
“The port’s better, so is the wine. It’s all that helps the pain, these days.”
The pain? I thought inwardly. What pain? My creative mind drew all sorts of conclusions, both literal and metaphorical. I concentrated my gaze on my own small plate of treats, hacking bits of cheese and butter onto crackers and adding tiny cuts of grape too. I let her words hang, hoping Cai would drop something else into the conversation to draw out what was going on here. I heard Cai’s jaw working on a mixture of pâté, melba toast and salad.
“What pain?” he finally asked after swallowing. Perhaps he was less observant than me because he sounded confused. “I thought you had the arthritis under control?”
We both looked to Jennifer for an answer and she responded so mechanically. “I thought we did, too. I don’t know if the condition is getting worse or I am just so tolerant now, the drugs no longer work as well as they did.”
She tipped a lead crystal sherry glass to her lips and maintained her glare at the telly. James Stewart was just about to jump from the bridge. I wondered—was this why Jennifer was holed up with us? How badly did she suffer in silence?
“You shouldn’t use your hands anymore, Jennifer. Use your voice-activated apps… you can get them for everything now. Or better yet, get another assistant. Do whatever to make your life easier… right Chlo?” Cai said in a deep tone of voice, as if that was my thought too.
Her forehead didn’t move, not with the botox. Her nose slightly wrinkled at the corner, though, as if to signify her indifference. Was she that desensitised? Was this the American way? I didn’t think it was. I was beginning to realise she was an enigma, even more of one than Carl guessed at.
“I hardly lift a finger nowadays. I just explained, didn’t I? It is getting very painful now… so much so, I might have to start injections in my spine because nothing else works.”
She turned to me and feigned a smile. Behind it was weariness. “Chloe, I hope you understand? Cai and I have kept this a mystery for a long time. Nobody outside this room knows about my condition, except my doctor. I always wear the gloves. It is difficult, darling, but what would people report if they knew that Jennifer Matthews was no longer capable, hmm?”
She turned in early that night and left us alone, though I didn’t feel tired, or horny, or interested in watching any more films or Christmas shows. I turned to him and said, “It’s sad. She’s sad, isn’t she? I see it when she doesn’t think we’re looking.”
“I guess.” He shrugged.
“She’s good at playing the untouchable heroine, yeah?” I stared at him, seeking some kind of reaction to all this. If I was honest, I didn’t think he was upset. Either he wasn’t reacting too, or he was hiding his own thoughts on this with the expertise of an actor.
He opened his hands. “She doesn’t open up to anyone, for obvious reasons. What can we do?”
Perhaps he was blunt about these things because of losing his parents so young…
We watched some more telly and retired to bed. When we made love that night, I watched his expressions carefully, but with me there was none of the vacant, passive way he treated Jennifer with. With me, his eyes were wide and searching, his breathing rapid and his lips constantly plucking at mine to reassert our connection. But honestly, what did I really know about this man? I knew right then, I needed to know more. Much more. Though when we cuddled afterwards, all I knew was that he was alive and vital and so was I.
My nose pressed into the dent between his pecs, my hand over his thumping heart, I slept soundly.
Chapter 36
THE NEXT DAY was a normal, American day. Back home it was Boxing Day so sticking to tradition, I gave Cai another present on the bed that morning, one he obviously hadn’t been expecting from the look on his face. Retrieving it from a hidden, inner pocket of my suitcase, I handed it over and he held it in his hands like it was an explosive device.
“It’s a little something, no biggie,” I tried to reassure him.
I knew as he held the 30x20 frame in his hands that he feared what was within, even though he shouldn’t.
“Open it,” I ordered, and he scrambled for the wrapping paper, ripping it away. He tore the last shreds and looked at the whole thing, turning it in his strong hands to see the picture I’d had mounted within. It was a bitty little image I’d snapped on my iPhone one day as we took the Staten Island ferry. My hair was a mess against the elements, Cai’s cheeks were red and his eyes watery. My face was turned to the side, kissing his cheek. His bottom lip caught between his teeth, he looked happy, even despite our bundled up bodies and the blizzard of rain upon us that cold, November day.
“I love it,” he said hastily.
I examined his eyes and they sparkled, bright with joy. He was relaxed, breathing easy—the Cai I knew and loved intimately—only when we were together. He placed the frame down gently on the floor beside the bed and wrapped his arms around me.
He trailed kisses over my cheeks and feathered his lips down my neck. His arms pulled me tight to him and he pressed his cheek hard against my breast, his hands gathering t
he silk of my dressing gown and the skin of my back. I scratched my nails lightly over the back of his scalp and he told me in a growl, “I’m so in love with you.”
“I’ve never been happier,” I said to mirror the sentiment.
Cai dragged me into the bathroom that morning and we swam in the tub for a long time, enjoying ourselves and each other. Jennifer’s Christmas gift to us had been a huge spa hamper so we indulged ourselves to the max, rubbing and exfoliating each other, washing off in the shower afterwards.
Our gift to her had been difficult to decide, we’d argued over it so long. What to get the woman who had everything? She had club memberships everywhere, clothes and shoes and meals on tap, she had everything her dogs and horses needed. Cai never visited her apartment but I imagined it was fully equipped. In the end Cai had taken the initiative and bought her a Baskin-Robbins gift card loaded with $200. I didn’t want to ask!
After Boxing Day brunch, Cai took off for a horse ride on his own. Jennifer had horses… but didn’t ride them. Which was strange…!
I’d never learned to ride as a youngster and somehow I knew, it wasn’t for me. However I did enjoy the sight of my dashing knight on his steed, his thick thighs gripping the saddle. In the snow, a canter was most probably all he would manage, he said, as if disapproval was written all over my face.
As soon as he was gone, I felt paranoid for the first time about being in that house with the servants and Jennifer—alone. If you thought about it though, why would Cai leave me alone if there was anything to worry about? Hmm…
I wandered around the house, getting my bearings. Each room had a teak sign nailed to the door, presumably so paying guests might easily find their way. Bedrooms were labelled after varieties of trees and many of them contained four-poster beds. Ours was labelled ‘Master Elm’ and our four-poster was meant to be an antique. As I wandered other rooms, I saw many other items of furniture were more modern so a lot of renovation must have taken place to bring the whole house up to standard. It was an intimate setting for a wedding or a great place for a large family to spend Christmas or the summer holidays. Some doors weren’t labelled but I presumed these were cupboards or communal bathrooms. It was a great house but, there was something sad about it, something you couldn’t put a finger on. Anyway, I ventured to the kitchen to scope a snack, or something. Maybe I wanted to dig up some goss.
Claire the housekeeper was there, doing some paperwork, perhaps filling out order sheets or whatever. The old lady, who I guessed was 70 or a little older, greeted me warmly, “Chloe, can I get you anything?”
“No, please, no. Don’t get up. I just… would love a cup of tea! Those two drink coffee like it’s going out of fashion, I know… so do I usually, but it’s just a thing I have at this time of year.”
“Oh, dear! I know.” She brightened. “Everything you need is in the large cupboard above the kettle. I’ll join you if you want to stew a pot.”
“No problem. Don’t worry, I’ve got this,” I told her surely, and began to find everything I needed.
“Did I hear tea? Tea? Tssk!” Jennifer chuckled, entering the room, her dogs following after. She plopped herself on a stool around the worktable, sitting opposite Claire. The dogs ran straight for their bed in the corner, snuggling and burrowing together for warmth, away from the cold, tiled floor. How cute.
“Yes… seems I have this in common with the lovely Chloe, here.”
Jennifer nodded, her hands agreeing too. I noticed she didn’t wear the gloves while ‘at home’. I didn’t know why she was so paranoid about it, really. “She is lovely. I agree. I do wonder, though… what have you done to change Cai… he was a lost cause after all.”
I finished filling the kettle and turned to smile at my elders. “We joked about that when we first got together… that he was a lost cause.”
Jennifer raised a brow. “Wonders never cease?”
She looked a bit brighter that day and I put her sour mood the previous evening down to missing loved ones, or not having a partner of her own to share the season with. Or something.
“He was a little odd when we first met but he’s always been a gentleman. He never treated me with anything but respect.”
The kettle began to whistle as it bubbled away and the two ladies opposite looked at me strangely. Jennifer said in confusion, “Respect?”
“Umm. Nothing but respect.” I poured tea into two cups and asked with my eyes whether Jennifer was joining us for a brew, but she declined with a hand gesture. “You both look as though this is a new thing?”
The women exchanged aghast glances and Jennifer told me, “Before you, dear, there were lots of women.”
He told me quite to the contrary. “Really? I heard rumours but I never listen to those.” I defended him.
Claire sat quietly and I handed her a mug. “No sugar?”
“No, dear.”
“Didn’t think so,” I smiled, “you’re sweet enough.”
I joined them around the table and wasn’t willing to show even an inch of a hackle.
“Every night, a different one. Bizarre he’s now so dedicated to just you.” Jennifer eyed me carefully, continuing, “Don’t get me wrong, you are very lovely. I wouldn’t have chosen you for him, being you’re a little older. Yet… your influence is no doubt positive. It just makes me wonder, that’s all.”
Claire grit her teeth and I saw she was waiting for my reaction. Pity neither of these women knew me.
“Cai and I don’t have secrets and I can assure you, I have more experience than him. Without a doubt. Plus like you just said… I have more years on him, so that’s not a surprise.”
Jennifer touched the base of her throat with a hand, shocked. “Dear, oh dear. You are a live one.”
“Jennifer, listen. If you have evidence to show me of some wrongdoing he committed, I’ll listen. I don’t do gossip, it’s just never been me.”
She pursed her lips and shot Claire a look. For some reason, the housekeeper just knew to leave the room, her order books under one arm, cuppa in the other. She shot me a sympathetic look and left.
I was half-prepared for some awful details she wanted to impart but I didn’t expect Jennifer to turn soft eyes on me and explain, “Cai is traumatised because of his childhood, you do know that, yes?”
“I assume you want to tell me in exactly what way?”
She sighed, telling me in a wise voice, “He got into too many fights at school. He married some silly girl he didn’t have any business being with. It was one drama after another with him.”
Was being the operative word. I boiled inside, but whether that showed on the surface, I couldn’t tell. “Drama?” I asked with a hint of suspicion.
“Girls… girls… everywhere. Hanging off his arm.”
“You mean, dates? He dated a lot?” Did that constitute as drama?
“He knows it upsets me.”
The woman appeared childlike and hurt, just for a moment. This wasn’t the same woman I saw cross hallways in the tower she dominated.
“Upsets you? You’re not the one in love with him.”
“Love? You… love one another?” Her brow shifted perhaps a millimetre.
“We adore one another, Jennifer,” I said quietly. “He’s the man of my dreams. Of my life. We want to get married and have children eventually. We’re dedicated to one another, I thought this was clear from the way I moved here and left everything behind for him? I know it all happened suddenly but we’re deeply in love.”
“He’s broken, though. Can’t you see?” She squinted, her confusion palpable yet not reasonable. Surely she’d known, understood, how serious it was between us?
“All of us are broken. Do you think that matters to me? Real love doesn’t consider if someone is broken or not, only whether the other person will let them demonstrate that they share the same condition. It’s called being human.”
She ran a hand through her unusually untamed hair and seemed shocked enough to have lost her vo
ice.
I let my mouth run away from me: “If you have an issue with Cai or me, Jennifer, you must realise by now I am a very reasonable person and whatever troubles you… you can tell me. We’ll talk it out. I want you to know that I’d never cut you out of his life. You are after all his only family. Which I think is sad… I think it’s sad so many of you seem to have died.”
“It is sad,” she nodded slowly. “It’s something I cannot let go of.”
She hid her face behind a hand.
“Let go of?”
She lifted her head, her face contorted, “Too many things do not add up.”
“What things?” I waited patiently for a response but nothing came. She looked physically and emotionally in pain. Jennifer Matthews. In pain.
“Cai told me his parents killed themselves?” I scratched my chin and felt sorry for her.
“They’re all dead. I just, don’t know how,” she said, in a small, fragile voice.
“It is sad,” I repeated.
“I should book a therapy session,” she said, “I’ve been meaning to and it’s the headaches… they have come back now, too. They’ve gotten worse. It’s the strain, the stress of it all.”
“Your job must be stressful,” I offered in a friendly way.
“No, it’s not the job. No. I can do that standing on my head. It’s the puzzle… the one I haven’t been able to solve. It’s driven me crazy all these years… now he’s changing, I wonder why. After all these years. What has happened to change Cai?”
“What puzzle?”
She lifted her eyes to mine. “How the killer escaped, of course.”
“What, killer?” I felt chilled and looked at her carefully, wondering whether this woman was quite in charge of her faculties.
“Come with me,” she said, and we headed out of the room. The dogs chased our tails, my teacup my only consolatory aid along the way.
“Where are we going? You do know Cai will be back soon, don’t you?” I argued but my words fell on deaf ears.
Unbind (Sub Rosa Series Book 1) Page 27