‘And why would I do that?’ Ryan said.
‘Why wouldn’t you? I thought this town was all about being neighbourly.’ Gwen bit the chip. It was cold so she put the other half onto the edge of Ryan’s plate. His gaze followed it and she said, ‘Don’t worry; I haven’t got a cold or anything.’
Ryan looked her in the eye with what appeared to be some effort. ‘I don’t owe you any favours.’
‘I was thinking more from the goodness of your heart,’ Gwen said. ‘Or, perhaps, to cleanse your soul a little after that unfortunate rabbit incident.’ Suddenly the hurt and anger of that moment flooded back and Gwen leaned forward. ‘My niece could’ve found that poor creature. Did you even think of that?’
‘I didn’t have anything to do with—’ Ryan said quickly. Then he caught himself. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Nice save.’ Gwen selected a slice of cucumber from Ryan’s side salad and gestured with it. ‘Just run the piece.’
‘Or what?’ Ryan said, lifting his chin and trying to look tough.
Gwen fixed him with her best steely stare. ‘Use your imagination,’ she said, and popped the cucumber slice into her mouth.
‘This is insane,’ Ryan said. ‘What did you want me to write about, anyway? The paper won’t publish it if it isn’t in the public interest.’
‘It’s as much in the public interest as that fascinating piece on Martin Bower’s prize-winning cabbage.’
‘Small town news, what do you expect?’
‘It was on the front page, Ryan. Really.’ Gwen shook her head. ‘I’d say you should be thanking me for filling some column inches.’
‘So, what is it? What’s the big story?’
‘I’m holding a bonfire.’
‘You’re a bit late for Guy Fawkes.’
Gwen ignored him. ‘On the green outside here on Saturday night.’
‘You can’t do that,’ Ryan said. ‘There are rules, by-laws, all kinds of permits.’
‘I’ve cleared it with the council and the community council and with Bob in the pub. When I say bonfire, I’m being symbolic, really. It’s more of a brazier.’
‘A brazier.’ Ryan frowned. ‘What the hell?’
‘Bob is lending it to me. He uses it in the garden.’
‘I don’t really understand—’
‘That’s okay. Here are all the details.’ Gwen put the article she’d carefully typed up that morning. ‘I’d like it in Thursday’s edition.’ She pushed back her chair, the legs scraping on the stone floor.
‘You can’t just expect—’ Ryan said and Gwen lost it. She leaned over the table, her face close to his and said, very quietly, ‘Don’t fuck with me, Ryan. I’m not known for my patience and I reached the bottom of the barrel a long time ago. I know you broke into my house.’ Gwen was only guessing on that last point, but she figured that Lily didn’t have too many friends to call on. Ryan swallowed and then nodded.
Gwen straightened up. ‘Excellent. Thank you.’
Chapter 22
Gwen was investigating the overgrown herbs in the garden when she heard the telephone. It was Harry, sounding less calm than usual. ‘Are you busy? Can you get down to Cam’s office?’
‘What’s wrong?’ If another person was taking legal action …
‘It’s Cam. Do you know about his granddad?’
Gwen went cold. ‘What’s happened?’
‘He died last night. Cam found him.’
‘Oh no.’
‘Can you come?’
‘Why don’t you call Felicity?’
Harry didn’t say anything. He just stayed silent long enough for Gwen to feel petty and stupid. ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘I’ll be there in ten minutes.’
‘Thank you,’ Harry said politely.
‘Do you think he’ll want me there?’ Gwen asked quickly before Harry could hang up.
‘Christ, Gwen. I don’t know what he wants. He’s trying to take out all the furniture in his office. It’s built-in, though, so it’s—’ Harry broke off and Gwen heard a muffled struggle. Harry came back on the line slightly out of breath. ‘He’s going to rupture something.’
Gwen got to the firm in time to see Elaine Laing putting on her coat in the reception area.
‘I’ve sent Melissa home and I advise you to do the same. This is a family matter.’
‘Where are you going?’ Gwen said.
Elaine coloured slightly. ‘There’s no reasoning with him right now. It’s best to just let him cool off.’
A crash sounded and Harry’s face appeared in the doorway. ‘Gwen! Hi-ya. Come and join the party.’
Elaine leaned in close, startling Gwen. ‘If you breathe a word of this—’ she began.
Gwen faced her. ‘If you took the time to get to know me, you’d know how insulting that was. I’m just like my great-aunt and I’ll take your secrets to the grave.’
Elaine took a step back as if Gwen had slapped her. ‘You can’t talk to me like—’
Gwen ignored her and went into Cam’s office.
Cam was wearing a black T-shirt and smart trousers. His dark blue shirt and suit jacket were laid neatly over the back of his chair. He was unscrewing the hinges from a cabinet hidden amongst the wood panelling.
‘Hello,’ Gwen said. ‘Have you been to bed yet?’
Cam glanced over his shoulder, then began pulling at the door. ‘He died in his office, you know. I found him in his office. At his fucking desk.’
‘I heard.’ Gwen glanced at Harry, who made a face.
‘My dad was buried with his whisky glass in one hand.’ Cam heaved and the door popped free. ‘That’s what I used to say. It was a joke, but it wasn’t very funny. I can’t picture him without it. Sitting here, behind this desk, that bloody glass in his hand.’
‘All right, mate,’ Harry said. ‘You want to put the door down?’
Cam looked at the piece of wood in his hand as if surprised to find it there. ‘I just thought it was time for a change.’
‘Have you slept yet?’ Cam had found his grandfather just before midnight. He must’ve been up for over thirty-six hours and it showed.
‘Too much to do,’ Cam said. ‘Busy.’
‘Melissa called all your clients,’ Harry said. ‘You should go home and get some rest.’
‘Can’t.’ Cam waved the cabinet door for emphasis. ‘We’re in trouble, you know. Got to show a united front. Got to show that Laing and Sons is strong and that we can provide a continued, unbroken service. Any sign of weakness not allowed. You know how it is.’
‘Come back to mine,’ Gwen said. ‘I’ll make you some food and you can take a nap. You can come back to work later, if you want.’
Cam turned his bloodshot eyes onto Gwen and seemed to see her properly for the first time.
She smiled encouragingly, gently. ‘Come and rest. Regain your strength and you can get straight back to whatever it is you’re doing.’
‘I’m taking this out.’ Cam gestured to the bottles and glasses arranged on shelves. ‘Gotta move with the times. Be a dynamic, forward-thinking firm.’ A look of anguish crossed his face.
‘Absolutely.’ Gwen nodded. ‘Tell me about it on the way, okay?’
Harry was parked right outside in an unmarked car. He drove them to End House, Cam staring and silent.
Later, after Gwen had convinced Cam to eat some buttered toast and drink a mug of tea, he asked if he could stay.
‘Of course.’
‘This is so stupid,’ he said finally. ‘I wasn’t like this when my dad died.’ Gwen turned her back while he shed some clothes and got into bed.
Gwen sat on the edge of the bed. ‘What was your dad like? You never talk about him.’
‘When he died I was so angry.’ Cam closed his eyes. ‘So fucking angry. I don’t even remember feeling sad. That’s not good, is it? That’s not right.’
‘I don’t—’
‘I mean, I was sad, but it was just overlaid with all the other stuff. I kne
w that it was the end of my life. Him dying.’ Cam gave a short laugh. ‘That sounds a bit dramatic, but I knew that was it. No more choices. No more music. No more London.’
‘Is that when you decided to study law?’
‘Decided isn’t the word.’ Cam gave her a wry smile. ‘That’s when I felt the heavy sword of family obligation fall squarely on my head. I knew I had to take up Dad’s place. I’d always known it would happen eventually, but I thought I’d have more time or that something would happen to change things. I don’t know.’
‘It’s understandable that you were angry. You felt trapped.’
Cam looked at her. ‘I was trapped. And I hated him for it.’
Gwen reached for his hand, squeezed tightly. She knew how it felt to inherit stuff you didn’t ask for or want. She knew that trapped feeling all too well. ‘You should be proud of yourself. You stepped up and looked after your family. And if you hate it now, perhaps…’
Cam blinked. ‘Thank you for this,’ he said. He ran his hand over his face and looked at his wet hand with surprise. ‘I don’t know why I’m crying. I didn’t even like my grandfather very much. And he was so old. It’s not exactly a tragedy.’
‘I don’t think that’s how grief works.’
‘But I shouldn’t be grieving at all, that’s my point.’
Gwen shrugged. ‘That’s emotion for you, refuses to follow logic.’
Cam blew his nose, then laid his head back on the pillow. ‘I’m actually really tired. Is it okay if I go to sleep? Just a quick nap.’
‘Of course.’ Gwen stood up to leave.
‘Will you stay with me? Lie down here.’ He lifted the quilt and patted the mattress next to him. ‘I promise to keep my hands to myself.’ A faint smile, the ghost of the normal Cam.
‘Sure.’ Gwen took off her cardigan and jeans and got into the bed. She lay in the half-dark and listened to Cam’s breathing. Just when she thought he’d gone off, he rolled over on his side, facing her. ‘I don’t know what my dad was like. I didn’t really know him.’
Gwen didn’t know what to say to that. Sorry? ‘Go to sleep; you’ll feel better tomorrow.’
Gwen turned on her side and, a moment later, felt Cam’s arm across her body.
Cam was his usual capable self in the morning. Over the next couple of days, he kept Gwen up to date with the ongoing nightmare of funeral arrangements and work and his mother’s unceasing devotion to outward appearances. He arrived at End House late every night, worn out from soothing concerned clients and organising a hundred tiny details. ‘Thank God you’re here,’ he said into her hair as they lay together. She knew that it was vaguely inappropriate, but a wild bubble of happiness accompanied her every move. She knew that they’d turned a corner. Cam had come to her for comfort. That had to mean something.
Gwen pushed the hair from out of her eyes and leaned over the baking dish once again. She felt like she’d been filling cannelloni for ever. The first three batches had mysteriously burned, while remaining uncooked on the inside. This one, the fourth attempt, was going to cook perfectly. Gwen didn’t care if she had to open the oven every two minutes; they were not going to burn. She eyeballed the cannelloni and told them sternly, ‘Not on my watch. Not again.’
‘Knock knock.’ Cam pushed open the door. ‘Is this a bad time?’
‘Not at all.’ Gwen tried not to show how pleased she was to see him. The last thing Cam needed was more pressure in his life. ‘Did you hear me talking to the cannelloni?’
‘Little bit.’
Gwen hoped the fact that she was already flushed from cooking would hide her embarrassment. ‘Come on in.’
Cam unlaced his boots before stepping out of them. He wrinkled his nose as the smell of burnt pasta hit.
‘I know, I know.’ She frowned. ‘Nothing is coming out right any more. I used to be such a good cook.’ I think my oven has been hexed.
‘What’s going on?’
Gwen looked away. ‘I’m just distracted.’ Like she could tell Cam about phantasms and cursed appliances. He’d have her sectioned.
‘Nothing to do with your weird witchy powers, then?’
‘The weird powers that you don’t believe in?’
‘The very same.’
Gwen paused. ‘No.’
‘You’re lying,’ Cam said mildly. He crossed the room, stepping over Cat until he was very close to Gwen. She tried to take a step back, but felt the counter edge on her back.
‘Gwen Harper. Tell me what is going on.’ He ducked his head to look into her eyes. ‘Please?’
It was the please that did it. Gwen side-stepped neatly away. ‘I need to get back to my cannelloni.’ She wasn’t going to bring up Lily Thomas or Iris’s journals or the people that still kept turning up at her back door asking for help she couldn’t give or any of it. She wasn’t going to be another burden, another problem for Cam to solve. His face was lined with fatigue and worry and grief. She put her hand out and touched his cheek. ‘Was there something you needed?’
Cam shot out an arm and grabbed Gwen around the waist. ‘You are leaving me with no choice.’
Gwen started to speak, but found herself unable to finish. Cam’s lips were soft upon hers and her thought processes were momentarily derailed. She wanted, more than anything, to sink into him. The solid, reassuring, wonderful-smelling bulk of him. Instead, she pulled herself together and pulled away. Cam’s arms tightened around her, hauling her back. He kissed her again.
‘No,’ she said. ‘I need to finish the pasta.’
‘Sod the pasta.’
Gwen laughed and kissed him back.
‘So, here’s what’s going to happen.’ Cam tightened his arms around her. ‘We’re going to go upstairs and get naked and horizontal and very, very happy.’
Gwen felt the blush increase in intensity. In fact, she thought, her head was going to catch on fire any second.
‘And, after that, when I’ve got you nice and relaxed, you’re going to talk to me. You’re going to tell me what is going on and I’m going to help you.’
Gwen opened her mouth to speak, realised she had no idea what to say, and closed it again.
Later, Gwen snuggled in close to Cam, breathing in the smell of him and enjoying the sensation as he stroked her hair.
‘Shouldn’t we have “the talk”?’
‘I already know about the birds and bees.’ She heard the smile in his voice.
‘Don’t I know it,’ Gwen said, snuggling closer. ‘No. The one about our exes. Past relationships.’
‘No thanks.’
She lifted her head to look at him. ‘I don’t mean we have to have a blow-by-blow account.’
‘Well, that’s a relief,’ Cam said, cocking an eyebrow.
Gwen bit him gently. ‘I’m serious. Don’t you think we should talk about the important events from the last thirteen years? The people who have been important to us.’
‘No.’
‘Really?’ She struggled to a sitting position.
‘I will answer any questions you have about my past loves…’
Gwen winced on the word ‘loves’.
‘But I have no desire to know about yours.’
‘Oh.’ Gwen tried not to be offended. ‘Aren’t you even a tiny bit curious?’
‘No.’ He paused. ‘That’s not entirely true. But here’s the thing. I intellectually accept that we have been apart for a long time and that you will have had relationships with other men. I accept that as a logical fact. I don’t need details.’
Gwen was quiet, marvelling at his self-control. His self-possession. It was scary.
‘I will say this, though.’ Cam reached up and cupped her cheek with his palm. ‘I’ve been living my life, thinking I’m reasonably happy and that this is as good as it gets, but now you’re back I realise how wrong I was. It was a pale imitation of happiness. I haven’t felt like this about anybody or anything else. Ever.’
‘Oh.’
‘Does that cover it?’
Gwen nodded, unable to speak.
‘Good.’ He patted the mattress. ‘Now come here.’
Much later, after Gwen had dozed off and woken up and found Cam’s arms still tightly wrapped around her and he’d moved and they’d begun all over again, Gwen stretched and climbed out of bed.
‘Don’t go.’ Cam reached for her.
‘I won’t be long,’ Gwen said. ‘I really have to finish that cannelloni. If you’re very good, I’ll bring you a cup of tea in bed.’
Cam lay back. ‘Okay. I should probably rehydrate after all that exercise.’
‘Exactly.’
She felt him watching her as she pulled on her underwear. Her bra had made it all the way underneath the window and her socks were on top of the dressing table. Good throwing arm.
‘So, what’s the pasta-obsession, anyway?’ Cam said.
Gwen pulled her T-shirt over her head. ‘It’s for the wake. For your granddad. I know your mum will probably pay for outside catering, but it wouldn’t feel right to go empty-handed.’ She did up her jeans. ‘You’ll have to tell me what sort of flowers to order, too. Unless he wanted donations to charity.’ Cam’s face had gone weirdly frozen. ‘What?’
‘The funeral was today.’
‘Oh.’ For a moment, Gwen felt cold, too. Then the numbness gave way to a single, crystal-clear thought: he still won’t ask me to be part of his world.
Cam was struggling out of bed, fighting with the quilt. ‘I didn’t mention it because I didn’t think you’d want to come.’
‘Right,’ Gwen said. She blinked. ‘Right.’ The man was bereaved. This was not the time to pick a fight.
He grabbed his shirt and began putting it on. His startled look settled into one of certainty. ‘I didn’t want you to feel obliged.’
That did it. ‘Bollocks,’ Gwen said. ‘You didn’t invite me because you’re embarrassed to be seen with me. I don’t belong.’ I’ve never belonged.
‘For Christ’s sake. It was a funeral, not a party.’ Cam was being defensive.
‘Stop doing your Master of the Universe look,’ Gwen snapped. ‘Can’t you just say “sorry” like a normal human being? You don’t have to be right all the time.’
The Language of Spells Page 26