Page 26 of (Not So) Mad About You

“You’re being rude,” Charles said to Alli. “You do not insult a person’s children. And if you can’t be nice and try to be a part of the group, then you need to take yourself away and give the rest of us some peace.”

Alli stared at him for a second, then grinned. “Nicely done. Iwouldn’t have thought that you had it in you to say something like that.”

“You don’t know any of us,” Charles pointed out. “Just like we don’t know you. You obviously don’t want to be here, but then I don’t think most of us do.” He looked around the room. “How about we go and find ourselves something productive to do? I think there were board games in the dining room. Or we could make biscuits?”

There was a murmur of appreciation at the word biscuits, and the others started to stir themselves and leave the room.

“Ignore Charles,” Izzy said, sliding down from the windowsill where she’d been sitting. “Children are a sore point with him.” She looked around to make sure they were alone. “He’s in the middle of a divorce and his wife has started throwing accusations around. He’s here by court order or else he won’t be able to see his kids again. Not that he’s done anything to them. Out of all of us, he really doesn’t deserve to be here.”

Alli didn’t say anything. She wasn’t a monster, even she could see that someone lying about you would make you angry, sad, hopeless even. Darren had lied about her, about her anger problem, had made it seem like there was something wrong with her in front of people that were important to her. She imagined Charles was feeling much the same way as she was right now.

“You coming to make biscuits, then?” Izzy asked.

“Not now,” said Alli.

EACH MINUTE SEEMED to take hours to pass. She’d explored all the ground-floor rooms of St. Hilda’s and found nothing of interest. What she really needed was to be back at her desk. She tried not to think about the emails piling up in her inbox.

Eventually, she was lured by the smell of baking to the kitchen. By the sounds of it, the others were having fun.

She leaned in the doorway and watched. Maybe if she could find pleasure in such small, stupid things, then she wouldn’t beso bored.

Not that bored was going to be a problem for much longer.

She’d spent a full day here. Soon, Bea was going to get her phone back, and then she’d call Darren, apologize profusely, and be allowed to leave. He just wanted her to learn a lesson, that was all.

Speaking of Bea, she was fully entrenched in the baking process, laughing with Marcus as he crushed an egg with one hand and had to pick out shell fragments with the other. All the others were busy. Even quiet Leslie was mixing a bowl, a look of calm contentment on her face.

Bea was leaning over now, her dark hair brushing her shoulders, her dark eyes half closed as she sampled one of the newly baked cookies that Izzy was offering her.

It was as she was leaning back up again that she noticed Alli. Bea wiped her hands on a towel and picked up a biscuit.

“Have one,” she said, walking over to Alli.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“There’s no need to be a grumpy pants about it,” said Bea, smiling. “Go on, they’re good.”

“Not interested,” Alli said. Bea was close to her and she smelled like baking. It was a weirdly comforting smell. “Did you get my phone?”

Bea lowered the cookie. “Not yet. I’m working on it.”

“Are you really? Because it looks to me like you’re making biscuits.”

Bea looked at her and Alli noticed that there was a tiny scar on her hairline, a bright white against the peachiness of her skin. For an instant, she truly thought about reaching out to touch it.

“I’m working on it, okay? I can’t go sneaking around in a striped burglar shirt and a mask all day, can I?” Bea said.

Alli smirked. “I suppose not.”

“Well then, just leave me to it.”

“Fine. Don’t leave it too long.”

“I won’t,” Bea said.

She was getting cross, Alli could see it, could see the faint flushof pink on her cheeks and something about it made her want to push harder, want to see Bea lose her cool. She was about to do it, about to say something caustic and cutting. Then Bea thrust the biscuit at her.

“Take this, don’t be a spoilsport.”

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