Page 11 of A Very Happy Easter

“At least it wasn’t a lake. You go to many charity shindigs?”

I nodded. “Just one of the joys that come with being part of the Renner family. Honestly, it’s like I have two jobs.”

“Your charity job and your party job?”

“Don’t worry, I don’t expect sympathy. I realise how very privileged I am. But there are days when I wish I could share a house with three other girls, work in a supermarket, and eat dinner at McDonald’s.”

“I think working in a supermarket is probably less fun than playing golf.”

“And what about McDonald’s, huh? Is that overrated too?”

“Guilty pleasure. But roommates are definitely overrated.”

“Then why do you have one?”

“Because living in a two-bedroom flat works out cheaper per person than renting a studio apartment. Plus there’s a gym in the building, and I don’t have to sleep in my kitchen.”

“Does Blackwood have Living Wage accreditation? Because if they do and they’re paying less than that, there are steps you can take.”

“Don’t get me wrong, the salary’s above average. But rent in London is extortionate, and someday, I’d like to save enough of a deposit to buy my own place.”

“I see.” Not for the first time, I felt guilty for living where I did. Yes, I’d considered downsizing, but the house was Eisen’s property too, plus it held so many memories of my childhood. Ownership was tied up in a family trust. As for the rest of my money, Papa had warned me not to burn through the principal. Structured as they were, my investments would provide income for me and funding for Vocare for a long time to come. “Then I guess all those fun-roommate sorority movies lied.”

Heath held out a fist for me to bump. “So did the war movies.”

This strange camaraderie was unexpected but not unpleasant. Heath had touched me once or twice, but not in a creepy or overly familiar way. We seemed to be in some hitherto unknown form of friendship, and I couldn’t say I hated it. I’d first felt it at the Halloween party last year, an intangible connection that made me keep my clutch in my left hand rather than swapping it to my right—a signal for Salma, Bex, or Eisen to rescue me from whatever conversation I’d become embroiled in.

But this…this was surprisingly okay.

Obviously, my primary goal tonight was to ensure Jazzi was safe, but I was also proud of myself for coming. For braving a situation that I’d usually avoid. For months after the rape, I’d tried to block it out, and then I’d taken the “I won’t let it beat me” approach. I’d dated. Finished my A-levels. Even slept with a man. Who was a perfectly pleasant man, but afterwards, I’d felt so sick that I’d climbed out of bed, got dressed, and left without another word. Salma had sent the “it’s not you, it’s me” text. The next day, I had my first panic attack when I tried to go outside, and I’d had to switch to online study to finish my education. A degree in psychology, would you believe? I understood the theory, learned all about delayed-onset PTSD, but somehow, when it was me on the therapist’s couch, my studies flew out the window. The anxiety attacks crept up on me like the morning mist, but the panic attacks? Boom. I did fight back in one way—I’d bankrupted the man who raped me in civil court, which was something, at least. Now he was in prison for assaulting another woman, a tragedy that could have been prevented if only the police hadn’t believed his “she consented” lies.

That battle had cost me dearly in so many ways, but I’d won.

I’d fucking won.

Once again, the memory sent red-hot anger needling through me, and Heath glanced at my clenched fists.

“It’ll be okay, Edie.”

It wouldn’t, but he’d never understand just how deep the trauma ran.

Four

“Don’t make me stay in the car. Please, don’t make me stay in the car.”

“Edie, I can do this much better alone.”

“But it’s dark,” I said in a small voice, and hell, I sounded pathetic. But I hated the dark. That was where Neil Short had raped me and sodomised me. Even now, I slept with a nightlight.

Heath sighed. “Fine. But you stick right by my side, okay? We’re just going to walk past the house, front and back.”

“Back? How do we get to the back?”

“There’s a public footpath that runs behind.”

Heath tucked his suit jacket around my shoulders before we set off. Although there was a chill in the air, my back was damp with sweat.

“I’m not cold,” I whispered.