Page 72 of Neighbor from Hell
Annabel’s behind the counter, her auburn curls bouncing as she bags a customer’s groceries, her laugh bright, familiar, until she sees me. Her smile fades suddenly. Her green eyes are wide as she hurries over, her apron flapping.
“Lauren, oh my God, what’s wrong?” she asks in a hushed whisper.
“There was a fire,” I manage, my voice cracking, “at my cottage. It’s gone, Annabel. It’s all ashes. I don’t have anywhere to go.” The words spill out, raw and broken.
Her face crumples, her shock mirroring my own.
“Oh, love, you can come stay with me,” she says immediately and pulls me into a hug, her arms warm, her apron rough against my cheek. “Don’t worry about a thing. My house isn’t far—you can go there now, take a shower, and eat something. You can stay as long as you need, figure out what you want to do about the cottage.” She steps back and fishes her house keys out of her pocket and presses them into my hand.
“I’m stuck here till my shift ends, but go. Number 21 at the bottom of this street. Rest and wait for me. I’ll bring a nice dinner for us.”
“Oh, Annabel. Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“It’s nothing, love. I’m so sorry about what’s happened to your cottage.”
I nod, tears welling again, because her warmth, her generosity, is more than I expected, more than I feel I deserve, and it breaks me, the kindness cutting through my numbness.
“Thank you again,” I whisper, my voice shaking.
“Everything’s gonna be okay,” she says quickly before she returns to her post.
I want to believe her, want to cling to this lifeline, but I’m still haunted by Hugh’s betrayal. I wipe my eyes and follow Annabel’s directions. I walk the short distance to her house, the key biting into my palm.
Hers is a small starter house. The kitchen and living room share a cramped floor, a narrow bedroom tucked in the corner, its walls papered with faded florals, its windows letting in soft, gray light, but right now, it’s heaven. Even the clutter—books stacked on the coffee table, the assortment of blankets draped over the sofa, dishes in the sink— is reassuring. It’s warm, lived-in, a stark contrast to the manor’s cold grandeur, to the cottage’s smoldering ruins.
I think I prefer it, this simplicity, because it’s safe, because it’s not Hugh, not his lies, not the carnage of my dreams turned to ash. Right now I’m angry, so angry, my chest burns with hatred for him, for his charm, his kisses, his whispered promises that I was stupid enough to believe.
How could I not see it? Even after I was warned. And twice at that. How could he risk my life though? It is what pisses me off the most. How could he risk my life, just for a piece of land?Mostly, I’m furious with myself because I let him in, let him seduce me, and now I’m paying for it. I’ve lost everything.
I head to the bathroom, the tiles cold under my feet, and strip off my clothes. I try to avoid looking at myself in the mirror, but ultimately, I give in. My reflection in the mirror is one of a stranger—pale, hollow-eyed, filthy, smudged with grief.
The shower is lovely and hot, and it quickly washes away the smoke and soot.
Afterwards, I find a can of beans in the kitchen and toast some bread to eat it with. It’s comforting enough, but once I’m finished, I’m nearly inconsolable once again. I do the dishes sitting in the sink, tidy up the kitchen, and sink onto the sofa, a lumpy green thing with a frayed throw. I close my eyes and try to take a nap.
But my mind won’t rest. I don’t even have my phone. It was burnt in the fire so I can't even call Sandy. I’m trapped, stuck here until Annabel returns, with nothing but my thoughts, my anger, my loss.
When Annabel comes back, her face tired but warm, she brings a loaf of fresh bread, cheese, sausages and meat. We cook together and eat at the tiny kitchen table.
“What are you going to do, Lauren?” Her voice is gentle and careful.
I shake my head. I have no idea, no plan, no strength left. “I don’t know,” I say, my voice small and sad. “But I’ll figure something out soon. Can I borrow some money until I can call my bank and sort a card out for me?”
“Of course,” she says instantly. “As long as I can afford it, you can have it.”
“Thank you, Annabel.”
“I know we’ve only been friends for a while, but please stay here as long as you need to recover and re-group.
I am immensely touched once again by her kindness. “I don’t know what I would have done today without you,” I say sincerely, and she pulls me into a tight hug.
Chapter
Fifty
HUGH
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uxk7aSCLj4g
