Page 11 of Unravelling: Aria & Crispin
Aria turned to face her, caught off guard. "I...sure," she said after a beat. "Of course."
Ophelia smiled. "Bring that rogue of yours, too."
"There is no rogue," Aria repeated.
Chapter 9
Aria
It was nearly five o'clock. Aria was on her knees, scrubbing the corner of the shower cubicle, earbuds in, lost in the steady rhythm of bleach, water, and repetition. The pungent tang of disinfectant stung her nose, and flecks of foam clung to the cuff of her yellow rubber gloves. She winced as she dug into the grout, scrubbing away at the black mould that had started to claim the edges like ivy. It was a constant battle, and most of the time, the mould won.
The vibration of her phone startled her-a soft buzz against the small of her back where it was tucked into her waistband. She yanked off one glove and reached for it. The screen lit up with a name that instantly made her smile.
Lule.
Aria tapped to answer. "Hey."
"Oi! Are you still scrubbing bathrooms like Cinderella?" came her sister's voice, half-laughing, half-exasperated. "I'm on the train. They called me to cover an extra shift because Laurie has a migraine…again.Anyway,should beat you home if the Bakerloo behaves. I'll get dinner sorted."
Aria chuckled, shifting to sit on her heels. "You don't have to-"
"Too late," Lule interrupted with her usual exuberance. "Already planning it. And I want you to just walk in and put your feet up for once."
The thought made something warm curl in Aria's chest. "You're spoiling me."
"You deserve it."
There was static, then the rush of announcements over the tube speakers. Lule muttered a curse at someone bumping into her, then added before hanging up, "Love you. And drink some water, for fuck's sake, or your will be peeing Mountain Dew like usual. You get weird and forgetful when you're cleaning."
Aria smiled to herself after the line went dead. That was Lule. A hurricane of sarcasm, beauty, and fierce loyalty.
With a sigh, Aria went back to the stubborn mould. Her mind wandered, as it always did when cleaning. She remembered the cramped one-bedroom council flat they used to share, back when Lule was still in sixth form and Aria had already dropped out to work full-time. Two jobs: morning shifts at the Holiday Inn, and evenings waitressing at The King's Head. She used to sew dresses for Lule from scraps of old fabric, staying up late hemming and adjusting them by hand. She wanted Lule to have everything.
She smiled at the memory of Lule bursting into their tiny kitchen with her Oxford acceptance letter, waving it like a flag. Aria had cried in private-really cried for the first time in years-happy tears for a child whom she had brought up like her own daughter.
Lost in her own world, the task was over before she knew it. The bathroom gleamed. Aria stripped off her gloves and packed away her cleaning supplies, wiping her damp forehead with the back of her wrist. She went down the stairs, taking them two at a time, and made her way to the kitchen. She could hear the faint hum of conversation as Ophelia talked to someone over the phone. As she wiped down the kitchen countertops one last time, she raised her voice slightly, calling through the hallway, "I've kept the leftover soup in the fridge. Just reheat it if you feel hungry later!"
There was a pause, then the sound of soft, squishing slippers approaching. Ophelia appeared in the doorway, phone in hand, the screen now black. She smiled faintly as she tucked it away in her cardigan pocket.
"I was just talking to Caroline's daughter; Caroline Davies, from the old days. She used to have a tenure at Oxford with me. Long gone now. Her grandson is my godson. Handsome chap. Terribly well-spoken, and very intelligent. I may just set you two up," she added with a teasing lilt.
Aria chuckled, slinging her tote over her shoulder. "You're matchmaking now?"
Ophelia raised a brow. "I don't see why not. You deserve someone decent, Aria. I shall introduce you at the party on Sunday. It's formal, not just a social thing."
"Oh," Aria said, caught off guard. "I thought it was just a get-together..."
Ophelia stepped closer, her expression serious. "It's more than that. I own shares in one of those big companies, you know. They're welcoming someone new in, someone important. There'll be eyes, cameras, and all sorts of important people. I thought I should mention it now so you don't feel caught off-guard later."
There was something in her tone, an expectant quality, an almost guarded tone. She took Aria's hand gently, her fingers warm and dry.
For a moment, she seemed to search for the right words, then sighed. "I have something for you."
She reached into her cardigan pocket and pulled out an ornate brown Moroccan leather box, its age only adding to its elegance, old but lovingly preserved. She pressed it into Aria's hand before Aria could object.
"Ophelia..."
"Just open it. It won't bite."
