Page 25 of The Lucky Winners
I freeze, my hand hovering over the sandwiches. It’s a glimpse of what people around here really think. My appetite disappears and I turn to Dev, quietly relaying what I just heard.
He laughs, craning his neck to look for them. ‘They’re just jealous, Merri. Let them gossip.’ He grabs our food and heads to the counter, smiling. I wish I could brush it off as easily, but their words have already burrowed underneath my skin, like ticks.
It’s late afternoon when we arrive at Lakeview House. The sun is still high, casting everything in golden light. It’s perfect and it feels like I’m seeing it for the first time. It’s a view you might never get tired of.
We drive slowly up the long track that winds through the trees before it opens to the front of the house. You can’t see the expansive terrace that overlooks the river from here. This is my favourite view. Dev’s practically skipping as we get out of the car.
‘Our new home!’ he says, throwing his arms wide. ‘We’ve made it, Merri! We’re really here!’
The house looms large and beautiful in front of us, and for the briefest of moments, I let myself imagine it – a new life here, far from everything. Thankfully, it’s quieter without the DreamKey crew milling around. Maybe too quiet. But I don’t miss their intrusive photographer zooming in on our every expression.
The peace doesn’t last long. Two hours after we arrive, the removals team pull up and it takes a good hour to get everything inside. We’ve marked up all the boxes, but because we don’t know the interior of the house well enough yet, aside from the living room and the master bedroom, we ask them to leave most of our belongings in the cavernous hallway.
Later, Dev gets a beer out of the fridge, I pour a small glass of white wine, and we sit on the terrace.
Dev talks animatedly about the future while I angle my gaze away from the water and across the hills. His eyes are bright with optimism and his hands are flying around as they tend to do when he’s excited. I’ve noticed his thinking has been so much bigger lately, no longer feeling hemmed in. No more debt to limit his brainstorming.
‘We’ve got this house now and it’s a real foundation for us to build on,’ he says. ‘What if we used it as a base to launch something? A small business – maybe a homewares and interiors line, or even something like a studio space? You’ve gotsuch a great eye for design, and I could handle the logistics. We’d make a good team.’
The energy in his voice is catching, tugging at something hopeful inside me.
He grins, already half lost in the dream. ‘We could turn one of the spare rooms into an office. Or a showroom. Nothing too big at first – just a website, a few pieces. Maybe some local networking. We could make it work. What do you think?’
‘It sounds exciting,’ I agree, hoping he might stop talking about it soon. ‘We should jot down some ideas.’
His voice softens. ‘It’s not just work, either. I want us to have a life. Real time together. I was thinking we could even do proper date nights – once a week, no matter what. Phones away, just you and me. Maybe even go out with friends once a month.’
My stomach turns as a breeze carries the scent of the water, fresh and slightly garlicky from the algae. The memories stir, dark and unwelcome. I close my eyes, trying to push them back.
‘Everything OK?’ I hear Dev ask, his voice softer.
I open my eyes. ‘Yeah. It’s a lot to take in. Like, we were there and now we’re here, you know?’
He grins and nods his agreement, but I know he doesn’t get it. Not really.
I stare out beyond the terrace where the light stretches long fingers across the hillside and down towards the water. It’s a hollow kind of space, big enough for someone to stand in. To watch from the cover of trees and bushes.
I turn to look behind me. From out here, the windows of the house are transformed into mirrors, my own face staring back at me – framed and exposed.
But from down there – from the vantage of the hillside – the bright glow from inside must illuminate the house like a beacon once darkness falls.
An itch starts at the base of my skull. I tell myself it’s fine, that no one is out there to see inside.
The thought lingers, though. Nipping at the edges of my mind.
17
The Watcher
He sits at the rickety kitchen table, the photographs spread out before him. His pulse is finally settling, though a low hum of energy still thrums in his veins, leaving his fingers twitchy and his jaw clenched.
Over the past couple of weeks, he’s found so much stuff online using the library computers. Spent a small fortune at the desk printing off the photographs taken at the new house in Windermere. More images of her smiling, looking so happy. He’s read the article on the DreamKey website so many times he’s memorized bits of it, picking over every word.
He still can’t quite believe that, after all this time, Janey has slipped back into his world, like oil seeping under a closed door – silent and slow. Impossible to ignore.
His gaze darts to the small patch of mildew creeping up the wall near the fridge. The damp smell lingers, settling into his clothes, his skin. Irritating his chest. Everything’s falling apart around him, yet she’s up there in some shiny glass house, living the dream life, swanning about with hernew man.
His stomach clenches as something dark threads hot and heavy around his ribcage. Awakened from a long sleep.
