Page 51 of A Wonderland Wish on Ever After Street
I burst out laughing so hard that it shakes him too, and then I scrunch my fingers in his hair by way of apology and tuck it back gently, enjoying the way his eyes slip closed again and he shifts to get more comfortable.
‘You didn’t answer my question,’ he murmurs after a few minutes.
It’s the perfect opportunity to bring up the squirrel repellent. I wasn’t going to, but he’s so relaxed that his body is practically a blue-haired puddle, and if there’s ever a moment to get the truth out of him, this is it.
The more I try to think of a way into the conversation, the harder it seems. ‘Do you have a lot of trouble with squirrels?’ I eventually blurt out. Great work, Cleo. Totally subtle. He’s going to know instantly that I’ve been through his bag.
‘Squirrels?’ He sounds thoroughly confused. ‘I thought I was awake, but this is clearly some bizarre fever dream. As random questions go, that really is quite random.’
I reply by raising an eyebrow. His eyes flick up to my face and then he sighs. ‘I can honestly say I’ve never had trouble with a squirrel in my life. Does that answer your very strange question?’
He doesn’t seem to have made any connection between my question and the bottle in his bag, and it’s not the right time to push it. ‘I guess so.’
‘Where did that come from?’ he asks after a while in silence.
‘I don’t know. Thinking about you, I guess, and Tabby, and the… gremlins.’
‘You think the gremlins are squirrels? Because I was thinking actual gremlins, you know, the “don’t get them wet, don’t feed them after midnight” type… Squirrels are clever, but I’m not sure they’ve got the dexterity or presence of mind to add salt to muffins or hot sauce to brownies…’
Does he really not get it? Is his mind so fevered that hehasn’tput two and two together as to why I’m asking about squirrels?
‘You never told me what she said when you confronted her…’ His leading tone suggests he’s waiting for me to fill in an answer.
‘She denied it,’ I say eventually. His eyes are still closed and my finger pads skim his forehead where I’m brushing his hair back, debating whether to tell him the rest or not. ‘She actually suggested it was you.’
His dark eyes fly open and his body stiffens. ‘Of course she did. And let me guess, you believed her.’
‘No. Of course I didn’t believe her.’ It’s a lie and we both know it. The bottle of squirrel repellent floats unbidden into my mind, but something doesn’t sit right about it, and I realise it hasn’t changed anything. I still don’t believe he could be responsible for the sabotage.
His head has shifted on my thigh and I can sense his eyes looking up at me, and it feels like he can read every thought, so I keep letting my fingers stroke through his hair.
‘I don’t think you’d be doing that if you did,’ he says eventually and then sighs too. ‘It wasn’t me, Cleo. Of course it wasn’t. And I’m not going to defend myself. I spend so much of my life defending my choices, and you make me feel like I don’t need to, and I’m not going to do it with you. You either believe me or you don’t. Either way is fine.’ He sounds beyond exhausted and weary, like he knew this was coming. ‘You know what they say – you can lead a horse to water but you can’t teach it to fish.’
‘Make it drink!’
‘Ah, no, but you can make it thirsty. If it needs to be led to water, it’s probably already a bit on the parched side.’ His face screws up like he’s given this someserious thought.
‘I’m not sure if you’re one of the greatest philosophers of our time or just a complete nuthatch.’
‘Can’t I be both?’
I was trying to suppress my giggles, but this makes a full laugh burst out, and I contort myself until I can lean down and kiss his forehead. ‘Yes, you can.’
Long moments pass in which I’m grateful for the darkness because he can’t see how red my cheeks have gone, although his head is still on my thigh, and I’m so embarrassed that even my thighs are blushing. Why did I do that? What possessed me to kiss his forehead like that? It’s a protective, motherly instinct because he’s not well, I tell myself, even though my maternal instincts are usually similar to that of an iguana.
‘We didn’t lock the back door, you know.’
‘What, now?’ I say, because no matter how confused I am by the random observation, I’m glad of the subject change. ‘I can run down and do it…’
‘No. Last Monday. I thought I’d locked it when we went to the shopkeepers’ meeting, but when I went out of it later, it was open. Anyone could have come in while we were outside with everyone else.’
‘And Tabbywassuspiciously early that day.’ I realise what he’s saying. On the day thatsomethingwas done to those brownies, Tabbycouldhave come in and done it without us knowing. And so could anyone else, for that matter. It doesn’t narrow it down, but surely it’s more likely than Bram being involved, because we were together at the Ever After Street meeting that whole time.
‘She was telling me about your break-up,’ I say casually when silence has settled over us again. ‘About how close she was to your family…’
‘Yeah, she was, but…’ He pushes out a long breath. ‘What am I supposed to do – invite my ex for Christmas because my sister got onwith her? Have her round for Sunday lunches so my family can have a catch-up? Break-ups don’t work like that. What if there was someone else?’
My heart is suddenly thundering in my chest and it feels like my whole body is pounding. There’s no way he can’t feel it too. ‘Isthere someone else?’
