Page 20 of Happily Ever After
‘I just meant, you’re cold and wet. You should get in and dried off before – well, before your clothing disintegrates.’ Jay nodded towards my chest, where the midriff of my top had rolled up when I’d sat down and my boobs were now only covered by a strip of wet fabric.
I sniffed again. ‘I’ll just wait for the rain to ease off.’
We sat in silence for a while. After a few minutes, Jay took off the jumper he was wearing and draped it over my shoulders, without saying a word. We sat a bit more. Trickles of water began to slide from the entrance down to where we were crouched, like little muddy tongues trying to lick us.
‘It’s not easing off,’ Jay observed at last. ‘Are you going to stay here all night?’
‘Are you?’
‘You just asking me the same question doesn’t count as an answer, you know.’ He sounded amused. ‘I only live over there, in the estate village. You’ve got to get all the way back to the house. Look, the storm seems to have passed over, it’s just the rain now. If you run really quickly you can get back inside and into a shower or something.’
‘Are you trying to get rid of me?’ I had no idea why, but the presence of Jay in this little stone building was reassuring. As though he represented a normality that everything else about tonight was severely lacking.
‘Not really, but I’m going to head home to bed and I don’t really want to leave you here. You might die of hypothermia and I’m running out of garden to bury the bodies in.’
‘Shut up,’ I said mildly.
‘Come on then.’ A hand closed around my wrist and pulled me to my feet, which slithered slightly on the muddy channel of a floor. ‘Get on inside and out of those wet… whatever they are.’
‘All right, Dad.’
Now he grinned. ‘And put my jumper on. No daughter of mine is going to be wandering around with, well, it’s noticeable that you’re cold, put it that way.’
I smiled back, pulled his jumper over my head and, with the extra layer of reinforcement against the elements, I made a dash for the kitchen door, which stood slightly open in the courtyard wall.
I turned to look back, just once. Jay was still standing in the shelter of the icehouse, watching me go and I wondered again what he had been doing out in the storm. But then I thought of Lady Tanith’s twenty-four-hour work ethic and maybe there were jobs that could only be done at night?
I pattered soggily back up to my room, stripped off my soaking pyjamas and, snuggled up to the furry warmth of the cat, I fell asleep.
11
BORLEY – THE HAUNTING OF BORLEY RECTORY, SEAN O’CONNOR
Hugo was not at breakfast that morning. This wasn’t totally unheard of, but I was still a little worried as I settled myself into the library for another dynamic day of staccato typing. The storm had died into a misty dampness that veiled the view, so I had nothing else to look at, just Oswald and the computer screen. Even The Master had chosen to stay where he was, tucked under my covers, so I was alone in the grey, dusty light, moving piles of books from place to place. I set up camp with my flask and some biscuits that I’d found in the back of the pantry, where Mrs Compton waged a low-grade war on the household by hiding any tasty comestibles, and started work.
Three piles of books later and the door opened cautiously.
‘Can… err… can I come in?’ It was Hugo.
‘Of course you can, it’s your house.’ I swivelled away from the screen to watch him slither through the door gap. He looked as though he hadn’t slept all night. His chin was stubbled, his eyes were red and there were dark shadows underneath them, and he kept swinging his arms and flexing his fingers as though he were a boxer about to go into the ring.
‘I think… look. We need to talk. About last night,’ he added, as though there was an entire string of past indiscretions for us to discuss. ‘But not in here.’
‘Oswald won’t tell,’ I said, pulling another pile of books over. I’d really only just warmed up properly after my soaking, and I wasn’t filled with the desire to go back outside again.
‘No, I know. It’s just… Mother might come in. And I’d rather she didn’t… I mean, it’s delicate and…’ Hugo swung his arms again, as though his whole body didn’t fit him properly this morning. ‘And I want to talk to you, properly.’
I stood up. ‘All right. But, please, not the icehouse.’
Hugo stared, wide-eyed. ‘Why onearthshould I want to go to the icehouse?’
‘No reason. Long story. So, where?’
I followed him out of the library and up the stairs. ‘In here,’ he said, pulling a key out of his pocket and stopping at the door to the Yellow Room. ‘We can lock the door and Mother can’t… I mean, she won’t come down here anyway but… just in case.’
He unlocked the door and threw it open. I went in to see a small bedroom, charmingly wallpapered in a yellow floral pattern, and holding no furniture except three full-length wardrobes. Hugo, after an ostentatiously careful check of the landing, locked the door after us, and then hovered in the middle of the room, practically vibrating with nerves.
‘So,’ I said, when it became obvious that he didn’t know where to start. ‘Marie doesn’t exist? You made it all up?’
