Page 21 of The Retreat
Fourteen
The gravel crunched under the tyres as they pulled into the sweeping drive of the lodge. It was picturesque as fuck; Imogen had to give it that. Honey-coloured stone, neat hedges, a view that stretched out over green hills, everything a rich company could want out of their silly little retreat.
Talia parked in the car park near the entrance, and for a moment, they just sat. ‘We should go in,’ Talia said gloomily.
‘Hold on,’ Imogen said.
‘What?’
Imogen gave her a look. ‘I’m not getting out of this car until…’
‘Ah.’ Talia took out her phone and tapped around. ‘OK, it’s sent.’
Imogen checked her phone. There it was, five grand, easy as you please.
And that would be the end of any ease for the next few days.
***
The inside of the lodge was old-money countryside chic. There was already a fire lit in the main reception despite the good weather, and the woman at the desk had the kind of accent that said she’d grown up playing croquet and eating scones the size of fists.
‘Are you from the Monroe contingent?’
Talia nodded and approached the desk. Imogen kept back. She wasn’t ready to do this yet. She hadn’t said much on the way over, kept her mouth shut. She didn’t trust herself to sound civil, not yet. Not until she had to be.
She checked her watch. They were early by design. Talia had insisted on that. So the place was empty but for the receptionist.
‘Alex, I’ve got the keys,’ Talia said. ‘Shall we settle in before everyone gets here?’
Imogen turned and gave her a wobbly smile that would have convinced exactly no one that she was Talia’s beau. It was giving hostage situation.
Their room was up a narrow staircase, tucked at the end of a long corridor. The key turned with a soft click, and then they were inside.
Imogen stared. One bed. It was enormous, but still. One bed.
‘Absolutely not,’ she said, throwing her bag down in the corner. ‘You can have the floor.’
Talia opened her mouth to argue but must’ve seen the look on Imogen’s face because she nodded, quick and sheepish. ‘Yeah. Sure. Of course.’
Imogen turned away and busied herself with unpacking the essentials: pyjamas, toothbrush, phone charger. Her hands moved automatically, but her thoughts were thick with resentment.
Everything about Talia grated. The way she took charge. The way she’d tried to play nice in the car. And of course, the way she’d once let Imogen become the scapegoat for everything Flora had done.
But that incident was not supposed to exist in this place. She should stick to disliking Talia for things happening today.
Actually, she wasn’t supposed to resent her at all. There was five grand in her account that had bought a loving and medically informed girlfriend. The other five relied on her carrying that off. Which included a distinct lack of loathing.
She had to at leasttryto shift the tone. For the sake of the money. For the sake of her own sanity.
She turned to Talia, who was hovering awkwardly near the window.
‘Alright,’ Imogen sighed. ‘We need to not despise each other for the next forty-eight hours, minimum.’
Talia blinked. ‘I don’t—’
Imogen waved away the fake denial she could see coming. ‘Let’s do something. A warm-up exercise. Like, I don’t know, a fake couple trust game.’
Talia tilted her head. Suspicious but curious. ‘What kind of game?’
