Page 44 of An Unholy Affair
‘Okay, what?’ Estelle asked.
He swallowed, his heart pounding against his ribs. ‘I’ll work from here. And organise the Winter Ball.’
10
Jack glanced at his watch, straightened his jacket, and knocked. It was a quarter to nine on Monday morning and he felt like a salesman making his first ever call.
Eveline opened the front door of the rectory with a smile. ‘Good morning, Jack. How are you doing?’
Outside the radiance of her face, his peripheral vision picked up the black and white of her clerical top and dog collar.See that? Vicar, remember?
‘Fine, thanks. How’s your arm?’
Her smile flickered, then reappeared, shining brighter than ever. ‘Can’t complain. Come in out of the cold. The weather’s really turned.’
Jack followed her down the hall, her hair lighting up the dark space as she chattered.
‘Finn got the boiler going yesterday, so I’ve managed to get the chill out of the drawing room for you. You know, you don’t need to knock or come in the front. Feel free to come and go as you please.’
She pushed open a wooden door and let him into another fusty room. The lined wallpaper was peeling, and the furniture was old and tired. A wooden desk sat under the window and a bunch of flowers stood on top.
‘Is it okay?’ she asked.
Jack’s chest felt too tight to breathe. Eveline would never pick flowers for herself, but she’d done it for him. And judging by the divots in the rug, the desk used to stand in a different place.
He glanced at her arm and she blushed.
‘I asked Finn to move it,’ she said quickly. ‘I promise I’ve been careful.’
He cleared his throat. ‘Thank you.’
‘This is the wi-fi password,’ she said, passing him a piece of paper. ‘I’ve got to dash to Foxbrooke Primary School for morning assembly, but I’ll be back around half-ten. Help yourself to anything you need.’
He nodded.
‘Okay then, see you later.’ She backed out of the room, stroking her palms over the sides of her skirt as if to make sure it was in the right place.
As the sound of the front door shutting echoed down the corridor, Jack let out a breath and slumped into the nearest armchair.Now what?
He’d messaged Cyrille asking to chat, but his French friend hadn’t got back to him. Even though it was still early, he rang his number.
‘Putain! I just got in!’
Jack smiled. ‘Partying hard on a Sunday night, were you?’
‘You know me. Sleep is for babies or the dead. You good?’
‘I need a bit of advice.’
‘From moi? About what, my petit putain?’
Jack rubbed his hand over his face. ‘My friends think my job is, er, what you do. They want me to help organise a big party and I’ve only got three weeks to do it.’
Cyrille hooted with laughter. ‘You are a funny man, Jack. Very funny. Where?’
‘Foxbrooke Manor.’
‘Ooh la la… Can I come?’
