Page 74 of Carbon

“You won’t be. Look, do you want me to wait while you speak to him?”

“Would you?”

“Yeah, I will.”

Maybe, just maybe, I’d made another friend. Emmy and I snuck in the back door, and I set Mary to work in the kitchen with a cafetière before walking to my doom in the garden room. Gregory’s face lit up, but Mother’s dark aura eclipsed him.

“Augusta, where on earth have you been?” she asked.

“I was helping the investigators Father hired.”

“He’s paying them good money, and you most certainly shouldn’t be doing their dirty work.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Augusta, listen to your mother,” Gregory said. “You shouldn’t be involved in anything to do with that piece of scum who killed Angelica. Leave it to the professionals.”

“Gregory’s come by to cheer you up. He’s booked a table for the two of you at La Rive. Isn’t that kind of him?”

“Yes, but—”

Gregory checked his watch. I was paying more attention to wrist wear now, and his Rolex cost more than my car.

“The table’s booked for seven, so you’ll need to change quickly.”

“I thought we’d spoken about your penchant for denim, Augusta. It’s not suitable attire for a young lady.”

“Enough!” They both stared at me. “Gregory, I’m not going to La Rive. The last thing I want to do is go out and enjoy myself so soon after Angie’s death, and...and...I don’t think we should see each other anymore. Not romantically.”

His jaw dropped. “What do you mean? We’re perfect together.”

Mother cut in before I could reply. “The trauma’s getting to her. She doesn’t mean that at all.”

“Yes, I do. There’s no...no fire between us. Sure, we get on okay, but that’s not a basis for a relationship.”

“Of course it is,” Mother snapped. “Relationships have been built on far less.”

“Not for me.”

She leaned back in the armchair and took a swig of whatever was in her glass. Something clear with a ragged slice of lemon floating in it. Water? Vodka? Gin?

“I see what’s happened. You’ve been reading Angelica’s books. She got all those silly notions in her head once, and look where it got her. She rejected every suitable man in favour of partying, and it killed her.”

“Her lifestyle didn’t kill her. Some sick bastard with a knife killed her.”

“Language, Augusta. She wouldn’t have been in that position if she’d settled down with a man like Gregory. And where has that left this family? You’re out of a job, to start with, and I can’t see you walking into another. Not when Angie had all the talent.”

Even Gregory looked shocked at that last part. And me? I saw red in every hue. “Angie had the talent? I wrote those damn books. Every last one of them.”

“Don’t you dare tarnish Angelica’s memory.”

“It’s true.”

“Augusta, your mother’s right. It’s not kind to lie about your sister’s writing ability.”

“I’m not lying. We had an agreement because Angie liked doing all the publicity, and I hated it.”

Mother waved her glass at me, and liquid sloshed onto the Persian rug. “Sometimes, I don’t know what to do with you. I raised you better than this.”

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