“To be honest, I think a part of me must care about him on some level. Despite being angry with him, he is my husband. But I can’t help questioning why he’s really here? For me, or for what he thinks is his half of the chateau?”
“No, surely not.”
“Is it really a coincidence that he turned up the day after that piece in the paper?”
Jess shrugged. “Who knows? Only he can answer that, I suppose. And Nate? Where does he feature?”
Flick recalled his fury over the newspaper debacle, the anger in his eyes was so intense, it was frightening. And the pain that surrounded him when he finally left...
After the things he said, never mind the scorn in his voice, he was never going to see this situation for what it was – a single act by a mother trying to help her daughter. She and her mum were always going to be guilty of so much more. Flick sighed, saddened by the thought of what could have been. “I think that ship has sailed. Don’t you?”
39
Nate willed himself not to wake up, but thanks to the banging about downstairs, his brain had other ideas. Ignoring it, he didn’t even question who was responsible. There could be a burglary in progress for all he cared, he just wished they’d be quick and take what they wanted so he could go back to sleep.
With the noise continuing, he knew he should go and investigate, but as he tried to open his eyes, thanks to a combination of light streaming in through the window and a blinding headache, the best he could muster was a squint. He repeatedly smacked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, however, it was no good, it remained as dry as a desert flip-flop. Having obviously murdered his saliva glands, he needed water and he needed it now.
Throwing the cover back, Nate groaned as pain ricocheted from one side of his skull to the other. How could such a simple movement cause so much agony? Still wearing the previous day’s clothing, he noted, he eased himself into an upright position before manoeuvring his legs over the edge of the mattress. He paused as a wave of nausea swept over him.Great, he thought.That’s all I need.
Nate rose to his feet. As he headed for the bathroom, the sound of a sizzling frying pan filtered up to him, the smell of its contents making him feel even more sick. He checked his watch and scoffed.Lunchtime. Whoever the house invaders were, they were certainly making themselves at home. Entering the room, he turned on the cold tap and stuck his mouth under the flowing water, guzzling as much of it as he could. Turning the tap off again, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, making a conscious decision to avoid the mirror as he left the room to make his way downstairs.
“You’re still alive then,” Aunt Julia said, busy at the stove.
Nate took a seat at the table, clocking the large collection of beer bottles gathered together at one side of the kitchen counter. Had he really drunk that much? He supposed he must have done, looking at the evidence.
His aunt plonked a large glass of water and a cup of strong black coffee in front of him. “Drink.”
Nate grimaced. Opting for the coffee first, he had neither the physical nor the emotional strength to argue. He leant an elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand, feeling sorry for himself throughout. The tapping of his aunt’s heels, as she utilised the length and breadth of the cooking area, hurt his already-painful head and he was convinced she didn’t need to clatter those pots and pans quite so much.
“I hope it was worth it,” she said, approaching the table again, this time with a plate of food. “Eat,” she added, handing him an unwelcome knife and fork.
He looked down at the runny egg, juicy sausages and greasy bacon slices. Eating was the last thing he wanted to do. He’d have given some of it to Rufus were the dog not too busy sucking up to his aunt, trotting dutifully in line with every step she made.Traitor.
Julia returned with a rack of toast, causing Nate to sigh at her lack of empathy and realising he had no choice but to follow her orders, he readied himself to do as he was told.
She took the seat opposite, watching him struggle with every mouthful.
Sadist, Nate thought, feeling the weight of her stare. He’d have been in safer hands with the burglars.
“I hope you’re proud of your behaviour.”
He forced himself to swallow. “I fancied a drink, that’s all.”
“I can see that,” his aunt replied, indicating to the bank of bottles. “But that’s not what I’m talking about.”
Nate continued to eat, unable to stomach a lecture as much as he couldn’t the food hitting his belly.
“Brenda is distraught after your little visit. I’ve just left the poor woman in tears.”
As far as Nate was concerned, his aunt’s pity was misplaced.
“To go in there all guns blazing. How could you?”
Nate couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He didn’t give a toss about Brenda, she wasn’t the one plastered all over the British press. He was. As for her daughter, just like the others, she was, no doubt, revelling in her fifteen minutes of fame.
Nausea swept over him again. He didn’t think he’d ever felt so betrayed.
“I tried to tell you not to jump to conclusions,” Julia continued.
