‘I can’t believe the change in the weather,’ Dan says and it’s so quiet it’s almost to himself.
‘Me either,’ I manage, tuck my hands into my pockets.
‘You really have saved this place,’ Dan says softly.
‘No, you did.’ I jut him with my hip. He doesn’t take my hand now, I notice, curling my fingers into my palms inside my pockets.
Is this our last conversation? My stomach lurches at that thought and I feel sick. Gripping my fingers further into my palms, my nails make indents.
‘When Jill posts, you will get so many bookings, I know it.’ Trying to keep the emotion out of my voice. All I want to do is curl up in that four-poster bed and cry myself to sleep for a few hours. I could speak up. I could tell him how I feel and I feel strong enough to do that, I just don’t want to put him on the spot. That would not be fair.
‘I don’t know how I’m going to manage without you.’ Dan expels a half-hearted laugh as we walk around the castle.
I let that hang.
‘I don’t want to say anything I will regret so .?.?.’
‘You don’t have to say a thing. Look, I leave early and I do need some sleep so I better go, Dan.’ I stop walking, I want tomake this easier for him.
‘Sure,’ he says and as we turn to head back inside a bell tolls out below in Heartwell village. A deep, resonant tone that carries.
‘What’s that?’ I ask him.
‘The Heartwell church bells. They toll every half an hour on Christmas Eve. Three gongs. It’s Christmas Eve morning.’ Dan checks his watch. ‘Oh wow, it’s six a.m.’
‘It’s not? Oh, I have to get moving. I need to get .?.?. home.’ The words get stuck in my throat. The word ‘home’ feels all wrong.
‘Of course. I’ll walk you up to your room.’ We head back inside the castle in silence. ‘Into bed, Red, good boy.’ Dan opens his office door and clicks his fingers. But Red sits at my feet, his big eyes looking up at me, refusing to budge. I get down on my knees and pat him softly.
‘Goodbye, Red.’ I rest my cheek on his silky fur, he whimpers with his tail down, then he turns and goes into Dan’s office. I know how he feels. I stand up slowly and we walk past the dying embers of the fire towards the grand staircase together. It’s hard to believe I have to leave this place, I think, stepping onto the grand staircase for the very last time.
THIRTY-ONE
‘Terry fixed that top step tonight at long last.’ Dan nods to the top of the staircase. ‘It’s safe to stand on again when you reach the top.’
Turning to face him, my foot on the step, I lean on the mahogany banister at the bottom for a moment. Are these my final words to him? I feel my heart race, my throat close over. I’m terrified I’m going to burst into explosive tears as I struggle to swallow the lump in my throat.
‘Do you need anything?’ Dan has to clear his own throat as his words get caught and I jam my hand into the inside pocket of my white wool coat to search for a tissue.
‘No, I’m good.’ I fight the tears so hard it hurts. ‘I’ll pack up and get a few hours’ sleep. I need to be on the road in a few hours,’ I manage as my fingers fumble on something in my inside pocket. It feels like the links of a chain.
‘What’s this?’ I mutter pulling it loose.
‘Because I need to tell you .?.?.’ Dan starts as I pull a heavy chain out.
‘What? Tell me what?’ I look up at him as the chain dangles in my hand. The half-moon sways left to right. It’s that chain I found in the lobby of my building a few days ago, just before I had my meeting with Amanda. The half-moon on the thick chainfeels heavy between my fingers as it hangs. Dan pales in front of me, like he’s just seen a ghost.
‘W-what? How in the—’ He gasps, takes a few quick steps away from me.
‘You okay?’ I ask, concerned, still dangling the chain.
‘S-st-op.’ He pants the word out, his breath coming in rasps as his dark eyes follow the swaying half-moon, left to right, left to right, left to right.
‘What? Dan? Are you okay?’ I question again, folding the chain up into my palm, moving towards him.
‘I-It’s, but how did you get it?’ Dan points to the chain.
‘Oh, it’s not mine, I found it at work, but I forgot to leave it in lost and found. I hope the owner isn’t—’
