I flipped the phone screen-down and bolted my whisky, which seared my gullet and softened my thoughts. It didn’t help. I felt miserable and sordid. Like I was peering furtively through a window into a life that was unattainable. Because it was–shewas. For so many reasons. Perhaps it was time to remind myself of that.
I reached impetuously for my phone and typed in a different name. If Piper had known who was behind my user name she would have blocked me immediately, but this way I could check in on her feed from time to time, scrolling through pictures that were mostly of her own features. Black hair, fern-green eyes, lips curled into a laugh, and a flash of sorrow in her eyes that bored through in every image, at odds with her expression.
My focus shifted, and I found myself looking instead at the face reflected in the screen. The face that was responsible for thegrief at Piper’s core.Think it, I ordered myself, taking a deep breath.My face.
That was what I was. Who I was. A human unworthy of the word. Because I was a monster. What I’d said to Ashton was true: Mabel didn’t know me. She knew nothing about Blake Ames, nothing about me. If she had, she would have given anything to forget it. Like Piper, like Selma, like Rose. Like all the women whose names I couldn’t remember, yet who were thefirst thing I saw when I closed my eyes at night.
Exhausted, I locked the screen and reached for my wallet. After I’d paid I left the pub. It was late evening, after eleven, and a fine mist hovered above the tarmac and below the lanterns’ heavy heads. Their light danced hazily with the mizzle underneath.
I hadn’t gone far when my phone buzzed. Instantly I opened the message. Every time Aspen texted me, I was afraid something might have happened.
Aspen
Tell me you’re coming home for the gala!
It took a minute to click. The invitation to the family party had arrived weeks ago, but like most of those messages, I’d quickly pushed it to the back of my mind.
Blake
Don’t know yet if I can make it. Pretty busy with uni right now.
Aspen came back online straight away and started typing.
Aspen
Blaaaake, don’t leave me hanging. These people are so fucking boring, I need my big brother.
A heavy smile crept across my lips. Saying no to Aspen was next to impossible, so I hardly ever did. And she knew it. Still, with everything going on, I didn’t like the idea of leaving Cambridge for a whole weekend. On the other hand, maybe it was time. I really needed to speak to Brice about the equity fund–Henry had been breathing down my neck for weeks. Plus I wanted to check in on Aspen, make sure she was okay. As okay as a fifteen-year-old girl could be when her parents were never home, palming off their daughter onto a succession of housekeepers and private tutors.
Blake
Fine. I’ll be there.
She answered with a serious of emojis, half of which I didn’t understand. Even so, as I slid my phone back into my coat pocket, I felt a little like a weight had been lifted. The moments spent with Aspen were the ones when I hated myself a bit less.
I turned a corner onto a street that in daytime was always heaving. Cafés alternated with signs for antiques shops and booksellers. By now, however, it was as good as deserted. I saw only a young man leaning against a brick wall, cupping one hand over the cigarette in his mouth as he tried to light it with the other.
I recognised the type before the face. Matthew Bassett exuded the same aura as the people I’d been training myself to spot for years: rich, educated, attractive men who had the world at their feet merely by virtue of the family name. Men so convinced of their own innate superiority that they saw only what they wanted, and took it without regard for anyone else. Selfish, obnoxious, amoral bastards. Blake Ames was a man like that–Iwas a man like that. So I recognised it immediately when I saw it it in others.
I’d seen it all, the moment I first laid eyes on him. Even in the split second before he pushed Mabel. At the memory of it, I inhaled sharply. Matthew, hearing me, turned in my direction. He lowered his hands, removing the cigarette from his lips. ‘Can I help you?’
I threw a glance over my shoulder. Over the past two weeks I’d tried, on and off, to catch Matthew alone, but he was always with a group of friends. Running into him here, of all places, seemed an absurd coincidence.Fate is just whatever we make of chance, as Norah liked to say. In that moment I understood what she meant.
‘You’re Matthew Bassett, aren’t you?’ I asked, moving closer.
He frowned and put the cigarette back between his lips. ‘And who are you?’
‘I’m a friend of Mabel’s.’ He stared at me blankly as I took another step towards him. ‘Mabel Golding.’
‘That uppity tart from Ruiz’s supervisions?’ He laughed and clicked the lighter. It took all my effort not to slap it out of his hand and hold the flame to the ends of his hair.
My knuckles cracked as I balled my hands into fists, yet I kept my voice controlled. ‘I’ve seen the way you treat her. And I don’t like it. So in future I’m going to need you to show a bit more respect–if you come near her at all. Got it?’
‘Jesus, take it down a notch. I wouldn’t touch her if you paid me.’ He grinned. ‘Although it would probably do her good to be taught a bit of humility. She really ought to know her place in our world. You understand.’ He gave me a wink before taking a drag of his cigarette.
That settled it. It was true: I wasn’t a good person. But I was really fucking good at being a bad one. And this was the only way I could use it for Mabel’s benefit. I let Matthew exhale his plume of smoke, then I crossed the final distance between us.
‘What—’ he began, but my hand was already on his throat. In one fluid movement I had him against the brick wall, fingers digging into his skin. I was pushing harder than I needed to, but not half as hard as I wanted. I felt him stagger–not just his body, but what it contained within. The barrier was so thin I didn’t even have to hurl myself against it. A nudge was enough to bring it down. That was always the way: the people who tried the hardest to seem loud and strong were the weakest on the inside. They were so ridiculously easy to break.
