‘Wow, eighteenth-century gaslighting,’ I remark disparagingly.
‘Yeah, totally Well, I cried and begged him not to send me away, especially not to abrothel.What would my mother, his sister, have said? He was meant to care for me and find me a husband! But my pleas fell on deaf ears. He knew of Mother Swift’s establishment. So a week after my eighteenth birthday, he delivered me like a virgin lamb to her employ. I had nowhere else to go, and she was kind to me. I worked in her brothel until I became a vampire, and then I moved to Paris. That’s it.’
‘Did you ever see your uncle again?’ I ask curiously. ‘Didhe ever contact you?’
‘No,’ she says flatly. ‘I never saw my well-meaning uncle again. May his despicable gaslighting soul be rotting in hell as we speak.’
I squeeze her hand gently, and she lets me. Sadie’s story always gets me right in the gut. What a long crazy life she’s had. It reminds me too that I’ve known her for only forty years. It’s nothing really in the scheme of things. I’m a mere blip on her radar. If we break up, will she even remember who I am a hundred years from now?
***
Eventually, the sex noises stop, and there’s quiet throughout the house. But I can’t fall asleep. It’s weird being like this with Sadie in bed and not holding her. It’s like we don’t know each other anymore. Or how to be with each other now that I’m a vampire. And why did she react so badly to my suggestion of getting it on in the forest? I thought she’d be into it. Maybe it was in poor taste and not romantic enough? But she hates all that stuff! It’s very confusing.
Quite a few hours must pass as when I wake, the room is much darker. The headboard next door is thumping rhythmically against the wall.
I groan. ‘Seriously?’
‘Yup, they’re at it again,’ Sadie whispers. She’s lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling. No matter how weird it is for me, it must be even weirder for her having to listen to her ex-boyfriend getting it on with Lucy.
‘How long has it been going for?’
‘Ten minutes. This session should be over soon. I’ve been timing them. They go in fifteen-minute spurts.’
I chuckle. ‘No pun intended.’
She turns her head and smirks at me. ‘Oh, very much intended.’
We stare at each other, and the urge to tilt her face to mine and devour her sweet lips is overwhelming. But there’s a soft knock at the door, and she slips away to answer it before I can.
It’s Hester. ‘Sorry to interrupt ...’ she says. Through the crack in the door, I can see she’s being careful not to look directly into the room. It’s a fair assumption that with everyone else getting it on in the house, we would be too, especially with our history. But she’s safe on that account.
‘You’re not,’ Sadie confirms. ‘Come in. We’re just talking.’ Is that a note of disappointment I detect or wishful thinking on my part?
Hester settles herself in the armchair by the window.
‘Can’t sleep either?’ I ask. A rapidthump thump thumpsounds through the wall fromthe room to the left, accompanied shortly afterwards by a litany of baritone groans on the right.
‘No, it’s kind of noisy,’ says Hester with a grin.
‘Did you want me to read a scene with you?’ asks Sadie, still standing by the door and seemingly reluctant to rejoin me on the bed with Hester in the room.
‘Oooh, yes please.’ Hester whips out her phone. ‘I’ll forward you the script, but only if you want to.’
Sadie laughs. ‘It’s fine. I’m up for some Shakespeare.’
‘Who do you want to be, Olivia or Viola disguised as Cesario?’
‘Er, whichever one you’re not auditioning for.’
I don’t particularly want to be involved, and my head feels like it’s full of cotton wool. So I pull on my trainers and stand up.
Sadie’s eyes snag on mine, glowing like bright sapphires.
‘Where are you going, Mr Blythe?’
‘I might go for a walk and clear my head.’
‘Hmm.’
