‘Bit harsh, isn’t it? She’s your cousin whom you haven’t seen in nearly seventeen years. She was telling me how close the two of you used to be. Like sisters, apparently. She said she was always at your house.’
I stiffen. ‘What else did she say?’
He runs a hand over his beard. ‘She said your mum basically saved her.’
I frown. ‘From what?’
He shrugs. ‘I don’t know. Only that her own mum was a waste of space. I have to say, it sounds like she’s got a lot on her plate. She said she’d left her husband.’
‘Did she say why?’
‘He couldn’t handle the stress of Ruby’s illness and had become argumentative. Sounds like a nice bloke.’ He smiles wryly.
‘So she’s told you her life story.’
He laughs. ‘She does like to chat.’ Then his expression darkens. ‘Do you think it’s right that she’s paying? Shouldn’t we offer to put her up for free as she’s family?’
‘We’re not a charity. This business needs to work.’
He folds his arms across his chest. One of the buttons on his shirt is missing. If Mum notices, I’ll get a lecture about not looking after my husband, even though I’m always telling her we’re not living in the 1950s. ‘It will work,’ he says. ‘Stop being negative. This was all supposed to happen. Everything was meant to lead us here.’
Since Adrian was discharged from hospital nearly a year ago, he’s been seeing a therapist in London – he’s now been transferred to someone in Cardiff – and, as a result, he’s trying to be very Zen, lots of meditation and positive thinking. That’s all well and good but it doesn’t pay the bills. I’ve shielded him from so much since his breakdown but I can’t tell him I’m worrying for both of us without hurting his feelings or setting him back in his recovery.
I go to the window and stare out at the row of terraced cottages opposite and the mountains. The sky is grey, heavy with rain and I wonder what living here in winter will be like. It was beautiful during the summer: clear skies. fresh air and birdsong. But now, since the nights have drawn in and a permanent dank mist hangs over the mountains, it’s very different.
‘There’s a lot you don’t know about her,’ I say. The muscles in my shoulders are tense and I rub the back of my neck.
‘You mean Selena?’
I nod. ‘She’s dangerous.’
‘Dangerous?’ He barks a laugh of disbelief. ‘Bit melodramatic.’
I bite my lip to stop myself saying more. He doesn’t know her, I remind myself. He doesn’t know what she’s capable of.
‘Can you do me a favour?’ I say, spinning round to face him. ‘Try not to find yourself alone with her too often.’
He steps back, horrified. ‘You think I’m so weak I can’t be trusted with an attractive female?’
‘It’s not that. It’s for …’ I want to tell him it’s for his own protection, but he’s right: it does sound melodramatic. And I sound jealous.
My head pounds. I turn away, then I feel his warm hands on my neck. He starts massaging my shoulders. ‘I don’t know what’s going on with you and Selena, but I hope you trust me.’
‘Of course I do. I didn’t mean it like that.’It’s her I don’t trust.
‘Is that better?’ His voice is low, gravelly. ‘You’re all knotted up. You should go for a massage.’
‘When have I got time for one, Ade?’ I say, moving away.
He looks like I’ve kicked him. ‘I’m only trying to help.’
The hurt in his voice makes me feel guilty. ‘I’m sorry. I know you are. I just feel stressed, that’s all.’
For a moment he seems to want to say more, but instead he leaves the room in silence. Why do I feel so threatened by Selena being here? She took a grenade to my life once before, blowing it apart, and I’m terrified she’ll do it again.
6
It’s not until the evening that I talk to Selena. All afternoon I’ve been dreading it, knowing there will come a time when it’ll be just the two of us, alone. Will I acknowledge what happened when we were eighteen? Or should I just avoid it, which was easier to do when I could avoidher?
