“I thought…”
“I don’t think you thought wrong. I saw how Isaac looked at you when we were on the island.”
My mother loosens her hair, dark blonde curls falling down to her shoulders. She’s still pretty. Age has treated her well, although my father’s illness is draining her. All of us.
“And I saw how Ben looked at you too.”
I flip my head to her. “Don’t tell Lennox.”
“Why would it bother Lennox?”
“Because I know he has some notion about me courting William Goldsmith. Isaac warned me about him – Goldsmith.” I feel fear choke me. “And Lennox wouldn’t like the idea of me with the gardener’s son.”
She smooths the sheets, the creases disappearing.
“Blair, you choose who you want. You do what you want. Just like Lennox will. What upset you last night? I know that after Isaac left, you bawled your eyes out like a wee bairn.”
I shake my head. This isn’t for sharing. “I think everything got to me. Just, here, the pace. Goldsmith…”
She stands and heads to the window. “You know, my dear, sometimes going along with something, even if you know what the end result will be, is right. You can glean a certain amount of power from holding a different position.”
“You think I should entertain William?”
“I think you should let him come to that conclusion.” Her phone rings.
She reaches for it rapidly and I know she’s worried it’s my father struggling, but instead she smiles when she sees the number.
“Thank you, Rachel. I’ll be there soon.” She looks at me. “I’ve managed to get an appointment for my hair. Are you okay if I leave you?”
“You mean you’re sneaking into your friend’s salon? Whatever would the press say?” Rachel was her best friend when they were six. She’s now a hairdresser in one of the less affluent areas of the city, and my mother would rather not go anywhere else for her cut and colour.
“The press will never know. See you later, when you get home. Everything will be okay.” She leans over and presses a kiss to my forehead.
I close my eyes and try to believe her.
* * *
I head downstairs when I’ve showered and dressed, seeing red and purple and green wherever I look. My mother has taken away my tears and instead I’m left with rage and annoyance. I need answers, I need to know who was the woman that Ben touched. Did he fuck her like he’s fucked me? Does she know about me?
I need his words. I never have his words.
The door to his room is ajar when I get there which isn’t a problem. The hotel has been booked solely for our use, for us and the others who attended the function last night. It’s one way to keep me secure and I don’t think I’ve ever stayed somewhere where we haven’t been the sole occupants, unless I was with Micky and I wasn’t me.
I head into the room where he brought her and see his clothes laid out on a bed that hasn’t been disturbed by sleep or sex. Everything is in its place, military tidy. Gel, comb, aftershave, cologne. Suit hung on the wardrobe door. Bag packed. Nothing of value or interest is anywhere to be seen because this is Ben and he knows how to do his job.
And that bed hasn’t been slept in because the corners of the sheets aren’t straight enough. He hasn’t made this bed.
My head fills with images of him fucking her anywhere but the bed, and I try to push them away, hating the thought. But there’s no smell of sex, no condom wrappers in the bin that does contain rubbish. Nothing to signify a female was here.
Only my eyes and the image they’ve burned.
When I leave the room I hear Ben’s voice. He’s standing next to Isaac in the corridor, his arms folded, and then he follows Isaac into what must be his room. I catch the door before it closes shut, a few millimetres of a gap and I listen.
“I’ve warned her about Goldsmith.”
“I don’t think she needs to be warned. She doesn’t like him anyway.” Ben’s voice sounds lazy.
“I know. But he’s…” There’s a pause. “Got people other than me who can advise. And they’re keen for him to have a tie to Blair.”
