“What was that?”
I suck in a breath. “Nothing.”
It’s going to take some getting used to being around people again and remembering talking to yourself isn’t exactly a common habit. Not one that signifies sanity, anyway.
Before he can question me again, someone walks into the kitchen.
She’s an older woman, head full of very fair grey and white hair. Wrinkles line her eyes and forehead as she hobbles in. She’s on the bigger side, as if her life has been full of cake and wine. She wheels in a mop bucket, muttering something to herself, not spotting us.
“Ah,” Alfie says, his face brightening as he waltzes over to the woman, who slightly starts at his outcry. He puts an arm around the woman’s rounded shoulders and beams. “This is our fine lady of the house, Maggie.”
Maggie looks up, dull grey eyes locking onto me with immediate distaste.
I offer her a weak smile.
She doesn’t return it. “Your room is a fucking mess, Alfred,” she says, trying to shrug off his massive arm.
He doesn’t budge but walks with her to the sink. “Aren’t you going to say hello to our new guest, Margaret? She’s the new lady of the house, after all.”
Maggie makes an unimpressed noise, turning on the tap, her back to me. “What for? She won’t last five minutes.”
“Oh, come on, where’s your decorum?” Alfie says playfully. “She’s Caden’s fiancé, Elodie.”
Maggie lifts her head to look at Alfie. “This is the girl?”
“Yes, Maggie, this is the girl.” He cocks a brow at her.
Maggie finally turns to me, taking me in, dragging those tired eyes all over me. “You’re the Valor girl?”
I nod, apprehension making me sweat.
She takes me in one more time, then curls her lips down before turning her back on me once again. “Hope you know what you’ve signed up for.”
I frown. “I didn’t sign up for anything.”
The woman grunts, uninterested. “Then you’re in for one hell of a ride, girl.”
Alfie laughs heartily. “Don’t listen to the miserable crow. She adores us and likes to pretend she doesn’t.”
“I don’t.”
He nudges her softly with an elbow. “She does. We even saw her smile once. A long time ago, but it was there.”
“Yeah,” Maggie chides, “when you fell down the stairs and broke your ankle.”
Alfie chuckles and bends down, pecking her cheek. She bats him away.
Watching the two of them, I see the bond. Her relaxed demeanour betrays her sharp words.
“I’m not picking up your clothes, Alfred,” she continues, completing ignoring my presence. “You should be quite capable of putting your washing away once it’s done. You’re nearly thirty, for crying out loud.”
Alfie gasps in mock outrage, hand flying to his chest. “You wound me, Maggie. Twenty-eight is nowhere near thirty.”
Maggie huffs, wiping down the counter that already looks spotless to me. “Well, I’m not doing it. Your room is always utter chaos. Every single week.”
“It’s organised chaos, I know where everything is.”
“Good. Because I’m not moving a single thing anymore. I’ve had it. You and Fiz are inept at keeping a clean environment. You’re slobs.”
