‘Bristly?’
‘To put it mildly! She’s already skewered the state of mymarriage and my taste in interiors. She’s only been in the house for about fifteen bloody minutes.’
Gareth rolled his eyes and sat down beside Opal. ‘She’s a punk poet, darling, what do you expect? Her entire practice is essentially about rejection. She might as well call herself a professional bitch; that’s the whole schtick. Although I suspect she’d rather define herself as an anarchist or a Marxist or some such thing.’
Opal nodded. He was right – this whole thing was supposed to be about challenging herself, getting out of her comfort zone.
‘Anyway, what’s for dinner?’ Gareth knocked back the rest of his drink and eyed her expectantly.
‘I bought a dozen or so chicken Kyivs from the butcher, and then I thought I’d boil some potatoes up and serve it with peas?’ Opal was used to hosting, but for some reason she had agonised over what to serve for the inaugural dinner for days. She hoped Gareth might offer some reassurance.
‘I guess we’ll just have to hope that none of them are vegetarian.’
The blood must have drained from her face again, because Gareth added, ‘Oh, Opal, sorry I was just joking. I’ m sure it’ll be grand!’
‘God, I didn’t even think of that! How silly of me. I invite five strangers into my home for dinner, all of them most likely progressive artists, and it doesn’t even occur to me that one of them is a vegetarian. When did I become so parochial?’
‘Wait, five?’ Gareth’s brow furrowed.
Opal doubted herself for a moment. When had she become so unsure of herself? Her whole life she’d thought of herself as headstrong but composed, and as the years had passed she’d only grown more self-assured. Until that afternoon. And from the morning after when she had obsessed over the texture of her thighs for the first time since she was in her teens, she’d been knocked off course. Now she was second-guessing every move, every decision, every memory of herself that she had.
‘Yes, five, Ruby, Heather, Adam, Noah …’
‘Noah? Who’s Noah?’
‘Noah! The scent artist? And musician or something. You’ve seen his work before; he’s a performer I think …’
Gareth looked confused, and then sceptical. ‘Doesn’t sound like you much know who he is either. So he’s a performance artist?’
Opal was growing frustrated. ‘Sort of. I don’t know, I guess I’ll find out, but he told me that you’ve seen his work multiple times.’
‘Well I’m sorry, darling, but I have absolutely no idea who you’re talking about. Never met a Noah in my life.’ Gareth stood up and wandered off towards the kitchen. As his words sank in, Opal began to panic. This imposter was meant to be arriving any minute, and she had no idea who he was.
‘Gareth!’ Opal trotted after him. He’d already started pouring the orange juice into a cocktail shaker. ‘He expressly said in his letter that he knew you and that you had seen his work. I assumed it was you who gave him my address and all the details.’
‘I don’t know what to tell you; I didn’t.’ Gareth seemed nonplussed. He unscrewed the top off the bottle of Galliano.
As if on cue, a knock came clamouring down the hall from the front door. Opal froze. Gareth began to pump the shakerin his hand. ‘Are you going to answer it? I’m rather intrigued by this mysterious character now.’
Heather wasn’t due to arrive at the station until around ten o’clock, the train journey from Glasgow being as long as it was, and Noah had said he would arrive in time for dinner …
Opal shot Gareth one last look. ‘Maybe I should call the police or something?’
‘Oh don’t be ridiculous. Go and at least suss the man out before you turf him over to the Old Bill. Who knows, maybe this is fate?’ Gareth refilled his glass.
Opal hoped Gareth might at least offer to come with her. He didn’t. She got the impression that he was trying to coax her back into her fearless self. ‘Go on, he’ll be waiting.’
Opal steeled herself as she turned the key in its lock. Click. And as she pulled the door open, standing in front of her, with an impish smile on his face, was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.
Chapter 15
Ruby slumped down onto the bed and stared up at the overly ornate wood carvings above her. She felt exhilarated, and a little out of breath. She’d never met anyone like Opal. Why would she? The woman was in another stratosphere of wealth, far posher than even Gareth. All that money, all that power she held over Ruby’s future, and yet it was still possible to rock her with a turn of the tongue. How thrilling.
She checked her watch. It would be time to head down to dinner soon, and she found that she was looking forward to it. Hopefully the errant husband would be there too.
And then there was Johan. She wondered if she would go to his room later, or maybe he would come to hers. He seemed like the type, and the perfect distraction from her obsessive thoughts about Cindy.
She unpacked her few belongings, stuffing them into the top drawer of the large dressing table. And then she sat down at the desk, running her hands over the smooth dark wood and gazing out at the view.
