He looks up, brows furrowed. “James came over that night to tell me he’d changed his mind about the deal we made for me to come back to work. Said I should forget about it. Not contact either of you again. He promised that if I pushed him, if I went to the police, you’d shut me up for good.”
“So youwerethreatening me?”
“Not you. James.”
It’s like someone’s toppled the chair and I’m falling backward, a violent drop in my belly.
“What?”
“I wasn’t thinking about turning you in. Well, that’s a lie—I’d considered it—but this was mostly about James. It’s always been about James.”
“What about James?”
Horror and pity inch across his face until they’re the only things I can see. “You don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“He told me you knew, told me you’d do anything to protect him. That’s why he told me about your past. He wanted me to know you’re dangerous, too. That you’d hurt me if I spoke.”
“Spoke about what?”
“The girl he killed.”
39
Then
James
She’s pretty. It was the first thing I noticed about her when Will and I held her interview, and the thing that’s clearest to me now as I watch her flap at the oil spill of water on her table. It’s not very progressive to say this about her, but it’s true. I’m gearing up to do some light admin on a bench across from her. I don’t mind it. Someone needs to be online today, and I’m not going to ask any of our hires to work. In theory, Will could also do it, but as he’s explained on his way out, he’s got kids to panic-buy stocking fillers for and a rare catch-up with friends after. I still remember how Will and I used to sneak downstairs on Christmas Eve after our parents were asleep. Will would tear the corners off our presents to get glimpses of what was beneath, get me to guess what was coming before it came. It was the world’s greatest guessing game, even if it did our parents’ heads in.
In truth, I’ve been working my way up to saying hello to Nat for some time now. I caught a glimpse of her as Will and I emerged from our meeting with the bar owner, although she didn’t seem to see me.
Part of my reluctance to say hello is I can’t trust that Will, despite all his promises, won’t try it on with her. He’s already a couple of pintsdeep. But now that this water fiasco is happening, now that Will is excusing himself, it feels like the right time to say hi.
So I do. And before long, we’re sitting together, drinks flowing. When she says she didn’t expect to see me here, I want to challenge it—I know she’s able to access my work calendar—but I don’t want to spoil the mood by becoming the interrogating boss. This light banter is better than going back to the blue glare of my laptop screen.
The conversation is easy, easier than I’m used to. She’s fun, no showboating, no expectations of me picking up the bill, although I’m the managing director and obviously, I do. And when I ask about her family, when she skirts around the pain I can see she’s buried in her past, I feel a kinship in our secret keeping and a thrill in having sniffed out another loner. I’m so totally charmed by her that I regret having to leave.
We exchange personal numbers, and buoyed on by the festive spirit or the literal spirits, I almost kiss her. And as I observe the gentle disappointment in her eyes as she leaves, I realize she wanted me to. This solidifies my suspicion that she was lying when she said she wasn’t expecting to find me here. And while this engineered run-in would alarm most, I have to admit that it makes me feel seen. Chosen. And I find myself still thinking about our not-kiss, what her lips would have felt like, when I get to my car.
I felt a little bad lying about Will being designated driver, but I’m good at holding my drink and driving when I need to. It’s Will who’s always been the lightweight. He stayed in town to join me for this meeting, Vanessa and the kids heading down to our parents’ first. Fair play to him; I’m the one who accepted a Christmas Eve meeting, so I don’t mind doing the drive.
It doesn’t take me too long to source a double espresso to shake off a little of the drowsiness of the alcohol. As expected, Will is half-cut when I collect him, but his loud obnoxiousness is of use for once,keeping me on edge, alert, as we wind through the already midnight-dark streets. I manage to snake the car out of the city and over the motorways without incident. I relax a little as we enter quieter country roads. And then the deer leaps across my path.
“Christ! Look out!” Will roars.
I slam on the brakes. The car skids to a stop. The deer glibly prances out of sight. Will and I pant out heavy breaths, the panic slowly leaving our bodies. The car crawls for the rest of the journey, but at least we arrive without incident.
Our mother must have heard the crunch of tires on gravel, as the front door flings open before we come close to knocking.
“Will!” she says, bright smile.
He knocks my shoulder as he barrels past me, sweeping her up into a hug in the yellow glow of the doorway. She’s so busy drowning him in kisses that I have to announce myself more than once.
“Hi, Mom,” I say again.
Will casts a smug look over his shoulder, our mother still trapped in his arms. “Looks like little Edie wants some attention.”
