“Master’s in being a gigantic bitch,” I chuckle. “Seriously, though. Aled was so excited to meet you. I think if I’d managed to do something that made other people that giddy about me, I’d never want to stop doing it. Don’t you miss it?”
“I miss it very much.”
“So why don’t you—”
“Why are all the boxes of paints in your flat unopened?”
He shoots me a look and I get the hint. I clamp my mouth shut.
As we continue to drive, I notice that to the left of me there’s a field filled with cows and sheep. “Cows and sheep!” I coo.
“Have you never left the city?”
“I once went to Barnet…”
“You mean my parents’ house the other night? That’s seriously the only time you’ve left central?”
“I went on a solo trip to Greece once. But other than that, I’ve never had much desire to venture out. Bayswater has everything I could ever need.”
“You didn’t ever go abroad with your family? Travel with your friends?”
“My mum lives in Marfa,” I tell him. “Haven’t seen her in years.”
“Marfa? Where’s that?”
“It’s a desert town in Texas. She lives there with her boyfriend, Gerard.”
“What does she do there?”
“She’s an artist.”
“That’s cool. Do you visit much?”
I shake my head. When Mum left for Marfa, she said that after I’d finished my exams she’d arrange a plane ticket over there so I could see what I thought, maybe consider moving there too. But when I finished school, Mum suggested that it might be more useful for me to look after the flat in London, and that anyway, the weather in Marfa was way too hot for me and that all the other residents of the commune were over forty so I would probably feel awkward and out of place.
“I’ve never been,” I say. “Far too hot for me.”
There must be something in my voice, because Cooper glances over, a flash of sympathy in his eyes.
“No big deal,” I say brightly. “She’s happy and that’s a good thing. A really good thing. Anyway! Let’s not talk about that. Totally boring.”
Cooper clears his throat. “Okay. So you had no gap year jaunts then? Hen parties? Weddings in Italy?”
“Weddings in Italy? Ha!” I shake my head. “Was never interested in any of that. I find weddings to be a bit dull, and traveling seems to be a waste of money.” I don’t mention that I’ve never actually been to a wedding, let alone one in Italy.
I say it with as much conviction as I can, but even to my own ears it sounds thin. Which is odd because I activelyplanneda life cocooned in my home with no-one else to bother me. So why does disappointment prickle my chest?
“There’s so much out there to see,” Cooper murmurs. “So much experience to be had.”
“Yeah, thanks for the feedback, Michael Palin. Shall we put on some music?”
I don’t wait for an answer before switching on London Pop FM and turning it all the way up.
Duckett’s Edge looks exactly like one of those picturesque villages inMurder in the Pretty Village. The houses are huge, with thatched roofs and doors painted in glossy heritage colours. The roads are winding and dotted with plant boxes stuffed with colourful blooms. Cooper pulls into the car park of a pub called The Bee and Bonnet and turns off the engine.
“Have you been here before?” I ask, getting out of the car and stretching my back. The sun is now lower in the sky, casting a soft golden glow over the pair of us. I fuss about with the dress so that it doesn’t look quite so crumpled. Then I fluff my feathers and reach into the little silk purse Leanne lent me, taking out a powder compact and dabbing extra carefully at my forehead and the sides of my nose.
“No.” Cooper locks the car door and brushes down his tux trousers. “But I did do an online map search and this pub is conveniently located only a fifteen-minute walk from Derwent Manor.”
