But Kieran knew the sound of a boiler. This wasn’t it. This had … rhythm.
Beth pushed her mug aside and stood up. ‘I’ve things to do. You should go.’
He stood too. ‘You’re hiding something.’
Her chin lifted. ‘Everyone’s hiding something.’
The hum grew louder. His gaze flicked towards the basement door: old wood, padlock dangling loose.
‘Beth,’ he said quietly. ‘What’s down there?’
She swallowed. Her knuckles whitened.
And then, as if on cue, a metallic clang from below. Followed by a voice, muffled but unmistakable. ‘Oi! Don’t keep me waiting, Beth!’
Kieran’s jaw dropped. ‘Was that— Was thatsomeonein your basement?’
Beth closed her eyes. ‘It’s not what you think.’
‘I hope not. Because what I think,’ he said, carefully, ‘is that you’ve got a bloke chained up down there.’
Her eyes snapped open. ‘It’s not that. It’s … it’s an old pinball machine that…’ She exhaled, defeated. ‘That talks sometimes.’
‘And calls out your name?’ Kieran stared at her. ‘You realise that sounds insane, right?’
The silence was absolute.
Then, faintly, from the basement:‘I’m waiting…’
Beth groaned, pressing her palms to her temples. ‘Oh, bloody hell.’
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Beth squared up to Gigi. ‘He can’t know about you! Why did you do that?’
‘Because I can,’ said Gigi, as if that ended the discussion. Tonight’s outfit looked like an explosion in a psychedelic paint factory: swirls of mango, teal and fuchsia that made Beth’s eyes water.
‘You’ve no idea how hard it was to make him leave,’ she hissed. ‘He wanted to come down here and see for himself.’
‘Oh, my little Bethikins.’ Gigi sighed theatrically. ‘You’ve no idea how bored I am, stuck here with no one but you to play with. It was a teeny tiny tease. No biggie.’
Gigi’s ‘no biggie’ lived a million miles from Beth’s. Seeing Luke had torn at old stitches; talking to Kieran had felt safe until a pinball machine hollered from the bowels of a Scottish pub.
‘Then wipe his memory,’ she pleaded. ‘You’re a genie. Memory-erasing should be a doddle.’
Gigi stroked his chin. ‘Pah. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. But where’s the fun in that?’
‘It isn’t about fun, Gigi. It’s about not messing with people’s lives, which are complicated enough without you sticking your’ – she eyed his slippers – ‘size sixes in.’
He looked affronted. ‘Small feet, large … potential. Or did I get that one backwards?’
‘Aargh.’ She pressed her palms to her temples. ‘At least I’ve a night at Diana’s coming up. Normality. Cocktails, pyjamas, eggy bread.’
‘What is it like to have friends?’ he asked, so quietly that she almost missed it.
Beth’s irritation diminished. He might not be human, but he’d just put a finger on loneliness. ‘It’s like having family,’ she said. ‘Except you choose them. Or they choose you.’
‘And your family?’
