“Sometime around July, I suppose. I’d… placed an ad on a singles site. He answered it. Neither of us knew who the other was until we met, and it was… daft, really.” She looks to Paisley and Islan. “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you,” she begins. “I just didn't want it to be awkward for anyone. It was hardly even a date,” Fran says, her cheeks flushing madly now.
“Ah, lass, don’t give it another thought,” Mac tells her. “Let it go.”
“Aye,” I agree. “It’s silly to dwell on that now when you’re soon to be a happily married woman. Andlookat how gorgeous your dress is, love. You look like aqueen.”
Paisley takes my place, finishing up lacing the back of the dress, and I take my phone to a quiet corner of the room.
I don’t know how I would even know if anyonedidtouch my phone. I’m not exactly going to ask anyone to dust the phone for fingerprints, and the men who work for the tech department here for the Cowens definitely don't work for me.
And I can't say any of this out loud, anyway, because they would suspect that I don't feel safe here. But I don't. I know there are people here that suspect me, that I may even be seen as hostile.
I glance through my mobile, and nothing looks amiss. I look through my texts and see if any came in from my dad. But nothing incriminating at all. Maybe my fears were unfounded.
There's nothing in here from Michail, nothing from anyone really. I'm actually a little surprised that no one's been in touch with me since last night, but I shouldn't be. I'm such a loner.
Just as I go to put it away, something catches my eye. Last night, I charged my mobile in the car. I was so busy all day, I didn't have a chance to use it much beyond sending a quick text to Mac. When I got here last night, the power was full, one hundred percent. And now the battery’s down to almost twenty percent.
I begin to shake, berating myself for being such a fool.
Everyone else talks amongst themselves, so they don’t notice me when I look up. I scroll through my texts, my emails. Everything looks the same.
But someone was using this phone. Someone touched it. Someone was spying on me.
Cold prickles cross the back of my neck at the realization.
Mac was the one that gave me the phone. He says he found it downstairs, but… how do I know he’s telling me the truth?
Could it have been him?
His father isn’t in the room. Would he even have the wherewithal to take my phone and check through it?
Or was it someone else?
I glance back through my messages to my father, and don’t think anyone would suspect anything amiss. But it’s unsettling. So fucking unsettling.
“Everything alright?” Mac asks, coming to see me.
I want to see his reaction when I tell him that I suspect someone was looking at my phone. So I shake my head, and whisper, “It looks like someone was using my phone."
“Likely not,” he says. “I asked the staff, and they said that it was on the kitchen table, and no one touched it. And anyway, how could they have done when they don’t know your password?"
“Passwords are a mere formality for someone who's an expert hacker," I explain. By now, we've caught the attention of his sisters. Everyone's looking my way, and I don't want to make a bigger deal of this than necessary. If I look suspicious, doesn't that make me look guilty?
So I just shake my head. "Sorry. Years of having parents that are super suspicious, I guess. I should've known better than to leave my mobile lying around anyway." I stick it in my pocket, and go back to Fran, as Nan enters the room, wobbling along with her cane.
“Och, lassies, when I was a wee lass, I was a skinny malinky longlegs, as the saying goes! All legs, no tits and arse.”
“Nan!” Islan snorts, mimicking Nan’s thick brogue. “I dinnae ken why you think ah’d like to hear of me nan’sarse,now, do I?”
Nan grins at her and swings her cane, but Islan easily deflects the blow.
“I’m just sayin’ you lassies are gorgeous, summat easy on the eyes, aye?”
She sits heavily on a chair by the bed and rests her cane across her knees. “Cairstina, lassie, will ya fetch an old lady a cuppa?” She gestures to the tea service laid out on the table. Cairstina smiles and nods, then I watch as she pours a steaming cup of tea. She adds two little cubes of sugar and a splash of milk, then hands it to Nan.
“Just as I like it, thank you.”
I walk over to Fran and help her with her dress, and make sure that it fits her perfectly fine.
