Page 141 of The Cottage at Brambleton Hall

Continue. As if nothing had changed. ‘You’re dismissing me.’

‘I am concluding your employment.’

‘Because of Chloe.’

‘Because of your failure to act when required. And your deception.’

Sammy could feel the argument still there, somewhere, but it had nowhere to go.

‘Is there anything further?’ Magnus asked.

Sammy opened her mouth. She closed it.

For once, there was nothing she could do to make this better.

The back entrance hall was colder than the office. Or it felt that way.

Sammy set her bag down on the bench, missed the edge, tried again. Her hands weren’t quite steady. Bag, Jacket. What else? Cottage keys – no, not keys. Don’t go there. She stopped, pressing her fingers into the wood of the bench until the room stopped spinning around her.

End of September. She pulled her phone out of her bag.

I’m coming home early. We need to talk.

The reply came at once.

Sounds serious.

Sammy stared at the screen.

It is.

Three dots. Dancing, indifferent to the stone that had lodge in Sammy’s throat and refused to budge. Dots gone. Back again.

Okay . . . I’ll order pizza. Nate’s around – want me to invite him?

Sammy’s grip tightened on the phone. Chloe, smoothing things over. Making it a cosy night in. As if that was what this was. No, she typed. Then hit delete. Do what you want, she sent instead.

The reply came instantly: a thumbs-up and a slice of pizza.

Sammy pushed her arm into her jacket, more sharply than she needed to, and reached for her bag. Chloe didn’t get it. Not even close.

The smell hit her: grease and the sweet-sour stench of spilled beer. Music thudded low from someone’s phone. Pizza boxes lay open across the table, cheese sliding off the slices, hands reaching in without looking.

Chloe laughed at something Jimmy had said, tipping her glass back.

Standing over by the window, Nate turned as the door shut.

‘I’ve lost the job.’

Chloe’s hand paused halfway to her mouth; she tossed the slice of pizza on the table and reached for the bottle. ‘Right. Well. That’s that, then.’

Jimmy gave a short, satisfied sound. ‘Knew it – he’s a slave master that butler.’

Chloe rolled her eyes. ‘After everything you’ve done for them.’

‘End of the month,’ Sammy said.

‘You’ll be better off out of it,’ Chloe said, already filling a glass. ‘Here – have this. Eat something,’ she added, sliding a box towards her. ‘You need it.’