hadn’t smiled at her, she realised. He had made no move in her direction at all.
‘When you came to see me in Wales I thought you had –’ She floundered to a standstill.
‘When I came to Wales you said all sorts of crazy things to me, Jess; you treated me as though I was a serial killer!’ he filled in for her.
Shaking her head sadly she hesitated before going on. ‘Almost. As you know, I thought,’ she paused again. ‘I thought you had done something. Broken into my flat.’ She struggled to meet his eye. ‘I know I was wrong. I want to apologise. I want to make it all right again.’
‘Just like that?’
‘Just like that.’ She bit her lip.
‘And did you find out who had broken into your flat?’ He held her gaze.
She shook her head.
‘Did they take anything?’
Only my self-respect. My peace of mind. Maybe a bit of my sanity. She didn’t say it.
‘Why did you think it was me?’
‘Because –’ She sighed. ‘Because someone told me it was you and like a fool I believed them.’
‘Dan?’
She was startled. ‘How did you know that?’
‘He’s been saying some odd things lately. Tell me, if he thought I had broken into your flat, why did he suggest I come and see you in Wales?’
Jess shrugged miserably. ‘He was setting you up. He knew you hadn’t done it.’
His eyes narrowed angrily. ‘He must have known you would throw me out.’
Dear God! She couldn’t tell him the truth. If she did he would probably kill Dan. Everyone would find out what had happened. She would never be free of the horror and the scandal. ‘He was protecting someone else. Look, Will, it doesn’t matter why –’
‘It most certainly does!’ He strode away from the door towards the large circular table that stood in the middle of the floor. He ran a finger across the intricate marquetry. The room was dim, lit by the faint lines of sunlight which strayed in around the closed shutters. It smelled of beeswax polish and dust. ‘Who was he protecting?’
She could feel the anger coming off him and it scared her. ‘It was Ash,’ she said hurriedly. ‘He thought Ash had done it. He didn’t,’ she added quickly as Will’s lips tightened. ‘It was all a silly misunderstanding. That’s why I wanted to explain to you why I had been so horrid.’ She floundered to a halt miserably.
‘A misunderstanding! And why did he think it was Ash who had done it? Because the boy’s black, so he must be a thief?’ Will’s anger seemed to condense in the air around them.
‘No! No, of course not. Dan saw Ash walking home with me after the school disco and assumed –’ She faltered. ‘Look, it wasn’t Ash. And it wasn’t you. And I’m so, so sorry for thinking that it was!’
‘And you arranged to have me come all this way so you could apologise to me? May I ask why you didn’t just telephone?’ he asked acidly.
‘I didn’t know Kim and Steph had asked you. I didn’t know you were coming till this afternoon.’ She walked over and stood beside him. ‘But I’m glad you have. It’s given me the chance to explain. To apologise.’
‘Well, I suppose I should be relieved all that venom wasn’t for me after all,’ he said with a sigh. There was a pause. ‘What the hell are you doing in Rome anyway? I thought you were going to spend the summer painting in Wales.’
She forced a smile. ‘I am researching a ghost, if you really want to know.’ She gave him what she hoped was a disarming grin. How could she ever tell him the truth?
I’m here because I am scared Dan wants to kill me.
I am on the run.
I am not sure what I am going to do or how long I’m going to stay here or what is going to happen next.
At the moment I am not sure I shall ever dare go back to England!
No, she was hardly going to say all that.
He turned to face her. ‘You know, I don’t understand you any more at all! A ghost! What else? Why didn’t I think of that!’ He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead before she could step back. ‘Friends, but that’s all, right? Do I read the message correctly now?’
She bit her lip and nodded.
‘Fair enough.’ He turned away. ‘Where are the others? In the kitchen?’ He strode away from her towards the door. Then as he reached for the ornate gilt handle he swung back. ‘And you really don’t know who broke into your flat?’
She shook her head.
‘Did you call the police?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘It was too late. No evidence.’
‘And they didn’t take anything?’
She shook her head. Nothing tangible.
He shrugged and pulling open the door, disappeared into the corridor.
Jess didn’t move.
Someone had mended the broken window. Dan stood on the terrace looking at the clean pane of glass glittering in the afternoon sun. There was a small smear of putty in one corner. He scratched at it thoughtfully with a fingernail then turned to stare out across the garden. A slow tour of the entire property made it clear that she had gone. There was no sign of the car and his careful scrutiny of the rooms through the windows showed the house tidy; empty. He could sense the emptiness all around him.
He retraced his steps grimly to the front door and felt in his pocket for the keys; the spare set of keys he had found hanging on the hook in the kitchen before he left to face the wrath of his wife.
‘For God’s sake, you might have told me you were going to be away all night!’ Natalie’s voice replayed in his head yet again and he frowned in irritation. ‘I was imagining all sorts of things. You might have been in an accident!’ Then she had paused. Her eyes had narrowed. ‘I suppose you’re going to tell me you were book shopping again. But you weren’t, were you! You spent the night with her, didn’t you! You bastard! I might have known. You weren’t book shopping, you were shagging the English teacher!’
He had denied it of course, again and again and eventually, he thought, she had believed him. But he had to make sure Jess didn’t rock the boat. A bead of sweat appeared on his upper lip. He could not afford to wreck his marriage. Not now, not with his career poised to take off. Not ever.
Standing at the foot of the stairs he glanced up towards the landing. A stray beam of sunlight illuminated the ceiling, and spotlit the painting on the wall, an ink and wash scene of jumbled stones and yew trees not unlike the scene he could see from the window as he walked slowly upstairs.
The bedroom door was open. He walked across and stared in. She had left no personal belongings there. The cupboards and drawers were empty, the chest of drawers had no clutter to show where her combs and cosmetics had lain. He went over to the bed, neatly made with an immaculately smooth patchwork quilt and with a sudden rush of anger bent to tear off the covers. He fell to his knees and pressed his face into the sheets, inhaling the faint scent of her body, almost masked by the odour of whatever laundry rinse had been used in Steph’s washing machine. Digging his clawed fingers into the pillows he groaned. The silence of the room seemed