walk back in but Hope grabbed her arm, looking Charity in the eye. ‘Just remember one thing if Niall does come back. He killed our sister. No matter what spin he puts on it or how you used to feel about him, he killed her.’
Charity peered up at the ruby-coloured gates guarding Dan and Lana North’s huge white mansion. This place had been a dilapidated mess when she was a kid, once owned by a duke and then left in a state of disrepair after a fire. Local kids would sneak in through the gates, smoking drugs and making out in the rooms. She’d even come here with Niall once but they preferred the comfort of the sea shore and caves near her house. It was quite something to see what the Norths had done to it since.
She paused at the marble steps leading up to the house, smoothing her hands down her cream trousers and adjusting the collar on her cerise blouse. She hadn’t been sure what to wear; these weren’t the kind of people she’d usually have dinner with. Back in London, all her friends and associates were other NHS counsellors. It was an unspoken rule that every dinner was a casual dinner, so Charity usually turned up in what she’d been wearing to work, jeans and a large bright shirt cinched at the waist with a belt.
She took a deep breath and walked up the stairs. Behind her, the sea rippled, the cliff the house was sitting on diving into the craggy rocks below. She put her hand out to lift the ornate gold knocker made from a lion’s mouth. But before she had the chance, the door was whipped open by Dan. He was wearing a casual white suit rolled up to the elbows, a pastel blue shirt beneath it, the shirt undone slightly to reveal the smooth tanned skin of his chest.
‘You came!’ he said. ‘I have to confess, I was worried you’d be a no-show.’
She had thought she would be a no-show too. But Dan had seemed so worried about Lana, and the vulnerable look in her eyes as she’d clutched at Charity’s hand after the accident ate away at her.
The truth was, Lana reminded her of Faith a little. Beautiful, vivacious, a slight hint of vulnerability. No one else noticed that about Faith apart from her sisters. All everyone saw was confident, clever, beautiful Faith. While she was all of those, she also had her insecurities. Charity recalled an Easter holiday when Faith returned from university and was blanked by a group of girls she used to go to school with while out shopping with Hope and Charity. She’d laughed it off at the time but later, Charity saw her crying in her room.
Charity stepped inside the mansion, taking in the huge hallway and marble floor draped with a black and gold rug. Ahead of her was a long stairway that swept up to a balconied landing, like a scene from Gone with the Wind. When Dan closed the door, she felt stifled. It was as though the heating had been on all day.
‘Your place is gorgeous,’ she said as he took her lime-coloured jacket. ‘I remember when it was a crumbling mess.’
‘So do I. It’s taken us two years to sort it out. Well, I say us. Lana’s done most of the work. She found the place too.’
‘I’m very impressed.’ Charity held out the bottle of Blue Nun. ‘Sorry, it was the only bottle of wine I could find at the local newsagent’s. My dad used to say it tastes like vinegar.’
Dan laughed. ‘I happen to like vinegar very much.’ He led her to a set of doors on their right, pushing them open to reveal a large room with a gilded table running down its centre. She realised with a shock that on the dark walls around it were murals of couples in various states of undress. Her eyes homed in on one particular image of an olive-skinned man kissing the neck of a voluptuous woman with blonde hair and porcelain skin.
‘Lana has a very vivid imagination,’ Dan said, following her gaze.
‘It must be interesting when the in-laws come for dinner,’ Charity joked.
‘Don’t worry, we use our other dining room for them,’ Dan replied.
‘You have two dining rooms?’
‘I know. It’s a bit much, isn’t it?’ Dan gestured to a number of bottles sitting on a small gold table in the corner. ‘Champagne? Wine?’
‘Red wine, please.’
Dan pulled out a chair for her then reached for a bottle of expensive looking wine, pouring Charity a glass. As she took a sip, her mouth filled with a delicious cherry flavour and she relaxed a little.
‘Thank you so much for coming, Charity,’ Dan said. ‘I know Lana will be very pleased.’ There was the sound of heels clicking along the marble floor outside. ‘Ah, speak of the devil.’ Dan leant forwards, lowering his voice. He was so close, she could smell the black cherry scent of the wine on his breath. Behind him was a mural of a man’s blond head dipped in between the legs of a woman, her head thrown back in ecstasy. Charity felt her face flush hot. ‘I’m not expecting you to do a psychological profile,’ he said. ‘But maybe you can give me some advice on how I might be able to help her?’
‘But I didn’t say I would, Dan. Really, I—’
The door swung open and the overwhelming scent of musky perfume wafted in as Lana stepped into the room. She was wearing a short red V-neck dress with huge shoulder pads that engulfed her tiny frame. It was more suited to a society party than dinner. She blew Dan a kiss then quickly strode down the room and took the chair across from Charity’s, leaning over the table and taking her hand. Her glossy curve of caramel hair covered Bambi-like eyes. She licked her bee-stung lips nervously. Charity noticed her hand was trembling.
‘Thank you so much, Charity, you were so lovely the other morning,’ she said, her words almost tripping over one another, her navy blue eyes bright.
‘It’s fine, I’m pleased I was there to help you. How are you feeling?’
‘Oh fine,’ she said, sweeping her hand through the air. ‘Back to my old self.’
The truth was, beneath the glossy veneer were telltale signs all was not entirely well. Lana’s movements were erratic and jittery; she was incredibly thin, even thinner than she’d been in the photos Charity had seen of her in the papers; the purple bruises under her eyes suggested problems sleeping; and, though immaculate from the front, her hair was all matted at the back. There was also a large stain on the hem of her dress and bruises down her legs.
Dan stared at his wife’s matted hair then he looked imploringly at Charity.
Lana glanced at Charity’s glass of wine and smiled. ‘It’s delicious, isn’t it? We got it from this wonderful vineyard in Umbria last year. Did you know the rate of divorce is at its lowest in that part of Italy? They say it’s down to the Umbrian “super” wine, as they call it. It makes couples crave each other.’ Lana looked into Dan’s eyes. ‘I can confirm it’s not just an urban myth.’
Charity took another gulp of wine, feeling increasingly uncomfortable.
Lana peered towards the door. ‘Is Niall in the bathroom?’
Charity spluttered on her wine. ‘Niall?’
‘Lana managed to find him in the end,’ Dan explained. ‘He’s been staying just out of town.’
‘He’s coming to dinner?’ Charity asked, struggling to get her words out. Dan nodded.
‘Didn’t you both come together?’ Lana asked Charity, a confused look on her face.
Charity shook her head. She should never have come. She looked towards the door. She ought to make her excuses and leave right now. What would Hope say? What would the whole town say?
Dan frowned as he looked at Charity’s face. ‘Have we put our foot in it by inviting him?’
Charity didn’t know what to say.
‘But the way he looked at you the other day,’ Lana said, looking at Charity. ‘I really thought you were together.’
‘We weren’t together,’ Charity said, peering at the door to the dining room, imagining Niall walking in any minute. What would she say to him? ‘We haven’t been in touch for