She put the CD in the player and relaxed into her seat as the soft lull of the music started, the windshield wipers gliding silently in front of her. She felt warm and secure, the car moving smoothly through the sodden landscape, the rain hanging in the air like mist. It was like they were driving through the ragged edges of clouds.
‘Sorry about your family.’ She looked at him, surprised, touched too, even though it was little more than a politeness, one that might have come several hours earlier at that. But after one day of knowing him, she sensed it was probably a departure for Lucas to be expressing sorrow or regret for anything.
‘Thanks. I appreciate it.’ She thought suddenly of that morning, of Lucas gently wiping the blood from her face, his fingers sensitive, caring. She’d been too shocked to take it in at the time but the memory of it now made her realize there was something she should have said earlier too, an omission that was understandable, perhaps, in her case but that still needed to be put right. ‘And, Lucas. Thank you.’ He glanced across at her, uncertain. ‘For saving my life.’
‘It’s what I was sent to do.’
That was it, the door was closed again, but she hadn’t been mistaken; that other person was there, somewhere. She said no more either, but sat and listened to the music and watched the world sliding by and tried to keep her mind hitched up there on the immediate, on the passing moments. She was too spent to let it go anywhere else.
The time would come soon enough anyway, when she’d have to think about those things again. And she’d be forced to face the facts of how they’d died, of who they’d been, of the uncertain future that lay ahead of her.
That was all out there, and maybe it was selfish, but for a few hours she wanted to pretend like it hadn’t happened. ‘River Man’ was playing, a song she wanted to associate in her memory with this drive, with Lucas and Chris, but with nothing else.
They passed through a small village, then through a mix of pasture and dense woods. She counted only two other houses, warmly lit, and then ten minutes after leaving the village they turned onto a narrower track, following it for a few hundred yards until they reached his place.
When she got out of the car, she could understand the appeal; the rain had stopped and the air felt intimately close, the silence like held breath. The house was layered in shadows. It looked like a traditional alpine house—the outline, the balcony stretching across the front. It was modern, though, timber and glass.
‘Did you build this?’
He was at the trunk, getting the bags out.
‘No, the guy who built it died, and his wife didn’t want to stay here afterwards. Lucky for me.’ They made towards the house, but after a few steps he turned to say, ‘He died of cancer.’
They followed him up the stairs into a small porch where he stopped to turn on the lights and check what looked like a complex alarm system. He led them into a large room then: living room, dining room, kitchen, spread across the whole upper story, the walls lined with books.
‘I’m not really geared up for visitors but make yourselves at home.’ He gestured towards an internal staircase. ‘Guest bedroom and bathroom are downstairs at the back.’
Ella looked at Chris with a smile and held her bag out.
‘Sure, I’ll take the bags down.’ He turned to Lucas and said, ‘Want me to take yours?’
Lucas seemed amused by the offer but said, ‘Thanks. Mine’s the bedroom at the front.’
Ella walked around the room, which looked amazingly tidy. She noticed some unopened letters on a side table, so she guessed he had someone come in while he was away. She altered her course slightly so that she could pass close enough to see what was written on them.
It took her by surprise, not because it wasn’t his name, but because they were all addressed to ‘S. Lucas.’ She turned to find him looking at her from across the room.
‘Lucas is your surname,’ she said, brushing off the embarrassment of being caught snooping.
‘Yes.’
‘What does the S stand for?’
‘Stephen.’
‘Amazing. I don’t know why but I assumed Lucas was your first name.’ She thought about it for a second and said, ‘Can I call you Stephen?’
‘I’ve always been Lucas. One person years ago insisted on Luke. Never Stephen.’
‘What about your parents? Surely they called you Stephen?’
‘It’s always been Lucas.’ She wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but it was clearly something that wasn’t up for discussion.
‘You have a lot of books,’ she said, looking for an obvious way out.
‘You should see the bedrooms.’ It was Chris, emerging from the stairs.
Lucas laughed and said, ‘It’s my passion. Not special editions or anything, just books. I love to read.’
‘This is a great house,’ said Chris.