‘Will you show me what’s down there? I want to see.’ She tilted her head to one side so that glossy waves of hair fell across her cheek. The tank top she was wearing hardly covered anything and Callum said a silent prayer for his son. ‘Pretty please?’
He sighed again. ‘If I do, will you let me go back upstairs?’ He was shocked to find himself grinning, placing the bottles on the steps beside Rain’s feet. Her toenails were perfectly painted pink, peeking from the crosshatch of her silver sandals. He turned his head sideways, staring at her ankle.
‘Do you like it?’ Rain giggled, tilting her foot so he could see better.
Callum stared at the tattoo, dreading his son coming home from a drunken night out with something inked across his chest. He swallowed, fighting the urge to touch it, just to see what her smooth young skin felt like. He cursed his stupidity.
‘You don’t like it, do you?’ Rain said.
‘No, no, it’s not that.’ Callum straightened up, clearing his throat. He wondered if Claire had spotted it yet. ‘So, if I show you the cellar, you’ll come back upstairs with me?’
‘Of course, Mr Rodway,’ she said with a pout.
The cellar was divided into three chambers, each with a vaulted roof. It smelt musty though not damp, as if the scent of a thousand wines had permeated the bricks.
‘It’s cool down here.’ Rain trailed her fingers across the dusty racks of wine. Patrick was an avid collector.
‘It’s meant to be cool,’ Callum said. ‘Cellars remain at the same temperature winter or summer.’
‘I mean cool, like all this unknown house under here. It’d be great for Halloween parties.’ She peeked through into the next chamber. ‘How far back does it go? Is there a light? I want to see.’
‘It’s just more of the same.’ Callum knew exactly where the light switch was but couldn’t be bothered waiting while Rain checked out the alcohol. ‘And just so you know, it’s off limits down here.’ He suddenly felt very old. She was obviously planning on sneaking back later to steal a bottle or two.
‘I want to see,’ Rain said, walking off into the next chamber until the darkness swallowed her up. ‘How far does it go back?’ Her voice sounded dull and far away. Callum knew there was yet another chamber leading off that.
‘Come on, let’s get back up.’ He waited. There was no reply. ‘Rain, I’m not leaving you down here alone.’ Bloody kids. He swore under his breath. ‘Come now, please, Rain or I’ll have to lock you in.’
Nothing. No footsteps or shuffling on the dusty bricks, no rattle as she traced a finger over the racks of bottles. No breathing or any other sound. It was as if she’d vanished.
‘Rain, where the hell are you?’ He went into the first pitch-black chamber and felt for the light switch. When he flicked it on, there was no sign of her. It was just the cellar as normal with Patrick’s notebooks and tasting kit set out on a barrel top. He went to the archway of the final chamber. ‘Rain, stop messing about now. Where are you?’ Again, he felt along the wall for the light switch and flicked it on. Nothing. The bulb must have blown.
Callum edged through into the furthest chamber, taking tentative steps. It was as black as night.
‘Gotcha!’ Arms suddenly clamped around his shoulders while Rain’s giggle rang in his ears.
‘Shit! You stupid girl! You nearly gave me a heart attack.’ Callum tried to shake her off, but she was clinging on to him, laughing hysterically.
‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist.’
He felt her soft hair beneath his chin as she rested her head on his chest. He got a waft of her scent – and not just perfume, his fired-up senses told him.
‘Please hold me. I’m really scared of the dark.’ Her voice mimicked a little child.
‘Then what the hell did you go into a pitch-dark chamber for?’ Sweat broke out on his forehead as his arms wound around her back, instinctively comforting her as he would Amy. He noticed the catch of her bra beneath his hands. ‘It’s OK. I’ve got you,’ he said. She was shaking. ‘Come on, let’s get back upstairs.’ If someone came down, it wouldn’t look good – them hugging in the cellar. What was he thinking?
‘But we didn’t do anything wrong,’ Rain said, as he led her back to the lit chamber.
No, we didn’t, Callum thought, making sure he kept his eyes firmly fixed on his feet as she went up the cellar steps in front of him. Otherwise, her tiny skirt would have been level with his face.
* * *
Dinner was perfect. Nick had cooked up a feast, and even Amy, who was usually picky with anything vaguely spicy, was wolfing down a plate of Moroccan lamb tagine. Rain just pushed a few vegetables around her plate, smearing the sauce to the edges.
‘You did it all so effortlessly, Nick,’ Maggie said. ‘If it were left to me, I’d still be in the supermarket turning in circles.’
‘It’s all about the ingredients. I never go to supermarkets,’ Nick replied. ‘Seasonal local produce is always best.’ He stood and went round the table with one of the wines he’d bought. ‘Here, try some of this, Callum.’
Callum put his hand over his glass. ‘No… thanks. I’ve already opened this one,’ he said. ‘Who’s for some of Patrick’s Rioja? Just one glass for me because I’m driving.’
‘Dad’s wine?’ Claire said.
‘Yes, from the cellar.’
‘But Nick chose some wine for this evening, darling.’ She didn’t want to seem ungrateful. Without Nick’s hard work they’d all be eating a sloppy Chinese takeaway.
‘Dad won’t mind,’ Shona said. ‘He has tons of the stuff. Best to get rid of it before he drinks it all.’
‘I know, but…’ Claire didn’t press further. She caught Nick’s eye and he mouthed It’s OK followed by a small smile. She allowed him to pour some of his wine into her glass and then he sat down next to her again. When his knee brushed against hers for longer than necessary, Claire pulled away. Whatever these indefinable feelings were, they needed to stop right now.
* * *
There was a knock on the door. ‘What?’ Rain was peering into the mirror. She slammed down her mascara and went to open the door.
‘You ready?’ Marcus was standing there, hands in pockets. He’d changed out of that grubby tee and put on a white shirt.
‘Du-uh.’ Rain glanced down at her dressing-gowned body.
‘How long?’
‘An hour.’
‘But Dad’s leaving in five minutes,’ Marcus said, looking pained. ‘If you’re not in the yard by then, you’ll get left behind.’ He turned to go but stopped briefly. ‘And don’t forget your ID.’
Shit, Rain thought on both counts. Her ID wasn’t exactly the best fake, and it was only her fast talking and eyelash-batting that had stopped her having it confiscated and cut up last time. The doorman had sent her on her way, telling her to come back in a few years.
She pulled her hair down from its messy ponytailed knot and threw her head forward. With a huge can of hairspray, she messed and ruffled and back-combed until her hair was a big mass of scrunched waves. Then she dug around in her holdall and pulled out her red and black bodycon dress. She stepped into it, wriggling and stretching until the clingy fabric had shaped itself around her. After a smear of lip gloss, she grabbed her bag but froze in the doorway. She went back into the bedroom and stared into the mirror, wondering why the girl looking back at her was a stranger.
‘You’re so fat, I hate you,’ she whispered, giving herself a dirty look. She swiped up her huge hoop earrings, hooking them in place as she ran down the stairs. She prayed the tears wouldn’t overflow and destroy what little make-up she’d had time to put on.
‘What I don’t get with girls,’ she overheard Marcus saying to his dad, ‘is why it takes them hours to get ready, yet when they’re in a hurry they can do it in five minutes.’
‘It had better be a good night,’ she said, scowling.