“Gus, you’re killing me here. Everyone’s killing me. Just give me what I want!”
After releasing a frustrated grunt, Annie kicked at the bar. Ned’s glare immediately snapped in her direction. Property damage. Another petty crime for the ever-growing list. She gave Ned a feeble smile.
“Annie, calm down,” Gus said. “I don’t understand why you’re so plucked.”
She removed the luggage tag from her pocket and slapped it on the counter.
“What do you think about this?” she asked.
Gus’s face reddened.
“You have to stop—”
“Stealing things. Yes. I know. I found this lodged in the banister at the Grange. It’s clearly the writer’s. You said when we first met that Win is in Paris. Is he still at this address? That is in Paris, correct?”
“?le Saint-Louis.” Gus nodded toward the tag. “It’s one of the oldest sections of the city. Many of the homes have been in families for centuries.”
“I know, I’ve been there,” Annie said. “And I’m not asking for the island’s history. I want to know if Win Seton lives at twenty-four Quai de Béthune?”
“How am I supposed to answer that?”
“You know, you’ve made a lot of disparaging remarks about the guy,” Annie said. “He’s a tosser, a wanker, a ne’er-do-well, on and on. You’re not exactly chuffing brilliant yourself.”
“You’re not using the term properly. It’s not a curse word.”
“What about Pru?” she asked. “Is Pru in Paris?”
“That would be highly unlikely. The young woman returned to America, eventually.”
“Really?” Annie said with a small pout. “She did? I actually thought…”
She hesitated and took a sip of beer, though was tiring of it already. What exactly did Annie think? What ending had she mapped out for these people, subconsciously or otherwise?
“It’s stupid,” she said. “I guess … I suppose I assumed they fell for each other. That after Win got what he needed from Mrs. Spencer, he returned to Paris and Pru joined him. Eventually.”
Annie pictured the transcript, Win’s address on the back, written in a woman’s hand. She had assumed it was Pru’s.
“You thought they ended up together?” Gus said and frowned. “Well, sorry, there’s no happily ever after here.”
“Wow, okay.” Annie sighed. “I’m shocked. I don’t even know why since you never mentioned a romance. But they had this sweet rapport.”
“That they did.”
“So I thought…”
“Not altogether unreasonable.”
“He went and muffed the entire deal though, didn’t he?” she said. “They could’ve had a happily ever after but Win Seton screwed the pooch, just like you intimated he would.”
“I intimated that?”
“Of course you did! Basically, you’ve painted the guy as a loser.”
“Well, now, I never meant to go that far,” Gus said. “He was daft at times but not so bad a guy.”
“Not so bad? Tell me, Gus, how did you wrap up the story last time we spoke? Oh, that’s right, he lured Pru into his room and got her drunk on cheap wine. Sounds like a stand-up guy to me.”
“He didn’t lure her! She showed up!”
“Then Pru passed out, in his bed. Lord knows what kind of mischief he wheedled from her.”
“I don’t know what you’re implying,” Gus said, eyes boring into Annie. “But it was nothing like that. Win was often a bumbling do-nothing, and a bit too quick to take the piss out of people, but he was not a monster. Win Seton cared about people. He cared about Mrs. Spencer. And he definitely cared about Pru.”
“But Pru was na?ve, incredibly sheltered. Win was worldly. He had tricks up his sleeve.”
“I’d hardly call the bloke ‘worldly.’ Did you miss the part where I mentioned he was coddled since birth? Pru was smarter and savvier in innumerable ways.”
“Then tell me what happened in the bed,” Annie demanded.
“Not a thing. Blimey, have some respect for the two.”
“All right. Fine. I’ll give them their so-called privacy. But if you’re going to claim it wasn’t Win who drove the girl away, then tell me what happened the next morning, when they woke up.”
Forty-three
THE GRANGE
CHACOMBE-AT-BANBURY, OXFORDSHIRE, ENGLAND
JANUARY 1973
Pru wakened to someone depositing two live chickens on her head.
“Miss Valentine!” called the shrill voice she’d grown oh-so-accustomed to hearing.
Even with the decibel level, it was a miracle Pru woke up. She’d become skilled at tuning out the old woman. On top of that, she was spectacularly hungover. Though there were the chickens, which helped.
“Do you know where I found these birds?” Mrs. Spencer asked.
“Um, in the yard?” Pru said, and scooted up onto her elbows.
She glanced over to see Win snoring heavily beside her. So he did sleep. It was a revelation.
Oh God.
Win was beside her.