‘I said I would go there sometimes and help Marguerite by looking after Rory! That’s all. She said she would ask you if you’d mind if she borrowed me occasionally when the shop wasn’t busy. This has nothing to do with Mouse.’
‘Good God, woman! It has everything to do with my brother. He does all her dirty work, including calling me just now on the pretext of making sure I was okay. And then announcing that you would be needed at High Weald from the weekend.’
‘Orlando, I really have no idea what you’re talking about.’
‘No, I’m sure you don’t. And there I was, thinking you were on my side . . .’
‘I am, Orlando. Really.’
‘No you’re not. Can’t you see it suits him? But it doesn’t suit me!’
He paused and took some deep and much-needed breaths.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said helplessly.
‘And I’m more so,’ he said as he stared at me, anger gone and an expression in his eyes that I couldn’t quite decipher. ‘Well, off you go.’
‘Off I go where?’
‘Trip home to whatever rabbit hutch you live in and pack your bags for High Weald. Marguerite and Mouse need you.’
‘Please, I’m your employee, my loyalty lies with you. I love it here . . .’
‘Sorry, but if you expect me to fight for you after your betrayal, I won’t.’
He gave a theatrical shrug, closed his arms tighter across his chest and turned away from me like a sulky little boy.
‘I won’t go to High Weald. I want to stay here.’
‘And I am dismissing you.’
‘That’s not fair!’
‘As you said yourself only today, Star, life isn’t fair.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Star, it has been blindingly obvious since the moment I made the mistake of taking you into the hornet’s nest that you fell in love at first sight with High Weald and the more garrulous members of my family. Who am I to hold you from them? It’s a siren call, dear girl, and you have fallen for it, hook, line and sinker. Fly away, but expect to get stung.’
If his words weren’t so painful, I would have laughed at the Edwardian melodrama of the situation. Tears threatened behind my eyes.
‘Okay,’ I said, walking past him to collect my holdall and rucksack. ‘Goodbye, Orlando. I’m so sorry.’
I continued to the door in silence and had just laid my hand on the knob when he spoke again.
‘At least Rory will benefit from your tender attentions. I’m glad of that. Goodbye, Miss Star.’
I pulled open the door and walked out into the foggy street, the sky already darkening. My feet carried me automatically across the road towards the bus stop. The bus stop where I’d first set eyes on Arthur Morston Books.
I stood by it, looking back towards the shop, and there in the shadows, behind the maps laid out in the window, I saw the shape of a man standing watching me.
I turned my head, unable to bear Orlando’s silent derision.
23
Thankfully, the apartment was empty when I arrived home. Dumping my holdall in our shared bedroom that felt even more suffocating after spending the past five nights alone, I went to take a long shower. As the piping-hot water poured over my body, I let not only my tears but my voice flow and I howled, wondering how on earth, in the space of twenty-four hours, I’d managed to mess it all up.
I stepped out and wrapped myself in a fluffy white towel, and I knew the answer. I’d been greedy. And selfish. Like a woman who had fallen passionately in love, I hadn’t seen the ramifications of my actions, being far too hungry for my prey.
Which, as Orlando had so succinctly put it, was High Weald. And its occupants . . .
Of course, I should never have said that I’d take any employment that I’d been offered there, especially under the recent circumstances. No, I should have said I would speak to Orlando – who, after all, was the person who had originally introduced me to the wonderland – before I could agree to anything.
But I hadn’t. And here I was, once more unemployed. Because if I went to High Weald now – the hornet’s nest, as Orlando had described it – the best friend I had ever made in my life would see me as a traitor. And I just couldn’t bear the thought of that.
As I emptied my rucksack to find my hairbrush, with a sinking heart I saw that the brass keys to the bookshop were still tucked into the inside pocket. I remembered that glorious moment only a few weeks ago when Orlando had pressed the keys into my hand with a smile, and quickly dismissed it from my memory. I decided defiantly he could either fetch them himself or I would drop them off if I was in the area. But I certainly wouldn’t go out of my way to return them.
I padded downstairs to make myself a cup of tea and found the normally pristine kitchen in chaos. Five days’ worth of plates had been dumped into the sink – even though a dishwasher sat below the worktop next to it. The floor was covered with crumbs and splashes, and when I looked for a teabag in the caddy to put in a mug that I’d rinsed out, I found it was empty.
‘Christ, CeCe!’ I murmured angrily, searching desperately through the cupboards to satisfy my craving. In the end, I dunked a herbal tea bag into the boiling water and, leaving the kitchen as it was, went outside onto my terrace. Luckily, most things on it were either in hibernation or not in need of water, due to the heavy dew. I noted the camellia needed to come in before it suffered from frostbite, but given its size and weight, I felt too weak to drag it, so tonight it would have to do with a dustbin bag placed over its delicate flowers.
Retreating indoors, and deciding that, as it was gone six o’clock, it was okay to have a glass of wine, I poured myself one and sat in the centre of one of the enormous cream sofas. As I looked around me at the perfect, sterile space – the complete opposite of everything High Weald represented – more tears filled my eyes.
For I knew that I belonged in neither world – not here in the one my sister had created, which contained little or nothing of me, nor at High Weald.
I was in bed when I heard the crash of the front door a couple of hours later. I’d left CeCe a note written in big letters on the fridge so she would see it. I’d said I’d come down with a horrible cold and had gone to sleep in the spare room so I didn’t infect her. As expected, having heard her call out for me as she arrived, I traced her footsteps aurally into the kitchen where she’d normally find me. There was a pause as I pictured her reading the note, then the sound of her climbing the stairs. There was a knock on the door.
‘Star? You okay? Can I come in?’
‘Yes,’ I croaked pathetically.
The door opened and the shadow of CeCe appeared in the chink of light.
‘Don’t come too close. I’m in a horrible state.’ I coughed as throatily as I could manage.
‘Poor you. Can I get you anything?’
‘No. Taken drugs.’
‘If you need me in the night, you know where I am.’
‘I do.’
‘Try and sleep. Maybe now you’re home, you’ll feel better.’
‘Yes. Thanks, Cee.’
Through my half-opened left eye, I could see she was still hovering at the door, watching me.
‘Missed you,’ she said.