Page 24 of Oleander

“He’s not here. Beth isn’t either.”

“They left the baby home alone?”

I glowered. “If you’ve a message for Luke, I can pass it on. What is it?”

He gave me a long look as if he were trying to decide whether I was trustworthy. I rolled my eyes.

“My uncle wants you all to come for lunch tomorrow. 3 p.m. Do you think you’re able to retain that information?”

“Don’t know. Might say I never got it.”

“And who do you think they’ll believe, Judith? You or me?” He smiled maliciously. “Pass it on. Don’t be late.” With that, heturned his horse, kicked his heel, and took off at a gallop back toward the big house.

I stared at his retreating form for a bit, embarrassed, stunned, frustrated, and with dread curdling my stomach like sour milk.

“Ever heard of a phone?” I shouted after him.

Twat.

For Sunday lunch, we sat outside on the terrace – the same terrace where I’d stood watching Caspien play the piano. That day, Gideon had hired a chef and a waiter to serve us, which was weird. It felt like we’d come out for a particularly fancy meal at a place we couldn’t afford.

Caspien sat beside me on my left, Beth and Luke across, and Gideon at the head with his back to the house. There was wine, of which Caspien was allowed a small half glass and which he sipped like hot tea. I hadn’t wanted any but wasn’t allowed it in any case. I’m sure Luke could have been persuaded, but Beth was having none of it.

I didn’t particularly like alcohol anyway – not the wine we’d stolen from Josh’s parents’ wine fridge or the whisky we’d tried from Alfie’s dad’s cupboard. I didn’t mind beer, but that wasn’t on offer here.

Instead, I had a sugar-free 7-up with Beth while the others sipped their wine.

“So, Luke, Beth,” Gideon began. “I invited Jude to come and use the library here whenever he wanted – since you told me he’s a big reader – but I haven’t had a chance to clear it with you both, yet. I know Caspien would love the company, too.”

“That’s awfully kind of you, Gideon,” Beth beamed. I’d never seen her smile so much; she’d not stopped since we arrived. It was alarming. “Jude would love that too.”

Jude would bloody well not, and if Beth hadn’t warned me not to ‘act up,’ I’d have said as much.

“Yes, I suppose it’d be good to hang out with someone under forty for a change.” It was Caspien who spoke. Not only did he speak, he turned his head and smiled at me. Not the mean, ugly smile he usually gave me. A real one. Pretty and warm. I blinked in shock.

“Don’t let Mario hear you say that,” Gideon chided. “He’s only thirty-two.”

“Well, he looks a lot older,” Caspien retorted, somehow making it sound innocent and not mean.

“Mario is his tennis coach,” Gideon explained. “Nice guy. He flies in from London twice a week. Do you play tennis, Jude? Perhaps you could join them for some lessons?”

“No,” I said, hoping it would cover both questions.

“Jude used to play a bit of rugby. Was good, too.” Luke smiled at me. “But he got his wrist broken on a hard tackle last year and decided to give it up.”

“Which wrist?” Caspien asked me.

“Left.”

He nodded, some glimmer of something in his blue eyes.

“It still hurts when I’m writing or typing for too long.” I directed this at Gideon, who had a sad look on his face. “Probably wouldn’t be great for tennis.”

“That’s a shame.”

Talk moved to the baby, the cottage, and the Deveraux garden revival, which was still ongoing. The Jersey Enquirer wanted to do a feature on it, apparently. The garden, that was.

I was bored, but I was also acutely aware of the body to my left, and that alone had me on the very sharp edge of awareness. I was aware of every mouthful it took, every sip of wine it had, every slight shift it made.