Page 67 of Pretty Mess

“You’re right about that,” he says quietly and firmly, not inviting further conversation.

“Did you know him before this?” I ask despite myself. For some odd reason, I know the answer before he opens his mouth.

“Oh yes.” He looks at me, his eyes cold and very blue. “He’s my grandfather.”

“What?” The sound is so loud that it startles a little wren, who flies away. I jump to my feet and grab his shirtsleeve. “Are youserious?”

He raises his eyebrows.

“Oh my god, you are.” I hesitate, so many questions flooding my brain that I can’t organise them. “But Mr Corvin didn’t say anything.”

Emotion burns behind Mac’s cool eyes, but it’s certainly not anything to do with pleasure. He suddenly looks years older. “He doesn’t know.”

He stares at the water, his mouth a firm line. Our conversation is at an end. We stand silently at the river’s edge, the breeze ruffling our hair. A boat passes and the man piloting it raises a hand in greeting. Mac doesn’t notice, so I wave back.

I glance towards the house. The windows stare blindly down on us. I wonder if Mac’s grandfather is watching him. “I suppose it’ll take a lot of work to get it nice before you actually move in. But I think it could be stunning, and the island seems a wonderful place to live.” My lips curve and I recall the feeling of knowing this place somewhere deep in my bones. Did that feeling arise because of Mac’s history with Mr Corvin? “For some reason, I think it’s been waiting for you.”

I wish suddenly that I could explore those feelings of connection. With the house and with Mac. Something tells me I could be happy with him here on this funny little island. An image flashes into my head of me rowing across the river to our house where he’s waiting. It’s so sharp and real that it makes me blink.

“I don’t think so,” he says slowly.

I stare at him before saying cautiously, “You’re not thinking of living here, then?”

“No.” Mac’s lip quirks into a half smile, but there’s nothing happy about it. “I’m going to raze it to the fucking ground.”

“What?”

He nods, a cold, fierce satisfaction in his eyes. “Every last bit of it until there’s nothing left.”

“But w-why?” I put a hand on his arm, urging him to face me. “That’s a terrible thing to do, Mac. It’s such a beautiful house. You can’t destroy it.” I’m surprised by how protective I feel about the place and expect Mac to question me on it. But he just shrugs, and he seems as much a stranger as the first night I met him.

The putt-putt of the motor heralds Sam approaching, and Mac steps towards the dock. I catch his arm again and try one more time to reach him. “You said you would treasure the house. That was why you brought me with you. You made a promise to him.”

I can’t hide the disapproval in my voice. I feel betrayed and hurt by him, as if he’s not who I thought he was.

He nods. “Breaking that promise is the best part of it all,” he says coldly. Shaking my hand off him, he walks down to the boat. He doesn’t look back, and I shiver as if the sun has gone in.

nine

Two Weeks Later

I stare at my laptop screen, the words and figures blurring in front of my eyes. “Fuck. I’mnevergoing to pass this,” I whisper. I look at my watch and whimper. It’s eleven p.m. and I’m so tired, but I can’t sleep, because I have more revision.

I grab my phone and shoot off a quick text.You okay?

Julian’s reply comes back quickly, so he’s obviously alone.Why?

I hesitate. He’d worried me when he spoke about his punters hurting him, but he’s as prickly as a hedgehog so it’s difficult to express that concern. I settle for the lame reply.Just wondered.

You’re very weird.

I snort and tap away.You’re not wrong. How’s the revision going?

Wes, it’s the night before our first exam. All my revision is done and I’m going to bed.

The next text comes hot on the heels of the last.Surely you’re doing the same.

My groan is very loud in the quiet room.Of course. Absolutely. I am completely ready.