Page 53 of Save Me (Maxton Hall #1)

Ruby

The doorbell rings just as I pull a Jenga block out of the stack. I jump, which makes the entire tower collapse. Mum, Dad, and Ember boo, and I swear under my breath.

“You’re out for the next round,” Mum says, rubbing her hands. She’s the best at this game and practically always wins.

Once I’d told my family about the visit and shown them a slideshow of my Oxford photos on my laptop, we had dinner together and decided to have a game night.

We’re on our third round of Jenga, and I’ve already lost twice.

I admit defeat, and as the others start stacking the little wooden blocks again, I go to answer the door.

My eyes widen as I see who it is standing there.

“Lydia?”

She looks distraught. Her cheeks are red, and her eyes are swollen. I take a step toward her, but she wards me off. “Is James here?”

I shake my head. “No. What’s happened?” I ask in alarm.

Lydia doesn’t even seem to hear me. She pulls her phone out of her jacket pocket and dials a number, then holds it to her ear. I walk outside in my socks and grab her arm. I stare hard at her. “What’s happened?”

She just shakes her head.

“Cy? It’s me,” she says suddenly into the phone. “Is James with you?”

Cyril says something at the other end of the line, and relief spreads over her face. “Thank God.”

I can hear Cyril’s voice again but can’t make out the words. Whatever he’s saying, it makes Lydia’s expression darken again.

“OK. No, I’ll come.” He replies, and Lydia glances briefly at me. “Yes. See you in a bit.”

Once she’s hung up, she’s about to turn and run back to the car, where Percy is waiting. He’s leaning against it, looking just as worried, which makes me feel sick.

“Lydia, please tell me what’s happened,” I say abruptly.

She opens her mouth and shuts it again. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

I gesture to her to wait. Then I run back into the house, slip on my boots, grab my coat and the scarf Dad knitted for me.

I call out to my family that I have to go out and take my key off the hook by the front door.

As I go, I wrap my scarf around my neck.

Lydia looks like she wants to stop me but just doesn’t have the strength.

She disappears into the car without another word. I say hello to Percy, who just nods to me, then get into the back too. Lydia is sitting in James’s usual place. Her eyes are glassy, and she’s fiddling with the hem of her red coat. I want to take her hand but don’t dare.

“The offer’s still open. If you want to talk, I mean,” I say quietly.

Lydia flinches as if I’d yelled at her. She looks up, and there are tears swimming in her eyes.

Every second in her company makes me feel queasier.

What can have happened to make her this distraught?

I suddenly have a horrible thought. I glance at the ceiling.

The little red light isn’t on, which means that Percy can’t hear us. I lean forward slightly.

“Is everything OK with the baby?” I whisper.

Lydia gives a panicked glance at the driver’s seat, but the screen is up too. Then she turns back to me. “Yes,” she says hoarsely. “At home, we had a…” She pauses and seems to be deciding how far she can trust me. “There was trouble.”

Given what James told me about his father last night, I can get a picture of what “trouble” might mean in the Beaufort house. I have goose bumps all over.

“Is James OK, Lydia?” I whisper, not able to suppress the panic in my voice.

Lydia gives a helpless shrug. “Cyril says so.”

The next quarter of an hour feels like eternity.

I hold tight to the hem of my jacket, trying not to freak out with anxiety.

I don’t know exactly what’s going on, and Lydia won’t meet my eyes, just strokes her belly, lost in thought.

Now and then, she blinks hard, like she’s fighting back tears.

Once, her phone buzzes. She reads the message, then presses her lips together.

After that, she really doesn’t seem like she wants to talk.

When we get to Cyril’s, Lydia jumps out of the car and hurries toward the house. She slips on the icy steps, and I catch her at the last moment, grabbing her arm so that she doesn’t fall. She mumbles a thank-you.

Cyril’s in the doorway. When Lydia reaches him, he greets her with wide-open arms. “Well, fancy that. See who’s gracing our party with their presence.”

He hugs her, but she just stands there, letting it happen, like a lifeless doll.

It’s a while before Cyril lets her go. Then he sees me.

“And you even brought a plus-one. How nice.” The tone of his voice makes it perfectly clear that he doesn’t mean those last two words.

Then he takes a step to the side, and we walk in.

The music is thumping out from the back of the house, but it’s loud enough from here.

Cyril still has an arm around Lydia’s shoulders.

I wonder if he knows what’s happened or whether he just has the tact not to ask her about it.

We cross the hall that I was in the last time.

There’s nobody up on the gallery tonight; everything seems to be happening in the sitting room.

We walk in, the music hits us, and I look around.

It’s not as crowded as the other time I was here.

This party is on a much smaller scale. I don’t know why, but that makes me even more worried.

There are a few people I don’t know dancing around in their underwear in the middle of the room.

Alistair is sitting on one of the sofas, making out with some huge guy with tattoos.

Further back, I spot Kesh by a drinks trolley.

He’s glaring at them, narrow-eyed, then downs his drink in one.

The back of my neck starts to tingle…and I see James.

He’s sitting on a sofa near the pool. My shoulders stiffen as my eyes take him in.

He looks wrecked. His hair’s a mess, his shirtsleeves are rolled up, and I can see spots of something red on the gray T-shirt beneath it—the shirt I was wearing last night. My heart sinks into my boots.

I’m about to go over to him when I see him bend down. He leans his head over the table, presses a finger to one nostril, and inhales a white substance with the other. My mouth drops open. Did he just…?

A blond girl who looks vaguely familiar clambers out of the pool and strolls over to James.

She bends a finger and beckons him over.

He stands up, head aslant. She walks the last few feet and stops right in front of him.

Then she lifts her hands and starts to unbutton his shirt.

At that moment, I recognize her. The girl groping my boyfriend is Elaine Ellington.

A cold shiver runs down my spine, and I feel a stabbing pain in my stomach. I’m rooted to the spot.

“How long’s he been like this?” Lydia asks Cyril.

“All afternoon. He’s totally out of it.”

Lydia hisses out a curse. The two of them keep talking, but I can’t hear them over the roaring in my ears. Elaine pushes the shirt over James’s shoulders, and it falls to the floor. Then she starts fiddling with his belt.

That’s enough.

At that moment, my anger is greater than my phobia of water. I’m over to them in just a few strides.

“What the hell are you doing?” I snarl.

James turns his head but looks straight through me, not at me.

He’s like a total stranger. His face is stony, his pupils are so huge that you can hardly see his irises at all, and I can’t make out their unusual turquoise color. His cheeks are pale, and his eyes are lined in red.

This isn’t my James. This is the guy he was months ago, the guy who bribes people, gets off his head with his friends every weekend, gets horizontal with one girl after another. He’s the guy who doesn’t feel a thing, doesn’t give a shit about anything.

“James,” I whisper, taking his hand. His skin is as cold as ice.

For a second, something flickers in his eyes. It’s dark and all-consuming, seems to be eating him up from the inside out. He inhales audibly, shuts his eyes for a moment—and when he opens them, that expression has gone again.

“You shouldn’t be here, Ruby.”

“But I…”

Even as I’m speaking, he turns away and jumps into the pool.

The loud splash startles me. Little water droplets land on my face, and I jump back.

Elaine and a few other guests, dressed only in their underwear, follow James into the water.

Wren’s with them too. He resurfaces with a roar and splashes James, who grins and shakes the water out of his hair.

Everything here feels so wrong. I’m longing to talk to James, but there are lots of reasons why that’s not possible.

I’m too scared to get any closer to the water, and I don’t think he’s in any fit state to take in anything anyone says to him.

James looks impassive. Like the world is rushing past him, and he’s just numb, being swept along with it.

Elaine moves closer to James. He swims on his back to the wall, and she smiles and follows him.

My heart is beating faster and faster. I don’t understand what’s going on here.

It’s like a bad dream. Under the water, I can make out the vague outline of her body pressed into his.

She’s standing between his legs, leaning in and whispering into his ear.

They look comfortable. Like this isn’t the first time this has happened.

Everything within me is shouting at me to go and tear her away from him, but I can’t move.

James does nothing as Elaine takes his face in her hands and kisses him.

Something shatters inside me. Little shards of glass penetrate my rib cage and work their way deeper into my soul until I can hardly breathe.

Suddenly, someone puts their hand on my shoulder. “Now that’s the James Beaufort I know,” Cyril whispers in my ear.

I want to say: But he’s not the James Beaufort that I know .

You have no idea what he’s really like.

He’s my boyfriend, you stupid arsehole.

But that’s not true. If James Beaufort were my boyfriend, he wouldn’t be doing this.

If he were my boyfriend, he’d have come to me and told me about his problems instead of using drugs and alcohol and his superficial friends to distract himself from the pain.

If he were my boyfriend, he wouldn’t have another girl’s tongue shoved down his throat right now.

I turn on my heel. I slip on the wet floor but just about catch myself in time.

I fight my way back through the sitting room as fast as I can.

My footsteps echo on the floor of the huge entrance hall as I run to the door.

I have to get out of here, right now. But I’m afraid there’s nowhere in the entire world where I can forget what just happened.

“Ruby!” Lydia calls behind me. I stop and look back over my shoulder. As I see how desperate she looks, a guilty feeling rises up inside me.

“I’m really sorry your family life is so shit, Lydia,” I say, my voice trembling. “But I can’t do this. Not like this, not after…” After what? After I thought we’d worked through this exact issue? After we spent the night together? There’s no way I can say that to her.

“He needs you now,” she pleads.

I give a bitter laugh and lean my head right back to stare at the ceiling.

This hall is so over-the-top. Gold as far as the eye can see, priceless oil paintings, expensive antique vases—things that suddenly strike me as utterly trivial.

I turn and keep walking until I finally reach the exit.

Lydia calls something out behind me, but I’m not listening anymore.

When the heavy door slams shut behind me, I see it as symbolic.

For a brief moment, I truly thought that James and I could make this work, if we both wanted it enough. But now one thing is clear to me:

I will never be a part of his world.

Unfortunately, I’m only recognizing that now, when it’s far too late.