Page 102 of The House on Sunset Lake

‘Jennifer, please. It’s fine. I just need to sleep, and then I’m going back to the hospital.’

‘Jim . . .’

‘We’ll talk tomorrow,’ he said, and before he knew it, he had ended the call.

His apartment had never seemed so small, the four walls of the living room like a cell.

He kicked off his shoes and took the short walk to the bedroom, pulled down the blinds and sat on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. Guilt, regret made his throat thick. His body was crying out for sleep but he could not even lie back on the bed.

He ran the argument with his father over and over in his head.

If only he hadn’t gone to Saul’s apartment, if only he hadn’t been given the manuscript and read it, or seen Jennifer’s mole and put two and two together.

His shoulders slumped in hopelessness. He wasn’t even sure what hurt most any more. Certainly the fact that Jennifer had slept with his father had lost its force. It was only a paper cut now, not the fatal wound it had felt like the day before.

Too restless to sleep, he stood up and went to make some coffee. Every second seemed to stretch out interminably, but he found strange comfort in the simplicity of grinding the beans, filling the machine with water, listening to the glug of the coffee filter through to the jug.

He was pouring the black liquid into a mug when the intercom to his apartment buzzed. It made him jump, then panic made his heart thud hard. He put down the jug and pressed the intercom button.

Jennifer’s voice brought some relief, although she was the last person he wanted to see.

‘Shit,’ he whispered under his breath as he buzzed her up. The night they had spent together just two days earlier felt like another lifetime.

‘I’m sorry for coming over. I just had to.’ She had a nervous gentleness in her expression. As if she wanted to hold him but something was keeping her back.

‘I’m fine,’ he said quickly. ‘I just need to sleep.’

She took a step forward but he felt himself instinctively flinch away.

Neither of them said anything for a few moments.

‘Can I do anything? How about brownies to go with that coffee? I can run down to Molly’s Cupcakes . . .’

‘No, it’s fine, honestly.’

Another long silence. He almost felt sorry for her until he thought about Chapter 37 in College.

‘What happened?’

Jim shrugged. ‘He had a heart attack last year, but he still drinks, smokes . . . Infallible Bryn Johnson, or so he thought.’

‘Did it happen at the party?’

‘No. A few hours before it started, although I think he might have quite enjoyed the drama of collapsing in front of New York’s finest.’

He snorted lightly, then shook his head at the macabre humour.

‘We were at his house,’ he said quietly.

‘What? And he just keeled over?’

He closed his eyes and knew he had to tell her.

‘We had a disagreement.’ The words were right there on the tip of his tongue, but they wouldn’t come out.

‘What about?’

‘Nothing.’