Page 26 of The Retreat

Imogen wasn’t really listening to Jade.

The room was too warm. The wine had gone to her cheeks. And across the table, in the corner of her eye, Talia was sitting there like a thundercloud in brand-name casual wear.

Imogen gave Jade a little laugh because she was trying. Trying to be social. Trying to be liked. She was here, after all, as someone’s guest. As someone’s girlfriend, allegedly. She needed to pull her weight.

Jade was twirling a ring around her finger and telling a possibly tall story about a recent date where she didn’t realise the guy was a sheikh until he discreetly handed the waiter a stack of cash to clear the entire restaurant.

Imogen smiled when she was meant to, nodded when she was meant to.

Then Jade’s hand brushed her wrist, and Imogen didn’t pull away. She simply ignored it. Jade flirted like she breathed. It was best to give her no reaction at all.

But across the table, Talia had gone still.

Imogen could feel it even without looking. The way you can feel a cat watching you through the banister. She took a sip of water and glanced down at her plate. Her fork hovered while she searched for another nod or chuckle to offer Jade something that would sound natural.

She didn’t notice Talia leaning forward until her voice cut through the chatter.

‘Careful, Jade. That’s my girlfriend you’re pawing at.’

Jade let out a cackle, clinked her glass against Imogen’s, and said something about admiring a bracelet. Imogen wasn’t even wearing a bracelet.

But that didn’t bother Imogen. The joke? That bothered her.

Imogen glanced across the table. Talia wasn’t laughing now. She was frowning faintly, her mouth pressed into a line, her gaze fixed on her still-full plate.

She thought Imogen was flirting back. She was probably worried about how it looked to everyone else to have her ‘girlfriend’ practically cheating in front of her.

Imogen felt herself flush. Not with guilt, exactly, but with confusion. Shame, even. Because she wasn’t doing anything. She wasn’t interested in Jade. She was making conversation. Being a decent guest.

And now what? Now she was meant to play this part too? A girlfriend crossing the line in front of Talia’s whole firm?

It was too much.

Someone stood, clinking their glass with a spoon. ‘All right. Shall we head to the fire?’ called Rebecca, phrased like a suggestion, but it was clearly a command.

People stood up, gathering their bits and pieces.

Talia was still seated, talking to Rhona. She hadn’t looked at her since the joke.

Imogen didn’t wait to be acknowledged. She stepped out into the chilly night. A bonfire crackled and danced, welcoming the group into its orange-lit circle.

The bonfire was meant to be a bonding thing, according to the schedule. Laughter and roasted marshmallows, and someone with a guitar if they were unlucky. Ready, set… connect!

Imogen wrapped her arms around herself and took the seat farthest from the flames. This day was lasting forever, and her performance was wearing thin. She wished she were a psychopath. All of this would be fine if she didn’t have normal human feelings.

Behind her, the door swung open, and the others spilled out, bringing the noise with them. Imogen didn’t turn. She stared into the fire. Though she didn’t look up, she could feel Talia’s eyes on her. But she couldn’t look at her. Whatever this was between them, it was starting to feel less like an act and more like a test she hadn’t agreed to take.