Chapter Eleven #2
‘Bit of a mood killer,’ I said, then, because I couldn’t resist, and I wanted to make that suggestion of a smile bloom fully across his face, I tipped my head back and gasped out, ‘Oh, oh Ethan! Oh God! Sparks – please turn off the nightlights! Thank you, thank you , Sparks! Yes, yes . Finally!’
‘Georgie.’ Ethan’s laugh burst out of him, and it was brighter than any voice-activated light, or even the glowing sun outside.
‘Does your house have a sex mode, Ethan?’ I was on a roll. ‘Is there a hatch in the ceiling that drops rose petals when you say, “Sparks, we are getting it on right now”?’
‘No,’ he said, at the same time as the voice said, ‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand your request.’
‘But there are the skylights.’ He gestured up, and I saw the faint lines in the ceiling, the place where, with a simple command, it would slide back and show off the sky, give us direct access to the heavens.
It must have been a feat of engineering brilliance to have redone the roof in a way that incorporated these skylights throughout the top floor.
‘A blanket of stars,’ I murmured. There wouldn’t be any stars yet, but there would be the mesmerizing, ethereal blue of the sky just before dusk, and I couldn’t deal with that level of romance while I was here with him.
‘You know I named the house for you,’ Ethan said. We’d skirted around it, but this was the first time he’d admitted it to me.
I slid to the edge of the bed. ‘I can’t do this. Nope. No no no.’
‘Why not? What’s wrong?’
I stumbled off the bed and pulled my sandals back on. ‘It’s not real, is it?’ I gestured around me. ‘It’s a fantasy.’
‘I made it real.’ Ethan scooted across the duvet. ‘I did this.’
‘For someone who won’t appreciate it,’ I finished.
‘It’s going to be bought by people who don’t understand how magical it is, or that it’s featured in all Spen …
S. E. Artemis’s books, or how many of our memories are bound up here.
They’ll love the separate beer and wine fridges and the disco shower and the views of the stars and the sea, but they won’t know about its soul. ’
Ethan stood up. ‘We will, though.’ He sounded defeated, as if my words had pushed the reality home. He’d worked so hard and made such a difference for someone else.
I moved closer and, tentatively, dangerously, wrapped my arms around his waist. My head fitted perfectly under his chin as it always had, a favourite jigsaw being pulled out of its box and slotted together again.
His chest rose and fell on an exhale, and I let myself hold him for a couple of seconds, nostalgia and contentment rushing over me. Then I stepped away from him.
‘Bye, Ethan.’ I put my rucksack on and, when I reached the doorway, let myself glance back. He was looking at me, a puzzled expression on his face, as if he couldn’t figure me out. I hurried into the hall, heading for the stairs.
‘Bye, Sterenlenn,’ I murmured, as I trailed my hand along the chrome handrail with its thread of seaside blue.
‘Farewell, Georgie,’ the house said, making me jump. A prickle ran down my spine, because I hadn’t said ‘Sparks’, so how had it picked up my voice?
I reached the bottom of the stairs and peered into the kitchen. There were empty glasses and canapé plates strewn about, and one of the bouquets was starting to droop. I could see the living room beyond, and I wavered. Did I have time? But then I heard a bang from upstairs.
‘Georgie, wait!’ Ethan’s footsteps were fast on the stairs.
Panic welled up inside me, because I couldn’t spend any more time with him. It was too confusing, we were too far apart, and I didn’t know him any more. I had to let him go for good, like the house, so I went on the defensive.
‘Your house is fucking creepy, you know that?’ I strode towards the front door and pulled the handle, but it was locked.
‘It’s not creepy,’ he said from behind me.
‘It just said “farewell, Georgie”, even though I didn’t say “Sparks”.’
‘That’s not possible.’ Ethan cleared the last couple of steps.
‘Yes, Georgie?’ the house asked innocently. ‘What can I help you with?’ I ignored it.
‘Do you get a kick out of saying your surname over and over? That’s a very specific kind of narcissism. Can you open the door?’ I pulled on it, but it wouldn’t budge.
‘Stay for ten more minutes,’ Ethan said. ‘Please.’
‘Sparks, open the front door!’ There was a loud clunk, and the door started to move.
‘Sparks, close the door,’ Ethan said, and it whooshed shut.
I glared at him.
‘Ten minutes,’ he said, his hands out in front of him. ‘I don’t want us to part like this. Not after last time.’
‘Sparks, open the front door,’ I gritted out.
‘Yes, Georgie,’ the voice cooed, and I felt a surge of triumph as the door moved towards me.
‘Sparks, lock the door,’ Ethan said, and I was once again denied exit.
I spun around. ‘You told me you wouldn’t keep me here against my will!’
He looked pained. ‘Please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry about what I said upstairs, about naming the house for you. This has been … obviously it’s been a dream, getting this place done, but it’s been hard too. And then, you turning up … I know I’m not expressing myself well, but I should never have—’
‘You have to let me go.’ I could feel the burn of tears behind my eyes.
He nodded, holding my gaze. ‘Sparks,’ he said, ‘open the front door.’
‘Bye, Ethan.’ I turned around and pulled the handle, but it didn’t move. I glanced at him, and he frowned.
‘Sparks, open the door,’ he repeated. I waited for the click, for the door to slide towards me as I tugged the handle. Nothing happened.
‘Sparks, unlock the front door.’ He was louder this time, but still nothing shifted. ‘Sparks, give me a status update.’
‘Sterenlenn is fully functional,’ the house said smoothly. ‘No bugs or anomalies detected.’
‘Great,’ Ethan said, and I noted the sarcasm in his voice that, despite everything, made me smile. ‘So, Sparks, unlock the front door.’
There was no clunk, but I pulled anyway. The door was still locked. We exchanged a puzzled look.
‘I don’t know what’s wrong with it.’ He turned to the wall panel and pressed a few buttons, the cute electronic beeps filling the silence. ‘What the actual fuck is it doing?’ He jabbed at it angrily.
‘I know,’ I murmured, losing patience. ‘Sparks,’ I said loudly, ‘open the front door now! This. Is. An. Emergency!’
‘No!’ Ethan shouted as the last word came out of my mouth.
The house made a series of bleeping, whirring noises, and I heard a heavy thunk behind me as the front door seemed to settle even further into its metal frame.
The panel Ethan had been stabbing at warbled melodically and its lights flashed blue and red, then the tall windows behind the staircase slid from transparent to solid, like blackout blinds, and all the lights in the house flickered on.
‘Ethan?’ I said. ‘What is this?’
He turned to look at me, his eyes wide. ‘I-I don’t—’ he started, but then the house spoke over him, as calm as ever.
‘Emergency procedure activated,’ it said. ‘Entering Panic Room Mode. Sterenlenn is in lockdown.’