Chapter Twenty-Seven
Now
T he bed was far too comfortable. After my and Ethan’s intense disco shower (where I discovered that one, the speakers worked in the shower cubicle, pumping our Lifehouse song to us clearly over the spray, two, he had got even better at working the angles that made us fit perfectly together – perhaps because this shower was so much bigger than mine – and three, he still loved them scalding hot), we wrapped ourselves in the oversized fluffy bath sheets, supposedly only for display purposes and getting a lot more than they bargained for, and fell back on the bed.
At some point, we replaced the towels for the duvet and bedspread, and I snuggled into him again.
Just before we’d drifted off, he’d looked down at me, eyelids already fluttering, voice thick, and said, ‘I’ve missed you so much, George.
I didn’t realize how empty my life was without you.
How pointless.’ But then he was asleep, and I didn’t have the chance to respond, even if I’d known what to say.
At first, I wasn’t sure what had woken me.
The room was cast in a blue tinge, and I looked for the source of the ethereal light.
It was coming from the window, where the moon had slid out of view, but it seemed to surround me, too.
I glanced up, and through the last wisps of sleep, I realized I was looking at the stars, the sky surrounding them a breathtaking, pre-dawn blue.
The skylight was open, and the effect was more magical than I could have imagined: take the glow-in-the-dark stars from childhood ceilings, turn the wow factor all the way up, and you might be halfway to understanding what I was lying beneath.
For several seconds I just stared, trying and failing to pick out constellations, and then, slowly, it sank in.
If the skylights were open, did that mean the rest of the house was, too?
I looked at Ethan. He was lying on his stomach, his head turned towards me, resting on his bent arm.
His eyelashes were inky feathers, his hair tousled, his breaths soft and relaxed.
He looked peaceful, and I was reluctant to wake him.
Part of me wanted to stay in this bubble, just the two of us, but I reminded myself that it wasn’t real, it had been forced on us, and the longer we were trapped here, the more the worry and irritation would fester between us.
I heard a buzz, something familiar but quiet, and saw that Ethan’s phone was vibrating on the bedside table. I picked it up, because if it was making noises, then surely there was a signal now, and Panic Room Mode really was over.
His display told me that it was almost four a.m., and that he had a message from Sarah.
I couldn’t help reading the snippet – it was right there on the screen – and my brain stuttered, the uncertainty over what had caused our predicament blooming bright again.
I needed to see the whole conversation to make sense of it, but when I tried to unlock the phone, it said my face wasn’t recognised, then asked for a passcode.
Gingerly, feeling guilty but determined because now I was sure he had been keeping things from me, I held the phone in front of Ethan’s face.
He had always been a deep sleeper, and I hoped this wouldn’t wake him.
At first, nothing happened, so I held my breath and moved the phone closer. There was a quiet snicking sound as the screen unlocked.
Turning away from him, I opened WhatsApp and scrolled back through the message chain between him and his sister, to the one Sarah had sent him just after she left Sterenlenn, before the house had shut down:
18:45 Sarah: Take your time, boss man. It’s gone brilliantly, so just enjoy it now. Amazing that Georgie turned up, huh?
18:50 Ethan: Thanks for everything you’ve done. Safe trip back – I’ll call you when I’m on the train.
19:01 Sarah: (don’t think I didn’t notice you avoiding the whole Georgie thing)
There was a gap, then a message from him much later in the evening, after we’d been stuck here for several hours.
23:15 Ethan: If this gets through, can you tell me what’s happening? Sparks is having a meltdown, we’re trapped inside. Me and Georgie. Can you check it for me urgently?
I didn’t know when he’d written it, but I assumed 23:15 was the time it had got through to her, and I tried to remember what we’d been doing then: if we’d been too distracted to notice some kind of signal returning; if he’d written the message hours earlier, and it had been sitting, waiting for Wi-Fi or 5G to finally release it. Her reply came soon afterwards.
23:20 Sarah: Don’t sweat it, bro. Just a little something I’ve been trying in Beta. I hope I didn’t scare Georgie with the impromptu Sparks responses.
Impromptu Sparks responses? I felt a wave of something close to nausea as I remembered how polished and grown-up Sarah had been that afternoon; how I’d been stunned that she was there, and surprised by how different she’d seemed.
I kept reading. Ethan’s reply was much later, and I realized he must have found Sarah’s message after our shower.
I thought he’d fallen asleep before me, but he must have woken up after I’d dropped off.
Had he taken his phone out, had one last try to reconnect everything and get us out, or had this been something else altogether?
1:57 Ethan: What the fuck? What are you talking about? You did this?
1:58 Sarah: Where you been, E? I had a little fun, that’s all. It was this whole thing, but it’s for your own good, I promise. You’ll thank me later.
1:58 Ethan: Unlock the house now. Georgie was hurt! We needed to get out. You’ve been in control the whole time? I don’t believe this. Could you hear us?
1:59 Sarah: Chill big bro. You were never in danger. I left it in Beta, set the wake words to Sparks and Sterenlenn, so I could only hear those prompts. You know how strong the security protocol is. I wasn’t listening to you.
2:00 Ethan: Unlock it, set Sparks back to auto. I mean it.
2:01 Sarah: Spoilsport.
2:02 Ethan: Now.
2:15 Sarah: OK I’ve unlocked it. You can get out now.
2:16 Ethan: I can’t believe you did this.
2:20 Sarah: You and Georgie though. Did it work?
2:21 Ethan: She was scared. You might have ruined everything.
2:23 Sarah: I doubt it. And I had a lot to make up for.
2:25 Ethan: Don’t go there. This is beyond fucked up. I’m getting the first train back to Bristol in the morning and we’re going to sort this.
2:27 Sarah: Nothing to sort. Sparks is working fine.
2:35 Sarah: You there? You out now, or are you saying a proper goodbye? I’ll leave you and Georgie to it. My work here is done.
My skin prickled, my disbelief and horror rising with every message.
It made a sickening sort of sense that Sarah was embroiled in our reunion, that things had come full circle.
The house wasn’t turning into The Terminator , it had been manipulated by Ethan’s clever but disruptive little sister, and he was planning on leaving as soon as there was a train so he could deal with her, rather than stay and talk about our night together.
Had he really not known? He sounded furious in his messages, but what did he mean when he said: you might have ruined everything?
Did he mean the house sale, his reputation, or something else?
I had never considered an alternative scenario – Ethan being trapped here with Sarah, or even on his own. But it looked like, if we hadn’t been in our orchestrated places – together in the house – then none of this would have happened at all.
I slid out of bed and picked up my bra, tiptoed through the silent corridors to the beautiful office Ethan had created for me, gathering my clothes and putting them back on.
I thought my sandals were in the living room, and I flushed, embarrassed at how I’d left little bits of me all over the house, as if I owned it.
I paused, looking out of the huge window, the silver-blue of the ocean just before dawn, the sky that seemed cracked because the stars were so bright, light spilling through it.
In place of the storm there was an eerie calmness, the water as still as it ever got, the waves rippling instead of raging.
I realized I was trailing a finger over everything, the art deco lampshade and the fake quill award, the frame with the story Ethan had carefully picked out.
How had he even got hold of copies of the Star?
Had he seen the stories online, or set up a Google alert for my byline?
I had so many questions, so many things I wanted to say to him now that I’d had a few minutes space, but I couldn’t ignore the messages.
Sarah had been the driving force between us, just like before.
It had only been one night, and I couldn’t do it again. I needed to walk away.
I picked up my rucksack from the bedroom floor, heard a rustle from the bed and paused in the doorway, able to make out Ethan still lying there, his head resting on his arm.
I wished I could slide back under the covers, tuck myself against him and forget that this wasn’t the real world, where there was a multimillion-pound house to sell and Ethan’s life was in Bristol, not here, and I had a chance to help Spence write her new book.
I waited for the familiar flash of excitement, but it didn’t come.
I tiptoed quietly down the stairs and walked through the kitchen, into the living room.
There was the fireplace I’d hidden my letters in, the table my shoulder had connected with when I was dancing, the sofa we’d sat on together.
I slipped my sandals back on and turned in a slow circle, taking everything in.
I didn’t have any photos of this room, but somehow that was better.
Did I really need any more reminders of what had happened here, when my brain would force me to relive it far too often anyway?
I walked back through the gleaming kitchen, past its various fridges, and into the hall, with its blossoming bouquets and elegant staircase and those long windows bringing the outside in.
I paused next to the panel Ethan had pressed so frantically when we first got trapped.
I didn’t know if Sarah had done what she’d said and reset the system, and I didn’t want to risk saying something and making the voice echo through the house, waking Ethan prematurely, if I didn’t need to.
But then I noticed something on the digital display that hadn’t been there before, when the house had been in Panic Room Mode.
‘Unlock front door’ it read, and I pressed the button next to it and heard the thick, heavy clunk of the locks releasing – the work of only a moment.
I reached out and pulled the handle, and the door slid easily towards me. The fresh, rain-scented air washed over me, filling my nose and throat, the contrast to the locked, air-filtered box I’d been stuck in stark and overwhelming. I stepped onto the doorstep, then looked back.
I thought of Ethan, lying in the bed upstairs, and how completely he’d overtaken my senses, reminding me that nobody else had ever compared to him; that knowing him, sleeping with him a decade later was just torture, really, because he was even better – warmer and smarter and sexier – than he had been when I’d first fallen in love with him.
I didn’t have a hope of forgetting about him now, but I knew I had to try, for nobody’s sake but my own.
‘Goodbye,’ I whispered. And then, because I couldn’t help wondering if Sarah was still there, listening to the commands we were giving the house, manipulating everything, I said, ‘Sparks, please look after Ethan for me.’
‘I’m sorry,’ the voice said blandly, ‘I don’t know who’s speaking.’
Sarah had done what Ethan had asked. She’d reset the system, and Sterenlenn didn’t recognize me any more. Tears filled my eyes and I swiped at them, brushing them away before they could fall. Then I stumbled down the front path, away from the house and into the slowly emerging day.