Chapter Thirteen
And then things got weird.
Well, no, first things got cold.
The wind swung round to the north, and while it had felt like having stitches in your face before, now it felt like it was inflicting the injuries which would need stitches. ‘It’s like being attacked by Edward Scissorhands,’ as Cerys put it, during one of her ten-second outings. She was so huge she couldn’t get behind the wheel of the Jeep any more and had to be driven by Kai with the passenger seat back as far as it would go. She wound the window down and called it ‘getting fresh air’. The news had come through that her flat was taking rather longer to get straight than it should have; apparently her tosser was some kind of second cousin to the many wankers I’d dated, and had trashed the place before eviction took effect. Cerys had spent a morning swearing and then resigned herself to staying with Kai until just before the twins arrived. It was going to be touch-and-go, but she reckoned she’d be back home in time for the labour twinges.
Kai behaved as though he’d never kissed me, as though the whole of that strange time in the Jeep had never happened. He behaved, in fact, as though I were a friend of Cerys’s, and rarely hung around when I went over. If I spoke directly to him he’d answer me politely enough, but I never saw those unusual eyes light up with pleasure or amusement the way they had the night we’d searched for the spell ingredients. He behaved now like a man who’s carrying his entire life in an invisible suitcase strapped to his back, weighed down and weary.
And then it really got cold. A week after my visit to Vivienne’s, it started to snow. Brief flurries at first, then settling, until a couple of inches lay underfoot. It was picturesque, and everyone started predicting a white Christmas, never mind that it was a month away. Then it got grubby, the buses ran late and trains were cancelled and everyone got annoyed.
And then . . .
Cerys and I were lounging around in the living room at the Old Lodge. Guy had postponed the external shoot he’d been planning until the weather improved, so we’d been cheated of the promised sight of Jude Law prancing about in the warlock’s shrubbery, and Cerys was feeling peevish.
‘Ow. The doctor says they’re lying back to back in there.’ She prodded her bump. ‘I bet the boy is hogging all the covers.’
‘Not long to go now though.’ I kicked the footstool over so she could put her feet up. ‘Stay in touch, won’t you? Facebook me or something. I really want to see pictures of the twins when they arrive.’
‘You’ll be the first. Well, after old sulkyboots.’ She nodded at the ceiling; Kai was upstairs in his bedroom. We heard his footsteps pacing up and down every so often.
‘What’s he doing up there?’
‘Working, I guess.’
There was a particularly loud set of footsteps which ended with a bang, as though Kai had kicked something over. ‘Do you think I should go up? Check he’s okay?’
Cerys raised her eyebrows at me. ‘Oho, my dear. Are you sure you don’t have a case of the hots for the lanky one?’
I sat back down. ‘Don’t be silly.’
There was another crash from overhead and Cerys leaped up. ‘Ow, he’s making the twins jump. And that feels uncomfortably like being possessed, so please would you have a word, Holl? I’d go but by the time I get up those stairs these two will be teenagers. Ask him to keep the sulking down, or whatever it is he’s doing.’ She turned on the TV. ‘And this is on to cover the sound of anything you feel like getting up to, but I warn you, if you come through that ceiling I won’t be responsible for my actions.’
‘Cerys?’
‘Yes?’
‘Shut up.’
I walked quietly up the stairs and to the door of Kai’s room, tapped and waited. The striding footsteps stopped, there was a pause as though he was trying to decide whether or not to answer, then the door flew open and he stood in the doorway, staring down at me.
‘What?’ He sounded annoyed. No, more than that, wound up. Tight.
I said the first thing that came into my head. ‘God, you’re tall.’
‘No, you’re short. Now, if that’s all,’ and he went to close the door again.
‘Is something wrong?’ The winter afternoon light barely penetrated this far into the House of Goth, but reflected from the snow it managed to edge its way up the landing as far as his eyes, which gleamed amber. His face was pale and pulled thin over his cheekbones, he smelled of sweat and damp laundry and his hair looked unbrushed. ‘We could hear you stomping about.’
Another long pause. He was staring out onto the landing but he didn’t seem to be looking at me. It was as though another person stood between us, like a ghost he didn’t want to acknowledge. Then he closed his eyes and stepped back inside the room. I took this as invitation and followed.
‘Close the door.’
I did so, then my heart sped up. What was he about to do that he didn’t want Cerys to hear? He had his back to me, staring out of the long window, over the balcony ledge and into the forest beyond. His fingers tapped against the glass.
‘Kai?’ Using his name felt strange. Almost as though I shouldn’t, there was some taboo on calling him anything. ‘Would you like me to make you a drink? Cerys has got the kettle on almost permanently down there.’
He didn’t turn round. By the snowlight his skin looked almost blueish pale. ‘I need . . . something. Something else. Something even I don’t recognise.’
‘Are you all right?’ His voice was wrong, strained, and his shoulders dipped and curved inwards as though to hold something invisible closer to him. ‘Kai? Is there anything wrong?’
His nails tapped the glass again. The tiny noise rang into the quiet like a solid thought. ‘I had a letter,’ he said finally. ‘This morning. I don’t know what to do.’
Then he did turn round, his body a streak of darkness against the window. My heart gave an uncomfortable squirm inside my ribs at his shadowed expression. ‘What kind of letter?’ I asked. ‘Oh, the kind that’s written on paper, I suppose, sorry. Just, you know, thinking with my mouth open again.’
‘It was . . .’ Kai moved away from the window and folded down onto the edge of the unmade bed, sitting with his arms on his knees, head in hands. ‘It was someone looking for me.’ A bitter kind of smile. ‘I don’t know. What’s got into me? Why do I have the urge to tell you anything at all about my life?’
I shrugged. ‘Because I’m here?’ There was that smell of dampness again, as though he’d put on wet clothes, a sour, uncaring sort of smell, and not only was his hair unkempt but he didn’t look as though he’d showered today either. It was so far from his normal, careful, image that I felt my heart writhe. Something was very wrong with this man, something soul-deep. ‘And you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. But, you know, growing up with Nick . . . I’m a good listener, Kai, and I’m used to hearing terrible, scary stuff. And I know that letting it out of your head can help.’ I gave a quick smile, remembering. ‘Thoughts lose some of the power to hurt if you share them.’
‘Was it hard? Having a brother like him?’ Kai was looking at the floor, twisting the thumb ring around and around, screwing it up and down over his knuckle. The question sounded unconsidered, as though the answer didn’t matter as much as simply keeping me talking.
‘I love Nick. However he is, however hard it might be, he’s my brother. And I’ve never really known him any other way.’ I took another step closer to the bed, noticing the way the pillows were bunched and distorted and the covers twisted; last night had obviously been a very restless one. ‘And I’ve also learned to keep things to myself, if that’s what’s worrying you. Our parents are very . . . They don’t . . . they don’t really understand. They think that Nicholas . . . that he’s only got to take his medicine and not let things get on top of him and he’ll be fine, so he can’t tell them some of the things that he . . . So, if you need to talk to someone, I know about keeping things to myself, Kai.’
A short laugh. ‘Thing is, you see, I don’t think I know how to talk to someone. I . . . I don’t share, Holly. I don’t let people in. Since Merion and I split it’s just been me, no one else to worry about and I like it like that. Oh, there’ve been women, but my relationships have all been short and intense. But mainly short. And now — now something has hit that’s so bad, so hard and I could do with someone, and there’s no one, you know? Shit.’ He lowered his head and cupped his hands around the back of his neck. I could see the quick rise and fall of his chest under his shirt as though he was struggling for control of himself, but his voice was steady when he carried on speaking. ‘What have I been doing so wrong all these years?’
I came further into the room now, and perched my bottom along the edge of the stumpy dressing table. A sudden, short pain dug under my ribs as I remembered some of the rambling, confused conversations with Nicky, some of the thoughts and doubts that he’d shared with me, that I couldn’t share with anyone. A pain and responsibility that I had to carry. Had to. Because he was my brother. I knew how it felt to need to talk . . . ‘I don’t know, Kai. I don’t think there’s anything so wrong in not wanting attachments. Keep your life clear and uncluttered and take your fun where you find it, that’s my motto.’
‘But what about when you wake up one day and it’s not fun any more? What then? What about when you think “shit, I need to talk about this” and there’s no one there to listen?’
‘ I’m listening.’
He rubbed both hands over his face, tiredly. ‘I know. And maybe it’s that, maybe because you had Nick and I had no one that makes us the same, gives you some kind of . . . I am going to regret this, I know, but I’m so . . . it’s all got confusing and I can’t make sense of what I think, what I feel .’ He glanced up and I noticed for the first time how shaded and tired his eyes looked, how pulled-down his whole face seemed, as though fifty thoughts fought for his attention at the same time.
I stopped perching on the edge of the table and sat back properly. ‘I’m here,’ I said quietly. ‘If you need an ear, I’m here, Kai.’
‘Yeah.’ An outbreath, long and hard and carrying a decision. ‘This goes no further, right? And definitely not to Cerys. Well, definitely not to anyone but especially not her. No, no one is best, let’s say no one.’
‘All right,’ I said, trying not to sound impatient.
‘Okay.’ And Kai stood up. ‘What? I’m only six foot four, it’s not like I’m a freak or something.’
‘Sorry. It’s . . . you look different today. More . . .’ I’d been going to say ‘attractive’ but I didn’t want him to start thinking I really went for the unwashed, unbrushed, unshaven thing. It was rather that he seemed more approachable, more real somehow. ‘. . . tall,’ I finished feebly.
‘Here. Read this.’ He fetched a letter from the dressing table and thrust it into my hands. Then, as if he were afraid to look at my face while I read, he took himself back to the window and stared out again.
The letter was from a private investigation agency. It asked Kai to confirm to their address that he had been born ‘on or around 15 September 1976’ and handed in to a hospital in Caernarfon.
‘Handed in? What, like a parcel?’
‘I was found in a bus shelter, I was about four hours old and wrapped in a copy of the Daily Mail.’ He tapped the window glass with his fingertips again. ‘You don’t grow up with a warm feeling of being loved with that sort of background.’
I was about to say ‘I can imagine’, but then realised that I truly couldn’t. ‘And you think this letter . . . ?’
‘I suspect it’s my mother, trying to find me.’ He turned around again and started up the pacing. ‘I was adopted, lovely couple, farmers on the coast. Couldn’t have kids of their own so they gave me everything, all the love they’d had bundled up all those years . . . and then, when I was ten, they died. And then the fun started.’
‘Fun?’ I watched him rub his face again. There was so much not being said, it almost outweighed the words.
‘I was fostered. And with these—’ he waved a hand to indicate his eyes, ‘a lot of people thought I was the son of the Devil. Oh, don’t laugh . . .’
‘For fuck’s sake, Kai, laughing is the last thing on my mind.’
‘No. I suppose not. It sounds so . . . so parochial, so stupid and rural. But at that time, up North, it was all very Chapel, very religious. They really believed in the Bible and all God’s works and so the Devil was the downside. I had a lot of foster carers try to beat Satan out of me. Oh, not all of them, some of them were fine, but it was hard, you know? I’d lost the only parents I knew and . . .’
I nodded so as not to break his flow.
‘So. Merion and I ended up in the same foster home. Both fifteen, both desperate for something to hold on to. For a while we held on to each other, then to Cerys, but it wasn’t enough, not for either of us. She’s okay now, she’s got Mike, she managed it, the transition to a proper life, trust, hope . Me, I still can’t do it. You were right, you know?’
I had to clear my throat. ‘About?’
‘All that stuff you said about me deciding to be a journalist. Went to University when Merion and I split up, got my degree in journalism, ran off to be a hotshot story-digger. Exposing the bad stuff, the warped people, the twisted logic. Oh, I’ve done my share of the celebrity stuff but what I’m best at? It’s showing the world up as pure hypocrisy.’ He scribbled a finger against the bedside table as though composing another exposé in the dust. ‘For every selfless act there’s a dozen evil ones, for every dolphin saved there’s ten kids shot on the streets. You see enough of that, Holly, you realise that there’s no place for love and romance and all that crap, you learn to be hard, to take what you can and not to expect any kind of a future.’
‘But what you do, it helps to make the world a better place. You don’t just see it, you make others see it too. And you’re very good at it.’
An eyebrow raised. ‘I see. You followed my work to expose the child slave trade in Chad, did you? Or was it my undercover work that led to the jailing of a Serbian drug overlord and the freeing of the underage girls he’d been prostituting?’
‘I googled you.’
‘Right, yeah. I can see how that would be easier.’
‘Sorry. But life ran the way you wanted it though. You were . . .’ I cleared my throat. I was trying to track his emotions, to understand how he felt, and I was becoming aware that, somewhere in the middle of me, was a big black hole into which the understanding fell. ‘You’re happy, aren’t you? And now you’re freaking because the woman who dumped you in a bus shelter might want to get in touch? Isn’t that overreacting a bit? You can always say no.’
‘For thirty-six years I’ve wondered, Holly. What did I do that was so bad she had to abandon me like that? Am I the son of the Devil?’ He stopped, and his pacing had brought him right in front of me. ‘Who am I? And what made me so unlovable that she wrapped me in a fucking newspaper?’ A deep breath. ‘Yes, you were right, talking helped. Now bugger off.’
I stared at him. ‘Are you really a complete bastard, or do you just get off on imitating one?’ Then I cringed inside. The guy has laid himself bare, now he feels shitty. Taking it out on you is the only thing he can do. ‘Sorry.’
‘No, you’re right.’ A shaky hand raked through his hair. ‘Now you can see why all my relationships have been so short. I’m a bastard.’
‘But it was deliberate, wasn’t it?’ There was that hole again, less black now, more of a mirrored surface. This man was so like me that it hurt. Keep them distant, keep them from loving you. Protect yourself.
A shrug. ‘I’m a high-functioning disconnected personality. Work alone, live alone, and when people get too close . . .’ he dropped his eyes and considered the carpet as though it held the answer to universal mysteries, ‘behave so badly that they get the message.’
‘But why didn’t you tell anyone? If you’d explained, or even mentioned your past, women would have cut you some slack.’
‘Right. So, they’d have caught me in bed with their best friend and thought “oh, he was an abused child, it’s nothing personal”, would they?’
I stared at him. ‘You did that? With someone’s best friend ?’
‘Yeah. Quite a few times.’
‘With the same best friend? Or different ones?’
He tipped his head on one side. ‘Oh, there were lots. And other stuff too. I . . . I hurt people, Holly. And I have enough self-awareness to know why I’m doing it, but I still do it, still drag them in and then . . .’ He stopped. Slapped the bedside table so that dust jumped and a water glass hit the edge of a lamp with a high-pitched clink.
I stared at his somewhat skanky appearance. ‘Blimey, there’s loads of women out there complete pushovers then. Or do you have some kind of strange power of suggestion?’
The sun had faded now and we were lit only by the reflection on the snow. It was an odd golden light which accentuated his eyes and the atmosphere felt strangely heavy, as though we moved through something semi-solid, something which slowed our responses into deliberation. ‘Yes.’ He leaned in, touched my hair, his eyes never leaving mine. His hands were cold but even icier was the touch of the silver ring which almost stuck to my skin as his fingers drew my face in close. But his mouth was warm as it came down and it tasted of lust.
And I knew what he was doing. Recognised that need to block real life out with sex, to hide from the big and the scary and the sheer perpetuality of the ruthlessness and the guilt, behind physical reactions. It was how I got through the days, after all. His tongue flickered against mine and his teeth slid gently over the soft skin on the inside of my lower lip, raising an erogenous zone I hadn’t even known I had. One of those long legs slid between my thighs, bringing his body in so close that I felt the bones of his hips against my flesh and the firm length of arousal around my navel.
It felt slightly weird to be inside the moment whilst knowing what was behind it all, but, dear God, he was gorgeous . . . I kissed back, reaching up until I could put my arms around his neck, pulling him into me, thigh to thigh and lip to lip, my body held against his chest so hard that I could feel his heart racing and the faint tremble of his ribs as he breathed in. He smelled musky and the taste of his mouth was pure sex.
He moved, trying, I think, to touch bare skin, but the movement unbalanced us. We toppled backwards, landing on the bed in a tangle of legs and arms and hair; I was underneath suddenly, lying on a duvet which smelled of his skin, staring up at his chest. From the way he was gazing down at me his usual blocking technique wasn’t working for him this time — his expression was all distress and confusion.
‘Well,’ I said, to hear a normal, human sound.
‘Well indeed.’ He rolled off me, and lay flat on his back. His eyes looked a bit unfocussed. ‘I’m sorry.’ A flick of a look, ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’
I was breathless. ‘Where did it come from? Not that I’m complaining, you understand, just . . . it was a bit intense.’
‘Habit, I guess. Use sex to block everything else out. But I usually try for at least a little subtlety, not that . . .’ He waved an arm, struck wordless. ‘It was like pole dancing.’
‘It was from where I was standing,’ I said, and giggled. ‘I bet you’re really something with your clothes off, Mr Rhys.’
‘Ha. Of course I am.’ He turned towards me. ‘I guess I was — I dunno. Overwhelmed by the moment? Uptight and in need of some contact? Because when you’re using your body, you don’t have to use your mind, and I really don’t want to think at the moment.’
‘Well, I’m here,’ I said, almost as an instinctive response and then bit my tongue as the realisation blossomed slowly through my mind that I didn’t want to be something he used to block everything out. Knowing what he was trying to do had blown my own life open in front of my eyes and left me staring at the wreckage.
‘Yeah.’ A fingertip traced the contours of my face. ‘You are.’
The line we hadn’t yet crossed trembled in the air between us. Part of me wanted to throw myself over, let gravity take me down, but that part was pure habit and the part that was looking down from above and starting to understand the suffering of this man held me back. There was a sense that something was changing.
‘But this isn’t what you want.’ My voice sounded hoarse, dark, unlike me.
‘No.’ His hand fell away to rest casually against my hair.
‘Thanks very much.’ I didn’t move away though.
‘What I said just now, about short, intense relationships. And how there’s nobody when you need someone. Understanding . . . I’m having a major rethink about it all, about my life.’
‘Whilst lying on a bed with a woman.’
‘As you say.’ He smiled gravely. ‘Still working on the fine details.’
‘Well.’ I sat up, trying not to let my inner confusion show. ‘At least something has been resolved. God, I know I wished for excitement, but it could have been a bit more . . .’
‘You wished for what?’ He grabbed the change of topic and ran with it. ‘Is this part of that spell thing you were making?’
Cautiously, waiting for the laughter, I told him about our wishes. ‘Mine was for excitement. And, you have to admit, that was pretty exciting. So, maybe, that was my part of the spell working out for me.’
‘It was really that exciting?’ Kai propped himself up on one elbow. ‘God. You should see me on a good day.’ His legs stretched over the side of the bed and he was up, standing beside me, looking down. ‘Come on.’
‘That bastard streak really does run wide in you, doesn’t it?’ I complained, but I’d felt it too, our moment of closeness was over.
‘It wouldn’t be right, Holly. I think you felt it too, didn’t you? That whatever we did here, it was never going to be enough to stop . . .’ he cupped his hands over his eyes and bent his head into them for a second. ‘When . . . just as I kissed you I saw your expression . . . You haven’t always wanted it either, have you? You’ve gone along with it, played along with men . . . blocking stuff out. Hiding from the hurt but never managing to connect . . . and I don’t want that from you. Not just to block out something . . .’ He stopped talking and turned his face as he let his hands fall. ‘I didn’t want that,’ he finished.
‘Unfinished business,’ I said, trying to lighten the mood and swinging up to stand next to him. ‘Well known for causing impotence.’
‘Cheeky mare.’ He leaned past me to turn on the lamp, but carefully avoided touching me. ‘Did I feel impotent to you?’
I didn’t dare look at him. He’d felt anything but impotent pressed against me on that bed, and I was beginning to feel a touch ashamed of my response. Why, though? He’d been offering, I’d been willing . . . hadn’t I? I hesitated a moment, driven by an impulse that was strange to me and then touched his arm. Not for the sake of touching, not to try to rekindle his interest in my body, but simply as a gesture of support, an attempt to comfort. ‘Kai . . . it will be all right. Whatever you decide, it will be the right thing for you.’
This time he looked at me and I saw his eyebrows rise. ‘You’ve got a lot of faith in me for a woman who hardly knows me, haven’t you?’
‘You seem to have made the right choices so far. Just don’t let fear make you jump the wrong way this time.’
He gave a ragged laugh. ‘Right choices? Yeah, that’ll be why I’m sitting here in a house that looks like Aleister Crowley’s weekend retreat pouring my heart out to a woman I’ve just met who has every right not to give a tuppenny shit about my life.’ His voice was low and bitter. ‘Right choices all down the line, Holly.’
I had to lift the mood. I knew how it worked, this kind of thing, and it circled downwards into scariness really quickly. Had to make a joke . . . ‘Anyway, maybe you can get it up but you can’t use it.’
I moved past him to get to the doorway, flinging the door open to surprise Cerys, about to knock.
‘I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,’ she said. ‘In fact, I’m going in for hypnosis tomorrow to get it wiped from my mind. Holly, your mobile’s been ringing and ringing down here, on and off for the last twenty minutes.’ She held out my phone. ‘If someone’s that desperate . . .’
‘Probably Megan, calling from work to tell me British Home Stores has got a special on cushions again,’ I said, looking through my Missed Call record. ‘I’ve got no idea why she thinks I’d be interested.’
But it was my parents’ number, in Aberdeen. I dialled it, and my mother answered immediately. ‘Holly! You’re there.’
‘Well, actually I’m over here,’ I said jokingly, but worried by her tone. ‘What’s up, Ma?’
Cerys and Kai looked at one another. He shook his head gently at her, I couldn’t guess what she’d been about to say.
‘Is Nicholas with you?’
‘No.’ Ridiculous, I know, but I looked around in case he might have been. ‘He’s with you. Isn’t he?’
‘He . . . he’s stopped taking his medication. Yesterday he got a bit . . . oh, Holly, it was bad.’
I stared at the phone. Stopped? But he’d been so settled, so happy on them. ‘Are you sure he’s not . . . forgotten or something?’
‘He’d been fine up until the day before yesterday. Then he just seemed to . . . have one of his moments, you know how he gets overexcited about things, a bit . . . silly. Anyway, he and your Dad had . . . words last night, and he went off. I thought he’d come in later and gone to bed, and we were out all day today. I thought he was sulking, you know how he can be, but when I went to call him for tea, he wasn’t there, and then I thought . . .’ her voice wavered. ‘His mobile is switched off. I thought he’d be with you.’
I couldn’t get my head around this. Nicholas definitely had enough meds with him, so why would he stop taking them, just like that? I mean, usually I phoned him or saw him every morning to check that he’d taken everything, but, surely, Mum would have made sure while he was up there . . . ? I had a moment of cold guilt. I’d virtually forgotten about Nicky while he’d been away; out of sight, out of mind . . .
‘He might be trying to get here, Ma. I’ll go and look in the usual places, don’t worry. He’ll probably be in in half an hour, starving hungry and terrified of the dark, if not with you then with me.’
I reassured her several times that Nicholas, even on one of his worst days, could manage to transport himself safely, then hung up. Cerys and Kai were watching me and they followed me down the stairs to the kitchen.
‘I’ll go and drive around,’ Kai said. ‘Do the local train station and the bus station and then try York. Cerys, you co-ordinate.’
‘I can’t ask you to do that.’ I dragged my still-damp coat from the back of the chair where it had been steaming gently in front of the fire. ‘It will be fine, he . . .’ I swallowed the terrified lump in my throat. ‘I can find him.’
Kai’s hand intercepted my attempt to pull my coat on. ‘It will be easier with two pairs of eyes,’ he said evenly. ‘We can cover twice as much ground.’
‘Yes, but . . .’
‘You need help, Holly. For fuck’s sake, take it when it’s offered.’ Despite the urgency of his words his tone was still light and careful. ‘And like you said earlier . . . I’m here. I’m offering.’
I hesitated, but the wind drove another fierce flurry of snow against the window and I gave in. ‘I’ll go up to the dual carriageway, in case he’s hitching in,’ I said. ‘He might have got dropped off.’
‘If I find him,’ Kai paused, starting down the stairs, ‘is there anything I should do?’
‘Get him somewhere safe and call me. It’s okay, Cerys, he’s thirty-two.’
‘Thank God, I thought you’d lost a child!’ She clutched her heart. ‘So he’s a bit fragile, Nicholas, yes?’
‘You could say that.’
We parted on the step, Kai to get the Jeep out, me to drive the treacherous ten miles back to Malton to search all the main road junctions. As he swung into his jacket and palmed the keys, I put a hand on his shoulder.
‘You really don’t have to do this.’
He looked at me darkly. ‘I want to. And I can’t sit here worrying about that letter. Looking for Nick will give me something to do.’
‘Well, thanks.’
A pause. ‘I guess sometimes we all need help. Let’s just find him, Holly.’ And then, as the night swallowed up his shape, ‘Holly?’
‘Yes?’
‘I don’t think any of this is the kind of excitement you wished for, is it?’
I turned my back and headed for the car.