Chapter 22
First, the smell of coffee. Then the realisation that I’m in bed alone. Then the sense that someone is in the room. My eyes open to the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen and I smile as I slide back up the bed, sitting in only the white, cotton bed sheet.
‘Time to get up. We don’t want to be late for lunch.’
‘Lunch. Lunch? Oh crap.’ I take the coffee from him in two hands. ‘What time is it?’
‘Eleven thirty. I let you sleep as long as I could.’
I rub my eyes and realise I’m still wearing last night’s make-up. ‘I guess it was a late night.’
‘We’ll leave at one.’
I nod and smile, waiting for him to drop a kiss on my nose or my brow or touch me. But his dark eyes are seemingly a match for his mood: serious and troubled. He leaves the room and leaves me feeling confused. But this is Mr Screwed-up and Neurotic. Nothing should surprise me.
After showering, I ponder what to wear to an engagement lunch and settle on a dusty-pink blouse, tied at the neck, coupled with a dusty-pink-and-grey tweed skirt.
Gregory finishes tying his shoelaces, then adjusts his shirt, tucking it neatly into the top of his navy chinos.
He turns when he hears my heels clip-clop down the staircase and pulls the cuffs of his shirt just so, slightly longer than his dark-grey blazer.
He looks divine. As ever. I lift my chin, waiting for his kiss but it doesn’t come.
He twirls the curls in the bottom of my hair in his fingers with a furrowed brow, then steps back from me, distant in every sense.
‘Is everything okay?’ I ask.
He swallows, deep, audibly. ‘Fine,’ he says through a set jaw.
‘Fine?’
‘Fine,’ he says with a smile that fails to reach his eyes. Last night was one of the best nights of my life – the best night of my life – and today, he’s fine. There I was, hopelessly assuming that after the CPS decision, those peaks and troughs might stabilise. No chance.
Pulling on my coat, I follow him out into the hall. One day, I tell myself. But my conviction is waning.
There’s an uncomfortable silence in the Ferrari the entire way to Lara’s house.
It isn’t until we pull onto the gravelled driveway and the big, white house comes into view that I start to think I might understand why Gregory is in a foul mood.
We haven’t been here since that night. I hug the bottle of Krug in my lap into my stomach without consciously needing the comfort.
An overly cheery Lara bounds towards us and pulls us, one at a time, into her chest, as the Ferrari is driven away to be parked.
‘Mother,’ Gregory says, in no better mood with Lara, it would seem.
‘Smarten that face up, young man. Scarlett,’ she sings. ‘Come here.’
‘Thank you for inviting us, Lara.’
She slips her arm around my waist and takes the Krug from me, handing it to Gregory, who’s already carrying a large bouquet of flowers. ‘Nonsense, Sandy would’ve refused lunch without you.’
She skips into the house before us, her black wide-leg trousers catching in the breeze to be displayed to their full advantage. She subtly checks her white blouse in the hallway mirror and pushes some volume into the roots of her hair.
‘Sandy.’ I throw my arms around her and squeeze her as tight as I can until her sweet giggle escapes her chest. The one person I will always know I can rely on, no matter how bad or how dark life gets.
‘These are for you.’ I motion to the champagne and flowers Gregory holds and turn my attention to Jackson, kissing him on the cheek as Gregory does the same to Sandy.
The men shake hands and follow behind Sandy and me as I swoon over her shiny ring. A thin, platinum band with one sole, modest princess-cut diamond. ‘It’s beautiful.’
I turn my eyes around the large, oval dining table as chateaubriand is served.
Sandy looks as uncomfortable as ever as she’s waited on but happier each time Jackson speaks to her, nudges her, nips her hand in his.
Williams has brought Amanda with him and whilst they look happy, there’s an air of unsureness passing between them.
But they smile and laugh in a way that tells me they’ll be just fine.
Lawrence is more concerned with the food than Lara and her demand for attention but he has a certain playful sparkle in his eyes when he shakes his head at yet another story.
I smile as I look on at those closest to me and those who, maybe one day, will be.
I can feel Gregory’s eyes burning holes into my side. He’s hardly touched his meal but his knife and fork are still, together at six o’clock on his plate.
My smile disappears on a sigh. ‘Are you okay?’ I ask for the fourth time this afternoon.
‘I’m fine.’
‘Fine. You’ve been fine all afternoon.’ As I place my cutlery at six o’clock to reflect Gregory’s stubbornness, a phone ringtone sounds.
Gregory checks his inside pocket, then Williams does the same.
Amanda doesn’t bother, nor does Lawrence.
When no one owns up, I push out my chair and check in my handbag to find Neil Wallace’s name dancing across my screen.
Damn it! He wanted to submit the Dubai proposal on Friday but I left him a voicemail to say I wanted to discuss it with him first.
‘I’ll call him back,’ I say, silencing the call and resuming my position at the table. ‘Sorry about that.’
The others fall back into easy conversation whilst I silently question the steely eyes to my right.
Why can’t we just be happy like everyone else?
I can feel a lump forming in my throat. Confusion. Hurt. I’ve no idea any more. I just can’t read him unless he’s showing me what he thinks, physically. Then his words contradict everything I feel in those moments. I need more. I can feel my eyes beginning to sting as I swallow down the lump.
He takes my hand from my lap and lifts it to his lips, then stares as he bends and strokes my fingertips; everything about the move is sombre.
Please, Gregory, let me in.
After lunch, we move to take coffee in the lounge and my phone rings again.
‘Sorry, it’s Neil, I need to take this.’
As I lift the phone to my ear and press to receive the call, Gregory reaches for the phone. ‘Scarlett—’
I place my hand over the receiver. ‘I won’t be long, I promise. Neil, hi.’
‘Scarlett. Got your email. Fantastic news.’
Making my way along the corridor of Lara’s mansion to find a quiet spot, I cast my eyes back over my shoulder and shake my head in frustration when I find Gregory’s scrunched forehead and unreadable expression still on me.
‘Sorry, Neil, my email?’
I dip into a smaller, but equally stunning sitting room with teal, textured wall paint, elaborate cream-and-gold floor-to-ceiling curtains and a collection of mismatched but perfectly complementary fabric chairs and sofas surrounding a sheepskin rug.
‘Yes, this morning. I’m thrilled you’re accepting the secondment, although I confess, I hadn’t realised it was still in question. Mr Ghurair is quite insistent that you’re the right person for the job.’
‘I… erm…’ I try to focus. I’m lost.
‘Oh, don’t be modest, Scarlett. This will go a long way for your prospects at the firm.’
‘I accepted the secondment.’ It’s clear he thinks that much. What email? ‘Neil, forgive me, I’m just a little confused.’
‘Did you have a big Saturday night, Scarlett?’ He laughs. ‘Well, I don’t want to keep you on a Sunday; I just want to check you’re okay to fly out this week so I can confirm with Abdulla?’
‘This week… Sorry, Neil, can I call you back in one minute?’
‘Yes, of course.’
Hanging up, I pull up the sent items in my email folder.
To: Wallace, Neil
From: Heath, Scarlett
Sent: Sunday 29 Nov 2025 8.44
Subject: Dubai Secondment
Good morning Neil,
I just wanted to let you know that I have put a lot of thought into the Dubai secondment opportunity and I would like to accept.
Please let me know the arrangements.
Regards,
Scarlett Heath
Director
Saunders, Taylor and Chamberlain LLP
Gregory.
The lump that’s been lingering in my throat is back with a vengeance and my eyes are stinging. I catch an escaping sob with the back of my hand to my mouth then swallow the lump and stand up straight, accepting reality.
‘Scarlett.’
Neil’s voice is like a punch to my gut, crippling. I move my free hand to the back of a beige velour chair for strength.
‘Neil. When can I fly?’
‘As soon as possible is best for Abdulla. How long do you need?’
‘Can you get me on a flight tonight?’ My voice is breaking. ‘I’d like to get started straight away.’
‘Tonight might be a push. Take your time, do whatever you need to do and I’ll ask Aisling to book you a flight for tomorrow.’
‘Great. Perfect. Let me know the details.’
‘Thank you, Scarlett, Abdulla will be pleased about this.’
‘No problem, glad I can help.’
Once the call is disconnected, I fall into the beige seat, stunned. What just happened?
Gregory didn’t do this. Why would he? After last night, after the CPS decision.
We’re far from perfect but I assumed we could work on that now that things are settled.
Maybe that’s it. Maybe now there are no excuses and he’s afraid to let me in.
I snort at just how pathetic that thought is… He just doesn’t love you.
In the ladies’, I splash water over my face and dab away the mascara from under my eyes. My grey skin is almost translucent in the mirror.
Jovial conversation continues when I slip back into the lounge. I scan the room quickly; I want to see his reaction before he has a chance to think and put up the wall of whichever personality he feels like presenting today.
One glance. That’s all it takes.
He turns from the window, his skin the colour of the pending rain clouds outside.
His face and neck are taut and every sinew in his neck is displayed when he swallows.
The cup in his hand rocks against its matching saucer.
We hold our stare until Gregory looks down to his saucer and back to me.
Ashamed? Embarrassed? He ought to be. Too fucking pathetic to tell me straight.