CHAPTER 14
Ella
It’s been two days since I gave Robbie’s aunt’s number to Jude.
She promised she would call and set up a meeting, but since then I’ve heard nothing.
I pace the walk-in wardrobe, my dress for tonight hanging on the back of the door.
A box of all the letters is open next to all my shoes.
I kneel down, flicking through them in the hope that something springs to life.
Dear Elsabella, do you want to know where your dear big brother is? one reads, the rips in the paper held together by tape because the words were so hard to read the first time over.
I’m coming to get you, Crimin-El. I know what you did. A less threatening note by all standards, but an important one to keep. The shape of the letters has changed to jagged block capitals.
I stop at the worst one yet, knowing the tears will come: Elsabella, please, save me. It’s cold down here. –N.
I slam them back into their box, rising to my feet. What’s Henry’s plan here? Will he turn up at my door? Will he arrive through the window one night to kill me? Will he keep taunting me until I drop dead from fear?
“Everything OK?” Rufus pushes the door open, a bright smile on his face. I nod, forcing the smile so my cheeks ache. I have carried the thought of Nate with me for days, but Rufus hasn’t noticed. In fact, he moves around the house like the cat who has got the cream.
“Yes,” I reply, moving into the ensuite and running the taps.
I plunge my hands into the cold water and splash my face, my skin refreshing.
Rufus pops his head in but stays silent, and I let him assume that my red eyes and nervous energy are due to the dinner party with his colleagues and not the murderous stalker.
The familiar trill of my phone makes me jump as it infiltrates our silence.
“Are you going to get that?” Rufus says, pushing a cufflink in.
Work’s number flashes on the screen. I swallow. Rufus has been lying to me about where he is and what he’s doing, and at some point we’ll need to talk about it before tonight’s event.
“Hello?” I step into the walk-in wardrobe, pushing the door with my foot. My body needs to keep moving.
“Ella? It’s Brian.” Brian speaks with an unnerving kindness, something I’ve not heard from him before. I imagine him at his desk, his fat fingers tugging at the small tuft of his beard.
“Hi, how are you?” I keep my voice light, my fingers walking slowly along the panelling.
“Ella, I know it’s late but we’ve been struggling to get hold of you.” Brian pauses and I don’t fill it.
The spotlights flick on as I move into the section where my dresses are held. This was once a bedroom, before the remodelling, with no windows and a single door. It’s sad to imagine little children lying here with no natural light.
“I know you’re still sick but, there’s…, we need to have a formal conversation about some things that have come to light.” That gentle voice is thinning.
I sigh. “Yes, I’ve been unwell.”
“Could you come in this week?” Brian says.
The pink and lilac dresses ripple under my touch. I could, but we all know what’s coming.
“Is this about the podcast?”
“We’ve had a complaint, Ella. That you’ve been using confidential information in your podcast.” A rush of air fills the microphone so it muffles his words slightly.
After a pause, Brian continues. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
His words catch me off guard. I sit forward, crossing my legs.
I tug at the hem of my dress. I close my eyes, knowing the case he means. I could call it a mistake, but was it? Was I using someone else’s pain to gain more followers?
“I’m sorry,” I say, emotion flooding over me. My head falls into my hands.
“This isn’t really something you can simply say sorry about, Ella.” Brian is firm but I can hear his kindness.
“I know.”
“We’ll need to start a formal disciplinary process about it. I’ve listened to the podcast, and lucky for you, you haven’t shared anything that wasn’t public knowledge, but you can’t do things like that, Ella,” Brian continues.
I nod. “I know.”
And I do. I know that the stalker is taking me down, every part of me.
“Look, take some time away from the office. Spend time with your fiancé, take a breather. I’ll send over some formal paperwork for you,” Brian says.
“OK,” but my words are barely audible.
“And Ella? I know you meant well. It’s good, the episode, but I have to be seen… I have to do the right thing here.”
I frown into the phone, the kindness leaving me without words. I nod again, only realising too late that he can’t see me.
“Get some rest, Ella. I’ll be in touch,” Brian says into my silence.
“Thanks,” I say, but he’s already gone, my appreciation falling into nothing.
I slip on my coat, dabbing under my eyes that come away thick with smudges of mascara. My breathing is still shallow.
Rufus appears again, his lips set thin.
“That doesn’t sound good,” he says after a moment.
I straighten myself up, knowing there’s no point lying to a lawyer. “It’s not. My work has… hasn’t been that great,” I say.
Rufus steps into the room, his brows drawing together. “Why?”
Why, indeed. If he was around more he would notice that I wasn’t going into the office as much.
I place my hands on his chest and wait for the warmth to spread through them.
But all I feel is his heartbeat, loud and strong.
In the early days, we’d lie on the plush rug by the fire, naked, my head on his chest. The sound of his heart was the most comforting thing in the world.
“Are you cheating on me?” The words are out, needy and desperate as I look up at him.
Rufus squints, his eyes scanning my face. I see what he does, dark rings and tearstains. I tilt my head and purse my lips, a curl dropping into my right eye.
“What an odd question to ask. Don’t think that’s a good distraction from potentially losing your job.” He drops a kiss on my lips, holding my chin with his finger.
Not a no, then.
We both know he’d love for me to stop working. It was the first thing he told me when we got together. He needed a housewife. His words, not mine. I smile back at him now.
“We’re going to be late for the dinner party,” Rufus says and in a moment, he’s gone.
I roll my shoulders as the candlelight flickers, the room filling with shadows that bounce off the walls. The hosts for the evening, Lilian and Andrew, sit at the top left of the table, talking avidly with the guests, the smell of cooking meat wafting in from another room.
To my left, Immi lifts her drink, taking a slow sip while she eyes the rest of the table.
The room is decorated in an off-peach colour that is both bright and warm.
My fingers graze one of the floral decorations that line the centre of the table as I reach for my glass, the alcohol lulls my anxiety.
Rufus’s colleagues talk amongst themselves, the conversation moving without me.
Henry might not be the person sending me the letters, but he is the key.
I take another sip of my champagne flute, scanning across the table.
Opposite me, Rufus talks to a man on his right in a deep red suit with a thick white beard.
To his left sits Colin, and next to him is Hannah.
She catches my eye and smiles, but I can’t offer more than a gentle grimace.
To her right sits another woman I don’t recognise, her red curls falling low past her shoulder blades.
Then, next to me is Graham. The insides of my palms are tight, and the room is stuffy and loud.
My hands work over the edge of my dress from under the table.
It was waiting for me on the bed when I went upstairs, my shoes and bag laid out next to it.
“Hey, I’m shocked you came, are you sure you’re okay, darling?” Immi leans over and whispers as the conversation across the table picks up.
“Yes, I did hear that. The case was dismissed, correct?” Graham’s voice carries over the silence between Immi and me.
I glance at Rufus, his chiselled jaw moving in gentle rotations as he chews.
“I had to,” I whisper back. Given the chance, I’d have crawled into bed and tried to find where Henry was. My phone pings, sending goosebumps across my skin.
Immi follows my gaze before slipping her hand into mine. “Come with me, darling.”
“Lovely to see you here tonight.” Benji’s head pops out from behind Immi, almost comedic in timing. I smile. The sound of wine being poured somewhere behind me. Benji leans back, his arm draped over Immi’s chair. She twists, letting out a gentle giggle as she does.
“Oh, you knew that Ella would be here,” she says to him, cocking her head.
He takes a long drink from his glass, licking his lips as he places it back down. My eyes catch the shadows that dance on the wall behind him. I blink them away. I’m safe here, whoever is watching me can’t get into this house.
I turn back to Benji.
“I didn’t know you’d be coming,” I say, keeping my voice light.
Benji smiles. “Lucky for me, Immi took me back with open arms.”
I take a large gulp of wine, filling my mouth with something other than the bitter words I want to lay into him.
“Yes, lucky for you,” I say into my glass.
Benji shifts in his seat, and Immi’s face flushes slightly. My smile grows as Benji looks away.
“Excuse us, everyone. A little pop to the powder room for us girls,” she says in a light, loud voice that draws the table into polite silence.
We stand. I stumble out of the room behind her.
She’s always had a way with people, able to carry a room or control a conversation.
Immi pulls us into the deep-mauve hallway, standing beside a large painting of a pink house atop a cliff.
“Darling.” She draws me into a hug, which catches the emotion in the bottom of my throat. My body slumps into hers.
“I’m sorry I’m being rude to Benji. But I can’t stop thinking about who is watching me. It’s making me edgy,” I say.