CHAPTER 14 #2
“It’s okay, darling, he does deserve it after the way he’s been treating me,” she laughs over the top of my head, and I can’t help but do the same.
“Did you find anything on his social media?” Immi’s voice dips low. When they left, they’d promised that Henry’s old social media was the best place to start. I never told them that I had deleted mine a long time ago, that I was a different person then.
“No,” I say, drawing away and straightening the middle of my dress. “It seems that he’s deleted or deactivated it.”
“Dammit,” Immi says, a sharp frustration in her words. She’s almost as invested as I am, and the morbid part of me wants to ask why. The other part is too scared to know.
“Okay, so what’s next? Perhaps we go to where he used to live?” Immi says, but I shake my head.
I glance at the door to the dining space and then speak. “I can’t remember where he lived, I only saw it in passing once. We all used to meet while we were on holiday.”
“But he lived in West Bay? He wasn’t there on holiday?” Immi asks, her lips pursing together.
I nod. The image of Henry, young and taut, in a tight white shirt that hugged his biceps, comes to mind.
All those years that Nate and I visited West Bay, we assumed Henry was a resident.
Nate and Henry clicked on the beach the first week we were there, and soon the three of us became inseparable.
Then Robbie joined us. Robbie’s Dorset home became a haven where we’d spend our summers lolling in his garden with warming beers. But Henry?
“What are you ladies whispering about?” a voice says.
My head snaps around to find Colin leaning against the doorframe, his dark shirt tight across his chest. His eyes linger on me.
“Oh, you know us girls, all gossip,” Immi says with a laugh, tilting her head as she does. I bite my lip, my eyes unable to look away from him. He breathes out slowly and long from his nose.
“I see,” he says finally, and runs his tongue over his top lip. Suddenly, I’m thrown back, my shoulders pushed against his hallway walls, the only sound is our desperate, hungry breaths.
“I’ll let you get back to it,” he says, drawing me from the memory.
“Do you think he could be involved?” Immi says, watching as he walks down the corridor. I would love to say he couldn’t be, that what happened in the past would remain in the past. But I am learning that is never the case.
“One second,” I say, placing my hand on Immi’s shoulder as I turn to follow Colin.
“Hey, can we talk?” I say, following the curve of the long corridor, which darkens the deeper we delve into the heart of the house.
I know he hears me, but he walks a few more paces before he stops and turns, his eyes shining.
“This isn’t really the place for it,” he breathes, and I have to take a step back, find some distance.
I’d never call what we had an affair, although I am sure some would.
I was single, and the excitement of graduation was coursing through me.
It was only when his wife returned from her thirteen-month stay abroad that I even realised.
But he still treats me like the naughty little secret he wanted me to be.
“I need your help.” The words sting and I lick my chapped lips. It’s a dangerous choice, but he has all the connections.
Colin leans against the wall, pushing his hands into his trouser pockets.
“Go on then,” he says, offering a heartbreaking smile.
“If I needed to find someone,” I say, “where would I look?”
It’s vague and useless as a question, but I don’t want to know what he thinks, I want to see how he reacts. He stands tall, crossing his hands, a spark of excitement passing across his face. I can see how he appears in court, tall and handsome, competitive and fearless. My body leans closer.
“Well, it depends on who it is, where in the world you are,” he leans closer, “and what they’ve done.”
He smells like sea salt and almonds. I resist the urge to close my eyes.
“But you know that. So, it would be the usual place. Public records, social media, clubs, pubs, old residences, angry exes, family.”
I nod, because these are all things that we know. I wait for the information only he can give me.
“But that’s not why you’ve come to me, is it? If he’s in my line of work, you’d look at the aliases. Addresses used in correspondence with POs, last known address at the date of prison release. Contacting the PO service is your best bet,” Colin says.
I take a step back. I can’t do any of that.
“If I were trying to find someone in my line of work, the best thing I’d want is a good PI and a gun,” Colin says.
My eyes slam shut. The world is suddenly too loud. I can smell the soft cotton washing powder that Mum used until she stopped washing our clothes.
There’s a gentle touch on my arm, Colin’s hand pressed warmly into my bare skin. The feeling jolts my eyes open. His jovial smirk is now a look of concern.
“Hey, is everything–” Colin starts, but the door to the kitchen is flung open, a hot cinnamon steam wafting out between us and several tuxedoed waiters rush past with plates. A stern-looking woman with a sharp bun appears by our side.
“Dinner is served,” she says, and we’re pulled away.
The meal flows on as you’d expect, conversations that once felt exciting to be a part of now drag and dirge along.
I find myself spending more and more time away, breathing deeply in the cold white downstairs loo with its trinkets and black-framed mirror.
Colin’s words echo in the back of my mind, itching at the idea I’ve been avoiding.
At the end of the evening, as jackets are flung over bare shoulders and people begin to sway their way home, Benji catches my eye. Immi sat as a barrier between us through dinner, but now he stares at me, unblinking.
Henry has been the obvious connection, but there are plenty of people who I’ve clashed with in the village. I need to find him, but I also need to watch my back.
“Careful as you go,” Benji calls as Rufus and I head to the door, his voice slurring from the sofa.
Rufus turns, offering an overly friendly wave. I wrap my fur coat tight as the cold slaps our faces. What did Benji mean?
We slip into the car, the seat warming fast as the engine turns on. Rufus is speaking, but the notification sound on my phone distracts me. I pull it out of my bag to find three new messages, two on social media and one in my texts.
“Sorry, what were you saying?” I mutter, ignoring the social media ones.
Rufus pushes the car into drive, and we’re moving with a gentle crunch. “I said, did you enjoy yourself? I barely saw you.”
My head whips up. The words of the message stare up, bright, into the dark space of the car. The exact words that Rufus spoke.