Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Fern and Daniel were propped up against mismatched pillows, the duvet tucked around them like a badly folded burrito. ‘Do you think Alistair and Nathaniel are dodgy?’ asked Fern.
Daniel turned his head slowly to look at her. ‘Dodgy?’ he repeated, amusement curling at the edges of his voice. ‘As in, running some kind of underground vinyl smuggling ring?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘No, I mean, spreading rumours. What if everything we heard about great-aunt Matilda and Nathaniel was wrong? What if they made sure everyone thought she didn’t marry him because she was unfaithful and had to back out, when really it was him who did something awful?’
Daniel considered that. ‘Wouldn’t Matilda have told her side of the story? Why would she have kept quiet?’
‘Maybe she couldn’t. It’s just – the more I think about it, the more it doesn’t add up. He’s the only one left who really knows the truth.’
‘Well, him and Alistair.’
‘Exactly.’
Daniel raised a brow. ‘Okay, but even if Nathaniel does know, how are we supposed to get the truth out of him? He’s reclusive and sick, if the papers are right.’
Fern hesitated, then said, ‘We could break into his estate.’
Daniel leaned back against the headboard and burst out laughing. ‘Okay, definitely too much true crime TV for you. What exactly are we looking for? Do you think he even gives Matilda a second thought? I doubt it. It was years ago.’
‘We do have his property. Technically. We could use that as a way in.’
‘Technically,’ Daniel said. ‘If the inscription is anything to go by it’s Matilda’s record. Which makes it yours, and if it is worth thousands, or maybe more, we’re not handing it over to some frail famous composer who may not live for much longer.’
‘We don’t have to give it to him,’ she said quickly. ‘Just use it to open a conversation. It might be our only chance to ask what really happened between them.’
Daniel looked at her like she’d grown a second head. ‘You want to walk into the home of a dying man and interrogate him about a seventy-year-old love triangle?’
‘When you say it like that, it sounds weird.’
Daniel was quiet. Finally, he said, ‘What are you doing about the promotion?’
She exhaled, knowing they needed to have this conversation sooner rather than later. ‘I’ve got a Zoom with Tom in the morning to talk through the details.’
He turned his head towards her again. ‘Are you going to take it? It sounds like it would be a good step for your career.’
Fern hesitated. ‘I want to talk it through first.’ She stared up at the ceiling. ‘I’ve been thinking about Ella.’
‘How are you going to handle that situation?’
‘It’s something I’m not looking forward to. She’s on the team I’d be managing. We haven’t even had a conversation about what’s happening with her and Jax. All she did was text me to say she’d slept with him. I would have expected a little more from her … at the very least a proper conversation.’
‘It is a little disappointing if you’ve been friends for a long time.’
‘It is, and I’m going to be honest with you, it’s making me feel uncomfortable about continuing to work with her.
I know I should be professional and separate business from personal, but I could never trust her again with anything and I would be her boss, and I’m not sure I even want to see her at the moment.
It’s making me think twice about accepting the position. ’
Daniel was quiet for a moment. ‘So the only reason you wouldn’t take the job … is because you’d have to work with Ella?’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘You kind of did.’
She sat up slightly, the duvet slipping down to her waist. ‘It’s more complicated than that.’
‘Is it?’
Fern looked at him, heart pounding a little harder now. ‘She’s been my best friend for years and now she’s dating my ex-boyfriend, and I’m not sure I want to deal with any of it. That’s betrayal territory.’
‘What about me?’
‘What do you mean, what about me?’
Daniel’s voice dropped. ‘I thought maybe you’d think about staying. For me. For us. Not because it would feel awkward working with her. You haven’t even considered staying for all this.’
She blinked, caught off guard. ‘Daniel…’
He sat up straight and ran his hands through his already messy hair. ‘You know what? Never mind. You’re right. It has only been a few weeks. What was I thinking? That you’d just fall in love and decide to throw your London life away for me?’
‘People do do that,’ she said, but even as she said it, her voice faltered.
‘They do in movies,’ he muttered. ‘Not in real life, it seems. But if someone makes you feel uncomfortable at work, well, that’s a different matter.’
The air between them was suddenly colder. Fern reached for the duvet again, tugging it back over her like a shield.
‘I don’t know what’s real anymore,’ she admitted. ‘Ella was supposed to be one of my constants and now I feel like I don’t even know her. I feel like I’m being pulled in two completely different directions. My old life. This new one. You. The shop.’
Daniel stood and crossed the room to the window, his eyes now fixed on the moon as he spoke. ‘You mentioned selling the shop.’
‘I said if I sell it, then at least I could make sure you have enough money to buy your own place, maybe with a decent central heating system, windows that don’t rattle in the wind and a shower that doesn’t sound like a dying goose.
’ She was trying to lighten the tension in the room, but it didn’t work.
‘I don’t want a flat,’ he said, turning sharply. ‘I want the shop. This shop. Matilda’s shop. It’s starting to work. People are buying the antiques. Using social media has been successful. We’re building something.’
‘Do you think I’m tearing it down?’
‘No.’ His voice softened. ‘But if you sell it to that anonymous buyer then yes, you kind of are. They know something we don’t, and you’re settling for greed over the truth.’
The silence this time was more final.
When Daniel climbed back into bed, he lay stiffly on his side, facing away from her.
She mirrored him, her stomach twisting in knots.
What was she doing? How could she possibly make a life decision based on a couple of weeks?
That wasn’t how responsible people made choices.
That was the stuff of fairytales, of meet-cutes and sweeping declarations.
Not of real, messy people who had tangled loyalties and rent to pay.
She thought of Ella. Of the giggles and prosecco-fuelled late nights, of all the times she’d said, ‘You’re my person,’ and meant it. But now? How was their friendship even going to work?
Fern glanced over her shoulder at Daniel’s back. His breathing was slow and steady, but she knew he wasn’t asleep. She closed her eyes and felt more alone than she had in a long, long time.