Chapter Five
FIVE
I run down the steps from the front door in my bare feet. “Izzy!” I scream, throwing myself at my best friend as she walks up the path, carrying a huge sports bag and dragging a carry-on suitcase behind her. “You’re heeeeeeere!”
Her eyes light up. “I am!” She grins and squeezes me back, a patented Izzy-bear hug. “Blackwood has not changed one bit, has it?”
Her face falls a little and I know she’s thinking about her dad. Izzy is a Blackwood brat too—her dad taught math here when we were little, and it’s the fifth anniversary of his death in a couple of months, so I know she’s been anxious about coming back.
“I’m okay,” she says, catching my look.
“Sure?” I give her hand a squeeze.
“Yeah. It’s kind of nice. Please tell me you haven’t been waiting there all morning?” She eyes my pajama-clad form up and down.
I glance back at her. With her perfectly flicked eyeliner and vintage army jacket, she doesn’t look like I do when I’m traveling—I much prefer comfort over style if I’m stuck on the train. But Izzy looks immaculate as always, her brown skin dewy and lightly freckled. She’s always been a stunner.
“I love the hair, by the way.” When I saw her a few days ago she had braids almost to her waist, so the chin-length natural curls are a huge change. “When did you get so cool?” I joke.
“I’ve always been cool,” she replies, fluffing out her hair. “And if you tell anyone I wasn’t, there’ll be trouble.”
“I’ll keep your secret.” I grab her case and haul it up the steps to the front door. “Dad, Izzy’s here!” I shout into the hallway.
Izzy follows, closing the door as I wheel her case down the hallway. Dad pokes his head out of his bedroom.
“Izzy! Look at all your stuff! You should have let me collect you from the train station.”
“Hey, Michael. Don’t worry, it was fine. It’s like a two-minute walk,” she says, following me to our bedroom. Dad trails behind and hovers in the doorway as we dump her stuff onto the sofa bed.
“How are you? How are your mom and Sophie doing?”
“Okay, thanks,” Izzy replies awkwardly.
Dad hasn’t seen Izzy since her dad died, and I’m under strict orders not to mention her sister while we’re here.
Sophie is two years younger than us and was diagnosed with an eating disorder last summer.
It’s been really tough on Izzy, and her mom hasn’t been around much, between taking Sophie to various appointments and her job as a midwife.
Izzy quickly changes the subject. “Thank you for letting me stay. It’s nice to be back here.”
“No problem! Just don’t burn the house down,” Dad jokes, and I roll my eyes as he smiles at me and checks his watch. “I need to run this painting to the gallery before we go and then the taxi should be here about ten. I’ll shout when we’re leaving.”
“Okay, Dad.” I widen my eyes in Izzy’s direction and she giggles as we head to my room. The freedom is so close I can almost taste it.
“Ten days on our own,” she whispers.
“I know!” I whisper back as she grabs me and we do the most silent jumpy-up-and-down dance around the room we can manage before landing on my bed. I scoot up to the top and sit cross-legged and she kicks off her sandals and does the same, facing me. “Any goss?”
“Since I talked to you this morning? No.” She laughs, showing the gap in her teeth that she hates but I love. “Tell me about the wedding.”
“It was fine.” I shrug, and she raises her eyebrows. “It was nice. Kim is…nice.”
“Oof, two nices. Kiss of death.”
“You know what I mean. They seem happy together.”
“Good,” Izzy says firmly. “Let’s hope they have such a great honeymoon they can’t wait to go away and let us house-sit again.”
Izzy starts gabbing about the creative arts program and her project ideas, and I try to decide what I want to achieve from it while Izzy throws around words like “weaving” and “embroidery.” She’s always so hands-on and hates the research side of things, whereas if you put me in front of some archives for the day, I’d be a happy little camper.
“Fliss? Hellooooo.” Izzy waves a hand in front of my face, and I blink her back into focus. “There you are. You need a coffee?”
“No, sorry. I was just thinking about my own project, that’s all.” I remember the papers I meant to give Dad, but he’s already gone. Should I even bother him with them now? Surely they can wait until he gets back.
“And?” Izzy asks.
“Dad suggested that I write about that painting we found, and I dismissed it to start, but I think there’s a true-crime link to it that I can research.”
“That’s cool. Is it really some long-lost masterpiece?”
“Apparently.” I get up so I can critically evaluate my wardrobe for the day, and Izzy follows.
I say wardrobe—everything is currently still a huge jumble in my suitcase.
“Dad told me that it’s linked to some valuable paintings already in the gallery and that they were all found at a crime scene together, but I don’t know much more than that. ”
“I wonder what happened.” Izzy shudders as she sorts through items of my clothing and throws them onto the bed. Seems like Izzy’s styling service has commenced.
“I guess that’s where I start my research.
” I shrug. I don’t mention the serial killer angle because Izzy is practically allergic to true crime, but it’s very much where my mind has settled.
Surely if I can uncover a link between these paintings and some unsolved murders, I’ll have a head start on most other people applying for a journalism degree.
“Oh, and get this, Dad said it’s supposedly cursed,” I scoff, but Izzy pales.
“It is?” She looks warily at the door. “And it was here last night?”
“Don’t worry, Kim fumigated it with a sage stick.” Izzy’s shoulders relax. I forget how superstitious she is sometimes.
“Good.” She smiles, throwing me a pair of high-waisted jeans and a black cropped T-shirt. “Now get showered and put these on so we can get a move on.”
I emerge from the bathroom fifteen minutes later, scrubbed and dressed.
I pad barefoot to my bedroom, where Izzy is scrolling on her phone, and sit at the dressing table.
I pull my brown curly hair into two loose braids because it’s still damp and start my well-practiced makeup routine, dabbing on a base, blusher, highlighter and lip gloss in less than five minutes.
I finish with a swipe of mascara because my lashes are actually see-through and turn to Izzy.
“Ready.”
“Gorgeous.” She points at a cream belt with a large tortoiseshell buckle lying on the bed. “Put that on too.”
I listen, because when it comes to clothes, Izzy knows what looks good and I do not. I look in the mirror and see she’s right, as usual. I slip on a battered pair of Converse that are mostly hidden by the baggy jeans and smile.
“Thank god you’re here.” I pause as I hear the wheels of a heavy suitcase trundle down the hallway. “What time is it? They must be about to leave.”
“Fliss? Izzy? Come here for a second,” Dad shouts.
“Time for the Big Talk,” I whisper.
We follow Dad’s voice to the kitchen, where he’s standing with Kim, who is wearing the largest straw hat I’ve ever seen.
“Kim, this is Izzy,” I say, trying to hide a grin, but I’ve already seen Izzy’s eyes widen at the Hat.
We both keep straight faces as Dad talks us through the rules of the house, and I nod along even though I’ve already heard them at least five times.
“You remember how to turn on the heating?”
“Dad, it’s the middle of August.”
“Do you remember or not?”
“Yes, I do.”
“And you have our itinerary with all the emergency phone numbers on it? The hotel, Alessandra, et cetera?”
“Yep.”
“And you’ll ring them if you can’t get through to me or Kim?” He looks at us both. “You too, Izzy. If anything happens…”
“Nothing will happen, Dad,” I promise him. “Go. Have a good honeymoon.”
“Okay, kiddo.” He gives me a quick squeeze and turns to Kim. “You have the passports?”
Kim rolls her eyes at me, and I smile. She’s not so bad. “Yes. Come on, the girls will be fine.” A car horn blares outside, and Kim lets out a little squeal. “That’s the taxi! Let’s go, Mr. Keller.”
Dad starts to wheel the cases outside and we follow them to the threshold, where Kim stands awkwardly for a second before I realize she’s debating whether she should hug me or not. I take a hasty step back. I’m not quite ready for that.
“Erm, have fun, buy me something nice!” I say, my voice a little high pitched. Kim looks disappointed but lifts her carry-on bag onto her shoulder.
“Be safe,” she warns, “but have fun. Fliss, I left you a tarot card and a crystal in the living room.” She heads out to join my dad before turning back to us. “Oh, and condoms are in my top drawer, if you need them. Bye!” She trills.
I watch her open-mouthed as she climbs into the taxi and return Dad’s wave as Izzy shakes with laughter beside me. They drive away and I close the door in silence.
“Did she just—?”
“Shush,” I say, pressing my hand over Izzy’s mouth as I try to dissociate. “I need to forget what she said before I attach a mental image to it.”
“Fair,” Izzy mumbles from behind my hand. I remove it and wrinkle my nose. “Too late?” she asks.
“Too late,” I confirm sadly. “Please tell me you have a way to distract me from this hellish moment?”
“Why don’t I treat you to a coffee?” Izzy grins, grabbing my hand and dragging me back to our room so we can collect our bags. “I saw a café on Insta that apparently does the most amazing lavender lattes.”