Chapter 9 #2
‘Probably low blood sugar. It’s almost six now.
’ He guides me along a corridor and moments later we’re in a vast room, with flames flickering in a fireplace taller than me, adorned with low-slung couches and overstuffed cushions.
It looks surprisingly lived-in, newspapers piled on a side table and half-burned candles on the mantlepiece.
I remember this room. There are more luxurious reception rooms at Tarnmore, but this was my favourite – besides the library of course.
‘Sit.’ Euan directs me to a chair. ‘I’ll get you something to eat.’
Before I can reply, there’s a joyful scream and Becca Morrow erupts into the room, in a cloud of bitter-chocolate hair and expensive scent.
She’s barely changed – if anything she’s grown even more stunning, a polished version of her youthful self.
She arrives in a flurry of energy and excitement.
She swoops down on me, throwing her arms around me.
‘Oh. My. God! I can’t believe you’re here.
’ She pulls back and glances at my feet; Euan and I are both dripping snow-melt onto the carpet.
‘Did neither of you think to stop by the mud room and take off your boots?’
Euan laughs and toes off his boots on the rug. ‘The girl’s half dead with hunger, Bex. We need to get some food into her.’
‘The soup is reheating,’ Becca says, perching an elegant hand on the curve of her hip.
It’s disconcerting seeing her after so long – on the one hand she might have danced right out of one of our teenage photos, but also, she reminds me of her mother, with her subtle, perfect make-up and expensive-looking cashmere top.
‘We’re having venison casserole when the boys get here.
Fetch her a glass of wine, Euan – and bring me one too. ’
Euan mock salutes her and leaves the room.
‘Let’s get you out of these wet things,’ Becca commands, starting to wrestle my coat from me.
Obediently I shed my outer layers. My tights cling uncomfortably to my legs and Becca gives me a blanket to wrap myself in.
A few minutes later, Euan returns with a bowl of hearty soup and Becca keeps up a steady stream of conversation while I eat.
In my stupor it’s hard to follow but she doesn’t seem to need my participation.
As soon as I’m done eating, she says, ‘I’m going to show you up to your room so you can get dried off and changed. Then we’ll get cosy, enjoy our wine and a good gossip before the boys get here.’
‘If they get here.’ I glance gloomily at the window, where snow is still tumbling.
‘Don’t worry, they’re en route.’ Becca laughs, leaping up to draw the heavy drapes and shut out the storm. ‘They’re in Leo’s fancy car with four-wheel-drive; they’ll make it, although they’ll likely have to walk that last mile or so like you did.’
She leads me up the stairwell beneath the formidable stare of the stag. ‘Mine,’ she says, when she notices my gaze lingering on the curling antlers looming above. Her voice is perky with pride.
‘Yours?’
‘Yep. My first kill. I was sixteen when I first went stalking with my dad and some of his business associates.’
I shiver. I have a horror of hunting, but I’m a guest in Becca’s house.
The spill of blood for sport has never made sense to me.
I feel shockwaves of revulsion when I think of sweet-faced Becca wielding a shotgun, stalking this noble beast through the bracken, taking him down with a twitch of her finger and bringing his bleached bones back, stripped of flesh, to decorate her home.
Past the skull, we veer off on the first floor and Becca pushes open a door. It sticks on the luxuriant rug, and she gives it a shove with her hip. ‘There, what do you think?’
The room is nicer than the best hotel room I’ve ever stayed in.
The bed is huge, piled with puffy duvets and pillows.
Another tall fireplace I could step into if not for the crackling flames and spitting logs merrily burning.
Thick curtains, chrome lamps and a tweed armchair by the fire.
I pad across the rug, my feet sinking into the soft threads.
My suitcase is already here, thanks to Euan I presume.
Off the bedroom, a door opens into a gleaming en suite with copper taps and pale-blue tiles.
‘I don’t know what to say.’
Becca grins. ‘It’s the best guest room. I had the housekeeper prepare it for you before she went home for her week’s holiday.
We’re on our own now, no staff – except Euan, but he doesn’t count.
’ Laughter peals but I hear genuine affection for him in her voice.
Becca never had many boyfriends at uni – apart from Alex she didn’t do dalliances.
She once told me she was a forever sort of girl and only went out with boys she could imagine a future with.
‘It’s gorgeous, thank you.’ My gratitude is genuine; this room is amazing. I’m almost as excited about the prospect of tumbling into that huge bed as I am about the upcoming party now.
Becca takes me by the shoulders and surprises me by kissing me resoundingly on both cheeks. ‘I’m honestly so happy, Eilish. So glad you came. Ja— I mean the others didn’t think you would.’
She catches herself but I notice the slip. Jameson didn’t think I would come … because of him?
‘You grab a shower,’ Becca instructs. ‘But be quick. I want to hear everything. We’ll have wine and put the world to rights while we’re waiting.’ She dances across the room, over the plush rug that makes me feel like I’m standing on a cloud. From the doorway she blows a kiss at me.
Once she’s gone, I strip off my soaked tights and dress and wrap myself in the robe hanging from the back of the door.
I sink down on the bed, which is unbelievably comfortable, and look around at the beautiful room.
The warmth of my welcome here has almost completely obliterated any lingering doubt I felt on the trek up from the road. This is going to be fun.
I used to belong with these people.
Maybe I still do.