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‘There has to be.’ It couldn’t be the end. Not when I was finally so close.
Petros was by my side as I picked up one of the whisky bottles and took a deep draw of the amber liquid. I winced at the burn against my throat.
‘That might not be very drinkable,’ Petros said. Stating the bleeding obvious.
‘It’s still alcohol.’ I replied before taking another swig, coughing as the fiery burn scorched my insides.
‘Fuck it, agreed.’ Alfie grabbed a bottle and swallowing a monstrous gulp before letting out a hiss.
I gave him a small smile as he rested back against the dusty desk and chinked our bottles together. ‘We’ll keep looking. There has to be something somewhere. Can you remember anything about any of them?’
‘They all had a small tattoo of a curled fox on them. Your dad included. Their faces are blurry. They used me on and off for a few weeks before I was sold off into the system. The faces of those who came after jumble in my head with the ones who came before. Those were the faces I got to see. Some would wear hideous masks. But they all had the tattoo.’
Petros pressed a hand against my shoulder, squeezing with reassuring warmth. ‘We’ll find something. With the ridiculous size of this place, there has to be something somewhere. Would your friend Grieves know about your dad’s associates?’
Alfie shrugged. ‘He might, but unless the tattoos were large or visible, he likely wouldn’t have noticed them. He never really got up close with the guests. His job was to manage, not to join in. My father has a lot of acquaintances, hundreds of people have come here to play. The people who are into the shady side of sex might well not be people who partook in the consensual games. Consent has always been such an open and integral part of Rosenhall’s history.’
I let my cheek rest against Petros’ hand and closed my eyes. Goosebumps coated my arms as apprehension filled my stomach. We needed something.
Anything.
THIRTY-ONE
PETROS
Harriet’s cheek was warm against my fingers, and it felt like some sort of truce had descended between the three of us. Alfie’s face was filled with disappointment at the lack of anything in his father’s office.
Was the whole trip for nothing? Harriet and I had been working to get to that moment for so long, could it really have been for nothing?
There had to be more. Poking Alfie when he was clearly already feeling so conflicted at being under the ghost of his deceased father would be cruel. Hurting him was the last thing I wanted to do. But Harriet needed names. My loyalties between them were divided, and it was shredding my heart to have to push either of them.
An ancient clock lay silent on the wall, stopped in time from neglect. Like both of their memories were.
‘Harriet, were you ever in this office?’
She took another look around, her eyebrows knitting as she threw her mind back to a time she’d rather forget. A shudder made her shoulder move beneath my hand. ‘No, never here.’
My focus fell back to Alfie.
‘You must have been in here before. Is there anything you can remember? A hidden safe? Secret desk drawer? Anything at all that might help us?’ I spoke softly, melting as his dark lashed eyes met my face.
‘I was in here often when I was little, but rarely as a teen or adult.’
‘Why?’ I asked, trying to probe just a little further. Trying to jog something from the recesses of his memories.
‘I pissed him off once. He dragged me out of his office and beat me. I coughed up blood over the wall in the corridor. He made me scrub it off even with a wrist I couldn’t bend.’ If I could have reached into the cosmos and killed his father’s spectre, I would have. Clenching my teeth together, I tried to go just a little further, feeling like a total cunt for doing so.
‘Why was he so mad?’ I asked. ‘What pushed him so hard?’
‘It was so long ago...’ Alfie said with a wince, trailing off as he closed his eyes and took a shaky breath. Emotion squeezed in my chest as Harriet reached out and threaded her fingers through Alfie’s, giving him support she so rarely gave willingly. My eyes misted, and she put down her whisky bottle, reaching out and taking my hand too.
Alfie looked lost in his reverie for a few minutes, his thumb relentlessly flicking over the tip of one of Harriet’s fingers. His whole body thrummed with tension, the tendons in his neck fraught.
‘I’d been playing hide and seek. He’d had friends over who had children with them. Other children in Rosenhall were a rare occurrence. We’d spent the day playing outside and sneaking into the kitchens, pinching food made for whatever dinner they had planned. One of the others had suggested hide and seek. I’d found my dad’s office unlocked and decided it was the perfect spot. I still remember my heart racing while I hid myself beneath the desk. Eventually, apprehension had turned to boredom as time passed without any sight of the other kids.’
He closed his eyes again, looking like he was flicking through index cards long covered in dust within his head.
‘I’d found a circular button with a raised texture on it beneath the desk. Curiosity had me playing with it, hoping that a secret compartment drawer would appear, maybe stuffed with sweets I could have shared with my new friends. It didn’t do anything. What seemed like only a moment later, my dad tore into the room and dragged me from under the desk, screaming bloody murder at me.’
