“Well, I didn’t want to alarm you,” I tell her.
“I slept in a haunted room?” Megan asks and then lets the thought settle. “Cool. I slept in a haunted room.”
“Oh, the Blue Lady, yes, that makes sense,” LadyB says. “She always appears to alert to danger or distress. I’ve seen her only once in broad daylight. It was when Alex was three and had slipped his nanny. She led me to him trying to peer down an old well we have on the grounds. I’m very grateful to her for that one.”
“Miss?” Megan asks LadyB. “Can I have a not haunted room tonight?”
“Oh yes, I’ve sorted you out a nice little not-at-all-haunted room just along the corridor from Ava,” LadyB says, winking at me when Megan isn’t looking.
“Anyway, Dad says I’m to make myself useful, so um, can I do something, like... er... muck out horse stalls or whatever?” It’s clear that Megan doesn’t really know what mucking out horse stalls entails, but it sounds castle-y, so she gives it a shot.
“Do you want to muck out horse stalls?” LadyB asks.
“Not really, Miss,” Megan says.
“If I may,” Forrest interjects, setting a stack of stationery down on the table. “I’d like to give Megan a sketchbook and packet of pens and the day to write and draw whatever she wants. Like extra homework.”
“Really?” Megan looks hopeful and tries to look displeased. “I mean, yeah, if I have to.”
“As long as you stay in the garden close to the house,” Forrest cautions her. “No more going off and getting yourself lost in a grotto or something. Agreed?”
“Agreed!” Megan says happily, grabbing the sketchbook and pens that Forrest offers her and stuffing one of the croissants I saved for her into her mouth as she rushes off outside.
“Well.” LadyB smiles at us. “All’s well that ends well. Ava, I know this is your day off, but might I have a word?”
“Um, yes, of course,” I say.
Forrest gives me the slightest smile, and it’s as if he is looking at me completely differently. I feel it too, this sort of new warmth between us, cautious but glad, if that makes sense. I think if LadyB didn’t want to speak to me, he might hang out with me some more; we might talk and get to know each other, maybe even find Artie and take her on an adventure. The thing is, even though it’s all in my imagination, I like that idea very much. Still, Forrest makes his excuses and leaves, and I feel kind of bad for not returning the gesture. Forrest gives me one last glance as he leaves, and I find that I’m still smiling in response, even after he has closed the door behind him.
LadyB crosses to the fireplace, where she is resting one bejewelled hand on the marble surround and looking out into the garden. Why do I have the feeling that I’m about to get interrogated.
“Can we talk about Rani?” LadyB begins.
“I generally don’t talk about my friends behind their backs,” I say, as if I have more than one friend.
“I know, but it’s a delicate situation,” LadyB says. “It’s about Alex and Rani.”
Oh no. I’m the go-between. She’s chosen me to talk to about what’s happening between her son and Rani and I do not want that job. I’m terrible with subterfuge and secrets and havingopinions. These are all things I actively try and avoid. I remember when Rani’s dad tried to recruit me to help throw her a surprise thirtieth birthday and I ran away with my hands over my ears singing LA LA LA at the top of my voice because I knew I couldn’t handle it.
“With respect, LadyB,” I say, “if you have an objection to Rani and Alex, please don’t involve me. I don’t do well with this kind of thing. It gives me a stomachache.”
“No, no, of course I don’t have an objection,” LadyB protests. “Not at least as far as Rani is concerned. I can see with my own eyes that Rani is a brilliant young woman, with a successful business and also a kind heart and a true friend. I admire her tremendously.”
“Great, I’ll be going then,” I say, making for the door before she springs some sort of complicated trap.
“It’s just that Alex can be...”—I take my hand off the door handle—“something of a cad. A bounder, my pa used to call it. A heartbreaker, I suppose you might say these days. He seems to get through very nice young women at an alarming rate. Or at least he has in the recent past.”
“Oh no, really?” I think of Rani’s face last night, her eyes glowing with joy every time she looked at Alex and how sweet he was with her. Was he just love bombing her to get his own way? “Oh fuck.”
“Well, quite,” Lady B says. “It’s my fault really, at least that’s what Albert would say. You see, my husband was sent off to boarding school at the age of six, and then went into the military for a period, as a commissioned officer, of course. He says it taught him resilience and discipline. I rather think it taught him how to suppress his feelings and stunted his emotional growth, that is, until I persuadedhim to try therapy. I refused to let anything so brutal happen to my darling little boy. As a result, Alex has lived a charmed life: beloved at a local school, top of his class at university, and a sports star. In the last ten years he’s done amazing work helping us build up the foundation. He’s a canny businessman with a real commitment to using our platform for good. I’m very proud of that side of him.” She gives a brief, fond smile. “But he’s also terribly good looking, you see, and whilst not precisely rich, he is set to inherit a castle. And then there’s the title. The short of it is, he’s quite a catch and attracting beautiful, smart women isn’t hard for him. He has a history of treating his lady friends very carelessly. Now, there hasn’t been anyone in his life for about six months, so I’m hoping he’s matured at last, but I can’t be certain. So I wondered if you would...”
“So, you want me to warn Rani off him,” I concluded, horrified at the thought of it. “I can’t do that, LadyB. I won’t. Rani’s an adult and so is Alex. I love her, and if he hurts her, I will hunt him down and make him pay in blood, but it’s not my place to tell her what to do. And anyway, maybe you should be talking to your son about this instead.”
“No, you are right. You are quite right,” LadyB says, clasping her hands together. “Alex and I had rather a falling-out over his last girlfriend, but of course I should talk to my son. One must hold one’s own son to the same high standards that one expects for everyone else, mustn’t one?”
“One must,” I say with a decisive nod and a lot of relief. “So, we can pretend we never had this conversation, right?”
“What conversation?” LadyB says.
