‘There’s only my dad.’ She holds up her phone. ‘I’ve tried to call him, but I can’t get any signal.’
‘Wi-Fi’s always an issue here. That’s the price you pay for country living. You must call your father. He’ll be missing you.’
‘Dad’s going on holiday.’ She smiles, but it seems fake. ‘Are you trying to get rid of me, Beth?’
I give a tight smile. ‘You don’t have any siblings?’ I ask.
‘No! Just me.’ She takes a sip of water. ‘What did you do for work?’ she asks, directing the conversation back to me. ‘Before you got ill.’
‘I still work. I’m just taking things easy. The chemo affects me too badly.’ I scoff. ‘My attention span is that of a gnat.’
‘What do you do?’ she asks.
‘I’m the CEO of Justin’s company.’
Her eyebrows rise. ‘Husband and wife working together. I love it.’
‘It works. I take care of business matters – when I’m well enough.’
‘He’s a big name, it seems,’ she says.
‘He does good things. Helping vulnerable people, charity work,’ I say as she walks to the door. ‘He’s good at what he does. Me too. We make a strong team.’
33
SCARLETT
Justin walks into the kitchen and the conversation closes like a fist. Damn him. I was just having an interesting conversation with Beth. There’s something vulnerable about the woman, and, given time, I’m sure I can get more out of her about her husband. If Justin seemed agitated from afar when I saw him earlier stomping up to his office, he shows no sign of it now. He tosses his keys in a dish on the centre island.
Beth scratches her forearm. She does this a lot. The right one in particular. I saw it last night when she took her cardigan off. The skin is red raw, scabby in patches where she’s scratched it off.
Justin addresses his wife. ‘What are you doing down here? I thought you were going for a lie-down?’
‘I couldn’t settle,’ Beth replies.
He pulls her up. ‘Come on, love. We can check on Mum while we’re up there. I take it she’s upstairs resting.’ Justin looks at me.
I nod.
He steers her out of the room.
Am I barking up the wrong tree here? Because Justin seems like a man who cares deeply for his wife. Or is that just the image he portrays to the world?
I stack the glasses and cups in the dishwasher and wipe the table where Hattie spilled her drink. I’m about to go to my room, when Justin reappears, as if he crept up on me. I let out a gasp before I can stop it.
‘I’m sorry.’ He steps backwards, holding up his hands. ‘I didn’t mean to make you jump. My wife can be rather stubborn at times. She needs her rest. The drugs and treatment – it all affects her badly.’
I wipe my hands on a tea towel. ‘She seems washed out by it all.’
‘She sure is. It’s affecting her on so many levels. I need to warn you, Immy.’ He pauses.
‘Warn me?’ I almost freeze, wondering what’s coming. ‘Whatever about?’
‘My wife. Beth. She can get paranoid. Hysterical at times. Very emotional. Please don’t take any of it personally. It’s the medication, her illness. We’re working with her consultant to get it right.’
‘The scratching,’ I say. ‘It’s making her arms sore. Poor thing. I really feel for her.’ And that’s the truth.
Justin runs a hand through his hair. ‘That’s the meds too. We’ll get there.’ He pauses. ‘Immy, you don’t know how much I appreciate you being here. Are you sure you’re OK with everything? It’s not too much?’
