“Oh, but that is where you are wrong. You and Greg are betrothed. You have been since birth. You ran away to have dirty sexual relations with a… I don’t know, a mutt.” She smiles like nothing she is saying is offensive.
“You don’t get to talk about him,” I hiss. I can feel my insides starting to boil.
She knows and laughs. “Burns, doesn’t it?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, who you’re talking to!” I snap.
“I’ve met many a witch. I know.” She rolls her eyes and turns her attention back to her phone. “But I also know you will be a good girl. You have too much at stake here.” She doesn’t take her eyes off her phone. To her this is all so causal. A casual business meeting and not someone’s life. “I would try and get some rest. You have a long evening ahead and the glam team have a lot of work to do on you when we get to London.”
There is no point in arguing. I need to concentrate on my next move. End the Belfours without putting my family and Sam’s in danger.
But what? Who knows. I have got to figure it out.
Outside, the countryside falls away, hedgerows blurring into grey-green smudges. Inside, silence presses down like a spell. Just the clacking of Mrs Belfour’s long fingernails on her phone.
London waits.
Twenty-Four
Grey clouds hang over the skyscrapers that start to appear on the horizon. London. It feels like a lifetime ago since I left. But it has only been a few months. In that time my whole life has changed. My whole purpose.
For the journey I sit silently looking out of the window, going over and over in my head who could have told them, who could have betrayed Sam and Lola like that, and how I am going to make them pay for what they have done.
We pull up outside my old apartment building, the sky now drizzling with rain.
Mrs Belfour breaks the silence as I stare up at the many floors above us.
“He is expecting you. Maybe use this time to talk. He is not a bad person, you know, Harriet. And he will provide for you.” Again her eyes narrow at me over the top of her ridiculously large sunglasses.
I go to speak but she cuts me off sharply. “And tonight is a big deal, so at least look like you don’t mind him touching you.” She smiles and meets my eyes for acknowledgement. I just stare. I can’t even speak back.
She smirks. “Good girl, Harriet.” Then she shoos her handat me and the door opens. The driver helps me out and tips his hat before getting back into the driving seat and driving the she-devil back to whatever pit she came from.
I stand looking up at my once beautiful home with its opulent reception and beautiful big windows. All I want is the cottage. Not this. Not anymore.
I pull my phone out from my pocket hoping to call Granny but it’s dead. My own fault for not plugging it in last night at Sam’s. My heart skips a beat. Sam. My beautiful and amazing Sam. I pull his image from my brain. I can’t get emotional now. If there’s anyone I have a chance of talking down from this stupid “deal”, it’s Greg.
I walk through the revolving door into the marble floored reception. I walk past the service desk and into the lifts, pressing the button to the floor where my old home lies waiting for me.
The corridor on the apartment floor feels like the green mile. I walk slowly until I reach the door and knock.
I hold my breath waiting to see what is behind the door. Will he be the Greg I know or the drunk idiot who showed up at the cottage?
It slowly opens and I am met with familiar eyes but instead of their usual bright confident stare I am met with caution.
He pulls the door open more. He is still in grey jogging bottoms and a stained T-shirt, his stubble unkempt and his hair not brushed.
He lets me in and moves to the side to let me pass then closes the door behind me.
We stand either side of the corridor just staring at each other in the awkward silence.
Greg opens his mouth to speak but I cut him off. “You used a child to trap me. Well done, Greg, well done,” I hiss at him clapping my hands with sarcasm.
He looks stunned and confused. “I don’t know what—”
“Shut up,” I bark as all the anger pours out of me, my body burning underneath my skin. “Is this what you really want? Because I tell you now, Greg, I am not playing the doting wife. Quite the opposite. I will never ever forgive you for this.”
He looks at his feet.
