Page 70 of Glasshouses

Lily was on the patio, impeccably white, talking to another woman who was slightly older and seemed to be recording her.

“Ah, she’s doing a quick interview. Can I get you a drink while you wait?” He leaned towards the kitchen.

“Just water, please. Tap’s fine.” I looked for somewhere to sit.

“Sit where you like.” He saw me hesitating. “The furniture’s meant to be purposeful, not ornaments, no matter what my ex-wife said.”

“How ex?” I headed closer to the kitchen area so I didn’t have to raise my voice to be heard.

“Two years and very expensive. She was a divorce solicitor, so I didn’t have a hope in hell of coming out of that okay.” He filled a glass from the tap. “Here, it’s filtered.”

“Thank you. How’s your interview gone?” I could make small talk occasionally.

“Pretty good. It’s a focus on the house which is why it looks more like a show home than a place someone lives in. It’s not normally this tidy. Have you found who’s been intimidating Lily?”

“Not yet. Has she told you much about it?” I’d had suspicions when I’d picked Lily up here that they were more than just client and tradesperson. Nothing romantic, but there was a connection.

He shrugged. “A little. It’s scared her and I don’t like that. I’ve offered for her to stay here but she’s putting a brave face on.” He waved through the window as Lily looked round, her expression turning when she saw me.

Was it guilt or fear? How much of what I’d seen was an act? I knew some of it was.

She walked inside with the reporter; a smile carved into stone.

“Mia, I wasn’t expecting to see you today.” She was dressed in denim dungarees, a tight T-shirt on underneath and light make-up on that added a hint of glam.

I nodded. “Surprise visit. The garden looks beautiful.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” The reporter beamed at me. “Such a gorgeous setting. Damien, can I get a couple of photos of you in your bedroom? The light would be great in there right now. Jayz, can you grab these shots?” She shouted through the open bi-folds and then stuck her head outside, hurrying her photographer.

I watched while the three of them left the kitchen, Lily looking ever more nervous.

“What are you doing here?” she said, her whisper furious. “I thought you understood that I needed to keep attention away from me. This could damage my reputation.”

“Damien seems lovely and he thinks this is about the brick through your window. I do have a few more questions for you; a few things have come up. Where would be best to speak?” I watched her carefully, her eyes darting away from mine, assessing the area, not really wanting to engage,

“Outside as they’ve finished in there. We can sit in the summerhouse and no one can hear us.”

We stepped outside in the garden, birdsong in full volume. “This is gorgeous. You must be very proud.”

“I am. They’re doing a separate small feature on me in the magazine too, so I think I’ll get some more jobs like this from it. I prefer working on an area for a longer period than lots of smaller jobs.” She was more settled out here, distracted by lavender that we passed, running her hand up it and sniffing. “That’s grown well.”

“Is that the summerhouse?” I pointed to a wooden building with large glass windows, the wood adorned with wisteria.

“It is. It’s one of the first things Damien had installed when I started, and was part of the pitch I gave him. He had three of us come here and pitch our ideas in front of him and each other. It was the most nerve wracking experience of my life.” She opened the door to the summer house, which was more like another building than a posh shed. It had a bar in the centre, and to one side was what looked like it could be a cloakroom. There was even a small wooden staircase that looked intriguing.

“What’s upstairs?”

“A bedroom under the stars. There’s a glass pitched roof, so if you sleep in there, you feel like you’re under the sky.”

I’d noticed the glass roof on the walk here. “Early morning wake up in summer.”

“There are blinds if you’d rather have a lie-in. Damien thought of everything.” She sat down on a plush looking sofa.

I took the seat opposite, putting my bag down next to me. “This might be connected to the brick, Lily. I’m still trying to put the pieces together and I think you can help.”

“I’ve told you everything I can remember.”

“I’m not sure you have.” I was also not sure of the last time someone had challenged her. She might have been responsible for the deaths of her father and brothers, but she’d been treated as a victim ever since.