Page 78 of To All the Men I’ve Killed Before

I arrange all the things on the tray and then, on a whim, go into the garden and pluck one of the hibiscus flowers and lay it down next to the cutlery. Yes, this is definitely a good way to apologise. I carry the tray up to Antoinette’s room and balance it on my knee as I knock the door.

‘Antoinette?’ I call. ‘Are you awake?’

There’s no answer.

‘Antoinette?’ I say her name a bit louder this time. ‘I’ve made you breakfast.’

Still nothing.

She’s either dead to the world or she’s still furious at me.

‘Please, talk to me.’ I’m pleading now. ‘I’m really sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have shouted at you. And I’d really like your help with Aidan today. Please, Antoinette.’

She still doesn’t answer.

I hope she’s okay. Maybe she’s coming down with whatever I have.

I put the tray on the floor and knock once more. ‘I’m coming in.’

I turn the knob and open the door but there’s no one here.

No sign of Antoinette at all.

The bed is made. It doesn’t even look like it’s been slept in.

‘Antoinette?’ I call out again before pushing open the door to her en suite. If she’s in the shower she might not have heard me. But the bathroom is completely empty. And it doesn’t look like it’s been used this morning. The air is completely dry, no lingering steam from the shower, no residual smell from deodorant or perfume.

It’s like she hasn’t been here all night.

Did I even hear her come in?

I don’t think I did.

After I left Aidan in the cellar to puke in the sink I’d come straight up to bed, passing out the moment my head hit the pillow.

Maybe she didn’t come home.

But where would she have gone?

I hurry back down to the kitchen and pick my phone up from the table. I call Antoinette but it goes straight through to voicemail. Urgh. She probably forgot to charge it again.

I jam my feet into a pair of trainers by the back door and half-walk, half-run past the pool and to the guesthouse.

The door is open when I get there but I call through anyway.

‘Agnes? Lauren?’

‘In the kitchen,’ Agnes’s voice bounces back. She’s perched on a bar stool at the island, eating a bowl of cereal and scrolling through her phone. She looks a lot brighter than when I last saw her. ‘Hey, Kitty,’ she says when she sees me. ‘Are you okay? You look ghost-pale.’

‘Is Antoinette here?’ I ask but Agnes shakes her head.

‘No, I haven’t seen her. I’ve been trying to get hold of her. Have you seen the news?’

I shake my head this time. ‘No. What’s happened?’

Agnes passes me her phone. ‘Richard Stone,’ she says. ‘He was found dead in his kitchen this morning. Fell on a bunch of knives in the dishwasher. How fucked up is that?’

I stare at the news story on the gossip site on the phone. ‘Oh,’ I say. ‘Wow. That’s grim.’