Page 118 of Secret Paths

“Are you going to explain it?”

“I was hoping not.”

“Interesting.”

“Not very.”

She looks into the basket again. “Sanitary towels, ibuprofen, chocolate, sweets and women’s underwear.”

“When you say it like that, it sounds odd.”

“It is odd.”

“It is practical.”

“For whom?”

A sensible man would have prepared for this possibility. A sensible man would have chosen a small, believable lie and stuck to it.

I, unfortunately, am me.

“A guest,” I say.

Alexandra blinks. “A guest?”

“Yes.”

“What guest?”

“A Morton Hall guest.”

Her face goes still.

That is never good.

“You do not work at Morton Hall yet.”

“Not officially.”

“But unofficially you are doing emergency underwear runs?”

“Helping Hunter.”

“Hunter asked you to buy knickers?”

“Yes.”

“Hunter.”

“Yes.”

“My Hunter.”

“There are not many of them.”

“Peter.”

I shift the basket from one hand to the other. “Guest care is complicated.”