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‘For now.’
‘Is your dad mad at you? Because I hear you blaming yourself a lot. And not a single thing that you’ve said makes me think that it’s your dad that thinks you’re to blame.’
‘He doesn’t have to say anything. I just know.’
Jess threw her hands up. There was clearly no point arguing with him. ‘Well, you’re right. That seems like empirical proof. I’ll use that in my next paper.’
Suddenly Rufus looked curious, and he jumped on the change of subject. ‘Your next paper? You know, you never told me what you actually do.’
‘You know, I know what you’re doing. Nice try.’
He shrugged. ‘You mean well, but I’m not sure this one can be fixed. Let’s talk about you.’
She waited a beat, considering. ‘Fine. But I’m warning you, you might have said all you want to, but I don’t think I’m done.’
He smiled weakly. ‘I’ll pencil in a haranguing at a later date. Now I want to know about your work.’
He shifted on the stool, and she realised that they had been sitting in his study long enough for a couple of logs to burn down, and the dregs of her hot chocolate to go dry and grainy in the bottom of the cup.
‘We can talk about me later. But we should really get the shots that Lara wanted of the house before I properly unpack and make a mess of all your hard work.’
‘Right,’ Rufus said, standing and brushing down his trousers self-consciously. ‘Should I go and do them, or do you want to...?’
‘Lara likes faces. She says they get better engagement.’
He stared at her so long she felt a strong urge to rub at her face, as if she had a smudge on her cheek or something.
‘You have a nice face,’ Jess said.
She wanted to die the minute that the words left her mouth. Perhaps if she went outside and just lay in the snow, her face would stop burning and she could pretend that that had never happened. Maybe. It would be worth the hypothermia. Except, Rufus’s cheeks were pink again too, right there on the cheekbones, and that was such a good look on him that it was hard to regret her words. Still, she needed to backpedal.
‘I just mean, we should take some shots of you too. It’ll be good for the brand.’
‘Fine, if you think that’s what Lara wants. For the record, though, your face is nice too.’
She had just got those cheeks of hers under control, and now they were burning worse than ever. He was only thinking about the Instagram feed, she told herself. This was all just business to him, no matter how intimate it might feel being holed up together here in the snow. She uncurled herself from the chair and walked self-consciously from the study, aware that Rufus’s eyes were on her as they made their way along the gallery and round to her bedroom.
‘Was this your room?’ she asked, trying to imagine the house as a family home, with Rufus and his brother and sister running around the empty halls, heaps of wrapping paper and abandoned packaging everywhere on Christmas morning. She’d seen enough of his mum to know it must have been full of energy and joy. And noise. A far cry from the awkward silence currently filling the great hall, where she could hear the crackle from the logs in the fireplace on the floor below.
No wonder the family were all missing this place. That Rufus was mourning what he had lost. She knew as well as anyone how hard it was when big changes hit your family. When you suddenly had to adjust to a new normal, when you had been perfectly happy with the old one.
She opened the door to her room and was hit by warmth from the fire, which had been burning away behind the closed door while they were in the study. The décor, unsurprisingly, seemed no less over-the-top after an hour away from it, and she tried to imagine what she and Lara would have made of it had she got her flight before the snow had set in. They would have been doubled up with laughter, she imagined, at the thought of their plans for a pyjama-and Scrabble-heavy weekend being mistaken for a debauched couple of nights involving rose petals and champagne. There was no doubt it would make for some pretty content for the Instagram feed, though. She’d picked up Rufus’s phone in the study and fired off a couple of shots now, capturing the heart of petals on the bed and the champagne glasses on the side table. A tall cheval mirror was reflecting the fire from the other side of the room and she crossed to stand in front of it, wondering what Lara would make of her very hashtag-authentic outfit of thermal leggings, worn-in boots and layers of knitwear that no one would mistake for cashmere.
‘I really don’t know what to do with all this,’ Jess said, contemplating the mass of rose petals that she’d gathered into a pile.
‘Here.’ Rufus snatched up a crystal bowl from the dark wood sideboard on the other side of the room and crossed to the bed. They scooped handfuls of petals into the bowl, until there were just a few strays on the pillows that Jess stretched to pick up.
‘These smell beautiful,’ Jess said, picking up the bowl and giving it a long sniff. ‘Mind if I keep them up here?’
‘If you want,’ Rufus replied, dropping down to sit on the edge of the bed, but then standing up, looking uncomfortable.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Sometimes it’s hard to remember I don’t live here any more.’
‘Was this your room?’
He shook his head. ‘No, my parents had this one. Mine was far less grand—they stuck us up in the attic once we were old enough to be out of earshot.’
Jess smiled. ‘Sounds very Boy’s Own.’
