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Chris looked bruised. ‘You don’t feel anything for him still, do you?’ he asked, taking her hands and pulling her towards him.
She shook her head softly. She didn’t hate herself for falling for Adam. Every girl was allowed an unsuitable crush, an unrequited love. But true love was a different beast, she thought, looking at Chris. Love crept up quietly on you. She didn’t need the fancy restaurants or the private jet to have fun with Chris. She just needed him there. And, standing in Karin’s hallway, he had never looked more handsome; her feelings towards him had never been more certain.
‘There’s only one person I’m in love with, and he’s standing in front of me.’
‘In that case, I think we’re wasting money,’ he said with a smile.
‘How do you mean?’
‘Two apartments. How about, after this, we go home and move
all your stuff into mine? I’ve got a feeling the landlord might let you off a month’s notice.’
He grinned, and Erin rested her head on his shoulder. ‘Stuff that,’ she laughed. ‘How about you move into mine?’
Suddenly it felt strange, laughing and kissing in Karin’s house, and they moved away from each other, speeding up the packing. The underfloor heating was turned off. It was the middle of November and the air had the sharp pinch of winter. It was quiet, still and haunting.
‘Who is going to get the house?’ asked Chris to fill the silence.
Erin shrugged. ‘Karin’s got no family, but there was a will. Adam gets the house and most of her shares in the business. Can you believe she wanted Diana to have twenty per cent of her shares?’
‘Maybe she wasn’t all bad.’
Erin didn’t want to speak ill of the dead and said nothing. ‘Adam wants all the personal belongings boxed up so he can collect them later.’
‘Let’s split up. It’ll will be quicker. And I can’t wait to get you home,’ he grinned.
While Chris stayed downstairs to pack away Karin’s books into boxes, Erin went upstairs to her bedroom. What a beautiful room, she thought, standing gingerly at the doorway. Cold, bright sunlight flooded in through the long windows hung with heavy cream shot-silk drapes. The en-suite bathroom was still piled high with expensive beauty products and creams that would never be used. A white fluffy towel had a smudge of black mascara on it. She shuddered and walked to the wardrobe and opened it. A row of beautiful clothes, acres of silk and chiffon and tulle in all the colours of the rainbow.
She folded them carefully in layers of plastic and tissue and loaded tea chests until the closets were empty.
The last thing she had to clear was Karin’s dressing table, which was in front of the long windows that looked out onto the sleepy Kensington street. It was a beautiful piece of furniture. Venetian glass with carved black-wood legs and a tall concertina of mirrors in the shape of Doge windows, beautifully etched with flowers. Erin traced her fingers over it and smiled. If there was one thing she did not regret about this year, it was how she could recognize and appreciate beautiful things. That was a gift for life now. She sat on the stool, putting the bottles of perfume into a shoe box, her jewellery into a leather pouch she had found in the dressing room. Hundreds of thousands of pounds’ worth of things, folded and stored away in boxes. What would be the fate of all these beautiful things, she wondered? Finally she opened the drawer. It was empty except for a couple of bottles of nail polish, a silk scarf and a wooden box.
Erin heard footsteps at the door and turned round to see Chris.
‘Are you nearly ready? I bet the traffic is bad, so it will take us ages to get home.’
‘Nearly done,’ she said distractedly, holding the box in the palm of her hand and removing the lid. Sitting on the red velvet lining of the box was a small shiny silver object.
‘Wow, that’s nice,’ said Chris, picking it up and feeling the satisfying heaviness between his fingertips.
‘What is it?’ asked Erin.
He held it up between his thumb and forefinger to show her. ‘A cigar cutter. It’s a beauty,’ he whistled. ‘Solid silver. Asprey,’ he continued, looking at the hallmark.
Erin took it from him. Her fingerprint left a greasy smudge on the metal.
‘Look, there’s a message on it. “Dear Seb. All my love. K.” I wonder why she’s kept this locked away in a box?’
‘I dunno. Who’s Seb, anyway?’
‘Karin’s husband who died last year. He fell off a yacht in Turkey and drowned. It was all pretty murky. For a while they didn’t know if he fell or was pushed. I heard that for a time they thought Karin might have done it, but the police decided it was an accident.’
‘She had a pretty tragic life really, didn’t she?’ said Chris, pulling on his coat and waiting for Erin to finish.
She closed her fingers around the cigar cutter. ‘Yes. I suppose she did.’
