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For the most part her clothes were practical for work and, given the transitory nature of her work, there wasn’t much going out at night. She had two nice dresses. One that she usually wore for christenings and things but it was far too summery. The other was black and gorgeous but she had put on even more weight since she’d last worn it and her cleavage spilled out.
It would just have to do, she decided. She’d be wearing her new red coat there and for inside the theatre she had a lovely silver scarf.
Naomi applied her make-up carefully, put on her not so little black dress and told herself to smile when she looked in the mirror. After all, on her night off she was going to seeNight Foreston Broadway!
And, of course, she was excited.
Well, not really.
But she didn’t want, even to herself, to admit that.
There had been a dull ache, or rather a space in her chest, since the other night. A space that Naomi did not want to examine because if she did she might break down and cry.
It was just a kiss.
She kept saying that like a mantra.
But Abe’s was the only kiss she had ever known, and worse, far worse, was the feeling she had let both of them down the other night. He’d tried to talk but she’d felt unable to listen.
As she headed downstairs the staff were all getting ready to pile into the cars lined up in the drive for them.
‘You look wonderful,’ Naomi said to Barb.
‘I could say the same for you. It feels odd to be heading to the party without Jobe. Maybe next year.’
Naomi said nothing.
It was hell sometimes, having a foot both upstairs and down, but surely the staff ought to know?
When they had gone, Naomi went to order a car of her own. The staff phone was ringing in the kitchen but she ignored it. After all, it couldn’t be for her.
As she went to get her coat from the cloakroom, it reminded her so much of her day with Abe that she just buried her face in it for a long moment. There was the faintest scent of him, she was sure. Naomi didn’t wear perfume and there was a sharp, clean note of bergamot on the collar. And she recognised another, wood sage, she was sure. It was the scent she had breathed in when they had kissed. The same scent that had met her in the hallway the morning he had left before dawn.
Then the phone rang again and she suddenly thought of Jobe and how sick he was and decided she ought to pick it up.
‘Devereux household.’
‘Naomi?’
She closed her eyes at the sound of Abe’s voice.
Not for a second did she think it might be Ethan, even if they spoke with the same accent, even if their voices were both deep and low. It was as if Abe’s were etched like a signature on her heart.
‘Yes.’
‘Is Barb there?’
‘It’s the staff dinner tonight,’ Naomi reminded him. ‘Everybody’s out.’
‘Of course.’ He let out a sigh. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘Is everything okay?’ she couldn’t help but ask. ‘Is Jobe—?’
‘He’s good,’ Abe said quickly, as he hadn’t intended to alarm her. ‘Well, when I say good, now that he’s off a lot of the meds he’s suddenly hungry and eating.’ He spoke so easily with her. ‘As well as that he’s talking. A lot. Reminiscing, I guess.’
‘I thought...’ She hesitated. As far as she knew, Abe was supposed to be out with Ethan and Khalid tonight, but it would seem he’d chosen to spend the time with his father. It wasn’t her place to pry.
‘There’s a photo he wants. I was going to ask Barb if she could take it down and have Bernard bring it over...’
