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“Fine,” the girl decides, snatching the check. “Hugo was looking for the people who used to live in this house. I gave him their forwarding address. That’s all.”
Finally!
“Can we get that address, too?” I ask.
The girl goes to a cabinet and pulls out an old envelope. “Here,” she says, thrusting it at Jolene—and giving me a dirty look.
“Mara Dunleavy,” Jolene reads aloud.
“She and her brother lived here before us. Max, I think his name was. Took ages to update their subscriptions, too,” Clemmie adds. “We gotField and StreamandBakers Choicefor months.”
I’m less interested in their reading materials than this woman’s current location. I read over Jolene’s shoulder. “She lives in Glasgow.”
Fuck.
“Hugo’s in Glasgow?” Jolene asks.
“Yep,” the girl nods. “Well, he will be soon, anyway. I helped him book the train, first thing tomorrow morning, out of Euston,” she adds proudly. “He was really glad for my help.”
“I’m sure,” Jolene agrees.
“Clemmie!” someone calls. “Liam’s just puked in the bathtub!”
She whirls around and shrieks, “What the fuck? When the toilet isright there?”
She storms out, leaving Jolene and I alone.
“Mr. Moneybags, huh?” Jolene asks, studying me with a frown. “Is that how you operate now? You think you can just throw money around and get your way?”
“It worked, didn’t it?” I counter. “‘Aye,thanks for helping out, Fraser,’”I mimic.“ ‘I don’t know how I would have gotten the information without you.’”
“You want a gold star?” Jolene asks, hoisting her backpack. “Anyway, I can take it from here. I’ll intercept Hugo at the station tomorrow morning and talk him back to set. I’ll drag him there myself, if necessary.”
“Aye. Good.” I nod briskly. “I’ll head down to Sussex now and keep things ticking over until you’re back.”
Jolene pauses. "You're not going to tell your bosses at the studio that he’s gone, are you?”
“Tell them what?” I counter. “He hasn’t missed a day of filming yet, has he? So, as long as he’s back on set by Tuesday morning…”
Jolene looks relieved. “Thanks. Well, I better find a hotel and get some sleep. I don’t want to miss him in the morning.”
She leaves without another word. Clearly, she can’t stand to be in my presence for a moment longer than necessary.
I sigh. This job has been a disaster since the moment it began. Now, I’m surrounded by drunk, randy students, snogging in every corner. It’s like the universe is taunting me with my past mistakes, forcing me on a trip back down memory lane, to a time I’d rather forget—
CRASH!
I turn. A drunk kid just stumbled into the sideboard, sending some dishes smashing to the ground. “Don’t touch that,” I bark, before he can slice his hands open. “Jesus, just leave it to me.”
He stumbles off, and I find a tea towel nearby, carefully using it to pick up the shards of broken china. I go to dispose of them in the kitchen, tidying up the mess as I go, until the hostess stumbles in, sobbing over a cheap bottle of red wine.
“Might want to go easy on that,” I advise her, plucking it from her hand and replacing it with a glass of water, instead. “Get some food in you, too, unless you want one hell of a hangover tomorrow.”
“It won’t make a difference,” she sniffles. “Ithurts. I thought helovedme!”
I take pity on the poor lass. Heaven knows, heartbreak is never easy. And when it’s your first love…
That wound takes years to heal. Which I’m guessing Clemmie doesn’t want to hear right now, so I land on a nice, comforting: “You’ll be alright, don’t worry. My friend was right.”
