by Heidi Lowe
She kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you, Daddy." I watched him melt when she said that.
"Jenna, I apologize for having to disappear now. I'm sure you understand." She yawned again, pressing a hand over her mouth, then smiled. "My body needs about a week's worth of sleep."
"No problem," I said. So you apologize for this but not for your crazy rant? Nice.
"We'll have plenty of time to get to know each other, I'm sure." There was something mischievous in those big brown eyes, something that made me anxious. I just knew she was going to make my stay there uncomfortable.
"Mmm, minty," Marcus said, pulling me into a kiss once I'd stepped back into the room after brushing my teeth.
I retrieved my MacBook, settled into bed beside him.
"You're not going to sleep?" he asked as I powered up the laptop.
"No, I'm not really tired. Thought I'd get some work done."
"Babe, you're on holiday. You only just got here. Relax a little."
He would never understand how much it bugged me when he said things like that, which he often did. It was as though he'd forgotten that most normal people worked for a living.
"I still have a mortgage to pay. And bills. You know what those are, don't you?"
He laughed. "All right, I get it, you're trying to say that I'm spoiled and irresponsible."
"No I'm not." Yes, I was.
He kissed me on the cheek. There wasn't much that offended him, besides his parents.
"You and Scarlett will get on like a house on fire," he said, fluffing his pillow then lying down. "She's obsessed with working. She always has to be doing something. If it's not legal work, it's organizing fundraisers, faffing about with her horses. No wonder she doesn't have time to find a husband."
Now felt like a good time to get the lowdown on her, since he'd brought her up. I had to be careful; subtle.
"But she's had boyfriends, right? I mean, you've met them before?"
He pondered this for a moment. "I guess there were some. I remember a couple of guys that were hanging around... This was when I was in school, though. No one since."
"Don't you find that odd?" I said, keeping my voice casual, tapping away at my laptop, not really paying attention to it. I couldn't explain why his rude, older sister fascinated me so much.
"Not really. She's private when it comes to that sort of thing. Who knows, she probably has a secret family we don't know about." He chuckled.
Or a secret girlfriend, I said to myself.
He sat up again. "Hey, what did you think of her? I know it was a brief meeting, but first impression?"
I smiled thinly. "She's nice." With a caveat: only in front of you guys! Or maybe I'd just caught her at a really bad time. She'd just ended her relationship, so naturally she wasn't in the best mood.
"I really want you to be friends. It would mean so much to me. You're the most important people in my life."
That was a huge responsibility, being one of the two most important people in a person's life, especially when you'd only been in said person's life for six months. It unnerved me to hear him say it so early on.
"I'll do my best," I said.
Allowing for the possibility that I hadn't given Scarlett a real chance, and that she wasn't a bigoted bitch who hated all Americans, I decided that night that I wouldn't pass judgment on her before I got to know her properly. I mean, if Marcus loved her, how bad could she have been?
I snapped the laptop shut as quietly as I could while Marcus snoozed away. Moving with stealth, I climbed out of bed, crept to my case and meticulously unzipped it, looking up a couple of times to see if I'd woken Marcus.
Satisfied that he would sleep through the noise, I reached blindly into the bottom of the case, and pulled out a packet of Marlboro’s and the lighter I'd bought at a flea market – a cheap, probably trademark-infringed picture of Tom and Jerry was stuck on it.
Sneaking out of a house this big came with a lot more risk, as you never knew where someone might pop out from. There was also a haunted feel to it that I got as I trekked through the dark corridors and down the stairs. Marcus and Scarlett must have had a blast playing hide-and-seek here in their youth.
A cool breeze hit me when I stepped outside. Stars twinkled above in a clear, black sky. The air smelled fresh and rural, nothing like the polluted London air.
I lit a cigarette. The first drag was glorious. My last cigarette had been outside the airport in Boston, shortly before boarding the plane. They'd been on my mind ever since.
Although I was still in denial about having an addiction, I knew that at least I could make it three days without one crossing my lips (although I almost caved and asked a guy in Waterloo for a puff of his when I was with Marcus). He didn't know that I smoked, not beyond social situations. Didn't know about the secret pack I'd brought with me. He'd had quite unpleasant things to say about smokers in the past, all of which were true, mind. I didn't want to disappoint him by telling him I was one of those monsters he despised.
Across the yard, the door to the annexe apartment opened, and a figure stepped out. Floodlights fired up, and I watched as Scarlett tied her pink robe closed. From about thirty-five meters away I watched, unnoticed, as she stuck a cigarette in her mouth and attempted to light it several times without success. Her lighter must have been out of gas.
That was when she looked up and saw me.
Crap! There was something about her that made me nervous. And those nerves grew heightened as she approached me.
"You know that's a nasty habit, don't you?" she said, her smile sort of whimsical, daring.
"I know, but I just can't seem to break it. Need a light?"
I went to fish my lighter out of the cigarette box I'd put on the floor, but with cigarette in mouth, she came towards me and lit her cigarette against mine. Her scent wafted in the air. Vanilla? White musk? Something delicious.
I watched her without knowing I was. She combed a hand through her thick, shoulder-length curly locks, and looked up at the sky.
"It's never this starry in England. I don't want you to get the wrong impression," she joked. "And the weather is never usually this nice."
"Marcus told me all about the English weather, don't worry. I know this is an anomaly."
When she looked at me again, I got the feeling, from the way her eyes glistened and smirked, that she knew a secret I wasn't privy to. Part of the reason why she made me nervous was simply the fact that I'd never been this close to someone as beautiful as she was. This whole late-night clandestine meeting felt uncanny.
"Let me guess, he doesn't know you smoke? He hates smoking."
"Yeah. Does he know about you?" That wasn't just in relation to her smoking, but the mystery woman.
"No. It will have to be our little secret." She gave the act a gracefulness most smokers could never achieve. Smoked like a real lady, if such a thing were possible. Made it look sexy, not deadly like it was. If I hadn't already been a smoker, she would surely have converted me. "Besides, this is only an occasional indulgence. It's been a stressful couple of days."
I was so close to bringing up the break up, it was on the tip of my tongue. But I didn't. No, clearly no one was supposed to know about it.
"Marcus says you're a barrister."
"I am, part time. I only do pro bono cases, and things for solicitor friends."
"I don't really know the difference between the two. In the States we just have attorneys, that's it."
She nodded knowingly. "Yes, there are a lot of things you do differently in the States..."
That smirk said it all: she was making a subtle reference to our first meeting outside the park. She didn't show remorse then, and she wasn't showing any now.
"Well, I forgive you for nearly knocking me down and then saying disparaging things about American people." I knew by saying this I was opening a can of worms. And everything had been going so well...
"Forgive me? You should have been watching where you were going. Exer
cised more care. You're just lucky I was quick with the brakes."
Flabbergasted, my mouth hung open as I gawked at her the way I had earlier that day. Was this woman for real?
"Wow, you're a piece of work. You were speeding, it's that simple."
"So I take it you know the speeding limit in this country?"
"No, but, I, uh–"
"So how would you know I was speeding?"
I rolled my eyes, took a drag of my cigarette, said nothing aloud, but shouted every possible profanity and insult I could think of internally. There weren't many insults to use on a woman who looked as good, smelled as good, sounded as good as her, though. If she wasn't perfect, I didn't know who was. I hated that.
"It's water under the bridge," she said after a while, though her voice had a laugh to it. Was the fact that she'd nearly killed me a joke to her? Maybe that was her flaw: she was a sociopath.
"Fine," I said through gritted teeth. "Because Marcus wants us to get along."
She laughed. "Why on earth would he want that? How long does he think this thing will last?"
The look I gave her then was deadly. "What thing?" I already knew what she was referring to.
"Whatever it is you two are doing. God knows it's not a real relationship. I'm sure he's smitten now, like any young boy who begins a dalliance with an older woman would be. But let's be realistic here: you and I both know this is just a bit of fun for you."
Calmly and coolly she took a puff of her cigarette, then put the remainder out in the graveled floor. So casual, like she hadn't just said what she'd said.
"Where do you get off implying that what me and Marcus have isn't real? That it's just some meaningless fling we'll both get tired of?"
Her smile faded, her eyes became hard, serious. "Because I know women like you. You hear about his family name, see that he has a good heart, and want to take advantage. Well, over my dead body!"
This was the woman I'd met in town – this spiteful she-devil with fire in her eyes. I knew she was bound to show her face sooner or later.
"I don't know what you think you know, but I care about your brother, and he cares about me. I didn't even know about any of this until I got here." I gestured to the house. "I don't care about your family's name or their money. How shallow do you think I am? I have my own goddamn money!"
She cackled. "Oh, of course. From your lucrative career building websites for one-man businesses off and on. I checked you out, you know. When Marcus told me about you, I made sure to do a background check on you."
The cigarette fell from my fingers. My temple throbbed, my heartbeat sped up. Pounding like the beat of a drum. I couldn't believe what I was hearing, what she was saying.
"You ran a background check on me?"
"Only to see if you were who you said you were. To see if you weren't swimming in debt and looking for a way out through my brother."
Furious, "Then you would have seen that I've always been straight with him, that I own my own home, and earn more than enough to pay for it."
"That still doesn't make you suitable for him. The sooner he realizes that, the better for everyone."
Something occurred to me then, and it sent a shiver down my spine. "Did you know who I was when you saw me in town?"
She didn't answer. The omission was answer enough.
"Wow, you're insane. You probably tried to knock me down on purpose."
She rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't have stopped if I'd wanted you dead. No, I'll just settle for you hopping on the first plane back to whatever backwards town you came from and leaving my brother alone."
Forgive me father for I'm about to scratch this bitch's eyes out! The fury boiled inside me. I didn't know what I would do if it ever got out.
"You might just be the worst person I've ever met," I said, shaking my head at her, still stunned by how nasty she'd become. "The way Marcus talked about you, I thought the sun shone out of your ass. But you've just got a stick up it instead. Maybe that has something to do with your recent break up."
I hadn't planned on bringing it up, but this was war. And from the murderous look she shot me, I knew I had her.
"What are you talking about?"
"You know, that furious brunette I saw you arguing with in the park. Susan, was it? The one that insisted you don't call her again. Man, you must have really pissed her off for her to personally delete her number from your phone."
If it hadn't been dark out, I was certain I would have seen the blood drain from her face. She looked away, her breathing heavy.
"I don't know what you think you saw, but I can assure you–"
"What I saw was two lovers fighting. Does your family know about Susan?" Oh, this was delicious, watching her squirm, safe in the knowledge that her lesbian lover was a secret she didn't want getting out. Susan had called her a coward; maybe this was why.
"Susan is a friend, nothing more. And how dare you imply otherwise!"
"It's none of my business who you sleep with, just keep your nose out of my relationship."
We glared at each other for the longest time. Such an incongruous effect – such anger with the soft, delicate and sweet scent of vanilla. Something spicier would have suited her temperament.
"You don't want me as an enemy, Jenna," she said, finally.
"I give as good as I get." Although I spoke confidently, I was terrified of her. When she gave one final, competitive smile, that only made me more wary. She knew I'd declared war, and the battle had commenced.
"Goodnight," she said, turned and headed back to her apartment.
I shivered all the way back to bed, and couldn't get to sleep.
SIX
To my great relief, I didn't see Scarlett at all over the days that followed. The morning after our little bust up, I slept later than usual, and when I woke up, Marcus had already dressed and had breakfast. He informed me that his sister would be out of town for a couple of days, and that when she returned, we'd all "do something together", whatever that was supposed to mean. I simply forced a smile and held back on telling him that I hated his sister's guts, and that we were now at war with each other. And although she'd pissed me off, I also didn't mention Susan, or my suspicions about Scarlett's sexuality. It wasn't my place to say it.
I'd made a list of places I wanted to visit, a list two A4 sides long, and even then Marcus kept coming up with things I'd forgotten to add. What we hadn't managed to do the first day in London we spread over those two days. Madam Tussaud's in Marylebone, followed by the London Dungeon. Then the next day he took me to the Arsenal football stadium for the sole purpose of me taking pictures for my father, who was a big soccer fan, and Arsenal had been his favorite team since he'd caught a game in an Irish bar when he was a teenager. I knew it would make him green with envy when I sent him the picture of me standing outside the stadium. We even managed to squeeze in a trip to Harrods.
"If we breeze through everything in a few days, you'll have nothing to do for the next seven weeks," he said one morning at breakfast. His parents had already left to attend a funeral for an old friend in Wiltshire, so we ate alone.
As I tried to stir my spoon through the thick oatmeal (which he called porridge), I was convinced my spoon would snap. He'd made it himself, which explained everything. It looked and felt more like cement than breakfast. I found myself longing for his parents' cooking, even if it came with a side helping of their indecent displays of affection.
"I just want to get everything in. Do you think I could have some toast instead...no offense." It wouldn't have been so bad if my stomach wasn't screaming of hunger. We'd had a light dinner the evening before, which I was paying for now.
He laughed. "Are you trying to say my cooking is garbage?"
"Well, not in so many words..." He pulled the longest face, completely false, just to make me feel bad. "Oh, come on, you're putting words in my mouth."
"The only way you can redeem yourself is to come over here and kiss me." His grin spread right across
his face as he tapped a finger on his lips. "Right here."
"Oh, really?" I played along, got up and kissed him.
We were still giggling and kissing when I heard a voice behind me say, "Don't mind me, I just came to get something to eat."
I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. "Good morning, Scarlett," I said instead, in the most pleasant voice I could fake. I returned to my seat, to my bowl of cement. I watched her kiss Marcus on one cheek and rub the other one lovingly. Was this their morning ritual? Although I had no siblings of my own, I couldn't imagine ever liking my brother or sister so much that I greeted them so affectionately every morning. Maybe it was an English thing.
She poured herself a coffee from the expensive-looking coffee maker, and I watched her as she and Marcus talked between them. She was kitted out in full riding gear: navy riding jacket, the tightest green jodhpurs that clung to the firmest butt I'd ever seen, gaiters, and boots that looked deadly. Even without makeup she looked great – youthful and blemish-free. What the hell was her secret? No one as mean as she was should have been able to look this fresh-faced.
"I think they said his name was Simon or something. So many of their friends have kicked the bucket lately, I honestly can't keep up." Marcus always seemed to come alive when she was in the room.
"When you get to a certain age, that's what happens, I'm afraid. Do you know when they'll be back?" She sipped her coffee, leaning against the kitchen counter, looking only at him, ignoring my presence altogether. Well that was just fine with me.
"Later tonight, maybe in the morning. Are you going for a ride now?"
"No, Marcus, I'm going swimming." She shook her head at him. "Why, did you want to come?"
"You know I don't like it. But Jenna does." He looked at me for affirmation. "You rode back in the States. You said you wanted to ride while you were here–"
"Er, I don't–"
"Maybe another day," Scarlett interjected because I couldn't. Thank God she was better at articulating her reluctance to spend any time with me. "I'll be heading into the woods, and she won't know the way."
