‘It does suck a bit.’ Emily looks down at her plate as she pushes the meat round and round without eating. ‘My break-up is nothing, though, compared to what you must have gone through.’ She looks up at him expectantly, and Rupert clears his throat.
‘It’s been tough, yes. It came as a huge shock when Caro died, that’s for sure.’ He pauses for a moment, unsure whether to say what he really wants to. ‘It was partly a relief too, though.’
Emily says nothing, just tilts her head on one side.
‘Caro was… she was difficult to live with.’ Rupert lays his fork down, his appetite gone. ‘She was bi-polar. I never knew which Caro would be here when I got home. That’s why the piano playing took me by surprise. Caro would always play that song when she was low. I knew if she was playing that, I was in for a bad night with her.’
He is quiet for a moment, as he is assaulted by the memory of Caro crying, her mascara smudged black around her swollen eyes, the slamming of the bathroom door before the lock rammed home and he had no choice but to wait outside, murmuring through the door that he loved her, that if she would just come out… or the times he would come home from work, the house cold and dark as she lay huddled under the duvet, refusing to speak to him.
‘Oh my God, Rupert. I had no idea. I’m so, so sorry.’ Emily lays her hand on his, and squeezes, the warmth of her palm scorching his cold fingers. Rupert looks up to see she has tears in her eyes.
‘It’s not your fault – you couldn’t have known.’ Rupert keeps dead still, not wanting her to take her hand away. It’s been a long time since he’s been touched by anyone other than Sadie or Miles, or his family. ‘When Caro died, I was devastated, I didn’t know how I would go on. But there was the tiniest part of me that felt relief, that there would be no more pain, no more suffering for either of us. Does that make me a terrible person?’
‘God, no. Rupert, you must have been a wonderful husband to be able to cope with her mood swings. I had a stepfather who was bi-polar; I understand exactly what you mean.’
‘I miss her dreadfully,’ Rupert says, ‘but I think I’m finally ready to start living again. Sadie told me I needed to move on, get myself sorted out, and if I’m honest, the best thing I could have done was to take you on.’
Emily nods, but slides her hand away. ‘I am very much enjoying working for you, Rupert. If you must know, I feel like working for you has given me a second chance. Now, pass me your plate.’
Rupert hands her his plate, a deflated feeling pushing all the breath out of him. He came on too strong. Emily clearly just looks at him as an employer; she hasn’t been having the same kind of thoughts he has. And why should she? He’s the one who has got used to coming home to a cooked meal, a tidy house, a lemon-fresh scent filling every room after Emily’s hard work. He’s come to enjoy arriving home, knowing that even if Emily has finished for the day there will be a small lamp left on so that he doesn’t come home to a cold, dark house.
He feels like he has to break the awkward silence that fills the room, as Emily stands in front of the sink, running the tap, her face reflected in the glass of the window that looks out into the back garden. ‘Leave those,’ he says, ‘you’re off the clock now. I invited you to stay – the least I can do is wash the dishes.’
Emily laughs, raising her eyes from the bubbly water to the window, when she lets out a gasp, the plate in her hands falling into the sink with a crash. ‘Rupert!’
Rupert crosses the room in two strides, standing close behind Emily, who is looking out into the garden, her face pale. ‘What is it?’
‘There was someone out there, in the garden.’ Her voice wobbles and Rupert wrenches open the back door, the security light pinging on and illuminating the lawn down towards the trees at the bottom fence. The damp February air is chilly as he steps out, causing goosebumps to rise on his forearms through his thin shirt. At least, he tells himself it’s the cold air, not the sinister shadows at the bottom of the garden. He quickly scans the garden, but he can’t see anybody lurking in the bushes. ‘There’s no one out there.’
‘I saw someone,’ Emily says, her arms folded tightly across her body. ‘I’m sure there was someone standing at the bottom of the garden, watching us.’
‘A fox, maybe?’ Rupert says, not taking his eyes off her. Her shoulders shake a little as she tries to stop herself trembling.
‘I don’t think so. It looked like a figure, a person.’
‘It really scared you, didn’t it?’ Rupert steps closer, blocking Emily’s view of the garden.
‘Yes. Sorry. I… I definitely thought I saw something. Someone.’ She swipes at a stray lock of hair with a shaking hand.
‘There’s nothing out there now. I promise. How about I pour us some more wine? If that’s all right with you?’
‘I’d like that. I don’t really feel comfortable riding my bike home just yet.’ Her eyes flick towards the darkened window and Rupert wonders if she’s still imagining someone lurking in the thick, inky shadows. ‘Maybe we could move into the sitting room? No offence, but these kitchen chairs aren’t exactly designed for comfort.’
Rupert laughs, squashing down the memory of the argument he and Caro had had over the chairs – his argument being the exact same
