Emily shivers, and leans down to kiss the back of his hand. ‘Who she was. Why she did the things she did.’
‘You already know that.’ Rupert sighs. ‘She was bi-polar, her moods were all over the place. The police knocked on the door and said they’d found her car close to the Severn Bridge, along with a note. It was pretty obvious what she’d done.’
‘It must have been devastating for you.’ Emily grasps his hand tightly, and presses it to her lips. ‘I can’t even begin to imagine it, how it must have felt.’
‘Yeah,’ Rupert nods slowly, ‘it was devastating. But you know, you can’t let things like this make time stand still, you have to keep going, move on. I took the time to heal and deal with things and then you walked into my life and look at us now.’
‘Did you have any idea, though? That she would go that far? I mean, lots of people are bi-polar, but they don’t do what she did.’
‘Emily…’ Rupert sighs, closing his eyes for the briefest of moments as the warm sea breeze rustles his hair. ‘No. I didn’t have any idea. It was a total shock, and now I’m just glad I have you, and our life together ahead of me.’
‘Yes, but…’ Emily starts to say something, but Rupert silences her with a kiss, a proper kiss that takes her breath away as he slides his tongue into her mouth, his hand stroking her nipple through her bikini top.
‘Come on,’ Rupert pulls Emily to her feet and leads her gently towards their hotel room, any other unasked questions sliding right out of Emily’s mind, forgotten as Rupert lays her down on the huge white bed and covers her body with his own.
Chapter Thirteen
Something’s not right. The thought crosses my mind the minute I step foot inside the house, goosebumps rising on my tanned forearms as Rupert bumps our heavy suitcase into the hallway behind me. I can’t put my finger on it, as I walk past the living room into the kitchen. Nothing is out of place, not that I can tell, and nothing seems to be missing, but there is a feeling in the air. As though someone has been in the house, and recently too. Walking back, I pause at the foot of the stairs, almost unwilling to go up them.
‘Em? What’s the matter?’ Rupert appears beside me, his face flushed pink with exertion from wrestling with the heavy bags.
‘Nothing,’ I say quietly, and start to climb the stairs, heading towards our bedroom. As I open the door it gets stronger, the feeling that someone has been in our house while we have been away. I sniff the air delicately, wondering if I can really smell a faint hint of perfume or whether I’m imagining it. Rupert appears behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and nuzzling against my neck.
‘Straight to the bedroom, eh? I like your style, Mrs Milligan.’
‘Rupert, stop.’ I pull away, a ghostly draught washing over my skin and I wrap my arms around myself, unable to stop the shiver that ripples through me. ‘Does it feel weird to you?’
‘Weird? Does what feel weird?’
‘The house.’ I reach out a hand and smooth the already immaculate duvet, not sure what it is that I’m looking for.
‘The house?’ Rupert shakes his head. ‘Sorry, Em, I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
‘It feels… odd. Like someone has been in here. You know like, when you come home and you know that I’m here, just by that feeling in the air. You know that there’s someone home, right? That’s how it feels. Like someone just left.’
‘Em, please,’ Rupert sighs, reaching out for me. I let him pull me into his arms, even though I feel as though I need to look under the bed and check in the wardrobes. ‘Not this stuff again. I told you, no one is interested in us. There wasn’t anyone watching the house, and I certainly don’t think anyone has been in here while we’ve been gone. And if they have, it’ll only be Amanda – I asked her to keep an eye on the place.’
I stand there, silently, wishing I could believe him.
‘Is this about the messages you received?’ Rupert holds me at arm’s length and looks into my eyes, making me feel as though I’m under a microscope. ‘I told you, I’ll look after you. Whoever it is, they’re no threat to us, to our marriage. I swear to you, Em, no one has been in the house. It’s been a long day.’
I nod and pull away, tiredness tugging at my bones. We’ve been travelling for over twelve hours and with a five-hour time difference, jetlag is already starting to kick in. ‘OK. I expect you’re right.’ And he probably is. I haven’t lived here for very long, and I don’t know every creak, every groan of the house like I did in the flat. I feel a sudden wave of longing for my tiny, cluttered bedroom, the thud of Mags’s terrible music coming through the wall. No, Emily, I think, this is who you are now. This is what you chose.
‘I’ll make us some tea.’ Rupert kisses me on the forehead and I feel that tickle of irritation toward him dissolve a little. I’m sure he is right – I’m just overtired and thinking things that aren’t really there. ‘Why don’t you get into bed? It’s nearly one o’clock, and I have to be up at six for work in the morning.’
As Rupert leaves the room, a chilly draught settles over my skin again and I shiver more used to the warm Caribbean breezes of the past two weeks, than the autumnal September air we’ve come home to. Shivering, I move towards the en suite, intent on running a cleansing wipe over my tired face and brushing my teeth, when I see where the draught is coming from. The window in the en suite is
