‘What about you?’ Rupert says suddenly, his mouth twisting into a smile. ‘What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ I say, breezily, trying to make light of things. ‘Probably the way I treated Mags. I shouldn’t have cut her off when I met you. She did a lot for me, and I feel bad that I didn’t keep in contact with her. That I dropped her.’
‘Hmmm, she wasn’t really your friend, Em,’ Rupert says. ‘She was obsessed with you, standing over your bed at night, always wanting to know where you were, what you were doing.’
I nod noncommittally, thinking of how best to turn the conversation to the things I really want to ask him about. I get to my feet, under the pretence of stoking the fire he lit earlier, throwing another log on and standing for a moment, my hands outstretched to feel the warmth of the flames. I let my gaze wander to the doors that lead to the orangery. People only show you the façade that they want you to see.
‘Rupert, are you sure you want to keep the orangery locked up?’ My pulse speeds up as I finally get up the nerve to turn the conversation to the extension, wondering what his reaction will be to me mentioning the builder. Surely if I have jumped to the wrong conclusion, Rupert won’t have any issue with me speaking to him.
‘Hmmm?’ He looks up from the television, seemingly distracted by whatever TV show is on, but I get the impression he’s buying himself a few seconds.
‘I know I’ve said it a million times, but I think it’s such a shame to waste the light in that room, it’s such a gorgeous space. We could redecorate it…’
‘No, Emily.’ Rupert’s tone is sharp. ‘I told you the reason why I don’t want to use that room. We’ve already talked about this.’
‘Well, maybe… and this is just an idea… but perhaps if the memory of Caro is so strong in there that you don’t want to use it, perhaps we should consider knocking it down and starting over.’
‘Absolutely not.’
‘But why? We could knock the existing orangery down and rebuild it, change it slightly so it’s ours. We could even build it double-storey so there is more room for when we have a family.’ I hold my breath, waiting for him to respond.
‘I said no, Emily. I don’t want to use the orangery – maybe in the future I’ll change my mind. And I certainly don’t want to knock it down. I can’t believe you’d even suggest something like that.’
‘OK, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.’ I go to him on shaking legs, curling into where he sits on the sofa and lay my head on his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him. It still doesn’t mean anything, I try to tell myself, but as I sit there, fake laughing at some stupid TV show, pretending that everything is all right, the same questions keep revolving in my mind. Why, when I said that Caro could still be alive, was Rupert so insistent, so adamant that she was dead? They never found her body, but Rupert is convinced that she is dead – is that because he knows something we don’t? And is that the real reason why he neither wants to use the orangery nor tear it down? Because he feels guilty? Or for some other, more sinister reason?
Chapter Thirty-Three
A man in his late forties, with a closely shaved head and tidy beard, wearing dirty Levi’s and work boots, is loading stuff into a pick-up truck, as I approach the address I’ve found online for the builder Rupert used to build the orangery. I thought Rupert would never leave this morning, as I sat and sipped at my tea, pretending that nothing was wrong, that my heart wasn’t beating so hard in my chest that I was worried I might pass out. Half of me still hopes that I have jumped to the wrong conclusion, that Caro took her earrings out before she stormed off, that Rupert really just doesn’t want to spend the money Caro left him, but the other half of me – the half that believes in instinct and that more than one coincidence is too many – believes that Rupert could have done this. Now, today, if the builder tells me that there was a legitimate reason for building the second soakaway, then maybe I can give Rupert the benefit of the doubt and find another explanation for why Caro’s earring lay hidden beneath the dressing table.
‘Excuse me?’ I catch the builder just as he is about to hop into the truck. ‘Are you Nick Williams?’
He pauses, his hand on the door handle and frowns. ‘Yes? Can I help you?’
‘I hope so.’ I pull the rolled-up plans from under my arm. ‘Do you have a few minutes? You built an extension for my husband a little while ago and I wondered if I could chat to you about it.’
Nick looks wary. ‘Why? I give everything a guarantee, but if there’s a problem…’
‘No, there’s no problem.’ At least, not with the building. At my words he visibly relaxes, and I swoop. ‘Do you think we could maybe go inside for a few minutes? I won’t keep you long, I promise.’ It’s starting to rain, and I shield the plans with my jacket.
Nick makes a show of checking his watch. ‘It’ll have to be quick. I’m already late for a job.’ He bangs on the driver’s window and a young lad looks up from his phone. ‘Tom, I just need a word with this lady. Go up the road and
