Catching Gayle’s disapproving glare, he lifted his bag gingerly off the couch and placed it carefully on the floor. ‘As long as that’s still fine with you,’ he smiled tightly.
‘I’ll fetch you a spare duvet, and some pillows.’
‘Thank you, Gayle.’ Jake closed the door and sighed in relief. He looked at Marcus and thought,this is going to be a long two nights.
Chapter 28
‘What was that all about – saying that she doesn’t normally rent this room?’ Marcus said loudly, about two seconds after Gayle had shut the bedroom door. Marcus shook his head. ‘The most expensive room in the house – my arse.’
Jake wanted to tell him to shut the hell up, but he just didn’t have the energy. Instead, he sat down on the couch under the window, feeling the soft brown leather beneath his fingertips. The couch was longer than an average bed, if a little narrow, but the leather cushions looked comfortable enough, even though there were enough creases and crevices to make Jake wonder if it was as old as the house.
‘Ah, if couches could talk, what stories they would tell.’
‘What did you say?’ Marcus was trying out the bed.
Jake sighed. ‘Never mind.’ He was thinking of an incident that seemed like a lifetime ago, but was in fact just before the previous Christmas, when he’d got home from work late and had slept on the couch. He and Eleanor had had a disagreement. Eleanor had just found out she was pregnant. For the first time ever, she’d wanted to spend Christmas in London, just the two of them, absorbing the news. Jake had obstinately refused, thinking of William first and foremost, and the family traditionof all spending Christmas Day together at The Lake House.
When they had arrived at The Lake House, separately, he’d fallen asleep on the couch and had spent a second night alone – it had been Christmas Eve. They’d never spent another night together. The next day, she was gone.
Jake did not want to think about all the what-ifs and what-might-have-beens. If only he’d listened to Eleanor’s wish not to spend Christmas in Scotland.
‘Are you sleeping there?’ Marcus asked as he got into the double bed and crawled under the covers fully clothed.
‘Do you see another bed?’
Marcus drew the covers up to his chin.
Jake rolled his eyes. ‘Can you at least take off your shoes?’
Marcus shut his eyes.
Jake got up from the couch and stood at the end of the bed. He lifted the duvet, revealing Marcus’s black leather shoes, and removed them one by one. Jake glanced at the small gold-coloured lettering on the inside labels. ‘Gucci,’ he remarked as he placed them on the floor beside the bed.
Jake pulled the heavy velvet curtains closed. A shaft of light danced around the walls until the curtains hung still. He looked at his watch. ‘Marcus.’ Jake walked back to the bed. ‘Marcus, I’m going out.’
Marcus turned over on his left side, taking most of the covers with him. Jake walked around to the other side of the bed. ‘Marcus, I’m …’
‘I heard you the first time.’ Marcus muffled voice spoke into the pillow. ‘Will you go, now? Please.’
Jake had the sudden urge to drag Marcus out of the bed and get him on the first plane possible, out of his sight. He controlled the urge. But he did not move from the bed.
He was thinking.
He thought of the sayingbe careful what you wish for. Jakehad wished hard that Marcus had shown some remorse, some sign that what had happened on Christmas Day had affected him as traumatically as it had Jake. And therein was the rub; Marcus had not only returned to his life quickly, but with Jake gone, he’d taken the company from strength to strength. It seemed that nearly having a breakdown and then totally restructuring his life was not for him; no, it had seemed like business as usual. Until now.
Now it looked to Jake as though he was getting his wish; almost seven months on, Marcus was finally facing up to his demons. What had happened was coming back to haunt Marcus like it had, in the beginning, haunted Jake’s every waking hour, and still haunted his dreams.
Jake had seen it coming for months – the crash was inevitable. But Jake didn’t want it on his holiday. Besides, Jake wasn’t so sure he wanted his wish to come true now. He had grown accustomed to this dance between them; Jake’s blaming of Marcus for the tragedy, and Marcus’s denial of responsibility – he wouldn’t accept that it was his fault Eleanor had given in after he had goaded her to join them on their traditional Christmas Day ski, when she had clearly stated she did not want to go.
If Marcus was finally going to accept responsibility for what he had done, then where would that leave Jake? Where would he be without Marcus as the focus of his anger, his hurt, his blame? Jake knew exactly where – reflecting on the fact that his marriage had been over long before the tragedy, and facing the possibility that she might have been seeing somebody else that Christmas Eve. Where had she been that evening, when he’d fallen asleep on the sofa before she’d returned?
Jake left Marcus to sleep.
Glancing at the sofa on his way out, Jake was having second thoughts about his sleeping arrangements. He looked at hiswatch; it was already midday. There was no time to sort it out. He wanted to see Arnold Wright that day; to get that over with as soon as possible so he could leave this place of memories.
Jake put his coat on and stepped out into the hallway. He realised it was better this way. He didn’t want Marcus tagging along, being his usual awkward self. Jake closed the door quietly behind him.
‘That’s Robyn’s room, you know.’
