‘It’s … You just get through it.’ I stand up. ‘I need the bathroom, if that’s OK.’
Tilda points out the downstairs cloakroom and I walk away, my back to them. The conversation has died and I can imagine Dev mouthing, ‘Sorry,’ to them both. Away fromprying eyes, I splash water on to my face and dab it dry with a tissue.
Dev has already had too much to drink and I wish I could make my excuses now and leave.
I flush the loo and force myself to head back to the dining area. I stop short when I see Tilda waiting by the door.
‘Are you OK, Merri?’ She looks regretful. ‘I’m sorry I put my foot in it back there.’
‘You didn’t,’ I say, glancing at Dev who’s already deep in another conversation with Simon. ‘He gets like this sometimes if he’s had a few. There’s no harm done.’
‘I’m glad.’ Tilda smiles, clearly relieved. ‘Come on, let’s go and sit down. I’ve got something special for dessert.’
I’m not remotely hungry now, but Tilda has gone to a lot of trouble to cook for us. I push thoughts of going home out of my head and follow her back to the table.
‘Here she is!’ Dev breaks off his conversation. ‘My wonder woman!’ He stretches a consolatory hand out to me and, as both Simon and Tilda are watching, I give it a squeeze before picking up my glass.
Then all hell breaks loose.
Bingo, who has been lying quietly under the table, jumps up, barking wildly. His ears are flat against his head, his tail rigid, and he’s staring at something by the glass doors. I glance over, heart pounding, but there’s nothing to see. Just the dim light from the hallway.
‘Bingo, quiet!’ Simon commands, but the dog doesn’t stop. He’s growling now, low and threatening, his body tense, hackles raised.
Tilda stands abruptly, knocking her chair back. ‘What’s wrong with him?’ she snaps, her calm façade cracking for the first time. Her eyes dart to Simon, then to the doorway.
Dev shifts uncomfortably, glancing between us, unsure of what to do. ‘Do you think there might be someone out there?’
‘Like who?’ Tilda frowns.
But Simon is already on his feet, moving towards the door.
30
Dev joins Simon, Bingo charging ahead of them. The darkness outside is almost complete, the hills looming like shadows against the fading light. Feeling slightly shaky, I follow. Tilda is just behind me, her breath coming in quick, short bursts.
‘I thought I saw someone in a cluster of trees on the hillside the other day,’ I whisper to her.
Tilda looks at me, her eyes widening. ‘Really?’
I nod. ‘I can’t swear it was a person, but it bothered me.’
We stumble into the cool air. Simon’s flashlight sweeps across the garden, its powerful beam jerking from side to side. I scan the area, squinting into the blackness, but there’s nothing. No sound. No movement. Only the rustling of the trees in the breeze and a distant dog barking.
‘Nobody here.’ Simon continues to illuminate the darkest corners of the lawn.
Bingo patrols the path a little less frantically now, sniffing casually at the bushes and cocking his leg against one.
Tilda moves closer to me, her arms crossed, rubbing at her elbows as if she’s trying to shake off a chill. I glance at her, and for the first time since we arrived, she doesn’t look so composed. There’s something brittle in her posture, something unsettled.
Dev glances at me. ‘Let’s head back inside, shall we?’
We troop into the kitchen, but I can’t shake the feeling that we’re being watched. The night feels different now – heavier, oppressive. Bingo had felt something too, but nobody else seems worried.
Inside, the warmth of the kitchen, our untouched dessert on the table, feels like a refuge, but it’s tinged with unease. We sit down at the table, but the atmosphere has shifted. The conversation is stilted now, fragmented. Tilda opens another bottle of wine, but no one’s really drinking. I chase a piece of Tilda’s exquisite chocolate délice around my plate, pushing it to the side when I catch it.
‘We’ll have to get you both out on the lake soon,’ Simon offers, already recovered. ‘We’ve got a small boat. Nothing fancy, but it’s peaceful. A good way to clear your head.’
‘Is that where you were earlier?’ Tilda says crisply. ‘On your little rowboat?’
