I flicked ash into my empty mug. ‘Welcome to our exclusive club.’
Lilith looked at Henry and me. ‘I take it that your terms of employment are a little harsh?’
‘You could say that,’ Henry said. ‘When I took up my post four years ago, one of the rather generous benefits was private care for my mother – she’s got Alzheimer’s, bless the poor dear. Unfortunately Blaine neglected to tell me which home she chose, so I rely on a weekly call from a withheld number that tells me everything’s fine and mother’s doing well.’
‘Let me guess. As long as you continue to perform your duties with discretion?’
‘That’s the one. Mother’s none the wiser, thank heavens. In fact, she often mentions the ‘nice man’ who’s just paid her a visit.’ Henry’s voice cracked a little. ‘Oh dear, I really shouldn’t get like this. I mean, at least she’s content. And it’s nothing to what Finn -’
‘Shut your fucking face, Henry,’ I snapped. I had so little that was my own that I was determined to hang on to this one secret for as long as I possibly could. I glanced across at Lilith, who had just spent the last five minutes unwaveringly laying her life bare. ‘It’s nothing personal,’ I began.
‘I think if I were in the same circumstances, I would want to hold close whatever I possibly could,’ Lilith said, and then I couldn’t look at her at all. ‘Now if you two gentlemen will excuse me, I have a job to do.’
Chapter Nine
Lilith
I woke up and I hurt. Payback for spending ten straight hours hunched over my sketchpad the day before. I chugged two codeine and two paracetamol with water from the bathroom tap then lurched down to the kitchen, still in my pyjamas and with my Albermarle-monogrammed towelling bathrobe draped over my shoulders like a superhero’s cape. There didn’t seem to be any other guests at the hall that morning, but even if I had been spotted I couldn’t have given a toss.
I had been at Albermarle Hall for ten days, and had already learned to ignore the visitors that arrived at all hours of the night. Three times now I had heard the low chug of Henry’s little boat, followed by a distant dull thud as the oak doors of Albermarle Hall closed behind its latest guest.
Apart from my morning run, and a couple of surreal smalltalk-filled meals with Blaine, I deliberately tried to stay in my studio or my room, but I had caught a glimpse of one middle-aged, affluent couple and a man in his early sixties, who had given me a guilty glance before scurrying into his guestroom.
Finn had been at one of the dinners with Blaine, and had said all of ten words to me. He also hadn’t eaten anything except a bread roll that he had picked away at throughout the meal. Other than that, we met at breakfast if he was still awake, and how talkative he was depended on whether or not there were guests staying: the morning after I had seen the shame-faced man, Finn had simply sat at the kitchen table with his head resting on his arms as if asleep, his ubiquitous cigarette dropping ash onto the table an inch at a time. Henry told me that Finn spent as much time as he could in the gardens or the Victorian greenhouse if he wasn’t needed for ‘work’, and other than that he stayed in his own room, wherever that was.
Part of me was glad that our meetings were so brief, but I was painfully aware that for the first time in my life I was using avoidance to deal with a situation so huge that there was nothing I could change.
When I got to the kitchen Henry was already at his post, standing at his chopping board as he began to prepare breakfast. He turned to face me. ‘Oh, you look absolutely dreadful, dear.’
‘Why, thank you Mr Masterson, you silver-tongued charmer.’
‘I didn’t mean it like that, and you know I didn’t. It’s just that you’re hardly your usual effervescent self, are you?’
‘Arthritis flare-up.’
‘Aren’t you a little young for that? I thought it was only us old farts that had to worry about such things.’ Henry set down a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice for me as he bustled about.
‘I broke my collar-bone when I was fourteen. It should’ve been pinned, but I ended up leaving hospital in more haste than was good for me. It didn’t heal well.’ I kneaded at my neck in a futile attempt to release the knot of muscle. ‘I don’t suppose you could give my shoulder a pummelling, could you?’
‘I wouldn’t want to hurt you.’
‘You won’t. Don’t worry.’ I shrugged the bathrobe off. ‘Anyway, I promise I’ll scream good and loud if you do.’