Page 15 of The Perfect Guests
She shrugged. “I don’t remember.”
“Have you ever been in hospital?”
“Yeah, once, when I got an ear infection.”
“Huh.” I shifted on my blanket and thought about the hundreds of hospital appointments I’d attended over the years with my brother. Sometimes Mum would find someone to babysit me, butmostly I’d had to trail along too, and they weresoboring. “I guess you’re lucky, then,” I said. And then, more quietly, “I guess we both are.”
A dramaticpopmade us peer out again. The first guests were emerging from the French doors onto the veranda, and they gathered by the bar, chatting and laughing, while the red-cheeked man poured champagne into tall, elegant glasses. As we watched, Leonora and Markus joined the group, bringing a couple more people with them from the house. Leonora wore a shimmering green dress that went right down to her shoes, and her hair was pinned up; she had a string of pearls around her neck. Markus wore a suit so dark green, it looked almost black, and underneath that was a white shirt, open at the collar, with no tie. I turned back to Nina.
“When’s your—” I hesitated, but my curiosity overrode my instincts. “When’s Markus’s dad coming to see you, then?”
“Tomorrow afternoon.” Her voice was low.
“How long for? Has he got other grandchildren? What are you going to say to him?”
“Oh, Beth, give it a rest.” She rolled away on her blanket and crossed her arms over her face. “Can we just drop the subject ofme? Please.”
Chastened, I asked no more questions, watching in silence as the lawn filled with people. Music started up, and the chatter of the guests grew louder. Eventually, Nina suggested we eat our picnic, and then we wrapped our blankets tightly around ourselves and continued to watch the party as darkness gradually fell. Leonora had been right all along: we grew cold and bored. In the end, we both dozed off.
We were woken by Markus, poking his head above the top of the ladder and laughing at us in the beam of light from his torch. The garden was completely dark, and we blinked at him, disorientated.
“Come on, sleepyheads,” he said cheerfully. “Party’s over. Everyone’s gone home. Mum’s making you hot chocolate indoors to warm you up. Come back inside.”
***
The following morning, Nina was sick.
“I should never have let you stay up in the tree house for so long.” Leonora fussed around Nina’s bed, feeling her forehead and straightening her blankets.
Nina’s face was a ghastly color against her pillow, almost green. She waved at me feebly, indicating I should step back.
“No point you catching it too.” She gave me a pained smile, then clutched at her stomach.
I hurried back to my own bedroom and curled up on my bed, guilt gnawing at me. I shouldn’t have asked Nina all those questions about germs and illness last night—what if this was my fault? What if I’d somehow—despite my protestation to Nina that I didn’t believe in such things—what if my questions had somehow tempted fate?
I closed my eyes, unable to push away memories of the worst night of my life. I’d asked a lot of questions that day too: Why did Ricky always have to fall ill just before we went on holiday? Would we still go, even if his cough got worse? Why couldn’t he stay behind, with Mrs. Jackson from next door?
I’d bought new sunglasses that morning from C&A—thick black frames, glamorous reflective lenses. I knew they’d transform me from a round-faced twelve-year-old into a cool teenager as soon as we arrived at the beach. But while I was still lying awake in bed that evening, Ricky’s coughdidget worse, and I heard other worrying noises too. Mum yelling that they didn’t have time to wait for an ambulance. Dad running next door to get Mrs. Jackson to babysitme. The squeal of tires as the car roared away. Mum, Dad, Ricky... I never saw them again.
I wore my sunglasses to the funeral, and I barely took them off for the rest of that summer. I wore them while Caroline explained why I could stay with her in her apartment for just a few nights. I wore them while the staff at the children’s home went off to find me a music stand for my alien new bedroom. Those sunglasses masked my emotions; they made me feel less vulnerable, less naked. And by the time they eventually broke, I didn’t need them anymore—I’d learned to present a calm face to the world, no matter what I was feeling inside.
I sat up on my bed and frowned at my reflection in the cheval mirror across the room. Of course, Nina’s illness wasn’t my fault, just like my family’s accident wasn’t my fault. Nina had caught a bug; that was all. With all those strangers passing through the house before the party—caterers and waiters and gazebo people—it was hardly surprising.
A soft tap at the door made me jump. I smoothed away my frown as the door was pushed open. Leonora poked her head in, as if not sure what she might find.
“Ah, there you are.” She hesitated. “Are you okay?”
I nodded quickly. “I’m fine.”
“Good.” She came in and closed the door gently behind her. “I need to ask you a favor, Beth.”
My heart lifted a little. Leonora and Markus had been so kind to me. I’d happily do anything to show them how grateful I was.
“Of course,” I said. “What is it?”
She walked across to my wardrobe, pulled open the doors, and gazed at the blue checked dress for a long moment. If she thought it strange that I hadn’t hung any of my own clothes in there yet, shedidn’t comment. She gave herself a little shake and lifted the dress down from the rail.
“The thing is,” she said, turning to face me, “we’re in a bit of a pickle. Markus’s father is coming to see us today. He moved to the States after Nina was born, and he always said he’d never come back, because this place holds a lot of...” Her gaze drifted up to the ceiling. “Bad memories. His wife died here...” When she dropped her gaze again, her expression was clouded, and she looked at me as though not really seeing me. “But for some reason...”
