Page 28 of A Sky Painted Gold

Lucky doesn’t reply to that, just nods thoughtfully and lifts his cigarette to his lips. It’s gone out so he lights it again.

“I’m afraid we’re stuck here at the moment,” he says then, and points out to the causeway, which is underwater. “We have to wait to get the van over with all our equipment.”

“I suppose that’s a strange problem to have,” I say.

His smile is rueful. “Not one we’ve run into before, that’s for sure. This place is pretty wild.” He looks around him as though taking it all in for the first time, and then he shakes his head and lets out a long breath. Some fleeting emotion flashes across his face, but I can’t make it out in the moonlight.

“The Cardew House,” I say, coming to stand beside him. “It’s a magical place. It gets under your skin.” I look around now as well, and the beauty of the house works like a cocktail, warming the blood in my veins.

“The Cardew House,” he echoes, but his voice is hollow, as though he doesn’t see what I do. There’s a pause as he finishes his cigarette. “It’s certainly not the sort of place you want to walk away from.” He sighs.

“Not if you can help it,” I agree. “But I guess we can’t stay for ever.” I feel my heart lurch at that.

“I guess not.” Lucky sounds sad about it too.

“Anyway –” he takes a step away “– I’d better get back…” Lucky gestures to the van, where I can see the rest of the band are packing their instruments away.

“Oh, yes,” I say. “It was nice to meet you. I really did love your music.”

He puts his hands in his pockets and saunters past, a pleased smile clinging to his lips. “It was nice to meet you too, Louise,” he says, and as he turns and walks away, I hear him singing softly in his beautiful voice.

“Every little breeze seems to whisper Louise…”

I stand under the blanket of stars, listening for a moment. It’s the perfect end to a perfect evening, and I wander inside with a huge smile on my face.

Until I realize that I have no idea where I’m going.

How can I have forgotten that I haven’t been shown which room I’m staying in? What was it that Caitlin said earlier? The blue room. But they’ve redecorated everything. I don’t know which room that is. My heart sinks.

It sinks even further when I hear someone clearing their throat behind me.

Turning, I see Robert leaning against the door frame, his arms folded, his white bow tie undone and an inscrutable look on his face.

I groan under my breath.

“Are you lost?” he asks.

“I don’t know which room I’m staying in,” I grind out.

“And here was me thinking you knew the place better than we did,” he says, walking towards me.

I stay quiet. Mostly because I’m worried about what words might come out of my mouth if I don’t. Why does he make me feel so cross all the time? His dismissive words about the party and his sister still ring in my ears.

“Follow me,” he says, and he walks past me and up the stairs, his jacket thrown over one shoulder. His strides are long, and he takes two steps at a time, leaving me scrambling to keep up with him. We walk down a long corridor and he stops outside one of the doors. “Here we are,” he says unnecessarily. “The blue room.”

“Thanks,” I say, reaching for the handle. And then, because my parents raised me well, I turn, my back against the door, and force myself to look up at him. “And thank you for inviting me tonight. I had a wonderful time.”

He leans one shoulder against the wall and looks at me for a long moment. Those green eyes are enigmatic. He’s standing so close to me that I’m sure I can see little flecks of gold in them.

“You’re welcome,” he says. And then he straightens up and walks away.

I stand for a moment, leaning against the door, trying to catch my breath. It must be warm in here, I think, after being outside. I turn the handle and stumble into the blue room.

It is slowly dawning on me that the room I am standing in is the grandest I have seen yet. It is at least four times the size of my room at home. The walls are papered in broad blue and gold stripes, a small chandelier drips with crystals from the ceiling and an enormous four-poster bed hung with blue drapes dominates the space. My ratty old bag sits on top of the luxurious crisp, white covers looking completely out of place. I move around, touching the gleaming, polished furniture, breathing in the smell of beeswax. I hover over the pretty dressing table, examining the many glass jars and bottles that have been arranged there, and spray myself with a bottle of expensive floral scent.

There is another door to my right and I push it open, totally floored by the discovery that I have my own bathroom, complete with an enormous sunken bath and gleaming gold taps. I let out a little squeak then, running my fingers over the marble surfaces. There is a large mirror along one wall, and I catch a glimpse of my reflection: wild-eyed, pink-cheeked and bedraggled. My hair has worked itself loose (even Alice’s skill as a hairdresser can’t hold up against hours of frantic dancing) and, I note sadly, it has not done so in a carelessly attractive way, instead unravelling into a frizzy tangle. I have no idea where the lace band has disappeared to, but it is definitely long gone. With a sigh I close the door on the bathroom and walk over to the window, pulling back the heavy blue curtains.

The sky is just beginning to lighten outside, and my room looks out over a restless turquoise sea. I sink into the plush window seat, bringing my knees up to my chest and resting my head back against a cushion. I watch as the first struggling rays of the day pierce the sky, casting a warm glow across the water. I watch for as long as I can, fighting against the heaviness in my eyelids, not wanting this single, magical night to end. Then, finally, when I can’t watch any more, I fall asleep underneath a sky painted gold.