Page 52 of Take Me Away

‘You want a tea or something?’ I ask, already knowing I’ve got nothing decent in. ‘Could heat some milk, if you’re into that.’

‘No, thanks.’

There’s a long silence, the kind that hums in the chest. I don’t fill it.

Then, in a voice so small I almost miss it, she says, ‘Is it awful that I’m jealous of your life?’

That lands like a punch I wasn’t braced for. I stare at her shadowed form, trying to process what she’s asking, what she’s admitting.

‘What?’

‘This home,’ she continues, voice fragile in the darkness. ‘Maisie. The life you built. The person you became while I was gone. I keep thinking about all of it, lying in your bed, and I—’ She breaks off, shaking her head. ‘Sorry. This is inappropriate. I should go back upstairs.’

‘Wait.’ The word is out before I can consider it. ‘Stay.’

She hesitates, then sinks down onto the armchair opposite me, perching on the edge like she might flee at any moment. The blanket slips slightly, revealing the curve of her shoulder, pale in the faint moonlight.

‘What do you mean, jealous?’ I ask.

She’s quiet for a beat. When she does answer, her voice is so soft I have to lean forward to hear.

‘I’ve been lying in your bed, thinking about Jessica. About Maisie. Sandcastles and ice-creams. About you reading bedtime stories and making curry and having this whole life that I know nothing about.’ Her fingers fidget with the edge of the blanket. ‘And I have an Oscar on my mantel and three houses I never visit and not a single person who would notice if I disappeared tomorrow except Piper.’

The catch in her voice throws me off the cliff of sanity I’m still clawing onto. It’s familiar.

‘People would notice.’

She makes a small, disbelieving sound. ‘Would they? Amazing how quickly they disappear when they might get tainted by your scandal. My agent is leaving voicemails daily, but only to discuss damage control. Not once has he asked how I am. Like, am I actually having a breakdown? Are my thoughts dark and endlessly veering towards oblivion?’

‘Are you?’

I don’t like the stretch of silence.

‘No.’

I don’t believe her.

‘I only came back because Maggie left me the cottage, and I needed somewhere to hide. Somewhere untouched by—’ Another beat. ‘But I haven’t left yet… I don’t know. Maybe because it’s the only place that still feels real to me.’

The confession hangs between us. I stare at her through the darkness, this woman who is both achingly familiar and completely unknown to me.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t come back, Kit. But I can’t take it back. I can’t change what is.’

‘No,’ I agree quietly. ‘You can’t.’

We sit in silence for a moment. Then, before I can stop myself: ‘What happened with Marcus Vale?’

She goes absolutely still. Every muscle in her body locks up, and even in the darkness I can see her shoulders rise defensively.

‘Isla—’

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ Her voice has gone flat. Distant. Like she’s pulled herself somewhere I can’t reach.

‘Did he hurt you?’

The silence stretches too long. When she finally speaks, her voice is barely a whisper.

‘I can’t … I can’t talk about it. Not yet. Maybe not ever.’