Page 82 of Love and Loathing

Evie? Or maybe it was the lawyers already. Maybe it was regulators. Police.

But it was Liv.

THIRTY-FOUR

Evie lied to Aubrey.She didn’t go straight to the garden, but to her parents’ house in Mayfair, hoping to catch her father before he left for work.

It had been a long time since she was last at the big house. The building took up almost one side of the quiet square, its white pillared porch facing onto the gated leafy green space. She no longer had a key, or knew the entry code, and the housekeeper who came to the door took a few minutes’ convincing that she really was who she said she was.

But she got in, strode through the marbled entry hall, heading for her father’s office where he normally liked to check his emails before starting the day, and came face to face with him leaving the room, slipping his phone into his pocket.

“I won’t pretend to be surprised,” he said, and gestured back into his office. “Come in and do your weeping woman act.”

Evie hesitated, thrown. But perhaps he had guessed this was coming.

He sat down in the big chair behind his desk and tilted his head, waiting impatiently.

“You can’t ruin Aubrey’s career just because of a falling out. He may have said some heated words, but it’s petty to punish him for them.”

It was her father’s turn to pause, surprise flickering over his face, replaced by an amused smile. “I don’t think you need to worry about me ruining his career. He’s doing a perfectly good job of it himself.”

“Because of one argument with you?”

“You really haven’t heard? Did he not tell you?”

Her father turned on his laptop, then turned the screen towards her. She read the headline, then stepped right up to the desk, pulling the laptop closer as she tore through the words on the screen. “What…? No. They can’t have. They said they wouldn’t.”

“Ah,” her father said slowly, his curiosity full of dark relish, “so youdohave something to do with it. He seemed very certain that you didn’t.”

Evie felt sick, her heart racing though she was cold, frozen. “It wasn’t me. But it wasn’t him, either.”

“Then who? You know, don’t you?”

FTP. They’d done it without her. After promising her his name would be kept out of it. But she was the one who had brought his name to them in the first place and made him a target. Her stomach twisted, the world around her pulsing with the rushing blood in her ears.

Her father’s smile was black. “What have you done this time, Evelyn?”

She read every article she could as she travelled north, palms sweating, fingers trembling. She was going to kill them. Zig, Fi, all of them. She’d kill them, then she’d make them make it right—somehow, somehow they would make it right—and Aubrey would be OK. Maybe he wouldn’t even have to know it was her… Her stomach cramped again. Nausea. Shame. Guilt.

God, she’d have to tell him, but…

She was going to be sick. She really was, right here on the tube as it ground along, rocking and trundling, creeping so fucking slowly into north London.

When she got off, she got caught in the slow-moving crowd, fighting her way out of the stuffy platform, impatient and furious and close to tears. It was raining, the late autumn street sharp and cold, but she barely noticed, practically running, hot and sweating when she got to the street, Laburnum Grove, a small group of people already waiting outside the padlocked gate, grumbling among themselves, stamping cold feet, rubbing cold hands.

“Sorry, sorry…” she said, false smile fixed to her face, unlocking the gate with fumbling fingers. Zig was moaning at her, scowling like usual. She grabbed his elbow in a grip that made him yelp, grabbed Fi, too, and dragged them to the clammy, freezing portacabin.

“How could you!” she hissed, slamming the door shut, then rounding on them.

They both frowned, exchanging a confused glance.

“You knew what happened! That things changed! And you all promised from the start that his name wouldn’t be involved in any of it!”

“Um,” Fi said. “Maybe rewind a little?”

“Yeah, what the fuck, Evie? What are we being accused of here?”

She pulled her phone from her pocket, thrust it at them. Zig took it, Fi reading it, too. Zig let out a whistle, then chuckled. Evie could have slapped him.

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