Page 64 of Paper Roses

I wince. “Can I just say again how sorry we are about the room?”

To my surprise, she smiles. “It’s given us a good laugh. I think the young man believed he’d discovered a path to Narnia.”

“He’d only have been happy about that if Narnia had a lot of pubs.”

She chuckles but then sobers. “It’s very nice to see the house being loved again. Your mother would be pleased.”

“Did you know her well?” I brighten at the idea of talking to someone who can tell me about my mum.

Her face softens. “I did. I was very sad when she died. And even sadder when your father married that hard-faced boa constrictor.” I laugh, and she shakes her head, looking at my face intently. “You have the look of your mother,” she says. “A kind face and very pretty eyes.”

“Thank you,” I say, touched. “I’m afraid I don’t remember her well.”

“Of course you don’t. I have some photos if you’d like to pop by for coffee one day.”

“Really?”

She nods. “We were good friends. I even have some photos of you as a baby. If I’d been able, we would have had you livewith us when you had to leave home, but unfortunately, we were overseas.”

“It’s okay. I was fine.”

“Ah well, maybe your mother wouldn’t have wanted just fine for you.” She looks up as the front door opens. “But she’d have likedhim,” she says softly, watching Jed come down the steps. He looks very tall and broad-shouldered in his long blue cashmere coat. “You’ve got yourself a lovely man there.”

“I know.” My chest pangs because, of course, I really haven’t got Jed.

He smiles at us, and my anxiety ratchets. He’s still pale and that smile lacks its usual star power. Carla doesn’t notice. Instead, she giggles almost girlishly as he addresses her. She looks on approvingly as he opens my door for me as usual and then gives a friendly wave as we head off.

The early morning traffic in London is akin to a thirty-mile tailback with lots of cursing and horns sounding. Jed handles it with his usual calm surety. I always feel safe with him behind the wheel. He was trained to drive to a high standard when he was on the force, and he once explained to me that he’d taken some intensive driving courses. So he’s fast, but not flashy, and always safe.

The car is warm and scented with leather and his cologne. The radio plays low, but when the silence between us edges into awkwardness, I clear my throat and say, “How are you feeling?” I grimace. He’s already said he feels terrible.

“Not the best,” he says grimly. “Artie, I?—”

“I’m sorry,” I break in loudly over his words.

He gives me a questioning look as he draws to a stop at some traffic lights. “What about?” he asks cautiously.

“Last night.”

“Ah.” A strange expression crosses his face.

“I feel like I took advantage of you.”

His hand fumbles the gear stick and he promptly stalls the engine. “Shit,” he says as the lights change and a volley of horns sound behind us. I stare at him as he manages to start the engine again and the car lurches forward. It’s so odd to see him discomposed.

He fixes his gaze on the road, but his attention on me is like the beam of a lighthouse. “Took advantage? What on earth does that mean?”

I swallow hard. “You were half asleep when I… Oh, you know. When I woke up and you were?—”

“Yes, I do know,” he interrupts, a flush appearing on his cheekbones.

“And I heard you doing that.”

He coughs. “Hmm, yes.”

“And I don’t know what possessed me.” I fall silent for a second and then burst out, “I know you don’t see me like that, and I feel like I took advantage when you were sleepy and still a bit drunk. We wereverydrunk,” I add, hoping he’ll dismiss my misguided attempt to talk about this.

I should have known better, because Jed never runs away from painful conversations. Raff’s frequent appearances in Jed’s office—as though it’s been fitted with a revolving door—is proof of this.

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