Page 60 of Cover Story

‘Is it on silent? Good.’

There was a gap in the wuthering outside and Bel heard it then, the recognisable sound of a carefully light cat-burglar footstep moving up another two or three places, the metal creaking, getting nearer.

Bel focused on the door handle and realised that it moving was the clear cue to panic. Then, they could be sure this was some sort of fuckery. The person (or people) on the other side weren’t to know it was locked.

The rain blew in a gust. There was another couple of footsteps, this time moving faster, obviously trying to use the weather as cover. Bel was suddenly so scared about their intentions, she moved next to Connor and pushed her arms round his bare middle. Her need for complete solidarity in the face of potential impending evil was greater than concern at how pathetic this was.

His skin was hot– and instead of recoiling from her as she thought he might, Connor drew her closer. He put his arm round her shoulders and almost distractedly smoothed her hair in reassurance, a reflexive muscle memory from girlfriend protocols. It told Bel his level of anxiety was as high as hers: that inhibitions between them no longer mattered. There were, as her father liked to say, no atheists in foxholes. Wasn’t Operation Foxhole the sting that caught the Kendricks?

‘What are they trying to do?’ she whispered, as if Connor would know.

If Amber and Rick knew who they were, and wished them ill, then the wine coma was a fake out? Were they going to trash the place, take photos of them sleeping and say ‘we can get to you any time’? She thought of herself in that Teams meeting downstairs, producing Gloria’s wrongdoing with a gleeful flourish.

It was white-collar crime, and Bel had arrogantly and snobbishly not considered they might be intocrime-crime. If you were fine with people losing millions, you were probably fine with them losing anything.

‘I don’t know,’ Connor said. ‘Whatever happens, I’ll play along like I’ve just woken up while you keep your phone ready, OK? The door’s heavy. Does that door lock too?’ He gestured at the en suite and Bel nodded. ‘Go in there if you need to.’

‘Got it,’ Bel said, and felt herself break into a sweat. What a conversation. She assumed Connor meantto call the police– except to say what? There are people I don’t know in my house, I let them in and gave them toothbrushes? Now they’re skulking around and freaking me out?

‘It’s OK,’ Connor said, ‘I won’t let them do anything, all right? You’re safe.’

She squeezed him as wordless thanks. Thank God Connor was here. Bel would’ve probably woken with a face looming over her.

She could hear the steps again, this time closer, and Bel felt her body go into fight or flight, the adrenaline ready to launch her from the bed.

They held their breath. Bel realised time had slowed, that every second was now elongating as a little eternity.

A strange snuffling followed, a plaintive, keening sound, and a scratching at the door.

‘Gertie! Gertie! Come here,’ they heard Amber hiss.

Bel and Connor both went limp in each other’s arms with relief.

The dog made a few more futile, muffled honking noises of objection and there were the acoustics of a lovelorn, confused Gertie being retrieved and carried back down the stairs. This time the progress was slower and more laboured as Amber balanced her weight.

As Bel’s heart rate started descending accordingly, she had to reckon with the fact she was entwined around Connor. For a fleeting moment she noticed she could quite happily stay as they were. No, worse: she wanted to expose as much skin as he had, and sense his heart rate bump again.

‘You were a hero there,’ Bel said, in whisper, as she withdrew her hands from his midriff, and the inhibitions came rushing back.

‘I wasn’t and I’m glad I didn’t have to be, but thank you,’ Connor said, at same pitch.

‘Better safe than sorry,’ Bel said, knowing she was wittering inanities to ease their having hugged and petted each other. The fact that the cause for their fear wasn’t real didn’t mean they could undo the moment of tenderly clinging to one another. They’d both exposed something about themselves: Bel’s willingness to seek his support in an emergency and Connor’s willingness to give it.

‘I guess, though who knows, what either safe or sorry will end up looking like here.’

‘Are you regretting saying you’d do this?’ Bel said.

‘No. The thought of you going it alone is terrifying.’

Bel squeaked a laugh.

‘Yeah but my stupidity is my responsibility, not yours.’

‘True, but once I knew what you were doing, I’d have it on my conscience if I left you to it.’

‘I thought you were only concerned with what our bosses would think?’ Bel said, genuinely surprised.

‘Yes, it’s impossible I could have any nuance or complexity in your mind. Dickhead intern pursues dickhead goal.’

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