Page 118 of Midnight Enemy

It occurs to me that I don’t experience high-emotion situations very often. At work I defuse tension with humor and I’m careful to deal with any hot tempers by deflecting and distracting the upset person. Socially, my friends and family are mostly high achievers who are also keen to remove drama from their lives. Most of my relationships have come to a mutual end. So this whole experience has unsettled me. Maybe I’m more like my father than I care to admit.

I can’t imagine what she must be feeling. She hasn’t asked me to leave, but other than give her a hug, I’m not sure how to comfort her. How can I make things better, when she must feel as if her whole world is falling apart?

“Did I do the right thing in telling you?” I ask. She didn’t answer me in the office, and I feel a heaviness inside at the thought that I’m the one who’s crushed her.

She looks down at her mug and traces a finger around the rim. “I wish I didn’t know. But that’s not the same thing. It would be hypocritical to tell you that truth is the most important thing to me, then to say you shouldn’t have told me.”

“It doesn’t make it any easier to handle.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

We sit there quietly, sipping our tea. I hear the bathroom door open, and Ana’s footsteps heading down to what I presume is her room, and the door opens and closes.

There’s maybe an hour until sunset. The sunlight pouring into the room is the color of treacle. Scarlett gives a little shiver, as if she’s cold, although it’s warm in the room. Or maybe it’s a shudder as she thinks of what she’s learned today. I feel as if a cyclone has blown through the village, and now the wind is dying down, and it’s time to deal with the fallout—fixing all the fences that have blown over, and replacing the tiles that have been ripped from the roofs.

“Talk to me,” I say.

She scratches at a mark on her mug. “You said my dad thought that helping people was the most important thing, even if it meant bending the rules. Do you agree?”

I inhale, then exhale slowly. I need to answer this carefully. “I understand why your dad took the money. He loved your mum, and he didn’t want to lose her. But I think he should have gone to the Elders and asked if he could borrow from the funds. I thought that was what the idea of the commune was about—dealing with problems together.”

She gives a small nod. “He could also have accepted your dad’s offer of the money.”

“Yes, true.”

“Pride stopped him. That stupid feud. If he’d accepted Spencer’s offer, both of my parents might still be here.” She wipes fresh tears from her face.

I don’t reply to that because she’s not wrong. Instead, I say, “How are you feeling now?”

“Hurt. Sad. Ashamed. Angry.”

“At George?”

“No. He’s a sweetheart. He just wanted to protect me and Ana.”

“Are you angry at me?”

She gives a small smile. “No, of course not.”

“At my dad?”

“No. At myself.”

Now I’m baffled. “None of it is your fault.”

“Maybe not, but I’m embarrassed and ashamed about what a fool I’ve been. Ever since we’ve met, I’ve talked to you as if we at the commune are somehow superior to you. I said you are married to money, and we are all about family, and community, and love, and roses, and blah blah blah…” Her voice holds a ton of sarcasm, and her cheeks flush.

Pain flares inside my chest. I wanted to remove her rose-tinted spectacles, but I regret it now. I loved her positivity, and the way she always found the silver lining in every cloud. I thought that her naivety would eventually cause problems, and I was right, but that doesn’t make it any easier to watch. I feel as if I’m observing a scientist carrying out vivisection on a baby rabbit. The aim might be to make sure a drug is safe for consumption, so the outcome is a positive one, but that doesn’t mean the process isn’t cruel and heartbreaking to watch.

“I feel so incredibly foolish,” she whispers. “I thought my dad was perfect.”

I smile. “Every girl does.”

She carries on as if I haven’t spoken. “Everyone must have been laughing at me. Stupid, innocent Scarlett, thinking we’d built something worthwhile here.”

“You have,” I say firmly. “What’s happened today hasn’t changed that.”

“I thought my father had values, and integrity, and principles, but it was all just a house of cards.” Tears tip over her lashes. I don’t think she’s even aware of them.

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