Page 25 of Wish You Knew
“We’re coming into a station now,” the train manager said, noticing my apparent agitation. “You’ll be able to get signal there.”
“Thank you.” I smiled. “I need to let my, um, friend know where I am.”
“Where are you staying?”
I pulled in my bottom lip. “I don’t actually know. It’s his family house or something.” I found the message with the address and showed it to him. “This is it.”
The train manager let out a low whistle. “Not a bad place at all. Lovely village, got a good pub. Make sure you go to the Kings Arms, they do a mean pie in there.” One of his colleagues waved from the other end of the coach, and he trotted off, ready to prepare for coming into the next station.
The promised 4G signal appeared, and I fired off a message to Scott to tell him where I was. The next station, in around half an hour’s time, would be where I got off.
Over the course of the next thirty minutes, I touched up my make-up, pulled a comb through my hair and practised a neutral facial expression.
The station was the cutest little picture-perfect chocolate-box place. The sort of thing you saw in TV series set in the fifties and sixties, with a tiny waiting room and ticket office. There was only one entrance and exit. It was practically deserted except for the staff looking after the ticket office.
Standing next to the metal fencing of the exit, I spotted Scott almost immediately. He looked totally out of place in his skinny jeans, a plain t-shirt, and a leather jacket. His contemporary image didn’t fit with the homeliness of the scene.
“Hey, babe!” he called, with a wave.
I walked over to him, pulling my suitcase behind me. Even though I would only be there a few days, I was terrible at packing and had thrown all sorts of clothes in for every eventuality. As the sun beat down on me, I already regretted the big overcoat I wore.
“Here, let me take that.” Scott reached over and took the suitcase. “Jesus, Rosie, what the hell have you got in here? Bodies? Did you do away with Mark and think you could dispose of him here?” He let out a low laugh.
His comment would have been funny, except it made me remember the reason for me being here in the first place.
Mark…And his second attempt to get with me.
I shuddered, a chill running over me despite the heat.
Scott noticed my change in mood, and turned to me, his hand touching my forearm. “Sorry, are you okay? Crap joke.”
“I’m fine. Still a little shaken up.” My gaze fell on the black Range Rover Scott loaded my suitcase into. “Hey, cool ride. I didn’t know you had one.”
He shrugged. “I don’t. Hired it to drive down yesterday. Probably shouldn’t have driven though, had a pretty crazy couple of days.” He avoided looking at me, no doubt remembering the black-haired woman he’d spent much of those days with instead.
I hopped into the passenger seat and wound down the window. “It’s nice to be out of London.”
“And Manchester.” Scott fired up the engine. “Forgive me if the ride’s a little jumpy. I don’t usually drive and it’s taking me a while to get used to manual gears.”
As if to demonstrate, the car bunny hopped towards the exit.
“Shit, sorry.”
“Don’t worry. It’s been so long since I’ve been behind the wheel myself, I can’t even remember how to drive.” I laughed.
While Scott drove, I stared out of the window, marvelling at the calming views of the countryside. Almost all of my pent-up stress and emotion over the situation with Mark started to slip away.
The journey from the station only took around fifteen minutes. My jaw dropped as Scott pulled into the driveway of an enormous country house, one of only three on a small estate.
“What the…?”
“Belongs to my mum and my aunt. They clubbed together and bought it after my aunt’s first divorce. She swore it was a bolthole for them both whenever things got too tough to handle.” His tone was even, but I sensed there was more to it.
“Her first divorce?” I raised my eyebrows. “How many has she had?”
“Fuck knows. She’s probably as much of a tart as me.”
“How is that even possible?” One corner of my mouth curled up.
