Page 71 of The Grosvenor's Ghost
“Yep,” Arthur nods, rocks back on his heels, hand in his pocket.
“So—”
I spin around. “Would you guys like to see my recent purchases?” My smile is tense, I can feel that it is but honestly? Anything to make Digby shut up in front of him.
My boyfriend rolls his eyes. “You mean my purchases?”
“No,” I frown.
“She has got her own job, mate,” Arthur cocks his head, wipes away his smile with his hand.
“Thank you,” I nod at him and then glare back to Digby. “But since you’re so keen on shoving your card down my throat, maybe you can wire me the money?”
Digby smiles in a strange way, almost condescending. “I’m alright.”
I hold up one of the big green Harrods bags. “Would you like to see Arthur?”
“Love to,” he grins, giving Digby a look as he walks over to me.
I start to unbox my shoes on the kitchen table. Digby slams his mug down on the draining board.
“I’ll leave you girls to it, then?”
He comes behind me, grabs his coat off the hook.
“Where are you going?”
“Out,” he mutters, back to me, fiddling with his keys.
Roll my eyes. “Out where? To meet your mistress?”
He opens the door, walks out. “Too busy for a mistress!”
“Dick!” I shout when he closes the door.
“He seemed hurt.”
I face Arthur, shake my head. “Don’t—he always gets like this when you're around or when I'm with you. He can be such a little bitch sometimes.”
“Seems jealous,” he shrugs and then nods at the box on the table. “Show me then.”
I show him, he nods and smiles and tells me everything looks nice because that’s what he does and that’s what he has always done because even though I know he doesn’t care, he doesn’t let me know that because he loved me—still probably does and if not, I’d be curious as to why—and loved the things I loved.
We sit on the couch in my house but he looks more comfortable than I do.
“I actually wanted to talk to you,” he starts. “About something but I don’t want you to flip out.”
I nod slowly, scared. “Right.”
His face turns dark, sullen, kind of. He looks like he doesn’t want to tell me so I don’t really want him to.
“I—um,” he shakes his head, squints his eyes. “I got sent something really weird in the post the other day and it just freaked me out.”
I swallow. “Like, a stalker?”
He shrugs and my stomach sinks.
“I didn’t tell Connie because it just makes me sound a bit thick—”
