Page 84 of The Grosvenor's Ghost
I think I can see how hard it would be for someone like Ev to understand that although I am an addict, I’m not the same person anymore. The version of me sitting here right now, is theme that I was going to turn out to be without drugs. The drugs were just part of the journey. Picture it like a boat, you set off and the waters are calm but a few hours later you notice that the sky looks a bit grey and the winds are getting a bit bitter. And then overtime, the waves really start kicking up and you think you might capsize and everyone on board is trying to hold you back from jumping off because in your mind the only way to salvage this treacherous journey is to jump off. Everyone’s screaming and crying and no one can really think rationally or make sense of the situation or come up with an idea that’s clever. It’s the worst fucking time. But then, the sky clears a bit and the waters calm down and then the journey is back to how it was at the start, when you first set off. Everyone’s calm again. Some people on board have even forgotten about the storm. And although you might still be thinking about jumping off, you’re not actively trying to and that’s something.
But the thing about the ocean is that it’s unpredictable. Who can say if the waters will or won’t kick up again?
Rhys sighs. “They’ll come around soon enough, I reckon.”
I give a half hearted shrug, about to say something but then my phone rings.
I’ve been expecting a call from George, could’ve picked a better moment, though.
I mutter something to Rhys, he gets up to use the bathroom and I answer the call.
“You alright?” George says.
“I’m out for lunch, can I ring you back?”
He tuts. “Not really, mate. Need you to come down here.”
I frown. “Right now?”
“Ideally, yeah.”
“Can it not wait?”
“Not fucking really,” he says, losing patience with me as if I called him on his time. But I know why he’s calling and I know why he wants me there. This isn’t really an over the phone kind of conversation.
“Right—fine. Give me ten and I’ll be there. House?”
“Yeah.”
And then he ends the phone because I don’t think he’s ever actually said bye before ending a call.
When Rhys comes back, I wrap up our conversation, spin him some yarn about my mum needing me for something.
I get to Stratton House, George meets me at the door.
“So?” I ask him.
He nods his head to the left. “Come with me.”
He takes me down the stairs and into his office which used to be Ronan’s but he’s moved his interest over to the hotel as of late. The twins are getting the club and he’s getting the hotel—bit of bother coming from the twins over it because Ronan isn’t a direct heir and from what I’ve heard, seems to just go off and do his own thing. Then again, I don’t know the half of what goes on with the Stratton’s.
George sits behind the desk, runs a hand down his face while I sit on the sofa against the wall.
“Do you not go insane? Working in here?” I nod at the plastered walls and the lack of lighting. It’s like the fucking Paris catacombs down here.
“Right, listen,” he sits up, all business like. “There’s some updates.”
My heart sinks in the way it does whenever you hear bad news.
I nod at him to go on.
“He’s got a sister.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
“Like, an alive one? A dead one? Who is she?”
