Page 49 of Pride
Alex’s brows shot up, and he turned to regard me with admiration. “You know about that? I guess you’re more of a fan than I realised.”
I was about to tell him that Lloyd had told me, but he started to talk about how he’d arranged a business trip to coincide with the performance, and it didn’t feel right to butt in. I let him talk about the plans he had with Ethan and Tobey, the trio as Lloyd called them, and then I saw the painting we were standing beside, and again, I was left speechless.
There was a little boy, about six or seven, standing with his back to us, dressed in tatty clothes, a dirty T-shirt, worn jeans and no shoes on his filthy feet. The room he was standing in had wallpaper peeling from the wall and black mould on the ceiling. The window was broken, the pane cracked from top to bottom and droplets trickled down it, maybe from the rain outside, but more probably from the condensation and damp inside. At his feet were broken toys, an army doll with no head, a deflated football, and the smashed glass from a ship in a bottle. The glass was so close to his bare feet that it made me fearful for him, even though he wasn’t real.
But the thing that caught my attention the most was that he was standing in front of a mirror, and in that mirror was a reflection of the boy, with clean clothes and shiny shoes. Theroom in the refection was full of toys that weren’t broken, but shiny and new, and the bedroom looked immaculate, spotless. The perfect room for a privileged little boy. The opposite of where he stood as he looked at himself. And what also stood out was the smile on the boy in the mirror’s face. I don’t think the one looking into the mirror was smiling the same way.
“He hoped for better things,” I said, my mouth working before my brain could engage.
Alex peered down at me, his face unreadable as he stated plainly, “He saw the truth.” And then his eyes widened slightly as he looked past me over my shoulder. “Alma,” he said. “You didn’t need to bring the tea in here.”
I turned to see his housemaid place a tea tray onto a small table against the far wall.
“I know what you’re like.” She smiled kindly back at him. “Once you come in here, you don’t leave for hours. I thought Miss Belmont might appreciate the refreshment.”
“Thank you,” I replied, and Alma nodded politely back at me, then backed out of the room, leaving us alone again. Alex walked over to the table and poured a cup of tea from the pot, asking me, “Milk? Sugar?”
“Milk, no sugar,” I replied and went towards him as he poured a dash of milk into a cup and stirred it with a silver spoon. There were no mugs served in Sunford Manor. No. This tea was in a bone China cup and saucer. I hated holding saucers; my hand always got twitchy, and the cup rattled. But I didn’t want to appear rude, so I took the saucer and lifted the cup, taking a sip, then another when I discovered the tea was only lukewarm, and I was thirstier than I realised.
Alex poured a cup for himself, but he didn’t drink it right away. Instead, he went over to another painting and started to tell me about it, detailing all the elements that made it one of his favourites. But as he spoke, I began to feel woozy and zone out. Itook another sip of my tea, then placed the cup and saucer back on the tray. But as I did, my hands became clumsy, I couldn’t control them, and the China clattered from my grasp to the floor.
Alex stopped speaking and spun around, asking frantically, “Are you okay?” As he stalked towards me.
“I’m fine,” I replied, touching my forehead and gently wiping the sheen of sweat gathered there.
Alex wasn’t convinced, and he put his hand on my arm.
“Emma, you don’t look so good.” He reached for a nearby chair and pulled it closer to us. “Sit down. You’ve gone really pale.”
“I’m always pale,” I said, brushing it off, but as I stumbled towards the chair, I felt a rush to my head, and everything went blurry. The world tilted like I was swaying on a cruise ship in the middle of the worst storm to ever hit the seas.
“Emma, sit,” he commanded, but I couldn’t answer him. My mouth was moving, but the words coming out were slurred, and his words sounded like they were slowing down, being spoken from underwater and becoming distorted. “Emmmaaaa. Sssssit. Heeerree.”
I shook my head, trying to focus on the chair in front of me, but now it looked like there were multiple chairs, all moving in front of my eyes.
I could feel the touch of his hand on my arm as I swayed, and then I managed to croak, “I’mmmm... no...n...nottt... well,” before my body slumped to the floor and everything went black.
CHAPTER TWENTY
EMMA
“She was my guest. A fucking guest in my house! How the fuck did this happen?”
The words being shouted swam in my ears, but I couldn’t move, speak or respond. I couldn’t do anything other than drift in and out of consciousness, vaguely aware that I was lying on a bed.
A bed in his house.
“How long willshe be like this, doc?”
There was a muffled answer, and then, “Will there be lasting effects?”
I tried to move my head in the direction they were talking, I wanted to hear what they had to say, but all that filled my ears were whooshing sounds, like I was submerged underwater.
My breathing quickened, and they must’ve noticed because the noises around me became more frantic. I felt a sudden rush of warmth radiate from my arm to the rest of my body as I tried to move, thrashing as much as I could to show I was here, I couldhear them. But then, the warmth took me under again, and I was lost to the darkness.
“I tried calling her friend,but there was no response. I don’t think she has any family. I’m not sure what else to do other than what we’re already doing.”
“You’ve done all you can for her. She’s lucky to have someone like you looking out for her.”
