Page 38 of A Cornish Love Story
‘Panic Room Mode activated,’ the Sparks voice said smoothly, in response to something he’d pressed.
‘Yes, Iknowit’s fucking activated!’ Ethan shouted.
‘Hey.’ I squeezed his arm. ‘Come on.’
‘I mean, what the fuck? What thefuck, Sparks?’
‘I will not tolerate that language,’ Sparks said haughtily.
‘How does she know you were swearing,’ I asked, ‘when you said Sparksat the end?’
Ethan rubbed the back of his neck. ‘It picks up the whole sentence. Wherever the word Sparks is, it’ll get the gist.’
‘Which means it’s recording everything we say?’ A shiver ran down my spine.
‘It doesn’t record anything; it’s just more intelligent than anything else on the market right now.’
‘Of course it is.’
Ethan narrowed his eyes at me.
I didn’t want us to be at odds. For however long we were trapped here, we had to get along. Then we could go our separate ways, he could continue to be mad at me for forgiving him but not tracking him down to tell him, and I could go on trying not to stalk his Instagram, and most likely failing.
‘Why don’t you give me a tour?’ I suggested.
‘What?’ He folded his arms, his shirt smoothing over his deltoids and biceps.
‘Don’t pretend that sentence didn’t make perfect sense. We’re stuck here for the time being, so why don’t you give me a tour? Show me all the things you love about Sterenlenn.’
‘I’ve shown you the bedroom,’ he said tightly.
‘Youfoundme in the bedroom,’ I corrected. ‘I was already there. Is that your favourite room?’ I widened my eyes. ‘Of course it is; I should have known.’ I grinned, and some unnameable emotion flickered behind his eyes.
‘George,’ he said wearily.
‘Come on.’ I took his hand. ‘Be mad at me if you like. I was mad at you: really,reallymad. I was completely heartbroken.’ I had meant it to be a rousing speech, but now I was remembering how it had felt to lose him; to sit on my bed after he’d gone, and think about all the things we’d talked about and shared, and how much I missed him. ‘I was,’ I went on, ‘but I also got over it, and you did too. We were eighteen, when even the smallest things felt entirely momentous, and now we’re not. You have created this beautiful place, and if we’re going to be trapped here for the next few hours, then I want to see it all.’
Ethan tried to pull his hand out of mine, but I held on tightly.
‘You must want to show it off. All those open house weirdos came here to drink champagne, be seen and think about their profit margins, but you love the house. Show it to me.’
He stared at me for a handful of seconds, as if he was trying to work out how my brain fitted together, but I knew it was a losing battle and so did he, because he sighed and said, ‘OK.’
‘Great.’ I did a little jump. ‘Where first? The separate beer and wine fridges?’
He gave me a flicker of a smile. ‘No. Upstairs.’
‘We did the spooky nightlights already.’
‘Come and see the master bathroom.’
‘You mean the en-suite disco lights are a sideshow?’
‘Exactly. Follow me.’
It was alarming how much I loved hearing him say that, his low, beckoning tone more persuasive than any pipe played by a legendary child-stealer.
‘It’s a Jacuzzi bath, with a TV mounted on the wall andanotherdrinks fridge.’ I shook my head, unable to stop staring, because the bathroom at the back of Sterenlenn was bigger than an entire floor of my house. It was painted in cool sea greens and that hint of Atlantic blue, smelled overwhelmingly of vanilla and sea salt, and there was something about the ambience – maybe some subliminal messages pumped through the Sparks system – that made it infinitely soothing. I’d gone to my dentist’s last week for a check-up, and had been delighted that they had a bottle of Original Source hand soap in their minuscule toilet.These little touches, I’d thought happily, wondering if I needed to have a rethink about my home hygiene products. Now I wanted to burn my house to the ground.
