StillWaters:Book4oftheSophieGreenMysteries (29 page)

“You said you were cold, anyway.”

“They’re talking,” I said, and he dropped his hand.

“How bloody inconsiderate. Did I talk when they wanted to have sex?”

“Erm, yes.”

Luke made a face at me, and we both strained to listen to the conversation within.

“…said this girl had been asking questions. Came to all her classes the other day.”

“Maybe she was just friendly.”

Michael shook his head. “Eleanor said she was just really unsubtle.”

I made a face. I thought I’d been very subtle.

“But she didn’t say anything? Eleanor, I mean.”

“No. She was freaked out. I dunno, maybe she did say something but she wouldn’t tell me.”

Gav started stroking Michael’s hair. “You think she knows?”

“She couldn’t.”

“She’s smarter than she looks.”

“She’s a bloody aerobics teacher, Gav, she’d have to be.”

“She could do some damage if she knew.”

“Yeah.”

“If she knew,” Gav said, and I flicked my gaze at Luke.

“We need to talk to Eleanor,” I mouthed, and he nodded.

But the lovebirds didn’t seem to have any more to say to each other. They started kissing again, and Luke and I slid out of sight before the heavy breathing started.

“‘So what did you do on Christmas Eve, Luke?’” he mimicked under his breath. “‘I sat under a window at gone midnight in the freezing cold, listening to two
men
have sex.’”

He said “men” like some people might have said “child-molesters”.

“You know what homophobia really says about you,” I teased, and he scowled.

“Woman, I’ve just spent half the night screwing your brains out. Will you stop insinuating—”

I kissed him and he shut up.

“Want to go?” I said.

Luke nodded gratefully and hauled me to my feet. We made a quick stop so he could confirm my knickerless state, but I dragged him back to the villa before I got frostbite.

“Is there something in the water?” I wondered out loud as we approached the villa. “I mean, first Maria, then these—oh.”

Luke was staring at me.

“You didn’t know about Maria.”

He stared some more.

“Forget I said anything—” I began.

“
Maria
?”

I nodded, wincing. Probably it wasn’t my place to say anything.

“Maria de Valera?”

I nodded again, waiting for him to process it.

“
Our
Maria? SO17 Maria?”

I nodded, checking my watch.

“She’s not gay.”

“Then she must have been sucking poison from that other girl’s lips,” I said, watching his eyes go wide.

“You saw—but—who—but—”

I smiled and took his hand.

“I’ll explain when I’m not dying of hypothermia,” I said, and that at least got him moving.

Stumbling inside, I pulled off my gloves, wincing, and picked up a piece of paper from the floor.

“Was this here before?”

Luke frowned and shook his head. “I didn’t see it. Anyway, about Maria—”

There was no letterbox, so it must have been shoved through under the draught excluder. I opened it up and smoothed away a footprint.

“Ms. Green, I need to talk to you. About Cornwall and Molly Stanton. Please come to my studio tomorrow at lunch—1 p.m. Eleanor Duvalle (yoga and aerobics).”

I looked up at Luke. “So it looks like she does know.”

Chapter Sixteen

I woke late on Christmas morning, Luke still asleep beside me. I lay and looked at him for a while, the planes of his back, the angles of his face. The shadows his lashes made on his cheeks.

I got up, before I started composing sonnets to his beauty, and went downstairs to feed Norma Jean, give her the soft, squeaky teddy bear that was her Christmas present, and put the kettle on, rereading Eleanor Duvalle’s note as I did. It was already eleven a.m. By the time I’d showered and got dressed after whatever Luke had in mind for me this morning, it’d be time to go.

I woke him up with a coffee-flavoured kiss. “Happy Christmas.”

He opened his eyes, looked at me and smiled. “Happy Christmas,” and he pulled me down to him for a more demanding kiss.

“You’ll spill the coffee!” I swooped it away from him, and Luke laughed.

“And we must never waste coffee.”

“Damn right.” I sipped my own. “We have to go and see Eleanor in a couple of hours.”

“Then we’d better make the most of said hours.”

The coffee grew cold and I got hot and messy and pretty damn happy. See, this is what I wanted for Christmas.

When I felt I could move again, I rolled over and reached into my suitcase, ferreting around under the layers of clothes until I found the Austin Reed carrier bag I was looking for.

“Got you a present,” I said to Luke.

He looked impressed. “And there was me thinking this was my present,” he said, kissing me and stroking me as he took the bag and looked inside. “You even wrapped it.”

“Well,” I settled down beside him, “I saw it and bought it for you before I remembered I wasn’t supposed to. I figured you might as well have it anyway. For the holiday or whatever.”

He tore off the wrapping and stuck the ribbon bow on my head. “Cute.” He held up the blue lamb’s wool sweater.

“It’s really soft,” I said, “and the colour—” I held it to his face, “—matches your eyes.”

I felt slightly sheepish now. One of those stupid girls who tries to dress her man. Luke dresses well anyway. And I matched it to his eyes, what sort of annoying sappy girlfriend—

He kissed me. “I love it. Thank you.”

Well, if he was going to thank me like that he could have as many presents as he liked.

“You really bought it when we were broken up?”

“Well,” I said defensively, “I went in there looking for something for my dad and I just saw it and…yeah, I did. Good job you invited me out here or probably Chalker would have got it.”

Luke pulled on the sweater, and it did look good on him. Especially as I knew he was wearing nothing else.

“It looks better on me.”

I nodded solemnly and waited for him to bring out the present he’d secretly been hoarding for me.

But instead he got up and pulled on some more clothes and went downstairs. “More coffee?”

I made a face at his retreating back. Men. “Yeah.”

“Has Norma been out?”

“Nah.”

Luke switched on the tree lights and let the dog out and made the coffee and when he came back up, said, “Do you want me to take her for a walk while you get in the shower?”

No offers of sharing the shower? What is wrong with him? Didn’t he like the present?

Oh God, is he sick of me already? Am I moving too fast? I’ve never had a boyfriend at Christmas before. Or on birthdays. I don’t know what to do!

“Okay,” I said, feeling slightly nauseous, and stumbled into the bathroom. The shower water was hot and beat down on my sore back like the pummelling water jets in the hydrotherapy pool yesterday. I let it. I’d messed things up again.

I came out and dried off and got dressed, slowly, putting on a pretty top and a swirly skirt in feminine shades, drying my hair properly with the hairdryer, something I hardly ever do, taking time over my makeup. I even put pretty shoes on. Now I’d abandoned myself to Luke he was damn well not going to walk away from me.

I warmed up croissants and set out butter and jam, all the nice things I’d bought at the supermarket and pretty much forgotten. I made fresh filter coffee and found glasses for fruit juice. There was another bottle of champagne in the fridge (what was Luke thinking?), so I took that out and got some glasses to match. I put a CD on, but it was the Cardigans and the random tracks skipped to
If There Is A Chance
, so I hurriedly switched it off and went for the radio. Christmas songs, blegh!

Silence was better.

I looked at my watch. It was twelve already. If Luke didn’t get a move on, we’d be late to meet Eleanor. Or at least I would. I didn’t know if he was planning on coming with me.

Someone knocked at the door, and I rushed to open it, putting on a pretty smile, ready to roll my eyes at Luke for forgetting his key, but when I opened it, my face froze.

“
Caro
? What are you doing here?”

Her eyes were steely, her breath fogging the air. “Is he here?”

“Luke? No, he’s just gone out. With the dog.” I was becoming more doubtful by the second. Her cold face was intimidating. “Did you want something?”

“Yes,” Caro said, and gave me a sudden, hard shove. I lost my balance, teetering as I was on heels, and went down, my head hitting the cloakroom door. Caroline stepped in, shut the door behind her, and grabbed my wrist.

She really was like me, even down to her strength. I grew up scrapping with Chalker, and even though I’m hardly muscular, I'm damn strong for a girl.

But not when I’m shocked, and not when I’ve just hit my head, and not when someone’s dragging me across the carpet. Caro dumped me in the middle of the living room floor and before I could get back up, kicked me in the ribs.

“Fucking
ow
,” I said. “What are you doing?”

“He’s mine,” she said. “He’s mine and you keep trying to steal him from me.”

Okay, she was insane.

“I didn’t steal anybody,” I said carefully. “Luke chose me. I couldn’t—”

And then I stopped, all words vacating my mouth, because Caro pulled something out of her pocket with a metallic
shing
, and I stared in horror at the big carving knife.

“But you’re a vegetarian,” I mumbled.

“How do you know?”

“Because I am…”

But that only seemed to piss her off even more. “I am not you! He doesn’t want a—a
clone
of you. He doesn’t want you at all!”

“Right, which is why he spent all of last night and a goodly part of this morning shagging my brains out.” I tried to stand up, but she aimed another kick at me with her riding boots. Her none-too clean riding boots.

“Okay,” I said, “we’re both just his type. Fair enough. Why don’t we wait until Luke gets back and ask him—”

“No waiting,” Caroline said, and I really didn’t like the look on her face as she said this. She grabbed me again and swung at me with the knife. I ducked, trying to escape, but she had me in a Chinese burn on my wrist, twisting the skin as I looked around manically for something I could use in my defence. Curtains, coffee table, phone. Ha, I could just see her sitting quietly while I dialled for help.

So I used what I had and hit her with my sore fist.

Fucking
ow
.

“Did you send the bees?” I asked, and she nodded, touching her bleeding nose. “Why?”

“To scare you,” she said, as if it was obvious.

“I don’t scare so easy,” I lied. I was bloody terrified.

“You don’t die so easy, either,” she said, and the penny dropped with a loud, resounding clunk inside my head.

“You cut the saddle girth!”

“And I brought out Priscilla. Thought it might break your back. But you bloody wouldn’t die.”

I knew why she was telling me this. Because I wouldn’t be able to tell anyone else. Caroline had intentions for that knife that were in no way honourable. She stabbed it closer again and I ducked away, trying to grab her wrist and hold the knife away. But she angled it in, slashing my arm, and I cried out, losing grip.

The knife flew again. I spun away, but not fast enough. The blade skimmed my skin, a hot kiss against my cheek, numb for a second but only a second. Then the blood started and I touched my face in horror.

“Caroline, no,” I said, and then that damned Beach Boys song started going through my head, which was truly the stupidest thing to be soundtracking this rather terrifying episode.

She twisted my wrist so I spun against her, and the blade came up by my neck, but I brought up my arm and the knife sliced through my elbow instead. Blood spattered the carpet, the sofa, my pretty skirt. I really liked that skirt.

Right. Now I was mad.

I wrenched my wrist from her grasp. See, I’m strong too, Caroline.

“You’re not going to kill me,” I told her, eyeing up the kitchen counter where there was at least some crockery I could hit her with. “Bigger men than you have tried. Four of them. I’m still alive.”

Her nostrils flared. She might have been pretty if she wasn’t so crazy.

“Not for long.”

“You don’t want to kill me.”

“Don’t I?”

“You won’t,” I said, trying to make her see reason. Big mistake.

“Watch me,” Caroline said, and lunged at me, knife first, and I dodged her but lost my balance and tripped, fell back on the sofa where she pinned me down with her weight and lifted the knife and brought it down on my chest, once, twice, bright slashes of blood soaking us both.

But the knife didn’t go in all the way, it wasn’t sharp enough and she wasn’t plunging it hard enough. My bones were tough, and I don’t think she really knew how to kill a person. She was angry and insane, and I think she was more interested in slashing out her anger than actually making sure I was dead.

She lifted the knife a third time, and my arms were useless against her, but before the blade came down again something shattered on her head, cold liquid frothed up the blood on my skin, and Caroline went heavy.

I couldn’t move, until someone hauled her body off mine, and Luke, dropping the remains of the champagne bottle, grabbed hold of me.

“Sophie! Shit, you’re bleeding—God, Sophie—”

He looked terrified. I glanced down at my chest. Two great big red slashes. They clashed with my pink top.

“I’m okay,” I said, but Luke didn’t seem to believe me. He dug out his phone with shaking fingers and hit nine three times.

“I need an ambulance,” he said. “Quickly. My girlfriend’s bleeding to death.”

“I’m not—” I began, but he clearly hadn’t heard me and babbled into the phone about stab wounds and an attacker. “Yes,” he said, “police too.”

He had me pressed tight against him and when he put the phone down, he held me back at arms’ length and looked at me.

“You’re going to be okay,” he said. “They’ll be here really soon. Keep breathing.”

I wanted to laugh. “Luke, I’m not dying,” I said.