The Dinner Guest by B Walter (best short books to read txt) 📕

of urgency in the voice. Mum’s voice. I look up, blinking at the brightness of the light above her head.

‘Yeah … what?’ I say, barely comprehensible.

She leans forward to pick something off the bed. ‘Charles, how many of these have you taken? The ibuprofen and codeine. There’s a whole sheet empty in here. How many tablets did you take?’ I realise she has the box of tablets in her hands and is pulling out the blister pack.

‘What?’ I say again, only vaguely understanding the cause of her panic. ‘No. I mean, I haven’t taken too many. Just … two.’

‘Are you sure?’ she asks firmly, and I nod.

She lets out a sigh of relief. ‘Sorry. I just … I was worried.’

‘I know. It’s OK.’ I try to sit up. ‘I wouldn’t do that.’

She nods. ‘I didn’t think you would. But I just got a bit of a fright, seeing you there with the box. Never mind.’

I rub at my eyes. ‘I don’t feel too well,’ I say.

‘It’s the shock,’ she replies. She puts a hand onto my shoulder. I think she’s about to say words of comfort, but instead she says, ‘I’m not stupid. I know what happened. As I said earlier, I don’t want to go through it all until your father gets home. But I promise that we’ll do everything we can to make sure Titus is protected.’ Her voice is low, quiet, and, typically for her, calm and controlled. ‘Your father has already contacted our solicitor. Titus will never see prison, stand trial, or even be arrested by the police. Not if we can help it.’

Chapter Nine Rachel

Eleven months to go

Getting caught by Charlie in the bedroom was foolish, but I just had to see for myself. To see where he lived. How he lived. And where his adopted son lived…

I was disappointed, when I reached the landing, to see one of the doors shut, with music playing from inside. Some sort of opera music, from what I could hear. If only he’d been out, and his room left empty, his door open and inviting. Thankfully, however, the door to the master bedroom was open, its contents there for all the world to see. It was a dangerous thing to do, knowing there was someone else upstairs, but throwing caution to the wind, I stepped forward and walked the length of the landing over to the doorway.

The air smelled of men’s perfume, plus another note, something fresher. Perhaps they had an air scent plugged into the wall – or would posh people find those vulgar? Before I could notice anything else, I heard movement behind me and I ducked inside the room, crouching down on the soft carpet like a child caught with their hand in the sweet jar.

But whoever it was hadn’t come for me. Very slowly, I leaned my head out so I could see the landing and, sure enough, the figure of Titus emerged presumably coming from the bathroom and returning to his room. I was surprised he didn’t have an en suite to himself, but maybe only the main bedroom has one; I wouldn’t know. I’d never been in one of these big townhouses before.

The pull towards him was so strong, I could feel my heart beating, pushing me forward; it was like a harsh pain within me, but one I never wanted to go away. It took all my effort not to run right then from the room over to his bedroom. Of course, I didn’t do that. Instead I stood very still and, in order to calm myself down, I turned and faced the top of the chest of drawers I was leaning against. On its surface was an iPad in a smart dark leather case. I could tell from the small logo in the corner it was Louis Vuitton. It probably cost the same as my whole month’s wages at the garden centre. Next to it was a Jo Malone candle, which explained the scent in the room. And next to that was a framed photo. It wasn’t dissimilar to the one I saw on Instagram, just weeks previously, although the boy’s face in it was a lot younger. It was of Charlie, Matthew, and Titus, with the latter probably around seven or eight, in school uniform, holding up a certificate of some kind. I reached out and touched the photo, then pulled my hand back quickly, worried I’d leave a mark.

There was another frame next to it, smaller than the other, this one a photograph of a teenage girl, laughing at the camera, a Christmas tree behind her. I didn’t linger on this one. Instead, I turned my attention back to the photo of the happy, smiling family. And that’s when I heard the voice from the doorway.

‘Er … hi.’

I tried to iron out the awkwardness as best I could. I tried to be embarrassed and apologetic, saying I’d gone into the wrong room. But I saw a frown crease Charlie’s brow that worried me. And it continued to worry me, all the way through the last part of the evening, and on my way home to my dark, lonely flat.

Patience, I tried to tell myself. Keep things slow. Choose your moment. Everything will work out in the end.

Chapter Ten Charlie

Ten months before

Looking back at when I had my initial reservations about Rachel, it’s hard to admit that some of them – if not all of them – were based on snobbery. But they were. Not because she wasn’t as financially comfortable as we were, or had a different accent or any of that. It was because she just wasn’t part of our club. Our little network, where everyone seems to know everybody, or acts as if they do. Of course, we meet new people all the time, but not in the aisles of supermarkets. And you certainly don’t expect a seemingly chance encounter like that to play such a big part