Just Like the Other Girls(42)

I push open the pub’s door. Lewis is sitting on a stool at the bar, his feet resting on the base. He’s wearing black jeans and a thick woollen jacket, his shaggy dark hair touching the collar. He’s even better-looking than I remember.

He’d been surprised to hear from me when I called. I didn’t reveal what I wanted to see him about but when I asked if he was free this evening, and apologized for the short notice, he’d agreed.

He doesn’t look round until I’m by his shoulder. Then he must sense my presence because he glances up from his pint. ‘Great to see you,’ he says, as though we’re old friends, not people who have met just once. ‘What can I get you to drink?’

I order a small white wine. It’s still early, not yet seven thirty, so the place is still relatively quiet and we find a table in the corner. I sit opposite him, a candle flickering between us, and I feel a flush of embarrassment. It looks like we’re on a date and I wonder if I’ve given Lewis that impression.

‘Thanks for agreeing to meet me,’ I begin tentatively. Now that I’m here, I’m not sure how to broach the subject of Jemima. ‘What have you been up to since leaving Elspeth’s?’

‘Oh, you know, a bit of this and that. Not many people want gardeners this time of year.’ He cups his pint and I notice his hands are calloused and strong. For a fleeting moment I imagine them on me and blush.

‘How is it, working for the old battleaxe?’ He smiles to take the sting out of his words.

‘I … She’s …’ I hesitate, not wanting to be disloyal. ‘She’s okay. I’m sorry she sacked you, though.’

He shrugs. ‘It is what it is. She never liked me.’

‘I think she prefers the company of women,’ I say, thinking of what Kathryn said earlier.

He surprises me by laughing. ‘You don’t say.’

‘How long did you work for her?’

He raises one of his eyebrows, his gaze not leaving mine. ‘A few months.’

My tummy flips. I try to get my thoughts in order. ‘Did you know Jemima? The girl before me.’

His face clouds and he pushes a lock of hair away from his eyes. ‘Yes, I knew Jemima.’ The flirtiness has gone from his voice. He picks up a beer mat and begins picking at the edges of it with his long fingers. ‘Is that why you wanted to see me?’ He’s not looking at me now, just at his hands as he tears the cardboard. ‘I did wonder why you contacted me out of the blue like this when we don’t know each other. I thought maybe …’ He trails off.

I feel heat rising to my face. He did think I wanted a date. ‘I met up with her brother.’ And then I explain about Peter, and his visit. ‘He said he thought she was seeing someone and I wondered if it was you.’

He shakes his head. ‘We went on a few dates back in October. We were both new at the same time and hit it off. She was a great girl. But it didn’t last long. A couple of weeks at the most. I don’t think her brother could have meant me.’

I’m disappointed but I try not to let it show. ‘Peter said she was seeing someone when he spoke to her, just before she died. Do you know who?’

He swigs his pint and replaces it on the table before answering. ‘Jemima was a lovely girl but very private. She didn’t open up easily. After we’d gone out a few times and it was clear it wasn’t going to work, she avoided me. I thought we could be friends but … I don’t know. I really liked her, but she could be very up and down.’

‘Do you think she might have been depressed?’

‘It wouldn’t surprise me. There was the fun Jemima, you know, the girl who was sweet and funny and liked to have a laugh, and then there was this other side to her. This darker side. She could be quite sulky. Uncommunicative. I never knew which Jemima would show up for our date.’

‘Is that why it didn’t work out?’

He sits back in his chair. ‘God, Una, you do like to ask questions.’

‘Sorry. I’m sorry. I just want to try to understand …’

He sits forward. ‘Why? You didn’t even know the girl.’

‘For Peter. Mainly.’

‘So you and this Peter. Are you together?’

‘What?’ I laugh. ‘No. No, of course not.’

‘So what, then? You’re just helping him out of the goodness of your own heart?’ His tone takes on a teasing quality, but it rankles.

‘No. Selfishly, I’d like to know if there was anything suspicious about her death when I’m literally, you know, living her life. Employed by the same people, living in her room … and then before her, Matilde, also dead …’ The fear is evident in my voice.

He surprises me by reaching across the table and taking my hand. ‘I’m sorry. Of course it must be horrible. But honestly, Una, I don’t think you need to worry. I heard about Matilde. It was a hit-and-run. Terrible, but it happens. And Jemima, well … Like I said, I think she had some problems. I know you said her brother can’t accept she took her own life, and I know I only dated her for a few weeks, but let’s just say I’m not surprised.’

Lewis’s hand feels warm and reassuring in mine and relief washes over me. It’s only just hit me how scared I’ve felt. But being here with Lewis, listening to him rationalizing it all, makes me see how paranoid I’ve been.