Lying Beside You (Cyrus Haven #3)(71)

Silence fills the room. Elias is embarrassed. I’m embarrassed. I want to hide in the attic.

‘It must feel strange – being out after all this time,’ I say, forcing myself to make conversation.

‘Yeah. I barely recognise some of the streets. They knocked down the old cinema on Abercrombie Road and there’s an office block where my old piano teacher used to live.’

‘Can you play the piano?’

‘Badly.’

He is adding more sugar to his tea. Four scoops. No wonder he’s fat. He keeps talking.

‘There are different makes and models of cars. And everybody is walking around looking at their phones – never taking their eyes off them. What are they looking at?’

‘Messages. Instagram. TikTok.’

‘I’ve heard of them – what are they?’

‘Social networking sites.’

Elias looks at me blankly.

‘You can post videos and pictures online. Stories.’

‘Why?’

‘Your friends will know what you’re doing.’

‘Why don’t they just ask?’

How do I answer that?

‘If you post something interesting you can get lots of likes.’

‘What’s a like?’

What is this – twenty questions?

‘Ask Cyrus,’ I snap and immediately feel guilty. Elias goes quiet and rocks back and forth, heel to toe.

‘What are you going to do first?’ I ask.

‘I might make French toast. I used to love to cook. The French call it pain perdu, which means lost bread, because they use stale bread to make it. And the trick is temperature control – and not soaking the bread too long.’

This guy is seriously weird.

‘It’s the small things you take for granted,’ he says. ‘Like this.’ He walks to the door and flicks the light switch up and down. ‘At Rampton, I couldn’t do that.’ He looks at the ceiling. ‘And there were cameras watching me everywhere I went.’

It was like that at Langford Hall, I think, but I don’t tell him that.

He opens the fridge and chooses a carrot from the vegetable crisper. ‘I couldn’t do this,’ he says, biting off the end and chewing noisily. A piece of carrot lands on the floor.

He carries his tea to the library and then the sitting room, where he turns on the TV and flicks through channels, leaning forward over his knees and thrusting the remote control at the screen.

‘We have Netflix,’ I say. ‘You can watch lots of different movies and TV shows.’

‘Like a normal TV?’

‘Yeah, but there are more choices.’

Elias doesn’t seem impressed. He points to the wireless speaker on the mantelpiece.

‘It works with the TV,’ I say, ‘or you can stream music.’

‘Where do you put the music?’

‘It uses the home Wi-Fi.’

‘Like radio.’

‘Yeah. I guess.’ I have no idea if that’s true.

‘Show me,’ he says.

I take out my phone and choose a song. He is standing so close to me that I can smell his breath and his body odour. The music starts playing. He looks at the speaker as though I’ve performed a magic trick.

‘Choose another one.’

I do as he asks. Celeste. ‘Stop This Flame’. She sounds like Amy Winehouse.

‘Make it louder.’

I turn up the volume. He closes his eyes and begins nodding his head and clicking his fingers in time with the beat. His body jiggles.

‘Want to dance?’ he asks.

‘I don’t dance.’

He takes a step towards me, reaching for my hand, but I back away towards the door. He tries again.

‘Don’t touch me.’

‘It’s only a dance.’

My back is pressed against the wall.

‘I’m a good dancer. Mum taught me.’

‘No.’

‘I can teach you.’

‘Stay away from me.’

Elias thinks it’s a game. He is rocking from foot to foot, raising his arms, ready to put them around me. I pull the knife from my belt and point the blade at his chest.

Seeing the knife, he steps backwards. Shocked. I use that moment to slip under his arms and escape, through the door and up the stairs. Elias is calling after me, saying he’s sorry and that he didn’t mean to scare me.

In my bedroom, I lock the door, and push a chest of drawers across the polished floorboards, scratching the varnish, barricading myself inside.

Sitting on the bed with my back to the wall, I hold the knife and listen for his footsteps. Waiting for him to come.





48


Cyrus


My phone has been turned to silent. When I glance at the screen, I discover a dozen missed calls and messages from Evie, each angrier than the last. Elias has arrived. The prospect makes my pulse quicken.

I call. Evie picks up. ‘Where the fuck are you?’

‘I’ve been talking to one of Daniela’s friends.’

‘You should have been here.’

‘Why? What did he do?’

‘He tried to dance with me.’

I laugh, which annoys her even more.