Lying Beside You (Cyrus Haven #3)(89)

‘I made you a cup of tea,’ she says, sitting on the end of the sofa. ‘Would you like some breakfast?’

I cover my head with a pillow. ‘I’d like another three hours’ sleep.’

She waits for me to emerge. I hear Radio 1 Breakfast playing from the kitchen. Why are morning DJs so bright and chirpy and relentlessly positive? It’s like Instagram for the ears. Everybody sounds prettier and happier and funnier.

Lilah is still sitting on the far end of the sofa.

‘Are you working today?’ I ask.

‘Not until four. Normally, I’d go for a run, but I’m frightened of going out by myself and Trevor needs a walk.’

‘I could come with you,’ I say, before I get a new idea. ‘We could collect Poppy and go together.’

Lilah likes that plan. I drag myself off to the bathroom and put on yesterday’s clothes – the black jumpsuit, which I wore for the re-enactment. Now I feel overdressed.

Back in the sitting room, she’s folding the bedding. We hold opposite corners of a blanket and bring them together.

‘How do you know Dr Haven?’ she asks.

‘It’s a long story and I’m not supposed to tell it.’

‘Why not?’

‘I spent most of my childhood in state care.’

‘Did he adopt you?’

‘No!’

‘Foster you?’

‘For a while, until I turned eighteen.’

‘How old are you now?’

‘Twenty-one.’

‘You look younger.’

‘Everybody tells me that.’

Pillows are plumped up and rearranged.

‘Does Cyrus have a girlfriend?’ she asks, trying to make it sound like part of the conversation.

‘He doesn’t want one – not right now.’

After toast and tea, we put Trevor in the back seat of Lilah’s car where he moves from side to side to look out the window and occasionally sniff at my hair. Lilah drives even more carefully than I do, double-checking her mirrors and indicating well before she changes lanes.

At Parkside, she pulls over and parks beneath the plane trees. Fallen leaves cover the grass verge and footpath, creating a soft carpet beneath our feet.

She stops at the gate. ‘This place is a mansion.’

‘It belonged to Cyrus’s grandparents.’

‘My grandparents gave me nothing except achoo syndrome.’

‘What’s that?’

‘I sneeze when I look at a bright light.’

‘Is that a thing?’

‘Oh yeah, just like ingrown toenails, big ears and rolling your tongue.’ She rolls her tongue to show me.

I suddenly stop. Cyrus’s car is gone.

‘Is everything all right?’ she asks.

‘Cyrus’s brother is staying with us.’

‘Is he handsome, too?’

‘No.’

I fish into my pocket, looking for my house key. I don’t have it. ‘We’ll go around the back.’

I lift the latch and push open the side gate. I expect Poppy to be inside, sleeping next to a radiator, but somebody has locked her out. She barks aggressively, until she realises that it’s me and goes crazy, dashing around the garden. Trevor joins the chase.

I tip over the headless garden gnome and retrieve the spare key.

‘First place I’d look,’ says Lilah, teasing me.

The kitchen smells of bacon and eggs. A greasy frying pan and egg-stained plate are unwashed in the sink.

‘I’ll get changed and we’ll go,’ I say, keen to get away, but Elias has heard us arrive and suddenly appears. He’s wearing one of Cyrus’s cotton shirts that’s too small for him.

‘Hi-ho,’ he says, trying to sound jolly. He looks at Lilah, waiting to be introduced.

‘This is Lilah. Lilah, this is Elias.’

‘Hello,’ he says. Is he sucking in his stomach? ‘Cup of tea?’

‘We’re not staying.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘We’re taking the dogs for a walk.’

‘Can I come?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

I motion to his ankle.

Elias glances quickly at Lilah and away again. Embarrassed.

‘Why was Poppy locked outside?’ I ask.

‘Oh, I didn’t realise.’

He’s lying, but I let it go and quickly run upstairs to change into jeans, a sweatshirt and my old coat. There are half-empty boxes on the landing and bulging bin-bags. Downstairs again, I ask him what he’s doing.

‘Cleaning.’

‘Don’t go into my room.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’

We collect the dogs from the garden and Poppy leads us towards the park.

‘That was weird,’ says Lilah.

‘Did he say something?’

‘No. Why don’t you like him?’

‘I barely know him.’

‘But he lives with you.’

‘Only since last Friday.’

‘Where was he before that?’

‘Away.’

She knows I’m being secretive but keeps pushing. ‘Why did you point to his ankle?’