One Small Mistake(92)

Trip five – 30th December – we had our Fake Christmas. He couldn’t risk disappearing at Real Christmas because his mother would be suspicious. He cooked. We ate. Afterwards, we sat on the sofa and watched It’s a Wonderful Life and he leaned in to kiss me. My body quivered with revulsion, which Jack mistook for desire. ‘I’m not ready,’ I blurted, and he stilled.

‘I thought …’

‘You know I—’ I hesitated, only for a fraction, but he didn’t notice. ‘—love you, Jack, but I want to wait.’ I smiled up at him from beneath my lashes. ‘We have all the time in the world.’

‘You’re right.’ He nodded. ‘I won’t make you.’

I’m not sure which of us he was trying to convince. ‘Besides, there’s more power in making someone change their mind than there is in taking what you want by force.’

Don’t I know it. I smiled and nodded and, swallowing my disgust, kissed his cheek.

Trip six is the first he’s ever left me alone, even for a second, and especially with the keys. My fingers are still drumming. I want to flee. I force myself to hold still because this is his ultimate test. It doesn’t take this long to find the star anise, I’m sure of it.

‘Here we go,’ says Jack brightly, stepping back into the kitchen. He wiggles the little bag of ingredients at me and moves over to the stove.

I drop my hand from my half-moon scars and give Seefer some fuss. She purrs and pushes her head into my palm. Maybe I should’ve grabbed Seefer and gone for it just now. Maybe it wasn’t a test. Then I look up and catch Jack staring at me with the biggest grin and I know it was and I passed with flying colours.

Now is my chance. The golden, glittering chance I’ve been building up to for months.

I get up and walk over to him, leaning against the kitchen counter in a way I know accentuates the curve of my hips, the tightness of my waist. ‘Jack Henry Westwood, would you please accompany me on a real date?’





Chapter Forty-Four


154 Days Missing


Elodie Fray

There’s snow on the ground. It’s freezing but the sun is a golden ball of light in the cloudless sky. Jack takes my mitten-clad hand and we walk slowly across the icy path to a Land Rover which isn’t his. A rental, I assume. He helps me into the passenger side, but I take my time, breathing in the fresh, cold air. It’s the first time I’ve been outside in three months, but I can’t make a big deal about it because this is a date and I’ll spoil the illusion for him if I dare to add a dose of reality. As he walks around the front of the car, keeping his eyes firmly on mine, I smile and ever-so-gently try the door. It’s locked. I’m undeterred. I’ll have my moment. As long as I hold my nerve and my patience, I’ll have my moment.

We drive down winding country roads; I see only two other cars and even though they pass by us in a second, I try to make eye contact. Not that it matters. I am all but hidden beneath a fur hat with earflaps and a pair of oversized sunglasses. Jack’s idea. For the cold, he’d said; for the bright sun bouncing off the snow, he’d said. I played along, thanking him, pretending I had no idea they were meant to disguise me from the public.

As we drive, I fight the urge to rip them off and bang on the glass and scream, ‘I’m here. I’m alive. I’m alive.’ I think maybe if the car door was unlocked, I’d throw myself out, not caring what chance of survival I had.

‘So,’ I say, ‘where’re you taking me?’

‘It’s a surprise,’ he says.

‘Boo,’ I say, the word leaving my lips puckered in a kiss. ‘I’m in a lot of layers so I take it there won’t be skinny-dipping?’

He smiles. ‘You hate skinny-dipping.’

‘Maybe. Maybe not.’

Jack is thinking about me naked. His breath is coming a little harder and he keeps darting heated looks at me. Good. I want him thinking about sex – it’s the most effective form of distraction.

Jack parks on a dirt track, one of the many small, icy lanes we’ve driven along to get here. I mean, I knew we weren’t bound for some fancy restaurant – Jack has some trust in me but not enough to test it out in a crowd, especially one which didn’t allow for hats and sunglasses – but all I can see for miles and miles is marzipan fields and winter-bare trees that look as though they’ve been dipped in icing sugar. He opens my door and I step out. The air is so cold, I know it won’t be long until my cheeks are skiing-in-the-Alps pink, and I’m grateful for the thick coat and jeans he gave me before we came out.

Taking my hand, he leads me to the back of the Land Rover and opens the boot. For one terrified second, I balk, thinking he’s going to throw me in. Then he leans down, picks up a rucksack and— ‘Holy fuck.’ I take a step back. ‘Is that a gun?’

His laugh is easy, carefree. ‘Rifle. Don’t look so panicked, I’m not going to hurt you.’

‘Jack …’ My heart beats fiercely.

‘Come on.’ He tucks the weapon into the side of his rucksack and throws it over his shoulder before holding his hand out to me. ‘We’re hunting.’

‘Romantic.’

‘Memorable,’ he corrects. ‘Let’s go.’

I take his hand and let him lead me into the woods.