This Could Change Everything(25)

‘Right.’

‘Only because I assumed you’d turn me down.’

‘Hmm.’ It was an understandable assumption.

‘Double pay,’ said Lucas.

Essie wrapped her arms around her torso as a cold breeze made itself felt. ‘I’m supposed to be going over to my friend’s house for the day. Her mum’s serving lunch at two thirty.’

‘Where’s the house?’

‘Bradford on Avon.’ It was a small market town seven or eight miles from the centre of Bath.

Lucas was clearly considering his options. ‘How about if we’re out of the Red House by two fifteen and I’ll drive you straight over there afterwards? You’ll be there in time for lunch.’

Double pay.

And no taxi fare to Scarlett’s mum’s house.

Plus she’d get good tips from the jovial Christmas Day lunchtime crowd.

‘Go on then, I’ll do it,’ said Essie. ‘I’ll be over at twelve.’

‘Thanks. You’re a star,’ said Lucas, visibly relieved.

‘I know.’





Chapter 12


‘Well?’ said the taxi driver bringing her home twelve hours later. ‘Had a good day?’

‘Fantastic, thanks.’ Essie smothered a yawn, because it had been a great day but a tiring one. The Red House had been jam-packed with happy punters wearing festive sweaters, with lengths of tinsel looped around their necks. Then Lucas, as promised, had given her a lift over to Bradford on Avon and she’d arrived at Scarlett’s mum’s house in time to join the riotous table of ten for lunch. Having eaten her own body weight in turkey, stuffing, stupendous roast potatoes and every vegetable known to man, she had spent the rest of the afternoon and evening playing energetic games with Scarlett’s hyperactive nephews and nieces.

Now, at almost eleven o’clock at night, she was still full of food but had been packed off by Scarlett’s mum, Kim, with a selection of plastic containers containing everything from mince pies to half a smoked ham and a whole Camembert, because ‘You might get a bit peckish and need something to keep you going later.’

The taxi pulled up outside number 23 and Essie was cheered to see light behind the curtains of Zillah’s living room. After just a week the house already felt like home, and she was looking forward to hearing about Zillah’s day.

Letting herself in through the front door, she saw that Conor was back too. He helped her in with her bags. ‘Come on through, we’re in the kitchen. Can you manage a mince pie? Between us, we’ve been sent home with twenty.’

Essie held up one of the plastic containers. ‘Make that thirty.’

‘Hello, darling!’ Zillah was boiling the kettle. ‘What do you fancy? Glass of champagne or a cup of tea? Sit down and help yourself to cheese; we’re never going to get through this lot.’

Neither Zillah nor Conor was drinking champagne, so Essie settled for tea too. They exchanged stories about their days, but there appeared to be an undercurrent of . . . well, unrelaxedness was the only way she could describe it. As if they were expecting something to happen or for someone else to appear.

Twenty minutes later, Zillah’s mobile rang and she and Conor both jumped. Essie realised that this was what they’d been waiting for. Having been about to make her excuses and head on up to bed, she stayed where she was.

‘Yes?’ Zillah glanced across at Conor as she answered the phone and listened to the voice at the other end. ‘Right. Thanks, we’ll see you in a bit.’ She nodded to Conor and broke into a smile, but it was a get-the-job-done kind of smile rather than a joyous one. ‘Yes, we’ll be there by then.’

She ended the call and rose to her feet. ‘It’s going ahead.’

‘Good,’ said Conor. ‘I’ll get my things, then we’ll leave.’

And Essie realised that whatever was about to happen was important to both of them. She looked at Zillah. ‘Am I allowed to ask what this is about? Or is it none of my business? Sorry, forget I said that. I’ll leave you to it.’ Belatedly she realised that this was connected to the goings-on the other night when she’d spotted them arriving home together in the very small hours.

‘Darling, it’s not a huge secret. Now, are you shattered and ready for bed or would you like to come with us?’ Leaning across the kitchen table, Zillah was blowing out the candles and squeezing the still-smoking wicks with her fingertips to ensure they were completely extinguished. ‘Entirely up to you.’

‘It depends. If you’re off to run a midnight marathon, I’ll leave you to it. But I don’t know where you’re going.’ As Essie spoke, Conor returned to the kitchen wearing a warm jacket and with a Nikon camera slung around his neck.

‘OK,’ said Zillah. ‘You know when we were in the café the other morning, and we saw the woman sitting at that table in the corner?’

Essie was completely mystified. ‘Yes.’

Zillah continued winding a soft pink scarf around her shoulders, checking that her gloves were in her bag. She straightened up. ‘Well, it’s not exactly the same, but it’s kind of like that.’

The roads, at this late hour on Christmas night, were about as empty as they’d ever be. A light frost sparkled in the headlights as they left the city behind them and made their way along the twisting narrow lanes. Having complained that Zillah drove too fast at night, Conor was behind the wheel of her Mercedes. Zillah, sitting in the back seat alongside Essie, was explaining the purpose of their expedition.