This Could Change Everything(44)

She opened the glass-washing machine, which had just finished its cycle, and was enveloped in a cloud of escaping steam.

Jude said, ‘This is so much nicer, you know.’

‘What is?’

‘You and Lucas. I don’t know what’s changed, but something has. You’re talking to him like you talk to the rest of us. It’s like a big wall’s come down.’ The steam evaporated and Jude’s face appeared, her eyes bright. ‘I suppose I’m just curious as to what’s happened to make such a difference.’

Essie began unloading and hanging up the hot, squeaky-clean glasses. ‘We’d had a misunderstanding before. Now it’s sorted out, that’s all.’

‘A misunderstanding? What kind of misunderstanding? Now I’m really interested!’

Essie looked over at Lucas, who shrugged. ‘If we don’t tell her now, she’s going to think we’re having a wild affair.’

‘I’m already starting to think it,’ said Jude.

Essie flicked a tea towel at her. ‘Well don’t!’

‘Hey,’ Lucas called over. ‘Remember the round robin that lost Essie her last job? She thought I was the one who sent it.’

‘Which is why I’ve been secretly furious with him,’ Essie chimed in, ‘ever since the day I discovered he was my new boss. But yesterday I found out it wasn’t him.’

‘So now she’s decided I’m not so terrible after all.’

‘Wow.’ Jude widened her eyes. ‘How did you find out?’

‘The real culprit came clean,’ said Essie.

‘And Essie felt bad because she’d been blaming the wrong person all this time,’ Lucas continued as Conor snapped away. ‘But now we’re friends and all is—’

‘Hang on, though.’ Jude was frowning, puzzled. ‘It was done by someone who stayed at Essie’s cottage.’

‘True. I stayed there that night, which was why she thought it was me. But it wasn’t.’

Jude looked at Essie. ‘So that means it was your brother.’

Oh.

‘That’s right,’ said Lucas. ‘It was.’

‘Jay,’ Jude double-checked.

‘Yes.’ Lucas nodded.

‘Well I’m sorry,’ said Jude, ‘but what a plank.’

Ah.

‘Seriously, though.’ She turned back to Essie. ‘If I’d known you thought it was Lucas, I could have told you he’d never do anything like that. He just wouldn’t.’

‘Well I know that now,’ said Essie.

‘Honestly, though, when I met your brother the other night, I thought he was good fun. I can’t believe he did something so idiotic.’ Jude gave a huff of annoyance. ‘I’m actually really disappointed.’

Oh dear, poor Jay. Essie found herself defending her brother. ‘We all do stupid things sometimes.’

‘Maybe, but not that stupid,’ said Jude.

Yesterday evening, snow had begun to fall and settle on the roads and pavements of Bath. Now Percival Square had been transformed into a Disney-style winter wonderland. Small children were charging around in a state of high excitement, flinging handfuls of powdery snow into the air, chasing each other and building tiny lopsided snowmen that were promptly knocked down by even more overexcited dogs.

‘I recognise you,’ a blonde mother said to Conor. ‘You’re the one who displays your photos over in the Red House. I’d love it if you’d take one of my boys.’

And Conor, who generally preferred to choose whom he photographed, pointed and said, ‘These two? Of course I can.’ Because they were twins, three or four years old, bright-eyed and pink-cheeked in matching snowsuits, and screaming with laughter as they lay flat on their backs making snow angels on the ground.

He fired off fifteen or twenty shots, then a dozen or so more when they leapt up and began racing in circles around their mother. One of the boys, scooping up a handful of snow, tried to throw it at his brother and missed. His twin shrieked with delight. ‘Mummy, I want it to snow for all time!’

‘Wait till you grow up,’ his mother said drily. ‘You’ll soon change your mind.’

Amused, Conor told her that one of the photos would be included in next week’s display at the Red House if they wanted to see it in situ. He handed her his card, then waved goodbye and headed over to Milsom Street and down towards the busiest section of the shopping area.

Ten minutes later, he spotted a familiar figure standing outside the entrance to Bath Abbey. The snow had stopped falling but the air temperature was still bitterly cold. She was bundled up against the weather in a bright yellow coat, black jeans and red boots. Oblivious to his presence just a few metres away, all her attention was concentrated on the phone in her ungloved hands. Amused, Conor moved close and removed his camera’s lens cap. Was she texting someone? Catching up on social media? Playing Pokémon Go?

Whichever, she still had no clue he was there. He took a couple of photos, then said, ‘Hi, Scarlett, you OK?’

She looked up at him, saw the camera in his hands and broke into a huge smile. ‘Conor, hello! Are you going to take my photo? Hang on, you’ll have to give me two minutes to sort myself out. I’m a mess . . .’ As she spoke, she was already reaching into her shoulder bag, pulling out a powder compact and lipstick.