I bid a tearful goodbye to Anton’s family and as I close the door; it strikes me that this is the first time I’ve been alone since the day Anton died. The house feels large, empty and soulless, and it’s because all the light has gone. When I think about the will, it brings a lump to my throat. He always cared. Cared enough to leave everything to me and even more incredible is the fact his parents are happy about it. Do I deserve this, no I don’t? However, I’m more determined than ever to make Anton’s death count for something and so I push my grief aside and decide to solve the mystery of why he died.
My thoughts are interrupted by a gentle knock on the door and I’m surprised to find Miranda standing there, looking worried. “I’m sorry, Fleur. Please say if you’d rather be alone, but I saw Anton’s parents leave and wondered if you fancied some company.”
I smile sadly and beckon her inside. “Thanks, that’s kind of you. Can I get you some tea?”
She nods and says softly, “If it’s not too much trouble.”
She follows me into the kitchen and as I busy myself with making the drinks, she says, “It must be so hard for you. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”
I shrug and carry on making the tea. Small talk with Miranda is not what I want right now, so I change the subject. “So, tell me, Miranda, what else has been happening around here? I could sure use the distraction right now.”
I’m not sure if it’s my imagination or not, but Miranda looks a little shifty. She shrugs and toys with the belt wrapped around her waist before saying, “I’m struggling, Fleur.”
I stare at her sharply and she sighs. “It’s James. He’s always away working and when he does come home, he’s overbearing and argumentative. I can’t do anything right and I’m not sure what to do.”
Maybe it’s because I’ve had to deal with so much in the last few weeks. I’ve lost all my compassion because I sigh and say irritably, “I’m sorry, Miranda, but I have no answers for you. Perhaps you should talk to Venetia because she appears to be the only one around here with no problems.”
Miranda’s eyes fill and she sniffs. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why, but I just can’t talk to anyone like I can you. Arabella is going through so much and I know you are too, but I thought…”
“What? That I’ll push aside my own problems to listen to yours. That I’ll be grateful for some company because I now live alone. That I’m happy to listen to another person’s problems to make my own seem not so bad. Well, for your information, I actually couldn’t care less if you’re having problems with James. Quite frankly, if it’s that bad, leave.”
Turning away, I let the anger wash over me as I deal with what I’ve been through and now this. Then I catch sight of Miranda’s desperate face reflected back at me in the mirror and I feel bad. My shoulders sag and I say apologetically, “I’m sorry. I’m a bitch and you don’t deserve a friend like me. You know, just give me a minute and I’ll go and grab us a bottle of expensive wine from the cellar. God knows we both need to get wasted tonight, and it’s been a long time coming. Make yourself at home. I won’t be a minute.”
I head off to the wine cellar that’s accessed through a door in the hallway and give myself a good talking to. How could I be so hideous to Miranda, who looks as if she could badly use a friend right now? As I select a bottle of Anton’s favourite wine, I sense the ever-present tears start to build and I whisper, “Don’t worry, babe, I’ll make everything better.”
The trouble is, I’m having a lot of trouble getting my head around what I found on that phone and even more devastating was the letter Anton wrote to me. To be honest, I should blow this whole place apart with what I found out, but I can’t. It’s not about me, or Anton, come to mention it. No, this is bigger than both of us and I need to think long and hard about what I’m going to do because the secret I’m holding threatens to destroy lives.
Miranda and I polish off the bottle of vintage red that Anton used to love, and it feels good to let go for once. We kick off our shoes and talk long into the night. Miranda is good company, but halfway through the evening, her laughter turns to tears as the alcohol kicks in and she says sadly, “I hate my husband.”
I stare at her in shock and she sniffs. “I suppose I never really loved him in the first place. It was exciting and forbidden when I first met James. He was a successful barrister, and I was a mere legal secretary and we started an affair that was carried out behind closed doors most days.”
I look at her with interest and she sobs. “He’s a difficult man to live with. I suppose that comes with the job he does. At work he’s God, and at home, he likes to think he is.”
She takes a large slug of wine and starts to laugh hysterically. “But I have a secret, Fleur.”
My ears prick up and I hold my breath as she slurs, “Oh yes, my very own secret. If James ever found out, it would abso-bloody-lutely destroy the bastard. He thinks he’s so clever and controlling. Does that surprise you, Fleur? James likes to control, and I’m no exception. He’s a skinflint and a miser and he won’t give me a penny more than is necessary because he’s a bloody miserable, tight bastard.”
She drinks the rest of the wine as if it’s a glass of water and hiccups loudly. “Oops, sorry.”
I notice the tears building behind her eyes and regard a woman on the edge before me. I may be in a living hell, but it appears I’m not the only one. What with Arabella, myself and now it appears Miranda, I wonder what Desdemona Fortune saw that day.
Out of sheer curiosity, I say quickly, “What did that fortune teller say to you, Miranda?”
The fear fill her eyes and she whispers, “Trouble. Big, bad, trouble and pain. That’s what she told me. She told me I was facing a challenge I may not overcome. I’m not going to lie. It scared me, Fleur. What do you think she meant?”
Shaking my head, I say flippantly, “You’ll get pregnant and it will hurt.”
Her eyes widen and then she starts laughing hysterically. “That’s funny. I thought you had to actually have sex to get pregnant. If I am, it will be the second coming because James and I haven’t been near each other for years.”
She sets down her glass and staggers towards the door. “I won’t be long; I just need the ladies.”
I watch her go and wonder how a woman can become so drunk on what appears to be two glasses of wine. She’s either a total lightweight, or has been stocking up the alcohol in her system before she arrived?
My head starts to hurt as the walls close in on me and I crave some fresh air. I need to get away and the more I think of it, the more my mind’s made up. First thing tomorrow, I’m getting the hell out of here and I know just where I’m going.