‘It’s quiet out there,’ Donovan said.
I froze.
It was difficult for me to think clearly.
The panic was crowding in again. I was uncomfortable with how he was invading my personal space.
‘We keep the lower half of these shutters closed most of the time,’ I told him. ‘More privacy that way. And it makes sense with the en suite.’
I used the opportunity to squirm out from behind the sofa and step away from him, drawing his attention towards the opposite end of the room, past our bed and the privacy wall with the headboard attached to it.
I thought he’d be impressed when he saw the en suite. It was even more luxurious than the main bathroom. Concealed behind the privacy wall was a sleek walk-in shower, a wall-hung toilet, a pair of ‘his and hers’ sinks in front of a large mirror and two terry-cloth dressing gowns hanging from some hooks next to a freestanding copper bath.
As with the wardrobe, there were no doors to access the en suite. To get in, you just walked through the gaps at either side of the bed and the partition wall.
I’d pitched the absence of doors as a quirky design feature to Sam and, even though we both knew the real reason why I was keen on the concept, he’d been understanding enough not to say anything.
I blinked away the train of thought and became aware that Donovan was staring at me as if he was waiting for me to say something more.
‘Um . . .’ For a bewildering second I felt a chill at the back of my neck, as if an ice cube had been pressed against my skin. ‘Would you like to see it?’
‘Sure,’ he said, and then he gave me a curious look – almost as if he thought he was rising to a challenge I hadn’t intended to set for him – before he strode away from me, past the bed, behind the partition wall.
The moment he was gone, I went up on my toes and gazed out at the too-quiet street again, rubbing my left forearm through the material of my jumper.
Something rippled across my skin. A chemical murmur. An instinctive response to a discomfort I couldn’t readily explain.
A warning?
No. Don’t think like that.
It doesn’t matter that Bethany’s not here.
It’s almost over now anyway.
‘That is one classy bathtub,’ Donovan called.
He hadn’t stepped out from behind the partition wall.
A stiffness seized hold of my body as I gazed out of the window, a slow ticking in my bloodstream.
It was unnerving to think of Donovan being back there while I was standing so close. Stranger still that I couldn’t see him.
Not that I was worried about anything he might see. I’d cleaned and tidied. I’d polished the glass screen in front of the shower enclosure. I’d mopped the tiled floor. I’d even replenished the soap dispenser and wiped away the toothpaste residue that sometimes collected in the dish underneath our electric toothbrushes.
There was nothing that I should feel embarrassed about, and in any case—
I jerked at a sudden bright sparkle followed by the crackle of a simulated camera shutter.
When I spun around I found Donovan stepping out from the other side of the partition wall with his phone held in front of his face, the flashbulb light shining. He took another two quick photos. One aimed towards the walk-in wardrobe. Another in the direction of the fireplace and the window where I was standing.
‘Oh, I—’
I blinked away the haze of bright sparkles that were cascading before my eyes.
‘Problem?’ he asked.
I didn’t know quite what to say to that. He’d asked for my permission to take photographs and I’d agreed, but I hadn’t said he could take any with me in them.
‘No.’ I plastered another smile onto my face. ‘No problem.’
He gestured towards the bed. ‘Is this where you sleep?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘I’m asking because I’m interested in street noise. If it keeps you awake, or disturbs you in any way.’
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Then, no. Or I mean, yes I do sleep here, but no, the noise doesn’t keep me awake.’
‘And Sam?’
‘He’s the same.’
He nodded as if that was all he needed to hear, then glanced down at his phone and pulled a face. ‘Listen, I’m sorry but I can’t stay much longer and Bethany’s not here yet so . . . What do you say? Can I take a look at the basement?’