‘This is Jack and this is the Beanstalk, and this is Nik!’
Sybella studied the drawing, the tiny Jack, the scrawny beanstalk and Nik, taking up half the page and coloured golden as the sun, and she realised what she should have been focused on from the start. Having Nik with them, sleeping under their roof, Fleur saw Nik as an established part of her life.
Clearly a big, important golden part.
Sybella started the engine, gave Fleur a reassuring smile. ‘Shall we put it on the fridge when we get home?’
‘I want to give it to Nik,’ Fleur said, fussing with her container of fruit pieces.
Sybella knew then this morning she’d just been embarrassed, now she had a problem.
* * *
Nik found her the next day on her hands and knees in the gatehouse with a handful of other volunteers cleaning up after the builders. There was a flutter of movement and a sudden lull in noise to alert her.
One of the women gave her a nudge and Sybella sat back on her haunches and looked around.
Nik stood in the open doorway, arms folded. King of all he surveys, Sybella thought, putting down her brush and pan and rising to her feet. Despite everything that had gone down in the last few days there was a happy girl inside her doing cartwheels because he was back.
He was back.
The problem was she kept seeing him coming out of that nightclub. How many nightclubs had he been to in the last week?
None, Sybella, because he’s been on a mine site. You know that.
‘Dushka.’
In a couple of strides he was lifting her as if she weighed nothing and then kissing her. In front of everyone.
Sybella pressed her face close to his shirt front as he lowered her until her feet touched the ground, embarrassed but also incredibly pleased.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked.
‘I could ask you the same thing.’
‘The builders need to be supervised, Nik.’
‘This is why I have hired professionals.’
‘I know, but the committee want to help. We want to be involved.’
‘Cleaning?’
‘It’s a start.’
He stroked her hair back out of her face. ‘Who am I to come between you and a bit of builders’ dust?’
* * *
For dinner Nik took her to a gorgeous little place in Middenwold she hadn’t even known existed, a Tudor dwelling as intimate and charming as she could have wished. Sybella resisted raising the issue about the pictures and tried to enjoy her dinner and the atmosphere and Nik’s company.
But something of her low mood must have shown through because they left early. He put an arm around her as he led her back to the car, but nothing would lift this feeling. All the pretending nothing was wrong meant something important had shifted between them.
Nik left her in the car while he went to check on one of the brake lights, which gave her time to check her phone. No messages, but she couldn’t help almost compulsively looking at those images again.
The little screen filled with the logo of the same popular British online tabloid she’d seared her eyeballs with a few nights ago. Only this time as she looked at it something struck her she hadn’t noticed before.
It looked like a lingerie ad.
Sybella was making faces at it when Nik yanked open his door and brought the night and the familiar scent of his faint cologne and him into the cabin of the SUV.
She breathed him in and it just hurt more.
‘What’s happened?’
‘Nothing.’ She held the screen of the phone to her chest, not wanting him to know how vulnerable he’d left her. She felt she had precious few defences remaining against him, she could at least keep this one.
‘Sybella, you look like someone died.’
Her eyes flew to his and he cursed. ‘Sorry, bad use of language. Is this about those photos?’
‘I can’t help it. People are sending them to me.’ She looked down. ‘Do you remember when you told me you’d never been personally involved with Marla Mendez?’
‘Sybella, nothing happened, she ambushed me. I told her to put her clothes back on and I wasn’t interested.’ He sounded tired, which perversely annoyed her more.
‘I know all that, this isn’t about me not believing you—but why did you lie to me?’
‘This happened before we were together.’