try to pull myself together. ‘I just want him back,’ I murmur, the ache inside of me intensifying to the point it’s becoming unbearable. I don’t know how much longer I can go on like this. There’s work to be done but finding my focus to do it is impossible.
Mrs Potts hauls me into her embrace and hugs me tightly, patting my back soothingly. ‘I know, dear. We all do.’
‘Why hasn’t he called?’ There’s been no word, no breaking story of an arrest in connection with the stolen ruby. Surely it’s newsworthy. Surely Becker would know I’d be out of my mind and at least get in touch.
‘I’m sure there’s a perfectly good reason.’
‘Like?’
The long stretch of silence soon tells me that she has no answer. It doesn’t help. The unknown is petrifying. ‘Call your mother and Lucy. Both are wondering what’s going on.’
‘Have you told them?’ God, how am I going to explain this?
Mrs Potts looks me straight in the eye. ‘There’s nothing to tell, dear.’
Chapter 38
I know it’s a bad habit and I shouldn’t be encouraging it, but having Winston curled up on Becker’s bed is comforting. Hearing his deep, rumbling snore goes some way towards drowning out my racing mind, though it unreasonably riles me that Winston can find sleep so easily.
After checking in with Mum, assuring her everything is fine and listening to her babble on about the wonders of London, I call Lucy. ‘Mark’s asked me to move in with him!’ she screeches down the phone, and for the first time in what feels like days, I smile.
‘I’m happy for you.’
‘I’m happy for me, too! Hey, did Becker find anything out about the stolen ruby?’ she asks, and I tense. ‘You know, since he’s in that game.’
‘What game?’
‘The art and antiques game,’ she goes on, and I roll my eyes at myself. ‘I bet that’s caused a shit storm of gargantuan proportions. How embarrassing.’
‘Slightly,’ I quip, and she laughs.
‘How is Becker, by the way?’
Locked up. ‘Busy,’ I say, a little high-pitched.
‘We should do dinner. The four of us. When are you guys free?’
Free. ‘Let you know?’
‘Sure. Call me tomorrow. Gotta go. I have my notice to hand in on my poky flat.’ She chuckles and hangs up.
I drop my phone to my bed and stare up at the ceiling, but I don’t see the smooth painted plaster that’s there. I see raw bricks. The comfortable mattress doesn’t feel squidgy. It feels solid, and the duck down quilt feels rough and itchy. I shiver, my skin prickling with chills in the warm safety of Becker’s luxurious bed.
Lost.
I’m lost, like a piece of treasure waiting to be found, and I plan on going nowhere until he does find me. Will he find me? Come back to me? I roll over and bury my face in his pillow, curling into a ball, the pain of his absence excruciating. Find me.
‘Eleanor.’
I blink, thinking, listening. Dreaming?
‘Princess.’
I sit bolt upright in bed, my eyes shooting towards the sound of his voice, my mind telling me not to get too excited. That I might be hearing things. That I might be skipping further down the road to crazy. Then I hear the loud, familiar crunch of his teeth sinking into an apple.
He chews, he swallows, and he sighs. ‘Shit, that’s good.’
‘Oh God!’ I’m off the bed like a rocket, charging across the room, and my body collides with his harshly, knocking the wind out of us both, but I don’t care. I wrap myself around him tightly and cling on.
He laughs and holds me under my arse, carrying me to the bed. ‘Let go.’
‘No,’ I snap, squeezing harder.
‘I’m going nowhere, princess.’
‘I don’t care. It doesn’t stop someone from trying to take you.’
He wrestles with me for a few seconds, forcing my claw-like grip from his neck and pushing me down to the bed. ‘Sit,’ he orders, crouching down and throwing a look over my shoulder. ‘What’s Winston doing in bed?’
I look back and see the pooch curled into a ball. ‘I was lonely,’ I tell him, just as Winston lets out a snorty snore.
‘He’s clearly missed me,’ Becker mutters.
‘What happened?’ I ask, returning my attention to Becker. ‘What did they say? What will they do? What did you say?’
His finger comes to his lips. ‘Shhhh,’ he hushes me and smiles, like it’s humorous. It’s not. I’ve been going certifiably crazy. Why’s he so cool? ‘Price had nothing, Eleanor. But I have something on him.’