and leave with ten bags of stuff. But why did you suggest meeting here?” she adds curiously. “I know about it, but I’m local.”
“Oh, I just heard about it,” says Briony, her eyes sliding again to mine and away again.
“If I can help you with anything, please let me know,” I say, still with my stiff, pleasant smile, then turn away.
And I know I should leave—but I can’t bring myself to. I head to a nearby display, pointlessly rearranging a row of eggcups, my ears straining to hear their conversation.
“You should have brought Seb,” Lucia is saying as she looks at serving dishes. “He’s the real chef, isn’t he? You’re so lucky.”
“Oh, he’s amazing,” agrees Briony smugly. “Makes me breakfast in bed all the time. I’m going to put on twenty pounds!”
She’s speaking far more loudly than she needs to, and, again, I know I should walk away; I need to save myself from this. But my legs just won’t do it.
“Oh well, wait till you’ve got your home gym,” says Lucia easily. “You’ll both be so buff! By the way, I can come round and help clear out that room, after all. The removers are coming at ten tomorrow, aren’t they? Will they bring boxes?”
My hand freezes over an eggcup. Removers? Are they finally clearing out that second bedroom, then? Has Briony managed to get through to Seb? Is she more sensitive than I realized? Did she succeed where I failed? I can’t help feeling a twinge of envy, which is unworthy of me. If Sebastian is moving forward, then that’s good, whoever achieved it.
“Oh, right,” says Briony, sounding a bit discomfited. “Yeah. Shall we look around?” She seems to be trying to move away, but Lucia doesn’t notice.
“Definitely,” she replies vaguely, examining a serving dish. “So, are you having a treadmill or a cross-trainer in the end? Because apparently there’s this new kind of cross-trainer…”
As Lucia babbles on, my head is churning with thoughts and questions. How did Seb come to terms with clearing out the room? Is he all right? I have to know, even if it means going through Briony to find out.
“Sorry,” I hear myself blurting out, swiveling round to face Briony. “Sorry. But I couldn’t help overhearing. Is Seb OK, then? Has he come to terms with…everything?”
The look on Lucia’s face is priceless.
“Do you two know each other?” she exclaims.
“I know Seb,” I say shortly, then address Briony again. “So he’s…he’s OK? About clearing his brother’s room?”
“He has no idea it’s happening, does he?” says Lucia, sounding surprised. “Isn’t that the whole point? He’ll arrive back and it’ll be done?”
“He has no idea?” I echo, shocked. Briony’s cheeks have the slightest tinge of pink, but her jaw is defiant.
“What else am I supposed to do?” she says. “That place is a hazard!”
“He’ll never do it for himself,” chimes in Lucia knowledgeably. “Briony’s doing him a favor. Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind, you know. I had to smuggle three pairs of my husband’s manky old trousers out of the house once,” she adds gaily. “Three pairs! I literally hid them in a black bin bag. He would never have got rid of them otherwise!”
I can’t find an answer. I’m quivering with distress. I want to yell, “You think this has any resemblance to three pairs of manky old trousers? Has Briony told you the actual truth about this?”
“He’ll thank me for it in the end,” says Briony, still with that edge of defiance. “Short, sharp shock. It’s the only way.”
I’m dazed by her callousness. I think of Seb arriving back to find his brother’s room cleared, with no warning. I think of him standing there, his honest warm face draining of blood…and I can’t bear it. I feel as though I’m getting a short, sharp shock myself. Except it’s not short and sharp; it’s deep and damaging and can never be undone.
And now, as I survey Briony’s beautiful, selfish face, my fingers are drumming like they’ve never drummed before. My feet are itching. There’s a weird buzzing in my head. A tension rising through me. I know it’s not my life. I know he’s not with me. I know it’s their business. But I can’t stand by. I can’t.
“Right,” I manage at last, trying to sound unconcerned. “Fair enough. Good for you. Actually…I need to go. Sorry, I’ve just remembered I have a…meeting. Enjoy the shop. Stacey!” I call, so piercingly that she turns round this time.