Rania Algafari never asked to be different, and when she escaped the war in Syria and moved to the UK, her only goal was to live her life in peace. Get up, go to work, avoid talking to the dead - that sort of thing.
But not everyone dies quietly, an...
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Will looked out of place sitting at one end of the tiny table in our dining area. I couldn't say dining room because our flat just wasn't that big—all we had was a gap between the back of the sofa and the door to the kitchen. And only two proper chairs. Shannon sat lower than us on the fold-up stool she'd taken to some fancy outdoor opera with Slick Dick. Will had offered her one of the proper seats, but she'd insisted that as he was the guest, he should use the good furniture. That was Shannon all over.
Today, she served up chicken in breadcrumbs with colcannon, followed by treacle tart. It always amazed me how many dishes she could cook, but she'd been brought up by a grandma who knew a thousand and one recipes for potatoes, and then she'd begun experimenting herself as soon as she was old enough.
"Tastes great," Will told her. "Better not tell RJ, or you'll be needing to buy another one of those fold-up seats."
"Who's RJ?" Shannon asked.
"His housemate," I told her.
"Oh, do you live near here?"
As usual, Shannon took over the conversation, one which veered from living arrangements to local restaurants, but I didn't mind. It gave me the chance to listen to Will's voice and watch his face as he spoke, without facing the pressure of having to think up answers. Something told me my usual evasive tactics wouldn't work with him.
And I wasn't sure I wanted them to.
Will was the one man I could see breaking through my walls, and that both scared and tantalised me. Something had woken inside, a buzz different to the tension that usually tied my belly up in knots, and I hadn't yet fathomed out what to do about it.
But at least with Shannon making Will promise to come back tomorrow because she was making spaghetti with meatballs, I had time to think it over.
"Thanks, sweetheart," he said, kissing Shannon on the cheek when he got up to leave. "I look forward to it."
She giggled, then rushed off to the kitchen.
"Are you coming to Daylesford Hall in the day again tomorrow?" I asked.
He shook his head. "I want to pay a visit to Arthur's widow."
"She still lives around here?"
"According to land records, their old house is still in her name. It's a ten-minute drive from Weston Corp."
"Do you need company?" I blurted before I could stop myself.
"You want to come with me?"
"Well, uh, maybe. It depends what time. I mean, I have to look after Aisling in the morning while Shannon's at work, and—"
He pressed a finger to my lips. "We'll go in the afternoon. Just tell me what time to pick you up."
Heat from his touch seared my skin, and I took a step back to regain my senses. "Two o'clock. I can do two o'clock."
