Pardon Me Book 2: Excuse Moi (A Benedict Cumberbatch Story)

Puzzles

Sobbing uncontrollably, I started gathering my things. My cushion from my chair, my camera equipment, my music collection. I stuffed all my clothes haphazardly into the suitcase and everything else into cardboard boxes; the ones I'd brought everything in when I came to live with Benedict. Now everything was going back into them and he wouldn't listen to anything I had to say. As I taped up the last of the boxes the next morning, I remembered the painting he gave me and went to retrieve it from my half of the study.

He was sitting with his head in his hands, screwed up papers surrounding him on the desk. Any other moment I would have put a hand on his shoulder and kissed the top of his head. Not this moment. Benedict sat up quickly, blinking hard.

"Finished?" he asked sharply and I nodded slowly. Standing up, he almost sauntered out into the hallway. I quickly snatched up the painting and followed him out.

Opening the front door, he stared at me for at least a minute, and I just stared back, taking in every minute detail of his face, the way he stood, the swirling blue around his irises. I don't know his reason for staring, and I don't want to, in case it was out of disbelief or betrayal, or the worst of all: hate.

I placed my door key on the cabinet and stepped through the door. A taxi was heading down the road towards me, and I hailed it. I turned to face Benedict again with a sad smile and he put his hands in his pockets. As the taxi door slammed behind me, I watched his face grow hard and dark with anger. I spun round and found myself in Chris's arms.

He cradled me and after the shock and hurt I'd felt from Benedict's cold words, his warmth was all I needed to collapse. I let out a sob and buried my head in his chest. He rested his on my shoulder, and I sensed Benedict's burning gaze.

"Where do you want to go?" he murmured.

"Back in there." I said, and he held me tighter.

"Not sure how well that would go, Evie. How about we book you into a hotel and leave your bags there then we take a walk somewhere." his steady tone comforted me and I nodded.

We took the taxi further into London, to my mum's old friend's B&B.

"Evie! Come to visit your old Dorothy again? Lovely, lovely. Darling you look shaken, do you need a cuppa?" Dorothy's lace curtains, coffee-ringed tables and bright orange wallpaper were as familiar to me as my own name. My mum got her first job here and kept in touch with Dorothy Bright, and she always had a room for us when we were visiting London.

I stepped into her kitchen with its 70's tiles and rickety old cupboards. She put the kettle on the hob and sat me down in her rocking chair. The pass-through showed me a half-empty breakfast room where old couples were chatting away over their breakfast. Their innocent happiness made my throat tighten again. Chris stood behind me with his hands on my shoulders, squeezing them every so often.

"So what brings you to my B&B with a load of boxes? I thought you and Benedict were sorted." she said sympathetically, and I briefly explained the problem. Patting my hand, Dorothy said she'd make up a room for me, free of charge; I tried to protest but she wouldn't even let me start, she hoisted my suitcase up the stairs, balancing 2 of my boxes in the other hand. Her bones might creak a little, but Dorothy was definitely still bright and lively.

That night, lying under the yellow eiderdown in the dark, with the late-night London traffic buzzing past my window, I thought through how that test could have got in the bin. Maggie wasn't a liar, and obviously Barney didn't need to worry about pregnancy tests. And how did Chris know? I didn't even question his arrival with the taxi.

Suddenly, a dreadful thought entered my head.

What if Chris PLANTED it? He was serious about his crush and knew that Benedict cared about trust and loyalty. Even if it were true, how could he have planted it?

The possibilities went round and round in my head.

And then came another terrifying thought. No.

Shaking, I got up out of bed to the bathroom and dug around in my wash bag; I'd scooped everything that looked like it could be mine, including a pack of pregnancy tests I'd bought months ago, just in case. I guess that case was now.

I did what I had to do and waited anxiously for 3 minutes; I was doubtful that it would be positive, because I hadn't missed my period. But all the same a bundle of nerves was starting to grow in my stomach with each passing second. Finally the colours on the little screen started to change, and so did my heart-rate.

"Come on, come on come on..." I muttered, willing it to turn red.

My prayers were answered. Standing up from the edge of the bath, my knees suddenly gave way with the relief. I put my head in between my legs and closed my eyes. When I sat up again and climbed back in bed, I came to the conclusion that Chris planted the test so that Benedict would snap and kick me out, then he could have his chance. 

A wave of annoyance washed over me then, settling in my stomach and my head and not budging. Chris was so selfish and stubborn he was prepared to ruin my happiness and leave me with nowhere to live just so that he'd be safe in the knowledge that he could swoop in whenever he liked. Well there would be no swooping, no sir.

I rolled onto my side, moving a pillow to rest on my back, so that it would feel like the warmth of a person lying next to me; I closed my eyes and slept dreamlessly, too tired and distraught to be able to have a nightmare or one of those dreams where everything's perfect, only to wake up and remember none of that can happen.