Текст книги "The House on Fever Street"

Автор книги: Celina Grace

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Chapter Ten

 

Another Saturday without Jake loomed. He’d told her on Thursday that he and Carl had to go and see their father again. Bella had waited for the invitation to come and when it hadn’t, had been too diffident and embarrassed to question it. She began to wonder slightly about their father. Was she so awful that Jake just wanted to keep her hidden – or was it that his father was too embarrassing to be introduced to her? She wondered, but she didn’t ask.

She sulked about the room, just as she had done a fortnight ago, anger and loneliness beginning to well up inside her. I’m bored, bored, bored, she said to herself in the privacy of her own skull as she marched about the room, and then she said it to herself out loud, stamping her feet in time with the words.

“Bella?”

There was a knock on the door and Bella froze in mid-stamp.

“Yes?”

“Can I come in?”

“Er – of course.”

Veronica put her head around the door, her hair swinging forward in a smooth blonde curtain.

“What are you doing?”

Bella bit her lip. “Sorry, was I making too much noise? I’m sorry –“

“No.” Veronica pushed the door open further and walked in. She was wearing a white, broderie-anglais sundress and wore sandals that laced up her slender calves. “I meant, what are you doing today? Are you going out? Where’s Jake?”

“Oh.” Bella felt foolish. “Well, Jake’s gone out; he’s gone to visit his dad. With Carl. Didn’t Carl say he was going?” – faltering because Veronica looked grim.

“No he didn’t.”

“Oh,” said Bella lamely. She was suddenly conscious of her nightwear; faded tracksuit bottoms and a tatty pink vest. She crossed her arms and then, worried she looked defensive, let them drop to her sides.

Veronica wasn’t looking at her, anyway. She had a habit of going blank, Bella had noticed, her face momentarily becoming a beautiful but vacant mask. It only lasted a second, just an eyeblink and then normally, as now, she was smiling again.

“I thought – well, if you’re not doing anything today, I wondered if you fancied going out somewhere. Lunch, maybe? A few drinks?”

Bella stared, wondering if she’d heard properly. Veronica wanted to spend the day with her?

“Sorry?”

“Well, are you free or not? If you’re not, then don’t worry about it.”

“No,” Bella said hastily. “I’m free – hadn’t made any plans, actually. That would be great. Great!”

“When will you be ready?”

“Now.” Bella thought for a moment. “Well, give me twenty minutes.”

She hopped into the shower, sluiced herself down and towelled off. Her hair had to be scraped back into a high ponytail, washing and drying it would take too long. Doing her makeup, her hands shook with impatience and she had to scrub at the smear of black eyeliner that smudged itself into her eye socket like a bruise. Body lotion, underwear, floral skirt and vest top. Bella hoisted her bag over her shoulder and thundered down the stairs to where Veronica waited in the hallway, one sandal-shod foot tapping the tiled floor. In her haste, Bella almost missed a step and clutched at the banisters with a shriek, her foot flying out from under her. She hauled herself back onto her footing, inwardly cursing her clumsiness and hoping she hadn’t looked like too much of an idiot.

She reached the hall floor and began to apologise for her lateness until she saw the look on Veronica’s face.

“God, are you alright?”

Veronica had gone white. Bella could see beads of sweat lying like tiny pearls on her curved upper lip.

“I’m fine.” She appeared to shake herself. “I’m fine. It’s the heat – it makes me feel faint sometimes.”

“Okay.” Bella looked at her doubtfully. “I’m ready, anyway. Shall we go?”

They didn’t talk much on the way to the bus stop. Bella stretched her face up to the sun, loving the warmth on her skin. She wondered what Jake was doing, right at this moment.

“Have you and Carl been seeing each other long?”

Veronica shot her a quick, amused glance.

“I see Jake hasn’t been very forthcoming.”

“Sorry?”

“Oh, nothing. Has he told you anything about – about the set up?”

“Set up?” Bella realised she was parroting again and brought herself up short. “I meant – sorry, I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Oh it’s nothing like that,” said Veronica, leaving Bella to wonder what she meant by ‘that’. “It’s just that it’s not often you find two twenty-something brothers who own a huge Victorian pile like Fever Street, is it?”

“No.”

“It doesn’t actually belong to them. Not as such. Their father’s a big property developer, a real property magnate. He’s got fingers in pies all over London. Housing pies.” She giggled. “He bought Fever Street ages ago, probably when it was going for a song. He lets them have it rent free – lucky, hey? Lucky for us, I mean.”

“Mmm.” Bella considered something. “How long have they lived there, then?”

Veronica didn’t answer for a moment. She looked down at the ground and Bella watched as her hair swung forward, the sunlight catching the tips and making them blaze with a clear, golden light. Once again, she found herself struggling with envy; envy and something else, indefinable but uncomfortable, the feeling rubbing up against the liking she was beginning to feel for her female flatmate.

“The boys have been there for a while,” Veronica said. She said it carefully. “I moved in, oh, it must have been over a year ago. Yes, I think it was about a year ago.”

They walked on for a moment in silence. The bus stop was just up ahead. Bella reached for her bag to find her purse and realised Veronica has stopped on the pavement, a few steps behind.

“What’s wrong?”

Veronica looked up, smiling bravely. She was pale again and for a moment, she looked a lot older than her twenty-seven years.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” she said. “It’s just going to be one of those days, I think.”

As soon as they reached Bond Street, Veronica marched Bella firmly down a side street and into a pub.

“Drinks first,” she said. “Get the afternoon off to a healthy start.”

They took their gin and tonics outside and slid onto the wooden benches that were ranged along the pavement. A plane tree’s branches, tipped with yellowing leaves, shed a little shade.

Bella swirled her ice around in her glass. She watched as Veronica took a packet of ten cigarettes out of her bag.

“I used to smoke,” she said, just for something to say. “Well, you know that. Mind you, that cigarette I had at dinner the other night was the first one for about three years.”

“I gave up for a few years too,” said Veronica. “Then I started again.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Ah well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

Veronica winked at her across the table as she rummaged for a lighter. She withdrew it and it flashed in the sun, a beautiful gold lighter with a pattern of leaves and flowers embossed on its glossy side.

“There’s a lot I don’t know about you all.”

“Yes, that’s true.” Veronica smiled a little. “That’s why I thought we’d come out today, you know. Get to know one another a bit. It’s stupid, living in the same house and being virtual strangers to one another.”

“Well, cheers. And thanks.” Bella clinked her glass against Veronica’s. “To tell you the truth, I was going out of my mind when you stuck your head round the door. I felt so – so – “

“Lonely?”

Veronica blew a plume of blue smoke across the table.

“Yes,” said Bella.

Veronica took a slow sip of her drink.

“It’s that house. Sometimes it gives me the creeps. It’s a bit like something from a horror film, you know, all dark stairs and high ceilings…don’t you think?”

“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” said Bella wonderingly. “It’s certainly – gothic.”

Veronica mashed her cigarette out in the ashtray that lay in the middle of the table, choked with grey ash and stubs.

“You’re quite clever, aren’t you?” she said. Bella looked down at the table, embarrassed. “Jake said you were clever. He’s clever himself. That’s how he can see it, in you.”

“What about Carl?”

“Carl?” Veronica went blank again for a second. Bella watched her uneasily across the table. She remembered a friend at university who’d had epilepsy – remembered her petit mal seizures and the vagueness of her face as she came round from an attack. Was that what was happening here? She was on the verge of touching Veronica’s hand when the other girl came back to life.

“You met Jake in the bombings, didn’t you?”

“What?” said Bella, jolted.

“You met him in the tunnels. After the bombs.”

“Yes.”

For a brief second, Bella heard the explosion again. She saw again the colour that had briefly imprinted itself on her retinas in the second after the explosion – a sick, dirty orange, saturating her vision, nauseating her.

“Could I have one of those?” she said abruptly, gesturing to Veronica’s packet of cigarettes.

“Sure.”

Veronica pushed the packet towards her and Bella lit one. The taste of ash filled her mouth and suddenly she really was back there, walking through that wall of heat and humid dust. She coughed.

“Sorry. I can’t smoke this, I thought I could –“

“Doesn’t matter. Stub it out, go on. I’ve got lots more.”

The two of them sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the clinking of the rapidly melting ice cubes in their drinks. Bella felt the weight of their unsaid conversation between them. She wanted to know what Veronica thought, about Jake, about her; she wanted to know why the three of them had shut her out; she wanted to know why they never set foot in the garden. There was so much she wanted to know but the effort involved in beginning, in breaking down the barrier of small talk made her feel suddenly tired. Abruptly, she longed for Jake, for their bed, for the simple animal oblivion of sex – somewhere she could hide, without words, just the simple physical comfort of another human body against hers.

“Come on,” said Veronica. Bella looked up at the sound of her voice and watched Veronica smile.  “Shopping time.”

They started with Bond Street; trawled the length and breadth of Oxford Street; ended up, footsore and weary, in the boutiques of Covent Garden. The two of them carried a satisfyingly large collection of bags. Bella tried not to think of the terrifying amount of money she’d just stuck on her credit card. What the hell, it was only money. Life was too short; she had cause to know that, if anyone did.

“How about that? Look at that, Bella. That would look fabulous on you.”

Veronica was pointing to a slip of shimmering fabric in the window of a tiny shop. Bella shook her head.

“Come on, where would I wear it?”

“Try it on at least. Go on.”

They squeezed themselves through the door of the shop and Bella made her way to the one cubicle at the back. The curtain didn’t quite fit the doorway – she struggled with it before poking her head out.

“Veronica, can you hold this closed for me?”

Bella pulled the wisp of cloth over her head – it was like dressing in mist. Her nipples rose in hard points against the milky fabric.

“How’s it look?”

Veronica stuck her head through the gap in the curtain and looked appraisingly at Bella.

“Hmm… nice. You’ve got amazing tits.”

Bella blushed. “Thanks,” she muttered. Veronica was staring at her chest and for a bizarre moment, Bella was reminded of Carl. She waited for Veronica to remove herself again but she stood there, just a little too close, watching Bella in the mirror, a slight smile on her face.

“You should buy it.”

“I can’t. I can’t afford it.”

“Get Jake to buy it for you. He’ll love it. You look delicious in it.”

Bella giggled, uneasy at her tone. “Come on – “

Veronica suddenly seemed bored. She let the curtain fall between them.

“Let’s call it a day, then,” she said, from behind the cloth. “I need a drink.”

The pub Veronica took her too was very new and shiny. A gleaming stainless steel bar ran in a looping curve around the room and tall, pedestal seats were set in neat pairs along its length. It was dark and quiet and humming with money – Bella took a look at the cocktail list and blanched slightly. Veronica noticed and quickly put her at ease.

“I’ll get these.”

“Oh, no –“

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I’ve got lots of money.”

Bella blinked a little at her bald statement. Veronica grinned.

“I’m not going to be coy about it. I do have lots of money.”

“You all do,” said Bella wryly. “It’s only me, the penniless student, who doesn’t.”

“You’re not a student any more,” said Veronica. “You won’t be in that crappy job of yours for long, I’m sure. Plenty of time to make money. Just enjoy spending Jake’s in the meantime.”

Bella giggled uneasily.

“Do you spend Carl’s?” she said.

Veronica took in a long drag of smoke. She slid her eyes sideways in a sly glance at Bella.

“Of course,” she said.

The barman came over then and Veronica ordered for both of them. For a minute conversation was suspended as they watched the deft hands of the barman assemble their drinks.

“Run a tab,” Veronica told him, handing over a credit card. Bella wondered whether it was hers, or Carl’s. They both took sips from their brimming glasses.

“Mmmm, lovely,” said Veronica. Bella watched the tip of her tongue lick at a drop on her top lip. “Anyway, what was I saying?”

Bella paused for a second, wondering whether to remind her. Curiosity compelled her.

“You were talking about Carl’s money.”

“Oh yes.” Veronica took another slow sip of her drink. Bella could tell she was weighing up what to say and wondered whether her reluctance stemmed from the topic of conversation, or whether it was she – Bella – that was the reason for her hesitation.

Veronica lit another cigarette and waved the packet at Bella. Bella shook her head.

“Sure you don’t want one?”

“I’m sure,” said Bella, more firmly than she felt.

The barman slid another two brimming glasses in front of them. Bella flexed her aching feet and glanced down at the shopping bags clustered around the legs of their chairs; she was paranoid someone was going to steal them.

“God, I’ve spent so much money,” she said, almost to herself. Veronica heard her and smiled.

“It’s only money,” she said, waving her cigarette in a slow, lazy circle. They both watched the smoke weave itself into a small, grey circle.

“I suppose.”

Veronica put her free hand to her neck, rolling her head back as if her shoulders ached. There was something sensual in the movement. Bella blinked and looked away.

“What have you got planned for tomorrow?”

Bella frowned. “Not sure. It depends on what Jake wants to do, I suppose.”

“Don’t let him get his own way all the time,” said Veronica, unexpectedly. Bella shifted uneasily on her stool. What did she mean?

“Work on Monday – God – “

“I know.” Bella took a sip of her drink. “I can’t bear it.”

“What do you do, again?”

“Admin. At a business publisher. It’s really dull.”

“So, do something else then.”

Bella laughed. “Yeah – it’s that easy.”

Veronica regarded her for a moment. Another tendril of smoke curled from her cigarette to the ceiling.

“You know what you could do. Escort work.”

“What?” Bella looked at her, wide-eyed.

“You’d be great. You’d like it – it’s easy. I put myself through college doing escort work.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Veronica stubbed her cigarette out in a quick, decisive twist. “It’s really good money, and not too much like hard work.”

“But isn’t it – “ Bella hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. “Isn’t it – well – “

“No.” Veronica gave her a quick, amused glance. “It can be, if that’s what you want. You need to use a reputable agency. And keep your wits about you, of course.”

Bella gulped at her drink. She made it sound so respectable. She was agog at the thought of Veronica – cool, blonde Veronica – as an escort.

“Does Carl know that you – well, that you used to do that?”

Veronica gave a tiny snort. She’d drained her cocktail glass and gestured to the bartender for another.

“Of course,” she said. “How do you think we met?”

“God.” Bella blinked. “I thought you met at a party.”

Veronica laughed. “We did. We met again at a party. That’s where I met Jake for the first time. Carl and I had – already met.”

Bella took a final swallow of her Cosmopolitan.

“Blimey. Does Jake know that?”

“Know what?”

“Know that – well – that you and Carl had met before?”

Veronica shook her head. “It didn’t seem important,” she said softly. “As soon as it was just the three of us, that was the only thing that seemed important.”

Bella took a final swallow of her lukewarm cocktail, trying to look impassive. She was battling against a rising tide of jealousy, jealously in that the three of them had so much shared history. Jealous that they were so close. How can I compete with that, she thought, and felt tears prick her eyes. The nice day she’d had with Veronica felt spoiled. You’re being stupid, she told herself, trying reason. Jake’s in love with you, not her. You can’t be jealous of his brother, for God’s sake. What were the magazines always saying – everyone has a history? Grow up, Bella.

“Shall we get another drink?” Veronica was saying.

Bella managed a smile.

“Why not?” she said. “I’ll get this one.”

She checked her face in the mirror behind the bar as she looked for the barman and was reassured. She looked normal, just another girl in a bar with a friend beside her. Not a green-eyed monster, after all.

Chapter Eleven

They lay in their own private circle, long stems of grass forming a protective green barrier around them. Bella snuggled closer to Jake. She felt as if they were removed temporarily from the world, despite the faint voices of the nearby dog walkers. The sun felt ferociously warm, the rays as hot as on a Mediterranean beach. Jake put a hand over his eyes and tightened the arm that held Bella close to his chest.

“Nice to have a bit of time to ourselves.”

Yes, thought Bella. I wholeheartedly agree. She said nothing but signalled her agreement in the squeeze of her hand on his bicep.

“What did you and V get up to yesterday?”

“We went shopping. God – I spent so much money.” Bella felt guilty even now. “Seriously, it was like my credit card was possessed by a demon; it kept leaping into tills and forcing them to charge it.”

She heard his chuckle echo through his chest, right into the ear that was pressed against the warm bone of his ribcage.

“Buy any sexy underwear?”

“Of course. Actually, I bought this dress, you’re going to love it. Veronica said you’d love it.”

Jake said nothing but she felt the infinitesimal tightening of his muscles against her.

“Did she?”

“Yeah.”

They said nothing else for a moment. Then Bella took a deep breath.

“What about you?”

Jake looked at her in surprise.

“What about me what?”

“How was your day?”

“Oh – “ He shifted position again. “All right. Seeing the old man’s always a bit of a drag.”

“Why’s that?”

He glanced at her.

“Oh, you know – “

“I don’t. Why’s it a drag?”

Jake sighed. Bella couldn’t tell if it was with irritation.

“Come on,” she said. “Tell me. I don’t know anything about your family – well, apart from Carl.”

Jake sighed again. “Well – Carl – “

There was another moment’s silence. A bee flew low over the pair of them, its drowsy hum loud for a moment before it flew up and over the green barrier of grass stems that surrounded them.

“Oh, you know.”

Bella fought a spasm of irritation. She was just opening her mouth to retort sharply when Jake spoke again.

“I’m sorry, hon. It’s just – oh shit – I really hate all this family crap, all this dysfunctional caring, sharing shit. It’s such a stupid, sordid story anyway, it’s embarrassing to talk about.”

“That’s okay,” said Bella meaninglessly, agog to hear more.

Jake sighed again.

“It’s not particularly illuminating. You know my mum died, quite young?”

“No, I didn’t. I’m sorry – “

“Well, anyway. She had cancer, Hodgkin’s lymphoma. It kills you really quickly, I’m not kidding, one minute you’re diagnosed and the next you’re in a coffin, seriously. She died and –“

“How old were you?” Bella couldn’t stop herself interrupting.

“Ten. I was ten, Carl was twelve.”

“How awful,” murmured Bella inadequately. She could picture them; two little solemn-mouthed, black haired boys, clutching a photograph of their dead mother. She felt tears prick the inside of her eyes.

“It was pretty awful,” said Jake, remotely. There was a short silence. “Anyway, about six months after Mum died, my father married again, this blonde bird that used to be a friend of Mum’s. Well, I think she was a friend of Mum’s. Probably not, that was just some plan concocted by her and Dad to pull the wool over our eyes. Angela. She’s a cunt.”

Bella pulled in a silent, shocked breath.

“She really is. Actually though, you know, she might be a cunt but Dad’s the worst. Angela’s out for what she can get but hey, so are a lot of people. It’s my father who’s fucked every memory of my mother up for Carl and me, it’s him who’s… fucking debased every family memory we had. That fucker.”

He was trembling. Bella looked at him, aghast.

“The fucker didn’t even tell us he was moving her in. We just came home from school one day and there she was, sleeping in Mum’s room, wandering around all the rooms like she owned them – fuck – “

He pulled his arm out from under her and laid it over his eyes. Below it, his mouth went square. In an agony of pity, Bella went to touch him, and then drew back her hands, unsure of what to do.

There was a horribly long moment where the sound of Jake crying was audible over the whisper of the long grass and the hum of the myriad flying insects. Bella hesitated for a moment longer. Then she took him into her arms, covering his mouth with her own. She was wrenched with pity for him, poor Jake, poor poor Jake – she rocked him in her arms, whispering to him, soothing him with her hands. He clutched at her, wet-faced. His kisses grew more urgent and he pushed her back onto the grass, fumbling at her skirt. Bella froze for a second, conscious of how exposed they were, despite the walls of high grass that surrounded them. But she wanted to heal him, she wanted to help him. She let him pull off her knickers and push himself inside her, only wincing a little as she wasn’t quite ready. She kept her arms about him as he rocked himself into her, his tears falling on her upturned face.

*

"Can we head back?"

"Now?"

"Well... soon...."

“Why's that? Getting nervous we've been spotted?"

Bella grinned. "No. I need the loo."

"So go here." Jake gestured towards the rest of the Heath.

Bella squirmed. "No way. People will see me."

"So?"

"So, I don't want them to."

"Prude." Jake pulled her towards him and kissed her. "Go on, I won't look."

"No, seriously. Can we go?"

Jake sighed. "Are you really that desperate?"

Bella looked at him curiously. She heard something in his voice she was beginning to recognise, a more sombre tone that underlay his light, bantering remarks.

"What's the matter?"

Jake was lying with one arm over his eyes. He lifted it to look at her.

"What do you mean?"

"Well – " Bella hesitated. It had been such a strange sort of afternoon; the early storm of his familial revelations, the hurried sex, the fragile calm that came afterwards. She didn't want to rock the boat but equally, she really did need the loo...

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"About what?" It could have been imagination but he sounded wary. Bella wavered and decided not to push it.

"Doesn't matter, ignore me. Can we go though? I really do need the loo, and I'm getting sunburnt..."

"Oh, alright..."

Jake heaved himself to his feet and spent some moments brushing himself down. Bella shifted from foot to foot, trying not to show her impatience. Jake picked slowly at the last remaining fragments of grass adhering to his legs.

"Come on," said Bella, giving in to her impatience.

"Alright."

He sounded annoyed. She bit down on the sharp retort she wanted to make. She was beginning to realise the danger points in their conversation, the tipping points, where a disagreement could flare into a proper argument. Bella tried to think of the strain he was obviously under, after his visit to his father. Be patient, she told herself. At the same time she was aware of her own slow rising anger, at always being the one to give in, at always being the one to try and smooth things over. She pressed her fingertips into her thigh as she stood there, hard enough to hurt.

Just as she thought she would scream if Jake took a moment longer, he suddenly held out a hand to her. The expression on his face melted her anger in a second – he looked like a lost little boy. She squeezed his hand and was just about to ask him what was wrong when he said 'let's not go home yet.'

“Oh, Jake – "

She began to reiterate her need for a public convenience when he interrupted her.

"Let's not go home just yet. I'm sick of the place. Let's go out for a drink and find you a toilet – and then, how about a meal? My treat. Let's just not go home. Come on, Bell. Please?"

They managed to find a table at the Black Horse and Jake disappeared towards the bar. Bella was left to consider her boyfriend's odd behaviour. I'm sick of the place. Sick of Fever Street? Why? Bella swallowed down a sigh. Jake was so... so frustrating sometimes. She felt out of her depth with him most of the time. She wished she had someone to speak to about him, whether she was just overreacting or whether he really was impossible to understand. Maybe Veronica...? She felt a certain reluctance at the thought and wondered why.

"Here you go."

Jake put her drink down in front of her and waved a menu. Bella took it from him, just for something to do. They both studied the laminated pages in silence.

"Jake – "

Bella had waited until their food arrived before she spoke of what was bothering her. Jake paused with a mouthful of steak and kidney pie halfway to his mouth.

"What?"

Bella hesitated. Then she took a deep breath.

"What's wrong with Fever Street?"

"What?"

"You said you were sick of it. Why? What's wrong with it?"

Jake pushed the forkful of food into his mouth. He chewed it for a long moment. Bella took a nervous sip of wine.

Eventually Jake finished his mouthful.

"You read too much into things," he said. "I didn't mean anything by it."

"That's not what it looked like to me."

Jake looked at her across the table.

"You can think what you like, then," he said coolly. "You seem to know all about it anyway."

Bella clenched her teeth in frustration.

“That's not what I – "

"Why are you so fucking interested in my life anyway? Christ sake, Bella. Why don’t you just leave me the fuck alone?"

Bella looked at him across the table, flabbergasted. Then she picked up her bag, pushed back her chair and walked out of the pub.

Darkness had long since fallen and with it, the heat of the day had dissipated.  A cold wind was rattling the rubbish left on the pavements but Bella walked home lit internally by a fiery, scorching anger. What was the matter with him? Seriously, what was the matter with him?

His words chased themselves around and around in her head. Why was she so fucking interested in his life? Because I'm his fucking girlfriend, that’s why. He wanted to leave her alone? Fine. She would leave him alone. Let him sit there all night without her.

There was nobody at Fever Street when she got back. She allowed herself the luxury of slamming the front door behind her and walked up the stairs. Poised at the doorway to their bedroom, she clenched her hands on the doorframe and wondered what to do. Eventually, she gathered up her dressing gown and cosmetics and the pillows from her side of the bed, and went to find another place to sleep.

Standing under the hot gush of the shower, she felt the anger began to dissolve into misery. She wondered what Jake was doing now. Why hadn't he come home to apologise? Perhaps he was still in the pub... perhaps he was consoling himself with another girl. Bella felt sick. She dressed herself, taking meagre comfort from the soft embrace of her pyjamas, and walked back to the bedroom. She couldn't sleep in a strange bed. Now that her anger had abated, she longed for Jake – she ached for the chance to talk to him. Bella curled herself under the duvet and lay there in misery, staring mutely into the dark.