Narcissus

Chapter Forty

The lights in the kitchen were soft and yellow and cast a hazy glow on the spacious room. It was hot with the oven on and I removed my jacket, placing it on the back of Nafula's chair. The kitchen had been one of the rooms that had been renovated by the previous owner, but it still held a secret, rustic charm due to the great brick fireplace and elaborate, carved table around which sat Isla and Nafula, playing cards. They had hit it off like a house on fire - Nafula just had something perpetually maternal about her, and she knew exactly how to entertain the little girl.

"Emma, can you grab the salt for me?" Elise asked, leaning forwards to pluck a basil leaf from the plant on the windowsill. Much like the rest of the house, her kitchen was filled to the brim with all manner of plants, and Angus, the indoor gardener, was a master at keeping the bugs away. He kept the plants as healthy as could be, and would often spray them with beer. I always thought it did the plants more harm than good, but the elderly Scottish man swore by it to keep away any insects and there was little reason to complain.

"Only if you say please," I teased lightly, pressing a kiss to her nose as I handed her what she had asked for. Rolling her eyes, she batted me away, muttering something under her breath about being 'utterly unhelpful'. The older woman's cheeks were pink with exertion as she chopped up tomatoes. I hadn't seen Elise cook before - she had a chef but had temporarily dismissed them upon our arrival late yesterday morning. She hadn't said anything, but I imagined it was a combination of wanting to spend as much time with Isla as possible and needing a hobby to take her mind off of things. Last night, I may have got an hour of sleep, if that. All I could think about was Arthur's bloody body, ripped in half on the dining room table.

Isla. Sighing, I topped up my glass of wine, watching the young girl chatter happily. Her silky blonde hair shimmered in the hazy light, and the toothy grin she flashed every time Nafula lost at 'Snap' was proof that everything we had gone through was worth it.

It was both a blessing and curse that she was so blissfully unaware of what had transpired since Halloween. Having to brace yourself for the news that your own child may have been killed was mental torture of the most wicked kind, and I couldn't possibly imagine what it had been like for Elise. It was the first thing she asked after Josephine was restrained and led away, where Isla was. It wasn't until we reached the police station that we found out Isla was absolutely fine, apparently convinced that her Mother was away on holiday.

There were still so many questions, and they lingered above our heads threateningly as we ate together. We hadn't had a chance to discuss anything since arriving home, because Elise had made sure Isla was around her constantly. Tonight, she had made a lasagna - it was spectacular.

Later that evening, once she had bathed Isla and put her to bed, we sat around the kitchen table in silence. Elise looked like she hadn't slept in months - her cheeks were hollow and gaunt, her eyes dim and grey. I was sure I looked no better. Each pair of eyes kept flickering up to the stairs, just waiting for a masked intruder to come and steal Isla away into the night.

Early this morning we had received a call letting us know her parents had been discharged. Elise had warned me to expect this - they were powerful people with a lot of money.

"What was their cover story again?" Nafula asked, and Elise blinked, "Y'know, your parents?"

"That they were just looking after Isla because they didn't know where I had gone," Elise let out a bitter laugh, "And with it comes the unanswerable plot holes. How my ex-husband had a live stream of her crying and screaming, and why they had told my daughter that I was in fucking Barbados if they were so concerned we were missing."

I cleared my throat awkwardly at her language and both women snapped their heads to look at me, "Sorry," I apologised, not meaning to interrupt. Something about Elise swearing always struck me, and I couldn't help feeling more than a little odd. She knew it, too - knew how much it affected me. The room felt charged with electricity, and her lips were wet with saliva, her eyes dark and heady. My chest was rising and falling quickly, and Elise was not making matters easier. Disguised by the table as Nafula sat opposite us, Elise stealthily slid a hand across to rub my inner thigh and my breath caught in my throat. Oh, now was so not the time.