‘Rachel, we’ve thirty-four minutes left.’
‘Oh! Okay.’ My gaze flickered around the room. ‘That painting?’ I pointed. ‘Take it down, I bet something is stuck to the back.’ I touched the silver-grey walls. ‘Quin, this is fabric! Maybe silk!’
‘Thirty-three minutes.’ Then, ‘Rachel. You’re scaring me now.’ He’d lifted the painting from the wall and was unfolding something he’d found stuck to the back of it. ‘A riddle. How are you so good at this?’
‘Beginner’s luck?’
Hurrying through, I found an opulent bathroom of black marble and diffused white lighting. Then a decadently mirrored dressing room, containing a set of matching luggage so beautiful it almost brought me to my knees: five pieces in the palest blue leather – a large trunk, a smaller suitcase, a hatbox, a vanity case and one that could have been a doctor’s bag.
‘Hey!’ Quin had followed me in.
‘I know.’
‘No.’ He was pulling at the combination lock on the biggest trunk. ‘I bet that’s what we’re looking for, the numbers for this. Head in the game, Rachel.’
Finally, I focused.
The riddle from the painting led us to four different numbers, hidden around the room. The chrome legs of the nightstand, which were in the shape of a giant X, gave us 1 and 0. A recurring geometric pattern in the weave of a rug revealed itself to be an 8. And on the wall of the bathroom, a hidden number 9 appeared in the beam of an ultraviolet torch.
But we still had to find the correct combination of the four numbers and only three minutes remained.
I was so invested in the outcome that I could barely breathe. First Quin input the numbers and I remembered them, then he said, ‘My hands are too fumbly. You take over.’
Input. Nothing. Input. Nothing. Input. Nothing. Input. Then – a click.
‘Oh God, Quin, I think this is it! If the earrings aren’t in here …’ I was trembling with anticipation and anxiety. ‘… I will legitimately die.’
The lock slipped free, then both of us were pulling the case open and the rush of adrenaline when I saw the two twinkling clusters within almost sent me into orbit.
‘Oh my God, yes, there they are!’
Fuelled by the rush of victory, I high-fived Quin at the same time as he went in for a hug and I accidentally smacked him in the face.
‘So?’ he asked, later. ‘You’re certain you didn’t sneak in there last night and do a trial run?’
‘I’m certain.’
‘But you’re a natural at finding all the hidden stuff.’
I shrugged. ‘I’m not. They just seemed obvious hiding places. The whole thing was risky, though. If we hadn’t found the earrings and poor Mabel was a goner, we’d have blamed each other.’
‘I knew we’d find them.’
‘Is it a man thing? That confidence?’
He shrugged, ‘It’s a me thing.’ Then, ‘I like you.’
‘You don’t know me.’
‘There’s something here. You know there is.’
‘I’m not looking for anything.’
‘I hear you. I’m a commitment-phobe. I’m lonely and I crave intimacy, but I still fuck it up. What’s your story?’
‘My husband –’ It was still too difficult to say the words, My husband left me. I began again. ‘My marriage broke up. We’d really loved each other … I’m not sure I’ll ever get over it.’
He seemed entertained by this. ‘Of course you will. You were just waiting to meet me.’
‘Why did you and your wife split up?’
‘Yeah. Look … I slept with someone else.’
Even though it was the oldest story in the world, I was still upset.
‘This is the thing.’ Quin sighed. ‘I thought if I was honest with you? But if I don’t say upfront what I did, people get angry when I do tell them –’
‘By “people” you mean women?’
‘Yeah. So I get judged either straight out of the gates or further down the line.’
‘Maybe you shouldn’t have cheated.’
‘No maybe about it. I’m flawed, like, very. But I’m trying to do better. I’ve been seeing a therapist. Eleven weeks now, I haven’t missed a session. And I’m voluntarily …’ He hesitated over the word. ‘… celibate.’
‘Oh?’ I was astonished. Celibate friends was really not the vibe I’d been getting.