Later, when I return to the house after a day of shopping with Courtney, I run into Kathryn as I’m going to my room. I don’t know what she’s doing on my floor, perhaps she’d been waiting for me to come home, but when she sees me she presses a folded piece of paper into my palm without saying anything, then turns and walks away. I unfold the paper. It’s a mobile number that I assume belongs to Lewis. My heart beats faster and I remind myself I’m doing this for Peter. For Jemima. And not because I want to see Lewis again.
It’s a bitter evening. February is even colder than January was. Too cold for snow, my mum used to say. Ice coats the pavements, like sparkly fairy dust, glinting under the amber glow of the streetlights and crunching beneath the soles of my boots. Windscreens of parked cars are already frosting, and I pity their owners tomorrow when they’ll have to scrape the ice away. The cold weather doesn’t stop the university students, though, and the streets of Clifton are busy as I head to the pub around the corner. I’m pleased it doesn’t feel lonely out tonight, and vow to get Lewis to walk me home. A few times over the last couple of weeks I’ve had the creepy feeling that I’m being followed. When I turn there’s never anybody behind me but, on occasion, I’ve felt breath on the nape of my neck, or eyes boring into my back. I’m sure it’s my imagination, and I’ve put it down to the unease I can’t help but feel at walking in dead women’s shoes. It’s usually only when I’m alone, although the other day when I accompanied Elspeth to the hairdresser I’m sure I felt someone behind me, walking too close for it to be natural.
I push open the pub’s door. Lewis is sitting on a stool at the bar, his feet resting on the base. He’s wearing black jeans and a thick woollen jacket, his shaggy dark hair touching the collar. He’s even better-looking than I remember.
He’d been surprised to hear from me when I called. I didn’t reveal what I wanted to see him about but when I asked if he was free this evening, and apologized for the short notice, he’d agreed.
He doesn’t look round until I’m by his shoulder. Then he must sense my presence because he glances up from his pint. ‘Great to see you,’ he says, as though we’re old friends, not people who have met just once. ‘What can I get you to drink?’
I order a small white wine. It’s still early, not yet seven thirty, so the place is still relatively quiet and we find a table in the corner. I sit opposite him, a candle flickering between us, and I feel a flush of embarrassment. It looks like we’re on a date and I wonder if I’ve given Lewis that impression.
‘Thanks for agreeing to meet me,’ I begin tentatively. Now that I’m here, I’m not sure how to broach the subject of Jemima. ‘What have you been up to since leaving Elspeth’s?’
‘Oh, you know, a bit of this and that. Not many people want gardeners this time of year.’ He cups his pint and I notice his hands are calloused and strong. For a fleeting moment I imagine them on me and blush.
‘How is it, working for the old battleaxe?’ He smiles to take the sting out of his words.
‘I … She’s …’ I hesitate, not wanting to be disloyal. ‘She’s okay. I’m sorry she sacked you, though.’
He shrugs. ‘It is what it is. She never liked me.’
‘I think she prefers the company of women,’ I say, thinking of what Kathryn said earlier.
He surprises me by laughing. ‘You don’t say.’
‘How long did you work for her?’
He raises one of his eyebrows, his gaze not leaving mine. ‘A few months.’
My tummy flips. I try to get my thoughts in order. ‘Did you know Jemima? The girl before me.’
His face clouds and he pushes a lock of hair away from his eyes. ‘Yes, I knew Jemima.’ The flirtiness has gone from his voice. He picks up a beer mat and begins picking at the edges of it with his long fingers. ‘Is that why you wanted to see me?’ He’s not looking at me now, just at his hands as he tears the cardboard. ‘I did wonder why you contacted me out of the blue like this when we don’t know each other. I thought maybe …’ He trails off.
I feel heat rising to my face. He did think I wanted a date. ‘I met up with her brother.’ And then I explain about Peter, and his visit. ‘He said he thought she was seeing someone and I wondered if it was you.’
He shakes his head. ‘We went on a few dates back in October. We were both new at the same time and hit it off. She was a great girl. But it didn’t last long. A couple of weeks at the most. I don’t think her brother could have meant me.’