His Silence - Chapter 51

Oliver asks for the bill dead on nine. He calls the waitress over and she brings the bill with her, without him having to say anything. I pat my pockets. Shit, I don’t have my wallet on me. I’ve never trusted carrying my card on my phone. My chest tightens.

‘This is on me,’ he says, putting his hand out in front of him. The waitress places the bill in front of him with a smirk and holds out the card machine.

‘Oliver, you really don’t . . .’

‘No, no, I won’t hear of it,’ he says. He inserts his card into the machine and punches in his numbers. He doesn’t even check the bill. ‘We’ve had a lovely evening, haven’t we?’

I swallow. ‘Um, yep, we have.’ The carbonara was quite nice. It’s always been one of those real comfort foods. Emma used to make it for me whenever I’d had a tough day at school. Oliver removes his card and the waitress disappears to the back of the shop, taking our wine glasses with her.

We walk back to where we were dropped off by Luke in silence, our shoes cracking on the pavement, and the distant crash of waves striking the rocks reaching my ears. There are a group of teenagers with bikes ahead of us, standing underneath the glow of streetlamp; cans of lager in their hands. I flick my gaze away, not wanting them to notice me.

‘I hope you enjoyed tonight, Grace,’ Oliver asks. He’s managing to keep the tone of his voice light.

‘Yep, the restaurant was lovely,’ I say. A fox races across the street in front of us.

‘You must try their rib eye steak next time.’

‘Yep, sure, um, Oliver, I . . . I know you talked about forgetting the past, but . . . ’

Oliver stops walking. McDonald’s wrapping paper blows across the street in front of us. ‘But what, Grace?’

I take a deep breath. ‘When I first came here, you spoke to me about Ian poisoning my parent’s minds against you. I don’t understand how they even met in the first place. Who was he?’

A siren splits the silence making me jump. Oliver’s staring straight ahead, his gaze fixed on a café cloaked in darkness, the only light emanating from the glow of something green behind the till. He sighs, and shakes his head. ‘Grace, all I can tell you is Ian was a resident here many years ago now. He lost his way and your parents . . . I should’ve paid closer attention to what was happening at the time. Can you imagine how it must’ve been for Harvey? All he ever knew was Raven House and our community. Your parents, and Ian, took everything he knew away from him, it’s no wonder he, I’m sorry . . .’ Oliver shakes his head, his voice cracking. ‘But this isn’t what we should be talking about, Grace. The past is the past. It’s the future we need to concentrate on.’

 Ian was a member of the community. Oliver’s still convinced Harvey murdered Mum and Dad. We slip down the side alley and Oliver holds tight onto my arm. Luke’s ahead of us, waiting with the car on the side of the road underneath a street lamp. A car roars past. Oliver holds the car door open for me and I slip inside.

It’s another forty minutes before we’re back at the house. There are still a few people in the dining room. Oliver goes straight back to the annexe, keeping his head down. No one speaks to him. Perhaps they can all sense the tension. Everyone’s going to suspect I’ve done something to upset him, I’ll be in their bad books. Callum and Eve are sitting on the sofa in the living room. He waves at me, and relief floods through me.

‘How was dinner?’ Callum asks, shifting upright in his seat to make room for me.

‘It was fine,’ I say, sitting beside him. I don’t want to tell him about what Oliver spoke to me about, not in front of Eve.

‘Looks like you’ve had a bit to drink,’ he says, grinning.

I hold my hand over my mouth. Mary’s collecting empty glasses from the table. She glances across to me, then goes back to her task, her face pinched tight. ‘Oh, Oliver insisted on getting a couple of bottles of red.’

‘Lucky you,’ he says.

Eve gets up from her seat. ‘I’m going to head up,’ she declares, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Callum do you want to . . .’ she breaks off and glances over her shoulder towards the living room door.

‘I’ll be up in a sec,’ he says, smiling at her.

Eve hurries out of the room and into the hallway. Mary finishes collecting the remaining glasses. ‘Doors will be locked in half an hour, Callum,’ she calls out. Callum nods and Mary drifts towards the kitchen door.

‘So are you and Eve, like, official now?’ I ask, trying my best to keep the tone of my voice light.

Callum rubs his forehead. ‘It’s still very early days yet.’

 I frown at him. He’s making it sound as though there’s a chance for something to develop between him and Eve. Something more than friendship. I swallow. ‘Things got a bit weird at dinner, between Oliver and me,’ I say, lowering my voice.

Callum stares at me, his forehead creasing. ‘How do you mean?’

‘Oliver he . . . he sort of went on about some sort of special exercises he wants to try with me, stuff he doesn’t do with everyone else.’

Callum raises an eyebrow. ‘Really, what sort of stuff was he talking about?’ There’s a hint of excitement in his voice.

‘He was a bit vague if I’m honest,’ I say, keeping my voice low, sinking deeper into the soft cushions. My head pounds. It’s the effect of the alcohol I’m sure. ‘He made a big thing about me forgetting about the past and moving on and saying it’s what I really want.’

Callum crosses his knees. ‘Well, you do, don’t you?’

I frown at him. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘You want to move on from what happened to your parents, haven’t I always told you should focus on yourself.’

I grip the armrest. ‘Callum, I don’t understand, what are you saying?’

He lets out a slight yawn. ‘It’s not healthy for you to be so fixated on a past event you can’t change. You should listen to Oliver, he knows what he’s talking about. I know you came to this place with one objective in mind, but have you ever thought of really giving this place a chance? We could be happy here.’ I open my mouth but no sound comes out. Callum stands from his seat and stretches. ‘Think I’m gonna hit the hay. I’ll see you in the morning.’

I stare after him. What’s he going on about? Perhaps he’s tired. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. He doesn’t look back towards me. He says good night to someone out in the corridor. He can’t . . . he can’t surely be enjoying his time here, can he? Eve’s face crosses my mind and jealousy twists my gut. This is her doing. She’s getting to Callum. I flick my gaze around the room. Everyone else seems to have either filtered upstairs or into the kitchen. I get up from the sofa.

I’m going to have to have a word with him tomorrow. Make Callum see sense. How the hell can he possibly think this would be a good place for us to live? I head over to the kitchen door, and yank it open. Mary’s loading the dishwasher.

‘Did you enjoy this evening, dear?’ she asks, looking over her shoulder.

I nod. ‘Yep, it was nice.’

‘You must know how much you mean to Oliver,’ she says, smiling.

‘Um, yep, sure,’ I reply, his words from earlier replaying in my mind. My stomach contracts. ‘I’ll . . . I’ll see you in the morning.’

‘See you in the morning, dear,’ she says.

I pull open the back door and step out into the cool night air.