Page 10 of One Last Thing
Fresh air. That’s what I need. And a large Bloody Mary.
Let’s start with fresh air.
It takes more energy than expected to open the doors to the balcony, but it’s worth it for the gust of air that greets me when I step out. It’s early to be too hot yet, and despite my sorry state, I find my mood lifted when I take in the majesticview that’s accompanied by a background hum of birdsong and distant waves rolling into the shore. This room has once again won me over mortifyingly quickly. I think he knew that would happen.
I glance back over my shoulder at the small black box that’s sitting on top of my suitcase. I remember perching it there last night, not quite sure where else to put it. It seemed wrong to leave it hidden away in my bag, but there was something a little too creepy about putting it on display in here.
‘You always knew me better than I knew myself, didn’t you, darling?’ I murmur as I look at it, my voice thick with emotion, my eyes filling up with tears.
Before I can think about how ludicrous it is, I go inside to pick up the box and stroll back out onto the balcony with it, holding it aloft as though it were a trophy.
‘There, you old git. There’s the view you made me bring you all the way here for,’ I say through a watery smile. ‘Are you satisfied now? Do you—’
Out the corner of my eye, I spot a flicker of movement.
Someone has emerged onto their balcony to my left.
Quickly lowering the box out of sight, I wipe my cheek and form a polite smile as I glance over at them before I can duck back inside.
I stop when I see who it is.
I gasp so loudly, she jumps and turns to look at me.
What on earth isshedoing here?
5
MEGAN
‘What on earth areyoudoing here?’ I yell out, frozen to the spot on my balcony.
‘I was going to ask you the same question!’ she cries back.
‘I . . . you can’t be here! You’re not meant to be here. This is . . . wait, when did you get here?’ I demand to know, as though that might be relevant.
‘Yesterday!’
‘No, I got here yesterday.’
‘We must havebothgot here yesterday then,’ she says drily. ‘They do allow more than one person to enter France at a time.’
‘I didn’t see you at dinner.’
‘I didn’t go to dinner.’ She lifts a hand to her forehead, rubbing beneath the eye mask perched there. ‘Not a wise decision in the end.’
‘Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t appreciate it.’
‘Me neither.’
‘You can’t be here. You need to go on holiday somewhere else.’
‘I’m afraid I can’t, darling, it’s imperative that I’m here.’
‘It’s imperative thatI’mhere,’ I counter, my anger bubbling much too quickly. But then, she has a way of bringing that out in me. ‘Why is it that you’re here?’
She glances down to something she’s holding that I can’t see. ‘It’s a delicate matter. Why areyouhere?’
‘It’s . . . it’s a delicate matter.’ I narrow my eyes at her suspiciously. ‘Did you find out that I’d be here and come out, too? What is this, some sort of ambush?’
