Page 57 of A Castle in the Sky: Fern & Connor
Under the table, something brushed against his shin, light and quick.
He jerked back as if he'd been stung.
Matilda's bare foot followed, creeping along the hem of his joggers, up his calf. He shoved his chair back an inch, the legs scraping loudly on the floor. "Keep your feet to yourself," he said tightly.
Fern's gaze flicked down, taking in the angle of Matilda's leg. When she looked up again, noting the deliberate lean forward and undone buttons showing her cleavage, she saw Matilda's expression hadn't changed. Only cool curiosity.
"Is that so?" she said. "You and Connor. Lovers."
Matilda's eyes glittered. "Come on. You're not stupid. You must have known. All those late-night calls, all the time he spent at my place. Did you really believe it was all for Jacob?"
"Oh, I know he has been an idiot," Fern said. "But I don't think he is a cheat."
Matilda snorted. "Men don't need much of a reason to cheat, darling. I guess it would have been different if you weren't so... bland. He's been mine for years. He just didn't have the guts to tell you."
Connor found his voice. "We were not—"
Fern squeezed his hand under the table, silencing him without taking her eyes off Matilda.
"And is that why you're accusing him of rape?" she asked, her voice steady. "Because he's 'been yours' all along?"
Matilda's smile flickered. For the briefest instant, something like annoyance crossed her face. "He owes me," she said finally, shrugging. "That's all. He owes me a debt, and he wouldn't pay. He was supposed to leave you. Honestly, I don't know how he had the guts to marry you. So, now he pays."
"So, you lie about rape because you can, not because it happened. Correct?" Fern drawled.
"Yes, little Fern. You know how this looks; a big man like him taking advantage of a vulnerable woman like me. And don't be looking at the nurse to testify or some such shit. She can't say a word without my say-so because I am the patient here," Matilda shot back with a smirk.
"Interesting way of framing it," Fern said. "Debts."
She reached into her pocket then, slow and deliberate, and pulled out a clear plastic sleeve. Inside, a piece of paper was visible, folded once.
Matilda's eyes locked onto it like a magpie spotting something shiny. She sat up straighter without seeming to mean to. "What's that?" she demanded, unease creeping into her expression.
"This," Fern said, laying the plastic flat on the table and smoothing it with her fingertips, "is the difference between negligence and attempted murder."
She slid it across the metal toward Matilda.
"Coral drew it," she went on. "You thought she wouldn't be able to tell us what happened in the kitchen. You relied on the fact that she's little and still gets her words mixed up. But she can draw… and she did."
Matilda's mouth thinned. Her fingers closed around the plastic. With a quick, angry movement, she flipped it over so she could see.
The crayon lines were simple but unmistakable: a little figure with curly hair standing by the cooker. Another, taller figure behind her, long hair, a curved, angry mouth, a hand on the little one's arm near a pan on a hob drawn in a harsh orange circle. There were tears scribbled on the small face.
"You know how this looks," Fern murmured.
Matilda's throat worked. For a second, her fingers tightened, as if she meant to tear the drawing in half.
"Do yourself a favour," Fern said softly, "do the right thing, for once in your life. Connor never harmed a hair on your head. He may have been an utter coward, but he didn't rape you. You and I both know that. Get your claws out of him and let him go."
Matilda tore her gaze away from the picture and glared. "You think you can blackmail me with a child's doodle?"
"I think that the police are very interested in patterns. In the difference between an accident and someone who's said, on record, that she doesn't care if a four-year-old burns. Let’s see what a safeguarding panel will think when they see this and listen to that recording. You love yourself, Matilda—that much is obvious. But if there's anyone you even remotely care for, it's Jacob."
Matilda's eyes flared at the boy's name.
"It's unfortunate," Fern went on, her tone still almost conversational, "that you will never see Jacob again, not once the police and social services see this, alongside all those messages Sawyer has given me access to. You really shouldn't text when you are high, Matty dearest. Sawyer is sitting at the police station right now, testifying that you were planning this move against Connor."
Matilda's eyes chilled but there was panic there as well.
