Thomas watched the Carlisle house from across the street. He and Chloe St James were nestled behind the fat trunk of the oak tree in the garden square. Chloe leaned against the tree trunk and used the ember of one cigarette to light another. She tossed the butt to the ground and stamped at it with her shoe. Thomas felt her eyes on him as he watched Catherine.
The time in Scotland had served its purpose. She was suntanned and had put on weight, filling out her cheeks a bit. She hadn’t cut her hair and today the ringlets hung down the back of her neck, held in place by a clip of some sort. She moved with the grace of an athlete. He found he couldn’t look away.
‘Get your eyeful, Thomas,’ Chloe teased.
He gave her a look, noticed the smile in her eyes, and shook his head. ‘Leave it, Chloe, would you? She’s been through hell, you know. Her whole life shredded in the course of a week.’
‘She knew what she was getting herself into when she agreed to work for Reginald,’ Chloe said.
‘Did she? I don’t think so.’
‘I don’t understand the appeal, frankly. She’s a privileged housewife who has nothing to offer. She has no connections now. The Carlisles are dead. I’m betting that not one of her old friends reaches out to her.’
‘I’ve a feeling that Mrs Carlisle will be able to insinuate herself into the good graces of society,’ Thomas said. ‘She’s got good instincts, Chloe. You were a novice too at one time, as I recall.’
‘Instincts? She’s inconsistent and reckless. Her judgement is questionable at best. I can’t believe she allowed Marlena X to lead her into her lair. Good thing you were there, Mr Charles, or your protégé might not have made it.’
Thomas ignored her. Two cars pulled up to the Carlisle house. One of them, a blue Vauxhall, carried a man dressed in a business suit and carrying a brief case. The other was a taxi, out of which climbed Alicia Montrose, her blonde hair streaked with sunlight, her arms a golden bronze.
‘Ah, the best friend,’ Chloe said.
Cat walked down the two steps to the street. She shook the man’s hand and nodded at Alicia.
‘I admit that Alicia and her husband could help Mrs Carlisle’s entrance into the right circles. War’s coming, Thomas. We’ve got our work cut out for us.’
‘It’s going to be brutal,’ Thomas said.
‘In any event, Mrs Carlisle is your problem now. Good luck. Until next time.’
Chloe stepped onto the pavement towards the car parked down the street.
The man in the business suit was affixing a ‘For Sale’ sign to the wrought-iron fence in front of the Carlisle house. Thomas watched as Cat and Alicia stood on the pavement, looking at the house where Catherine had spent fifteen years of her life. Alicia put her arm around Cat. She leaned close and whispered something in Cat’s ear. Both women laughed out loud before they got into the taxi and sped off.
Thomas stood for a long time after that. He smoked a cigarette, taking his time with it.
‘She’s my problem now,’ Thomas said to no one in particular. He pushed away from the tree and walked into the square.