Christmas at the Cornish Guest House by Emma Burstall

Author:Emma Burstall [Burstall, Emma]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781784972486
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing

13

‘He’s still furious with me about the car, Moll. He stormed off and I don’t know where he’s gone.’

Tabitha was lying on her bed, propped up against a pile of cushions. It was the early hours of the morning but she was wide awake, every sense on alert.

She heard Molly take a sip of something. Wine? Water? How would she know, when her friend was so far away? She’d been trying to contact Molly all evening, but she’d been out having fun. Tabitha didn’t know the meaning of the word.

‘He’ll be back,’ Molly said calmly, ‘He’s probably driving round the countryside, letting off steam.’

Tabitha scarcely heard. Her mind was jumping all over the place. ‘I should’ve pretended I liked it, I’m a fool. I can’t bear to think where the money’s come from.’ She bit her lip. ‘I don’t want to drive round in a big, fuck-off car, I want to blend into the background.’

‘Not easy with your looks,’ Molly remarked drily, ‘but don’t worry about the cash, that’s the least of your concerns. As long as you don’t know anything about it, you’re not involved, right? Anyway, it might be legit.’

Tabitha glanced instinctively at the window, even though it was dark outside and the blinds were drawn. ‘It’s not, I’m sure.’ She shivered. ‘God knows what he’s up to. I just wish he wasn’t using Loveday, I don’t want her getting into trouble.’

‘If only I could help,’ Molly sighed, and at that moment Tabitha missed her so much it was like a physical pain.

‘Don’t ever leave me, Moll.’

‘You know I won’t.’

Afterwards, Tabitha sat in the gloom, too tired to read, too anxious to rest. There were four guests staying, two couples who complimented her on everything, from the cooked breakfasts that Shelley helped her prepare to the carefully designed bedrooms, but it was unlikely they’d hear if Carl broke in, and would they know what to do anyway? Luke would, she’d give him that.

She padded over to the cream-coloured armchair, pulled up her legs and wrapped her arms round her shins, staring into the shadows, feeling her aloneness like the slow movement of the hands of a clock, the empty space between stars.

Looking back, she thought she’d been such an obvious target for Carl – young, isolated and vulnerable. Pretty, too; she supposed that was a factor, and she’d been putty in his hands.

He’d used a set routine on her, she recognised that now, winning her trust, then worming his way into her heart so that she’d come to believe she was in love and couldn’t exist without him. Later, he’d offered her drugs, crack cocaine mainly, and taken away her pub earnings so that she’d had to ask him for cash. Finally, after months of grooming when all she’d really cared about had been her next fix, he’d brought in the punters. It had been so well planned.

She could remember the first time as if it were yesterday. She’d tried to protest, struggling from Carl’s grip and shouting

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