‘You seem distracted.’ Estelle pulled her coat around her. ‘I should go.’
‘No.’ Benedict reached out to touch her arm, but felt as if he’d made contact with an invisible force field. He slowly lowered his hand. ‘Please don’t go.’ He opened his mouth to speak again, but the shop door opened.
Gemma heaved her shopping bags inside. ‘Hi there,’ she chirped. ‘I’m Gemma.’
Benedict lost all of the words in his head, at the sight of his niece and wife in the same small space. His eyes flicked between the two of them as if he was watching a game of table tennis.
Gemma strolled around the shop, peering into each of the cabinets.
Estelle didn’t look at her. ‘I stopped by to ask if I can come over to pick up my paintings from the spare bedroom? Canvasses are expensive, so I’m going to paint over my old ones.’
Benedict’s brain started to tick with possibilities. This could be the opportunity he’d hoped for. He could tidy the house, buy some fresh flowers, maybe attempt to make a shepherd’s pie, and then casually invite Estelle to stay for tea. He’d open a bottle of expensive red wine to create a nice ambience for the two of them to discuss things.
But Gemma was sleeping in Estelle’s studio.
His eyes darted over towards his niece again. Looking at her russet hair made him feel dizzy. ‘I’ll drop the paintings off at Veronica’s apartment for you,’ he said.
‘Actually, Lawrence has offered to help me pick them up. He’s an expert in landscape art, and I don’t want to paint over any paintings that he thinks are worth saving. He’s been so wonderful, helping me to set up the exhibition.’
Benedict thought of the clumps of bags, and piles of bills, on every conceivable surface in the house. He winced at the mention of Lawrence’s name. ‘It’s not actually a good time…’ he started.
‘Oh. What’s the problem?’
‘Nothing. I’ll drop the canvasses off for you tonight.’
When Estelle spoke again, her voice was cooler and low. She took a step back towards the door. ‘There’s really no rush,’ she said. ‘Don’t go to any trouble.’
This is all going so wrong, Benedict thought. He wanted to stride over and stand in front of the door to stop her from leaving. He couldn’t bear to see her walking away from him, again.
As he furiously thought what else to say, little by little, Benedict became aware that Gemma had turned away from the cabinets and was clearly listening into their conversation. She stood with her arms folded, gawking at Estelle.
At that moment, Benedict wished that he was psychic so he could send Gemma a message via his mind to stop her from staring. His own heart reverberated loudly in his ears, like there was a military drummer practising in his skull. He sensed that his niece was waiting for an introduction to his wife, and he wasn’t ready to give it. How could he tell Estelle that Gemma had turned up unannounced? His wife would have more questions than he had answers.
Estelle noticed too. She gave Gemma a confused glance.
‘I’ll deliver your paintings tonight,’ Benedict said.
Estelle gave a small, tight smile as she reopened the door. ‘I’m leaving,’ she said. ‘I feel there’s something going on here…’
‘No, I…’
She held up a hand to stop his words.
‘No, I want to say…’ He didn’t actually know what he was going to say. There were no ordered words in his head.
‘Let’s leave things alone, Benedict. If I’m not in when you call, leave the canvasses by the front door of the apartment. It’s a communal hallway, so they’ll be safe there.’
‘I… I…’ Benedict started again, but Estelle left the shop. He watched as she bustled past the shop window, her lips pinched together.
‘About the text I sent you…’ he shouted after her. But if she heard, she didn’t turn back.
Gemma dropped her shopping bags onto the floor and gave a slow handclap. ‘That went well. Way to go, Uncle Ben.’
Benedict couldn’t stop all the frustration of the last few weeks from spilling out in his voice. ‘What the hell did you come in the shop for?’ he demanded. ‘I was trying to talk to my wife.’
Gemma took a small step back and her ankle buckled in her cowboy boot. ‘Hey. I didn’t know it was Estelle, until I overheard your conversation. Then I figured it out.’
‘You listened in,’ he accused.
‘Well, sorta.’ She shrugged. ‘Hey, are you worried about this Lawrence guy? Your nostrils flared real big when she mentioned his name.’
‘They did not.’
‘Yeah, they did.’
Benedict pictured the handsome gallery owner in his striped T-shirt and he suddenly felt exhausted. He wanted to go home and slump on the sofa, whether his wife was there or not. ‘If you’re going to stay with me then we need some rules,’ he said grumpily.
‘You don’t have to worry about me.’ Gemma pointed at her own chest. ‘I think you need to focus on getting your wife back. Especially if this Lawrence guy is hanging around. Why didn’t you introduce me to her? I knew that you’re ashamed of me.’
Benedict opened his mouth to respond but then closed it again. He felt too emotionally drained to speak. It also wasn’t fair to take his infuriation out on his niece. He waited until he felt a little calmer. ‘I’m not ashamed of you, okay,’ he sighed. ‘I want to speak to Charlie first before I introduce you to Estelle. That’s all. Sorry for getting cross with you.’
‘That’s okay. I get it.’
His shoulders slumped. ‘I need to do something about Estelle.’
‘Just do it then.’
‘I’m not good at stuff like that. I can’t think of anything to do for her.’
Gemma folded her arms. ‘Hmmm.’
‘Hmmm, what?’ he asked suspiciously.
‘We need a plan.’
‘We?’ Benedict said. As he plodded over to the counter, to lean against it, he felt like his feet were coated in tar. ‘Need a plan?’
‘Yes. A plan. An operation…to win Estelle back. Hey, Operation Win Estelle Back, that spells WEB. Well, OWEB really, but that doesn’t sound as cool.’
‘WEB?’ Benedict repeated, feeling both scared and intrigued at the same time.
‘Yes. WEB. You need a plan to get your wife back, Uncle Ben. And you need my help to do it.’
protection, emotional balance, renewal
Benedict could kill for a chocolate éclair, or a slice of lemon drizzle cake. He wanted to eat and take his mind off Estelle. The sugar might stop his directionless thoughts from whirring around in his mind.
When Gemma tried to show him her purchases from Deserted Dogs, he scrambled in his head for an excuse to go into the kitchen and search through the cupboards for a stray bar of chocolate. However, his niece would probably be like a sniffer hound and know what he was up to.
He decided to slump on the sofa and let her chatter wash over him.
‘I got some cool stuff. Here’s this cute red dress and a plaid skirt. Oh, and a leather bag with lots of pockets. There was a box full of expensive underwear and pantyhose.