Chapter 6: Westmouth Bound

I spent the night with Carly again, and it was almost a repeat of the previous night—not quite as urgent as the first time. She only woke me once during the night and again just before breakfast, but I think that was more due to sheer exhaustion than a lack of desire.

Despite my original plan to stay with her all day again, we discussed it over breakfast in the dining room and changed those plans. It made no sense for me to hang around all morning getting in the way while she was on the Saturday morning kids’ show, only to make my own way back to Westmouth and meet her there. It would be better for me to head home early. I could get myselfsettled back in at home and then meet up with Carly after she’d settled in at Chloë’s. I said I’d take her ‘out on the town,’ which meant taking her to Central Pier.

She told me to pick her up at six at Chloë’s house and gave me the address.

That was going to be weird—I’d never actually been to Chloë’s house.

I texted the house group chat to let them know I was heading home, and what time I expected to arrive, then got on the ten-thirty train. I had hoped Mark might see fit to pick me up at the station, but no such luck, and I made the twenty-minute walk up Westmouth Hill instead. It was a bright but cool and fresh day, with a stiff breeze blowing in from the sea, which pretty much pushed me up the hill. It’s actually a really pleasant walk up Westmouth Hill on days like that, particularly if you go through Westmouth Hill Park. Walking through the park reminded me that it had been nearly two months since we’d heard anything about the guy who was trying to attack girls in the park or on campus. I hadn’t heard that he’d been caught, so perhaps he’d just given up now that everyone was aware of his existence. I really hoped that was the case and that we’d heard the last of him. I was still worried about Lily’s desire to go running in the evenings, though.

At the top of the hill, I left the park at the entrance to campus, walked through the north-east quarter to the main north gate, past Campus Heights and Wintersmith and then left campus and went past Jak’s Café on the way to my house.

“Hi! I’m back,” I called as I opened the door and entered the hallway.

Almost immediately, four girls poured into the hall from the lounge.

Yes, four.

I looked squarely at Lisa. “Aren’t you supposed to be back in Cambridge by now?”

“That was the plan. I was going today, but then Imogen messaged us to say you were coming home, so I figured I’d go tomorrow. It’s a reading week before exams anyway next week, so it’s not like it’s dead important or anything. So, come on, make it worth my while staying. Spill the beans.”

I rolled my eyes. “There are no beans to ‘spill.’”

“Oh, no, no, no,” Emily said, shaking her head and wagging her finger. “You are not getting away with that, mister. Who is this girl, exactly? We know you hooked up with her in Nashville for a couple of weeks or something, but it just seems like there’s a lot more to the story than that. And ... I mean ... Like ... Two whole days with her? What’s going on, Paul?”

I sighed. “I’m going to make a cup of tea. Anyone want one?”

“Yes, please, mate,” Mark called from the living room.

There were more protests that I wasn’t immediately going to give them chapter and verse, but what the hell. They were going to get the story on my terms. At least, I thought they were. That was what I wanted.

But when do we ever get what we want?

All four of the girls’ phones beeped at the same time.

Chloë and her damn group chat!

The girls all got out their phones and read the message. One by one—because they read at different speeds, I guess—they looked at me.

“She’s staying with Chloë?” Vanessa said.

“For a couple of months at least?”Imogen added.

“And you’re taking her out tonight?” Emily said.

“I have to go home and get changed,” Lisa said. “Fuck going up to Cams tomorrow. I’m not missing this for the world.”

Fucking group chat.

I’d never actually been to Chloë’s house, but I just knew it must be ‘nice’ because it was in one of the nicest areas of Westmouth. Kendall Stowe, Church Kendall, and Chapel Kendall, collectively known as The Kendalls, were three small villages on the northern edge of the town. They had originally been medieval settlements around the edge of Kendall Farm, laid out in a triangle roughly five miles or so apart.

Kendall Stowe was the largest, having grown up around the original farmhouse, the most southerly, and it was the only one of the three with any amenities, including a small village shop, a slightly larger but still modest supermarket, a couple of pubs and a small primary school. Chapel Kendall was the smallest and farthest north.

As Westmouth grew throughout the eighties and nineties, it edged closer and closer to Kendall Stowe, until the village was practically a suburb of the town. Then, in the early noughties, most of the land that made up Kendall Farm was sold to developers, and now it was an enormous residential and commercial development covering over twenty-five square miles and swallowing up both Kendall Stowe and Church Kendall. All that remained of the original farm was the farmhouse and a couple of fields full of cows and sheep.

Chapel Kendall was spared. Part of the planning permission for the Kendall Farm development included the provision of a public park and playing fields. It was that public park, which stretched in an arc around the north edge of the development connecting Kendall Stowe and Church Kendall, that separated Chapel Kendall from the Kendall Farm development.

All of that made Chapel Kendall one of the most sought-after—and therefore most expensive—areas in the whole of Westmouth. It was located close to the commercial areas and amenities of Kendall Farm, but separated from them to the south by the park, with open countryside to the north, east, and west.

And that’s where Chloë lived.

I wasn’t sure what I expected, to be honest. On one hand, Chloë was a global superstar, so I kind of expected her to live in a superstar mansion with a home cinema room, swimming pool and tennis courts—all that jazz. But on the other hand, Chapel Kendall was a quintessential British village full of quaint little cottages.

But I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised when it turned out that Rose Cottage was sort of a bit of both. She lived on the western edge of the village in what used to be a row of four farm workers’ cottages, but the cottages had been knocked through to make one home at some point in the past and the building was now a picture-postcard English cottage, complete with a thatched roof and dormer windows. There was a large garden at the front (and the rear, I found out later) surrounded by a low hedgerow. And in the centre of that hedgerow was a white wooden gate under an arch covered in red climbing roses from which the garden path led up to the front door.

Seriously, this house could have been on a postcard. Or one of those metal tins filled with shortbread biscuits you find in the posher supermarkets and department stores.

I knocked on the door, and after a short wait, Chloë’s fiancé answered.

“Hi, Paul. Come on in. Chloë’s in the kitchen,” He pointed towards the back of the house. “Just through there. Carly’s still upstairs, I think. Chloë will know.”

I followed his directions while he turned down the hallway that ran through the middle of the house and entered a room about halfway down it. Chloë was sitting with a woman I didn’t recognise, on a stool at the large island unit in the middle of the room.

It was a simply amazing kitchen. Although the house might have looked old-fashioned from the outside, inside, it was thoroughly modern—sleek and shiny.

“Paul!” Chloë said as I entered. She beamed, flashing me that movie star smile.

“You weren’t kidding,” said the blonde woman sitting beside her. “He really is dreamy.”

Chloë nudged her friend with her elbow and giggled. I noticed they each had a half-full glass of white wine, and the bottle sat half empty between them. That wasn’t their first glass each.

“Shush, you,” Chloë said. “Paul, this is Cassie. My best friend. Or she was my best friend. If she keeps making comments like that, she might not keep that title much longer.”