Page 6 of Breathe Me: Smith & Belle

As soon as we stepped foot out of the reception room, I realized the house was eerily silent. All construction had stopped. That couldn’t be a good sign.

“How long have you lived here?” Nora asked as we wound our way down the circular staircase to the lower ground floor where the pool, wine cellar, and storage was located.

“We’re only here off and on. We still spend most of our time in the city.”

“London?” she asked, sounding excited. “I’d love to live there.”

“We have a house there. I guess we can’t quite let go of the city life.”

“I love London. Sussex has its own charms, but, honestly, I’m not sure I’d give up the city, either,” she said, adding quickly, “Of course, you have a good reason.”

“We’ll see.” I wasn’t ready to commit to either Thornham or London on a permanent basis. But I couldn’t help wishing whatever they’d found in the cellar would sway me one way or another.

“You should come with us, the next time we go,” I found myself telling her. I liked Nora, and maybe meeting my new nanny was the excuse I needed to get Clara and Edward into the same room. Although, I’d have to come up with an Alexander-approved neutral location. If the idea of living in London excited Nora, I’m not certain she could handle being marched into Buckingham.

“Oh, I’d love that. There’s a darling little children’s clothing store right—”

“Ladies,” Smith cut her off, slipping out of the wine cellar and blocking our path, “I think we should wrap this up upstairs.”

I knew my husband well-enough to see he was ruffled. His shoulders were squared, his muscles tensed, as though he was on alert.

“What is it?” I asked in a soft voice.

Smith nudged us back toward the stairs, shaking his head. “Nothing. I’m sure it will all be fine.”

Fine. There was that word again. Why did people insist on saying fine when what they meant was fucked up?

“What’s going on?” I peered over his shoulder just as the cellar door swung open, giving me a glimpse of a pile of pale ivory rocks. My head turned instinctively as if it knew what I was trying to see before I’d found the right word for it: skulls.