Free The Elephant Girl (Choc Lit) by Henriette Gyland Page A

tell from the sudden pink spots in her cheeks that she’d caught his warning. It was the same expression she’d worn at the market, when she’d been furious with him. Jason experienced a toe-curling and gut-churning sensation of having kicked someone who was already down.
    ‘I was just curious,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t going to invade her privacy. I’d hate it if someone invaded mine.’
    He assessed her for a moment. ‘Obviously you’ve got principles. Why do I have this feeling you haven’t been in prison?’
    ‘Why would I want to live in a halfway house if I hadn’t?’ she retorted.
    ‘You tell me. Usually principles are some of the first things people put on hold when they’re locked up. They can be difficult to find again.’
    ‘There’s nothing wrong with my principles.’
    ‘Okay, fine, no need to get on your high horse. There’s just one other thing. If you don’t mind me asking, what was your crime?’
    ‘ My crime?’
    Her eyes flew to his and suddenly there was such a fiendish rage in them, a deeper and older rage different from the one before, that he almost stepped back in alarm. Then her shoulders slumped.
    ‘Let’s just say someone died who shouldn’t have,’ she said softly.
    ‘Who?’
    For a moment she stared at a point somewhere over his shoulder. He feared this was her way of saying she wasn’t going to answer his question, and if she didn’t, he couldn’t allow her to have the room, simple as that.
    Which would be a crying shame.
    Finally she said, ‘A child.’
    ‘A child?’ he repeated and sent her a startled look.
    It was the first thing which had sprung to mind because there was a certain, odd truth to it – a part of her had died that day and her childhood with it – but she could see now that perhaps it hadn’t been the smartest thing to say. Everyone hated child killers, and rightly so. However, it was too late to take it back. No matter what she said, he wouldn’t believe her now.
    She found herself torn. She rarely went out of her way to make people like her, would often push them away because it was easier that way, and she’d prefer Jason’s condemnation to him knowing the real reason she was here. At the same time the thought of being condemned by someone who seemed so tolerant of others was almost unbearable. Dammit, she wanted him to like her.
    When he said nothing, just continued to stare at her, she turned away and headed down the stairs. Talk about messing up. Story of my life, she thought.
    He caught her arm, the lightest of touches. ‘Was it an accident?’
    ‘Yes,’ she replied, surprised he even bothered with her.
    Something must have made him think she wasn’t the devil incarnate. He smiled suddenly, and she basked in the glory of that smile like a sun-starved tourist. It transformed his face, lit up the intensely blue eyes, and the little goatee she’d scoffed at so rudely no longer looked like a gravy stain, but instead soft and beguiling, inviting her to trace it with her finger. She stopped before she made another mistake.
    ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘There’ll be time enough to talk about that another day. Now for the boring bit. The rent money covers bills and council tax. I don’t charge much because most of my tenants are on benefits of some kind. I’m not making a profit, but that’s not why I do it anyway.’
    They had reached the bottom of the stairs and Jason pushed open the door to the kitchen.
    ‘Why do you do it?’ she asked.
    The television was blaring and Fay was grinding coffee beans. Helen didn’t quite hear his answer but it sounded like ‘indulgence’, which puzzled her because he didn’t seem like the self-indulgent type.
    ‘So what do you think?’
    Coffee ready, Jason put mugs on the table with a carton of milk and a sugar bowl. Helen counted five cups, so they obviously expected her to stay for coffee whether she moved in or not. As she wondered about the last mug, she caught the eyes of the woman who’d made