Free The Mercer's House (Northern Gothic Book 1) by Antonia Frost Page A

forgiven for pushing the boat out a bit. Patches of memory came back to her as she lay there. What had she done last night? There had been karaoke, and things had got a bit riotous in the bar, but other than that it was mostly a blank. No doubt Garrett would fill her in on all the details. But there had been something else. What was it? She tried to remember, but the wisp of memory eluded her. The light filtering through the curtains alternately brightened and then dimmed, from which she surmised that the day was a sunny one with passing clouds. She had been planning to visit Alison Maudsley today, but it would have to wait until later, as there was no way she was in any fit state to ask sensible questions of anyone. She would never drink again, she vowed to herself. And with that thought she fell asleep.
    It was half past eleven before she made it downstairs, after a long, hot shower. She found Garrett in the bar ordering a late breakfast.
    ‘Full English?’ he said when he saw her, and she closed her eyes briefly.
    ‘Ugh. I don’t even want to think about food,’ she said. ‘I’ll just have some coffee.’
    ‘A bucket of espresso and a drip coming right up,’ he said, as she went to sit down. Garrett brought over their hot drinks and she took a sip, then sat and stared into space.
    ‘So, then, this artist woman,’ began Garrett, but got no further before the door to the street opened and Will Devereux came in. Garrett lifted his hand and he came over to join them.
    ‘You’re awake, then,’ he said. ‘I came in before but they said you weren’t up yet.’
    He was looking from one to the other of them.
    ‘Sit down,’ said Garrett. ‘Our topic for today is Zanna’s hangover.’
    Zanna whimpered.
    ‘How come you got off so lightly, anyway?’ she said. ‘I’m sure you had as much as me.’
    ‘Years of practice,’ said Garrett.
    ‘You—er—seemed like you were having fun last night,’ said Will. He looked as if he were trying to keep a straight face. ‘The singing was quite something.’
    ‘Oh, God,’ said Zanna in sudden horror. ‘Tell me I didn’t.’
    ‘All right, we’ll tell you you didn’t,’ said Garrett.
    Zanna put her face in her hands and let out a moan as it all came rushing back to her.
    ‘You let me!’ she said accusingly to Garrett at last.
    ‘And I’d let you again,’ he said. ‘It was too good not to repeat.’
    ‘I hate you,’ she said.
    ‘Don’t worry,’ said Will. ‘You have a much better voice than I do.’
    ‘You didn’t sing, did you?’
    ‘You must be joking,’ he said. ‘Believe me, you do not want to hear me sing.’
    He smiled and she forgot her headache and smiled back.
    ‘I brought this,’ he said, and handed her something. ‘It’s Helen’s letter,’ he explained.
    ‘Oh,’ said Zanna. The envelope in her hand was old and worn, and had a tear that had been mended with tape. On the front someone had written Alexander’s name in blue ink—presumably Helen. ‘Can I—can I read it?’
    He nodded, and she looked inside and pulled out a single sheet of paper. It was coming apart where it had been folded, but the scrawled handwriting was still legible. Zanna and Garrett bent their heads over it and read it together. It was dated the sixth of August, 1989, and it said:
Darling Alex,
I ought to have told you this in person, but I’m afraid I was too much of a coward to do it. It’s even taken me four tries to write this letter, and I can’t bear to think of your face when you get back from New York and find it, but I know it’s not fair on you to just disappear without a word, so I won’t. The fact is, I’m feeling the need for a little time and space to think about things, so Rowan and I are going away for a while until I can get my head together and decide what to do. I realize it’s all a bit sudden, but it’s something that’s been building up for some time now. I promise you it’s nothing you’ve done, so please don’t worry about