Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 151845 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 759(@200wpm)___ 607(@250wpm)___ 506(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151845 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 759(@200wpm)___ 607(@250wpm)___ 506(@300wpm)
There he is. In my mind’s eye, bare-chested and indulging in his most favourite thing. He won’t have free access to any apples in prison, and if he does, they won’t be bright green, they won’t have juice spots, and they’ll probably have no crunch. He’ll never survive.
The thought makes me mad, and my fist comes down on the desk hard, the shock travelling up my arm.
‘Eleanor, whatever are you doing?’
My lids spring open and find Mrs Potts holding the office door open, her eyes wide with alarm. She’s not shown a scrap of emotion since she watched Becker being carted away by the police, has barely even spoken about it. I’ve had no one to share my burden with.
I blink through my blurred vision as I brush away some strands of my hair that have stuck to my damp cheeks.
‘Come on, dear,’ she says sharply, marching over to the desk. ‘We’ll be having none of that nonsense.’ She pulls me to my feet and forces me to face her, and I fall apart all over again, shaking in her grasp. She’s made of stone. She must be. Roughly wiping at my cheeks while I snivel and sob before her, she rolls her eyes. ‘Now you listen here, young lady.’ She gives me a tight face, but her harshness doesn’t lessen the emotion overtaking me. I’m a wreck. ‘You will pull yourself together and be the woman he fell in love with.’ She cocks an eyebrow and purses her lips, saying more with that look. ‘Now then.’ She nods her approval to her own words and takes a quick peek at my pathetic form. Becker’s T-shirt is drowning me, but the smell is so comforting. ‘Look at the state of you.’
I say nothing. I have nothing to say. I wouldn’t get any words past the lump of grief blocking my throat, anyway.
She pulls at the material of the T-shirt and takes in my bare legs. ‘Have you showered?’
I nod pitifully.
‘Maybe so, but I know for a fact that you’ve not eaten.’
‘I’m not hungry,’ I murmur flatly, the thought of food making me come over all queasy. And panicky. Becker won’t have free access to his apples. He needs his apples. ‘Oh God, I need to get him out!’ I turn and make for the door, my earlier silent claim, the one where I told myself I’m not being irrational, being flattened with every step I take. I’m being totally irrational now.
‘What are you gonna do, dig him out?’
My bare feet skid to a stop, and I whirl around, offended and annoyed by her snarky quip. I should feel none of those things. I should be laughing, but I can’t do that either, because there is nothing funny about that suggestion, no matter how much humour the old lady wove into those words. Because in my wild reality, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Becker found a way to do exactly that. The man’s capabilities have floored me at every turn. Unreasonable and unrealistic as it may sound, I can’t help but hope that he’s a mile underground, tunnelling his way out of a cell and is going to pop up out of the ground at any moment.
I look at the office floor.
I’ve officially lost the plot.
‘Give me strength.’ Mrs Potts sighs, wobbling over, as if she knows exactly what has been running through my mind. She grabs my left hand and holds it up between us, giving us both a close-up of the gigantic emerald ring that Becker put on my finger. I start sobbing again, seeing his face when he asked me to marry him, the awe and devotion, the nerves and shyness. ‘When you came to work here, Eleanor, Becker boy had no idea what he was doing. We were flummoxed when he started to let you in so deeply, let you delve beneath the legitimate side of our business here. He willed you on. We could see that.’ She pulls up and waits for me to give her my tear-filled eyes. ‘He wanted you to discover everything there was to discover about him, about us, about the Hunt Corporation.’ Her lips purse as she waits for me to absorb what she’s trying to tell me. I know exactly what. ‘He didn’t know what he was doing, of that I’m certain, but when he put this ring on your finger, he knew exactly what he was doing. He was letting you into something far more precious than this old rickety building and the secrets it holds. He was letting you into his heart. You’re a strong young woman, dear girl. That’s why he loves you. Because he believes you are strong enough to see everything there is to see and, most importantly, deal with it. And on top of all that, still love him.’