Chapter Three

When I woke up I was in bed, still in my clothes, but somebody had taken off my shoes and moved me under the duvet. I wasn't sure how I felt about the fact that somebody had come snooping into my room after I was asleep and manoeuvred me like a rag doll, but then I thought that maybe it was Tristan and felt an involuntary swell of excitement.

Dismissing it, I glanced at my phone, and was alarmed to see that it was one o clock in the day. I jumped out of bed like an electrocuted ninja, shoving my feet into my shoes and running a perfunctory hand through my hair before tumbling out of my room and down the stairs, tripping into the living room where I found Tristan and Annabelle sitting quietly on the sofa, the elder reading and the younger playing with a jigsaw puzzle.

They looked up at me in mild surprise.

'Good morning,' Tristan said with a slight smirk; it had stopped being morning hours ago.

'I'm so sorry,' I mumbled, embarrassed. 'I can't believe I slept in on my first day.'

'It's fine,' Tristan said in his sexy accent. 'Annabelle went up to get you when you didn't show by eleven. She found you comatose and fully dressed, so I put you in bed. You're jetlagged. Don't worry about it.'

I blushed at the thought of him putting me in bed and how I must have looked. Snoring and drooling probably.

'Where are your parents?' I asked, sitting down.

He raised an eyebrow. 'At work.'

'What do they do?'

'Dad's a lawyer,' Annabelle, 'and Dad's an artist.'

'...Right.'

Tristan snorted. 'It's not too difficult to work out which is which. Gregory's the lawyer, Edwin's the artist.'

'Thanks,' I mumbled gratefully.

Tristan stood up. 'Well seeing as you're awake I'll let you get to work,' he said, marking his page in his book and putting it on the bookshelf. 'I have some things to do in town; I don't know what time I'll be back but Edwin and Gregory will probably be home before me.' He paused. 'Good luck,' he added with another smirk before leaving the room and, soon afterwards, the house.

I looked awkwardly at Annabelle, who seemed happy enough with her puzzle. I'm an only child, I've never had to deal with kids before. The one and only time I ever babysat was for an actual baby who was in bed before I arrived and didn't even wake up before the parents came home. Annabelle was gonna finish that puzzle eventually and then I'd have to figure out something to do with her.

I glanced at my phone again; it was nearing half one. That meant lunch, right? Did they eat lunch here, or did they have dinner during the day and then supper at night? Was the cook Tristan had mentioned already on top of it or should I start looking for takeaway numbers?

'So...' I said awkwardly, and Annabelle looked up at me, beaming.

'Wanna help?' she asked enthusiastically.

'Uh. Sure.' I got down on my hands and knees and knelt across from her, studying the puzzle. It looked like it had about a hundred million pieces. I glanced at the box to see what nutjob toy company had made a puzzle like this for six year olds, but it didn't have an age recommendation on it; it was for adults.

Nevertheless, the kid seemed to be making good progress. I don't know how long she'd been working on it, whether she'd been doing it for months or weeks or hours, but she was more than half finished.

'You're pretty smart, huh?' I asked, fitting one of the loose pieces into the already completed bundle in the middle.

'Yup,' she admitted unabashedly. 'In America they'd say I was reading at an eighth grade level,' she added proudly.

'So am I,' I quipped, and she laughed.

'Tristan says I should spend more time being normal but I don't want to be normal. That's boring. I like being me.'

I thought that this was a very mature outlook for a six year old, particularly when I, ten years her senior, spend pretty much every waking moment trying to fit in.

'I'm special,' she added, her eyes glittering like this was a delicious secret for us to share. 'But don't tell anyone.'

'My lips are sealed,' I promised, adding some more pieces to the puzzle. If only the real puzzle here – the entire Darlington existence – would come together as easily.

I was about to tentatively broach the subject of the missing little girl – I know. I know. It's reprehensible to extract sensitive information from a six year old. But I had to know – when she cocked her head and then jumped to her feet, grinning. 'Dinner!'

I frowned; I hadn't heard anything, but then again I hadn't been listening for anything.

I followed her through the house to the kitchen, where a girl I presumed was Maya was setting two places on the scrubbed oak table.

'Hi Maya,' Annabelle said amicably, confirming my suspicions. 'This is Cody. He's my friend.'

Maya looked to be about eighteen, which surprised me – I'd been expecting someone at least a little older. She was wearing regular street clothes which, okay, disappointed me. I'd never seen a maid in real life before and part of me had been hoping for the whole deal – white apron, black mini dress, feather duster.

'Hi,' Maya said monotonously, barely glancing at me. She was stunningly beautiful, with caramel coloured skin and long dark hair, high cheekbones and limpid pool dark eyes.

'Hello,' I said uncomfortably. Was everyone in my age bracket going to take an instant dislike to me in this country?

Maya left the room and Annabelle and I sat down in front of two steaming plates of pasta. My tummy rumbled, reminding me that I hadn't eaten since early yesterday evening, and all I'd had then was soup and a salad.

'Sorry about Maya,' Annabelle said, again displaying unlikely maturity. 'She's kind of mean.'

'What's her deal?'

'She's in love with my brother,' Annabelle said simply, before spooning up some pasta.

I, of course, choked, even though it wasn't exactly surprising. Despite his arrogance it would be impossible to not at least be attracted to his beauty.

'Are they together?'

Annabelle smiled. 'No. He doesn't like her. Neither do I.'

'He doesn't seem to like anybody,' I observed, before mentally kicking myself. She obviously adored the guy; criticizing him wasn't a good idea.

She shrugged. 'He doesn't know you,' she said. 'So he doesn't trust you.'

I snapped my head up, squinting suspiciously. 'Does that have anything to do with the other girl in the photos?'

Annabelle looked back at me simply, no trace of emotion of her face, and didn't say anything. I felt like she was daring me to press her on the subject, but there was no way. If it was too touchy for a six year then I was gonna drop it, for now at least.

'If he doesn't trust me, or Maya,' I asked, trying to steer subtly away from my resounding faux pas, 'why did he leave me here to look after you?'

Annabelle smiled like she knew something I didn't know. 'Oh,' she said softly, returning her attention to her pasta. 'I can take care of myself.'

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Since I'd slept so late I found myself laying awake in bed that night long after everyone else had fallen asleep. The house was quiet aside from the occasional creaking that comes with an old house, and I couldn't get comfortable in my bed.

Eventually I sat up and put on some thick socks to muffle any sounds I might make, and made my way back downstairs, taking extra care outside Tristan and Annabelle's bedrooms, because there was something about them that freaked me out – like they could read my mind or something. I hoped not, given the amount of time I'd invested in thinking about Tristan putting me to bed earlier that morning.

Almost unintentionally, I found myself standing in front of the cabinet that held the Darlington family photos, the room lit only by the white moonlight streaming through the un-curtained window. I stared up at them, looking at each of them separately for several minutes, before I noticed a drawer underneath the main cabinet. Settling on the ground in front of it Indian-style, I pulled the handle on the drawer and was surprised to find it opened.

Inside were several leather-bound photo albums, and I ran my hand over the cover of one, hesitating. If I did this, started this real snooping, there wouldn't be any going back. I was already way more curious than I should be about this family, and their history was none of my business. There would be no way to justify what I was doing if I got caught, and knowing the uncanny ability of this family to read me, there was a significant chance I would get caught.

But, for some reason, I had to know. So I picked up the first photo album and opened it.

If I was expecting a photo-documentary of everything the family had ever done, I was disappointed. There were a lot more photos of the other little girl in here, she and Tristan in a few and a single one of all three of them: Tristan, Annabelle as a tiny newborn, and this mystery girl.

I carefully peeled this photo away from the page it was on and peered at the back. Tristan, Kaley, and Annabelle, Autumn 2005.

So it had to have been taken just after they brought Annabelle home from the hospital. Chronologically, after this, there were no more pictures of Kaley. What had happened to her? Was she with their mother? Away at school? These didn't seem likely, especially in light of how Tristan had reacted when I'd asked about her – don't worry about her, she's gone. Had she died?

For some reason I felt a dull ache in my chest at that thought. I didn't know these people, I didn't know Kaley, but it hurt to think of them suffering through the loss of her. Tristan clearly had adored her the same way Annabelle adored him.

It made me a little sad that I was an only child. Usually I'm pretty sure I'd passionately hate having to share my things, my space, my parents with anyone else, but just at that moment, looking at them all loving each other, it made me wonder if having a sibling wouldn't have been nice, from time to time.

'You really should stop snooping,' a voice said calmly from behind me, and I whipped around to see Tristan leaning against the doorframe. He was wearing Canterbury pants and not much else, a glass of freshly poured water on the end table beside him where he must have put it before he spoke.

I swallowed, trying to get my bearings. 'I'm sorry,' I managed to choke hoarsely after a few seconds.

Tristan pushed away from the doorframe and picked up his glass, the moonlight blanketing his bare chest and making me blush despite the situation I was in.

'You won't find anything. Stop looking,' he said in the same calm voice. 'Put those away before you go back to bed,' he added, before turning and leaving.

Hastily, and feeling like the biggest idiot while guilt rolled in a ball around my tummy, I put everything away and scurried back to bed. I lay under the covers, heart pounding, and hoping fervently that whatever shit I'd landed myself in with the Darlingtons once he told them, I wouldn't have to face Tristan himself. A little bit of me was quite scared of him.

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When I came downstairs the next morning (early, this time, to make up for my over-sleeping the day before) the whole family – Edwin, Gregory, Tristan, Annabelle, even Maya – were sitting around the table in the kitchen looking grave.

I gulped. Obviously my looking through those picture albums in the dead of night was even a bigger deal than I'd thought.

Everybody except Tristan looked up with grim curiosity when they heard me walk in.

'Good morning, Cody,' Edwin said quietly, before returning his attention to whatever everyone was looking at on the table – the photo of the three Darlington children, I assumed.

'Hi,' Annabelle said, with a little more cheerfulness, but her eyes were dark.

'Okay,' I said, taking a deep breath and biting the bullet. This situation could be salvaged. I would apologise and they would dock my pay or something and everything would be fine. 'I know it was a really shady thing to do and I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, I won't do it again, I promise.'

Edwin and Gregory didn't even seem to hear me, Annabelle looked confused, and Maya shot me a filthy look.

'What are you talking about?' she demanded archly.

Tristan glanced up at me. 'Shut up, Cody,' he said easily and without emphasis.

I frowned. Okay, so I'd messed up, I admit that, but this reaction was a little dramatic. It's not like I'd unzipped and urinated all over the photo album or something, all I'd done was have a look.

'I just wanted to-'

'Cody,' Tristan snapped quietly, and shook his head, making eye contact. Somehow, I derived from his look that he hadn't actually told them what had happened the night before. Whatever this was, it wasn't about me.

I stood in the doorway uncomfortably, shifting from foot to foot, wondering what to do. I felt like I shouldn't be here, like something bad had obviously happened and I was intruding – not that that had bothered me last night, on the other hand – but I didn't want to go back to my room because it felt like I was slacking off. Plus, Maya was here. Obviously staff were welcome.

'What are we going to do?' Edwin asked quietly. I wanted to move closer to see what they were looking at, but even I knew that wouldn't be advisable.

There was a beat of expectant silence, then Gregory sighed. 'Nothing,' he said sternly. 'We do nothing.'

'What?' Tristan demanded loudly, his head snapping up as he stared at his father uncomprehendingly.

'I mean it Tristan,' he said gravely. 'This is bigger than this family. We do nothing.'

'You can't be serious! This is the first time-' he cut himself off and took a breath. 'This is the first we've heard in almost seven years. We can't do nothing.'

'Well that's exactly what we're going to do.' He levelled Tristan with a gaze. 'I know what you're thinking,' he said softly, not that that was difficult – even I knew what Tristan was thinking. Whatever they weren't going to do as a family, Tristan was planning to do by himself. 'You can't. You'll fail. You know you will.'

'If we don't do something now it will be worse for us later,' Tristan said severely.

'That's a risk we have to take,' Gregory said in the same voice. They both sounded like they shouldn't be argued with. 'At the very least it will give us time to prepare.'

'You're out of your fucking mind,' Tristan snapped, standing up and storming out of the room, the front door slamming a few seconds later.

Maya jumped up to go after him, but Gregory waved a hand at her wearily, and even though she wasn't looking at him it seemed to stop her right in her tracks. Clearly seething, she lowered herself back into her seat, glowering at Gregory.

'He's right, you know,' she said, her quiet voice simmering with anger.

'Maya, get something for Cody for breakfast,' Gregory said in a tired voice, and this, of course, only served to make her angrier. She looked about to argue but then snapped her mouth shut and went to crash around in the kitchen, loudly and angrily pouring me some cereal.

Something told me that maybe she wasn't just a maid.

'We're sorry you had to see that Cody,' Gregory said, finally addressing me directly, and I shrugged, embarrassed.

'It's okay.'

'I'm afraid Edwin and I are quite late for work.' He glanced boredly at Maya. 'Will you be alright with Annabelle?'

'That's what I'm here for,' I tried to say cheerily, but it sounded weak.

Maya dropped a bowl of dry cereal onto the table, glared at me, and stormed out of the room in a Tristan-like fashion, followed more calmly by Gregory and Edwin as they left for work. I glanced at Annabelle as I sat gingerly at the table. Whatever had been on it, that they'd been fighting over, was gone.

'You're not gonna tell me what all that was about, are you?'

'No,' Annabelle said, then smiled. 'But I'm guessing you already have an idea.'

'Kaley?' I asked tentatively.

Annabelle said nothing.