The Dollhouse

Chapter 29

SOMEONE was listening at the window.

At once, Samuel flung himself at the windowpane, heaving over the edge - and then his hands were seizing up a flailing figure. I took a few steps back in shock. Sam pulled the culprit through the unforgiving gap, their shoulders banging on the glass during the struggle. A pair of horn-rimmed spectacles skidded on to the carpet.

It was Danny.

His palms and knees were dirty. Evidently, he had been crouching in the flowerbeds below, sucking in any conversation from the crack in the open window.

As he fell to a heap on the ground, he fumbled for his glasses, straightening up with what little dignity that remained. The quiff of his hair was sticking in about fifty opposite directions.

"What are you doing here?" I spat.

"Party tonight at the Mason's," he spoke in a would-be-casual voice of somebody who hadn't just been unearthed lurking like a rat. "Fancy coming?"

"So you can molest me again?"

It had been the first time Betsy and Danny had spoken face-to-face since the incident. It felt like such an abstract concept, a parallel universe that they had been such firm friends. Even though he pissed everyone off, there was irrevocable connection that appeared to cloak the three of them in gold. The Great Trio. Now, Danny had been so publicly ostracized, and he had just heard her confession.

They stared at each other for a few moments. Betsy was visibly irate; there was trembly, watery expression set on her hardened face, a muscle leaping out her jaw.

"I liked you." Unpredictably, our intruder hung his head, his hands deep in trouser pockets. "I really liked you."

This day really was an arcade of unexpectedness. Finding out my best friend was down with kissing girls, the chaos of Danny being found underneath the garden... I found I was shaking my head without really meaning to, practically photosynthesizing a heavy tension forming in the now-cramped room. I stared hard at Danny's hangdog features.

"Don't try and make me feel sorry for you!" Betsy face shone with tears. "You could have really hurt me, Danny. Why couldn't you stay the person you were when we were kids? You were such a frail little thing... you used to be so gentle."

Danny's face twisted into a bitter sort of grimace. It was as if there a past that he seldom wanted reminding of, and I found myself wondering; what were my friends like as children?

Nick spoke like he had been weighing the words up in his head. He, too, was judging the situation as if he expected a Mexican stand-off.

"It would be in your best interest to keep our discussion quiet," he talked with phlegmatic control. "Would you betray one of your only friends in the world, not to mention the girl you adore?"

"We're just being honest here," I chipped in.

Perhaps my unhelpful chiming in was the last straw for Danny. He couldn't hide behind his lordly character this time. Tongue running across his teeth, his gaze flickered from my denim skirt to my dark doe eyes.

If being caught underneath a girl's window wasn't humiliating enough.

"That's rich, coming from the girl who lies about her life," he snarled. "We all know that Arabella isn't your blood mother. Rudy isn't even related to you - it isn't hard if you do some digging. Why all the deceit, Lydia? Marriage records in the library prove they didn't marry until 1957. Which bring me to the point, how did that turn out for your father?"