‘Oh, Jason, no!’
She stopped, aghast, and could only watch as he continued the process, tearing it to shreds which fluttered down the stairs towards her, settling all around like dark grey snow.
‘Why?’ she wailed.
‘It’s not mine,’ he said. ‘None of it’s mine, any more.’
He flung the rest of the portfolio over the bannister, scattering pictures right and left, then stormed up to the attic, banging the door behind him.
‘Jason!’ she yelled, running upstairs in his wake. ‘Jason, come down. Talk to me. Please.’
But no reply came from above, and he had weighted the trap door so she couldn’t open it from below. After listening to the sounds of furious paint mixing and brushing, she decided to leave him to it and slouched downstairs, threw herself on her mattress and succumbed to the darkness, outside and in.
It was an hour, maybe two, before she moved. Her brain had run through every possibility, from leaving Bledburn tonight and never returning, to staying here forever and never re-engaging with the world outside. Somewhere, a workable balance had to be found. Jason’s innocence had to be proved, so he could leave if he wanted or stay. If she hadn’t thrown away that possibility for goo
d.
She heard the creak of the trap door and stiffened, her nose still pressed firmly into the duvet. Soft steps whispered down the uncarpeted stairs – he wasn’t wearing shoes, she thought – then crossed the hall.
She felt his presence in the doorway, even though she couldn’t see him.
His voice, when it came, was a shock – rough and ragged at the edges.
‘Sit up and look at me.’
It was a command, and she didn’t dare disobey. She pulled her hot, rumpled face from the mattress and turned eyes, from which her defiance couldn’t quite be extinguished, to him.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I should have asked first.’
‘Aye,’ he said quietly with an emphatic nod.
‘But you’d have said no.’
His face, pale but set as firmly as that of a sergeant major about to give the battle signal, bore down on her, making her feel squeezed and a little breathless.
‘I’d have said no,’ he repeated after a pause. ‘You knew that. But you went ahead.’
‘I was doing it for you.’
‘No you weren’t,’ he said, the anger flashing back. ‘You were doing it for you. Your ego. Your satisfaction.’
She stared at him, open mouthed, wondering if he had a point.
‘And why not?’ he continued. ‘Because look at you. Look at Lady Muck of Muck Hall, queen of all she surveys, including this poor bastard here.’
‘Jason, no!’
But he spoke over her.
‘I might be on your property, but it doesn’t mean I am your property. You can’t do what the fuck you like with me and mine, not without my consent, my permission.’
‘I know that now, I’m sorry, please,’ she gabbled, but still he went on.
‘I know I’m only here to keep you happy in bed, and knock a few nails into walls, but you could at least pretend to have some respect for me.’
‘But I do.’ She rose from the mattress and stepped towards him, hands out, palms up. ‘Jason, I promise you.’
He held up a hand of his own, establishing distance between them.