Chapter 7: Housewarming

"We understand Ms Bourke left her firm abruptly on Monday," Cecily's quote began. "We wish her well, wherever she goes next."

The article ran at five past six in the morning.

My resignation was four days old, and they'd made it sound like a getaway.

Cian read it over my shoulder, dripping on my coat.

"She's good," he said.

"She's not good." I put the phone away. "She's early. She wants it said before anyone reads my statement."

"So what do you do?"

"I make one of them say it first."

Petra had invited me to her housewarming.

Of course she had.

The invitation came to my old email at noon, cream with a gold border, from Mr and Mrs Fintan Fitzsimons.

Drinks in Dalkey, Saturday, seven o'clock.

The house stood on the sea road with its back to the rocks, white, with a blue door my mother had painted herself.

I didn't knock.

I went round the side, through the gate with the broken latch, the way I had every day until I left for college.

The kitchen door was open to let the heat of sixty people out.

I walked into my mother's kitchen with a glass of someone else's wine in my hand.

They had put a marble island where her table used to be.

The Aga was gone. The window seat was gone.

I looked at the door frame by the pantry before I could stop myself.

My mother had measured me on it every birthday from four to fourteen, in pencil, with the date beside each line.

It was white now.

A fresh, thick, glossy white. I could smell it.

"Ness!"

Petra came through the crowd in a red dress, her arms out.

Keep reading free with an account. Start I Funded Their Empire for Years, So They Sent Me the Bill from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.