The lights in the kitchen were soft and yellow and cast a hazy glow on the spacious room. It was hot with the oven on and I removed my jacket, placing it on the back of Nafula's chair. The kitchen had been one of the rooms that had been renovated by the previous owner, but it still held a secret, rustic charm due to the great brick fireplace and elaborate, carved table around which sat Isla and Nafula, playing cards. They had hit it off like a house on fire - Nafula just had something perpetually maternal about her, and she knew exactly how to entertain the little girl.

"Emma, can you grab the salt for me?" Elise asked, leaning forwards to pluck a basil leaf from the plant on the windowsill. Much like the rest of the house, her kitchen was filled to the brim with all manner of plants, and Angus, the indoor gardener, was a master at keeping the bugs away. He kept the plants as healthy as could be, and would often spray them with beer. I always thought it did the plants more harm than good, but the elderly Scottish man swore by it to keep away any insects and there was little reason to complain.

"Only if you say please," I teased lightly, pressing a kiss to her nose as I handed her what she had asked for. Rolling her eyes, she batted me away, muttering something under her breath about being 'utterly unhelpful'. The older woman's cheeks were pink with exertion as she chopped up tomatoes. I hadn't seen Elise cook before - she had a chef but had temporarily dismissed them upon our arrival late yesterday morning. She hadn't said anything, but I imagined it was a combination of wanting to spend as much time with Isla as possible and needing a hobby to take her mind off of things. Last night, I may have got an hour of sleep, if that. All I could think about was Arthur's bloody body, ripped in half on the dining room table.

Isla. Sighing, I topped up my glass of wine, watching the young girl chatter happily. Her silky blonde hair shimmered in the hazy light, and the toothy grin she flashed every time Nafula lost at 'Snap' was proof that everything we had gone through was worth it.

It was both a blessing and curse that she was so blissfully unaware of what had transpired since Halloween. Having to brace yourself for the news that your own child may have been killed was mental torture of the most wicked kind, and I couldn't possibly imagine what it had been like for Elise. It was the first thing she asked after Josephine was restrained and led away, where Isla was. It wasn't until we reached the police station that we found out Isla was absolutely fine, apparently convinced that her Mother was away on holiday.

There were still so many questions, and they lingered above our heads threateningly as we ate together. We hadn't had a chance to discuss anything since arriving home, because Elise had made sure Isla was around her constantly. Tonight, she had made a lasagna - it was spectacular.

Later that evening, once she had bathed Isla and put her to bed, we sat around the kitchen table in silence. Elise looked like she hadn't slept in months - her cheeks were hollow and gaunt, her eyes dim and grey. I was sure I looked no better. Each pair of eyes kept flickering up to the stairs, just waiting for a masked intruder to come and steal Isla away into the night.

Early this morning we had received a call letting us know her parents had been discharged. Elise had warned me to expect this - they were powerful people with a lot of money.

"What was their cover story again?" Nafula asked, and Elise blinked, "Y'know, your parents?"

"That they were just looking after Isla because they didn't know where I had gone," Elise let out a bitter laugh, "And with it comes the unanswerable plot holes. How my ex-husband had a live stream of her crying and screaming, and why they had told my daughter that I was in fucking Barbados if they were so concerned we were missing."

I cleared my throat awkwardly at her language and both women snapped their heads to look at me, "Sorry," I apologised, not meaning to interrupt. Something about Elise swearing always struck me, and I couldn't help feeling more than a little odd. She knew it, too - knew how much it affected me. The room felt charged with electricity, and her lips were wet with saliva, her eyes dark and heady. My chest was rising and falling quickly, and Elise was not making matters easier. Disguised by the table as Nafula sat opposite us, Elise stealthily slid a hand across to rub my inner thigh and my breath caught in my throat. Oh, now was so not the time.

My brain was foggy, but at the same time, things seemed to be sliding into place. The taxi driver, the party, everything.

"They orchestrated this whole thing, didn't they?" I thought out loud. Elise's hand moved to a more appropriate section of my leg, and her touch was soothing now, comforting. The sexual tension disappeared as the cogs in my mind whirred.

"Go on," Nafula encouraged.

"The day the taxi app disappeared from my phone, I had been running late."

"Typical," Elise rolled her eyes. I ignored her.

"I had left my phone on the kitchen counter," I thought back to that day, and the biting wind that ripped at my cold cheeks, "So I ran back in to get it. It was unlocked when I found it, which was odd, because that wasn't how I left it, and there was a draft coming through the back door. It probably sounds incredibly stupid - an unlocked phone and an open back door, but I just..." trailing off, I sighed, "Break-ins and the like just don't happen around here. Everyone leaves their doors unlocked, y'know? It's safe. Or at least, I thought it was. At the time, I had no reason to think that anybody would want to harm me."

"So someone deleted the app - presumably your parents, right, Elise?"

"No," Elise shook her head at Nafula, "They don't do the 'dirty work', I imagine it was that taxi driver. You'd be surprised what people will do for a bit of cash."

"I had a to-do list on my phone," I continued, "And on it, it said I needed to get milk. There's only one shop in town, of course, so later that evening when I arrived the flyer was already up in the window. They must have paid off the shop-keeper, Arlene, to do it. She loves being involved in anything secret, the nosy git."

"Is that the one that always smells like lamb?" Elise questioned. I nodded, and she wrinkled her nose, "I thought as much. I never trusted her."

"So Arlene was the taxi driver?" Nafula blinked.

"No, no," I shook my head, "I think that Elise's parents may have paid her off too. Or perhaps gotten the taxi man to pay her off."

"Not very clever of them," Elise rolled her eyes, "Arlene is about as good at keeping secrets as a rusty sieve can hold water."

"All right, well, we're not trying to help them, are we?" I rolled my eyes, an unintentional smile gracing my lips.

"Just saying," Elise shrugged in a decidedly ungraceful manner. She had grown increasingly relaxed around Nafula since their first meeting. The eight or nine-hour drive we shared from York had helped immensely. You might have even thought they were friends, the way they spoke. It warmed my heart in an unfamiliar way, and I held onto that feeling tightly.

"Anyway, Arlene plucked the number from the board and gave it to me. 'Just in case', she had said. I thought it odd at the time, but rather endearing. Looking back, I just feel stupid and naive. I was in the army, for fuck's sake. You'd think I would be a little more vigilant."

"You can't blame yourself, darling," Elise said, pushing a lock of hair behind my ear. I shivered at the light contact and I noticed her breath hitch slightly, "Neither of us could have expected what happened."

"You're right."

"I have my faults, too," Elise admitted, sitting back.

"Elise? Faults? Nah," I snorted, swirling my wine, "Never."

"Shut up," She elbowed me fiercely, knowing full well I could take it, but I winced dramatically for added effect, "When I saw Isla on that screen I knew something was off. The rope around her wrists was loose and nothing was securing her legs. And her screams, they were almost playful, or at least insincere. But I was so blinded by fear all I could think about was making sure she was safe."

"Are you implying that the footage was real, but she was just... playing?" Nafula frowned.

"I wouldn't put it past her bastard parents," I butted in fiercely. Elise flinched - they were her parents after all, but I couldn't help the anger that boiled inside of me, "Probably told Isla they were playing a fun game, pretended to tie her up to keep Elise and me under control. It's sickening."

"I can't believe I was so stupid," Elise sat back, sipping red wine like it was water, "I can't believe they would go to all these lengths and... for what? To try and force me back into Arthur's arms? How ridiculous could they have been to think he could threaten my daughter's life and I would somehow want to be with him once again?"

"People are sick," I sighed, biting my lip. Everything felt overwhelming and I was tired. So, so tired.

"They're sick," Elise shook her head bitterly, now drinking from an empty glass, although she hardly noticed, "It's not the first time they've pulled a stunt like this."

"Oh?" Nafula said.

"When I was sixteen, they caught me with my best friend. She was really the loveliest friend I had ever had," Elise tilted her head back, closing her eyes as the ghost of a smile touched her lips, "She was Dutch, and really rather pretty, not like those other, prissy heirs," A pang of jealousy struck my heart, but I batted it away, listening to the story Elise had already told me a hundred times, "It only took them two months to find me a husband after that. The first time I met Arthur was the day of our wedding. At the altar," She opened her eyes with a dry laugh, and poured herself another glass of wine, her lips stained red, "I never saw my best friend again. The worst thing was, they never forced me. I made the decision myself, out of some sick, perverse idea that having a husband would 'fix' me," Turning to me, she let out a shy smile, and it was unusual on her but really rather pretty, "Evidently, we were all wrong."

"I'm truly sorry to hear that, Elise," Nafula reached across the table and took my partner's hand in hers, her deep eyes holding resounding sorrow, "I think we have each had enough pain to last us a lifetime, haven't we?"

The clock ticked on, and not long later, Nafula stood up, wrapping a scarf around her neck. Despite Elise's insistence that she stayed with us, she had booked the local bed and breakfast and would be returning there for her final night.

"I'll be off to Glasgow tomorrow," Nafula said warmly, standing in the hallway, "As I have some business to attend to. I shall stop by around nine to say goodbye if that suits you both?"

"Nine is a bit early," I wrinkled my nose, not fancying the early start.

"Nine would be lovely," Elise interjected, glaring at me, "Thank you so much for your help, Nafula. It has been wonderful seeing you again after all these years."

"Yes, well," Nafula smiled gently, "It isn't quite what I expected, but pleasant nonetheless."

We bid the woman farewell, and she disappeared into her rental car. As the owner of a worldwide catering company, despite living in Kenya with her husband and children, she often travelled around the globe. I knew for a fact she had been to Scotland many times, and I resented myself for not having arranged to see her sooner. I had only called her when I was desperately in need of her help, and I realised that that in itself spoke volumes.

"Emma?" Elise whispered. There was a hint of fragility in her voice as she turned to me in the hallway, her eyes sad and quiet, "You're lost in your thoughts again."

"Sorry," I sighed, "It's hard not to these days," I stepped close to her. A gentle hand ran through my hair, falling to rest at the back of my neck in a warm, familiar gesture and I smiled softly at her touch.

"Everything feels rather dark, doesn't it?"

"Yes," I nodded, "It does. And I miss them, Elise. I miss them all. Rachel, Finn. Mary. All my friends from the Army. I've lost so many people, and I feel like I'll never stop losing the ones I love. I feel like maybe I'm doomed to suffer, like my only purpose in life is to be a shell of my former self."

"Emma," Elise fought back tears as she brought me into a tight embrace, "Please, my dearest, don't speak of life in that way. Nothing is given, nothing is certain," Pulling back from the hug, she caressed my cheek gently, "You determine your own fate. Don't ask life to take from you what you have, because she will. Go through this with an open mind, an open spirit. Appreciate what you have, not what you have lost."

"Oh, Elise," I sniffed, "What would I do without you?"

"You would surely perish," Elise winked, but there was a slow sadness in her gestures, "Now, let's finish off that wine. I'm feeling rather tipsy already."

"I thought Duchesses didn't get tipsy," I grinned, following her back into the kitchen.

"Then, darling, you were lied to," Elise gave a wicked grin and struck a match, lighting various candles around the room.

"Alexa, play 'I Can't Quit You by Rod Ladgrove'," I called out.

"Ah!" Elise gave a garbled expression of shock, glaring at the Alexa as the gentle crooning of Rod Ladgrove filled the room, "I hate that blasted thing."

"Says the one who was asking it to shuffle Tupac the other day."

Elise rolled her eyes, sauntering towards me with the red wine in one hand and two fresh glasses in the other, "I don't recall."

"So Isla was listening to Tupac, then?"

Elise gave a devilish grin, and I backed up against the table as she leaned past me to place the glasses on the table, "I imagine you encouraged her. You really are such a bad influence, Slater."

"Go on, keep deluding yourself. It's fun to watch."

The blonde woman let out a delicious laugh, and it rolled off her tongue like smoke as she grabbed me and pulled me flush against her, "Do you remember the first time we danced to this song?"

I gripped her middle and revelled in the feeling of her waist beneath my hands, a dark look in her eyes, "Gosh, it must have been years ago now."

"It was the Winter Ball," She draped her arms over my shoulders lazily and we began to sway to the music, soaking in the unsettled dust of the old home, "In Collerton. In that old hotel, the one with the balcony."

"You're wrong," I giggled at her affronted glare, "We never danced to this. It was the song playing when we had our first kiss."

"Rubbish," Elise huffed, but there was doubt written on her face, "Our first kiss was to..." Elise trailed off, and then she let out a laugh. If I could bottle that laugh up and keep it forever, I really would, "Oh, perhaps you're right. I can hardly remember anything these days."

"It's the menopause. Ow!" I rubbed my arm where she had slapped it playfully, and the song changed to a slower, sadder tune.

"I'm years away from menopause, I'll have you know."

"That's the Alzheimer's kicking in. Now you don't even know your own age!"

"Emma," Elise warned, a glint in her eye.

"I'll remind you, if you like," I grinned, "You're 306."

"Emma!" Elise tried to grab me but I slipped from her grasp, letting out a delirious laugh as I sprinted out of the kitchen, running across the hallway into the Piano Room, "Come back here at once!" she called, but I was miles ahead, already slipping into the library. Hopping over aged sofas and piles of sprawling books I heard a clatter and looked behind to see Elise. She had tripped by the doorway and I panicked, running back over to her.

"Shit, are you okay?" I bit my lip and bent down, holding out a hand to help her. In a split second, she had pulled me down and flipped our positions to straddle me on the floor with a triumphant grin on her face. Strands of hair had escaped her bun and they framed her face in a very pretty way. Her chest was heaving, and she was grinning from ear to ear.

"Language, Miss Slater."

"You bitch!"

"Honestly, you'd think you know nothing about me!" She laughed victoriously, "Duchesses don't trip, Miss Slater."

"Duchesses don't trip, Miss Slater," I imitated in a whiny voice, doing my best to impersonate her.

"You talk a lot of shit for someone laying on the floor."

"Elise!" I admonished, picking up a book to whack her playfully on the thigh, "Duchesses don't swear!"

"Well, I know you like it when I swear," her voice was low and husky, and my mind flickered back to earlier that evening at the kitchen table.

"I actually hate it," I insisted, looking up at her, "Despise it, really."

"Is that so?" Elise husked, leaning close so that the loose strands of her hair tickled my face as she pinned my wrists to the carpeted floor, "So you'd hate it if, for example, I was to say that I fucking love having you beneath me like this?"

I fell silent. The only sound in the library was my own breathing, ragged and erratic. For once, I was speechless. I had no witty retort, no quick comeback. Just a familiar feeling of heat pooling in the depths of my stomach, "I-I-" I stammered.

"Hmm," Elise cocked her head sideways, looking down on me imperiously. She smirked, and we both knew that she had complete and utter control of me, "That's what I thought, darling."