The Last Guest

It stood on a rise above the mere, all pale stone and tall windows, its roofline broken by chimneys. The lower fields had vanished beneath sheets of water. A gravel drive curled up towards the entrance, but the gravel was no longer visible. Brown water streamed across it, carrying twigs and a plastic flowerpot towards the iron gates.

Mara stopped.

The car rocked as wind pushed against it.

She could call Daniel. She could tell him the road was flooded and that she was turning back. He would insist she come on. Harriet would make a joke. Felix would say the house had survived worse. Someone would open a bottle, and the old machinery would begin: laughter, interruption, the careful avoidance of Elise’s name.

Mara looked at the dark windows above.

She had come for one reason. To get through the weekend without allowing the past to become a weapon.

She put the car into first gear.

The water rose to the wheel hubs almost immediately. It slapped the doors with a force that made her flinch. The steering wheel tugged left as the tyres lost their grip on the submerged gravel.

“Come on,” she whispered.

Halfway up the drive, the engine coughed.

Mara’s hand tightened around the wheel. The house was no more than fifty yards away, its front steps visible through the rain. Behind her, the gateposts had disappeared into the grey curtain. Ahead, the drive climbed, but the water ran down it in a fast, muddy sheet.

The engine coughed again.

“No.”

She pressed the accelerator. The car lurched forward, then stalled.

For a moment there was only the ticking of the cooling engine and the rain striking the roof.

Mara reached for her phone. No signal. The screen showed a single empty bar before it vanished.

A figure moved near the house.

She saw a pale face at one of the windows, or thought she did. It remained there for a second, watching the stranded car, then withdrew.

Mara grabbed her coat from the passenger seat. Her boots were in the boot, along with her overnight bag. She could sit inside and wait for someone to come down, but the water was already creeping beneath the doors, cold against the soles of her shoes.

She opened the driver’s door.

Rain struck her face. Wind tore at the door and nearly pulled it from her hand. She climbed out, reached into the back seat for her bag and slammed the car shut. The floodwater pressed against her calves as she waded up the drive.

Something brushed her ankle.

Mara gasped and stumbled. A branch spun away in the current. She caught herself on the bonnet, palms scraping over the cold metal, then forced herself onward.

The front door opened before she reached it.

Daniel stood in the entrance wearing a charcoal jumper, one hand braced against the frame. His hair was longer than she remembered, silver beginning at the temples. He looked older than forty-three, and more composed than anyone had a right to look on a night like this.

“You took your time,” he called.

“Your directions were useless.”

“They were not my directions. They came with the booking.”

“Then the booking company is useless.”

His mouth shifted, almost a smile. “Come inside before you drown.”

Mara crossed the final stretch and handed him the bag. His fingers closed around the handle, but he did not move aside at once.

“You came alone,” he said.

“That was the arrangement.”

“I meant - ”

“I know what you meant.”

The warmth of the hall reached her in a wave, carrying woodsmoke, polish and the faint sweetness of wine. Behind Daniel, the house opened into a broad space of flagstones and dark beams. A fire burned in a grate beneath a carved stone mantel. Voices rose from somewhere beyond the staircase.

Daniel took one step back.

Mara entered.

The door slammed behind her with a concussion that shook dust from the beams.

“Jesus,” someone said from the drawing room. “Is that her?”

Harriet appeared first, barefoot despite the weather, holding a glass of white wine. Her blond hair was cut to her jaw now, and the years had sharpened rather than softened her face.

“Mara Ellison,” she said. “We were beginning to think you’d found an excuse.”

“I nearly did.”

“That would have been disappointing.”

Harriet kissed the air beside both her cheeks. Her perfume was expensive and too sweet. Mara caught the scent and remembered a corridor at university, wet coats, Elise laughing behind a locked bathroom door.

She stepped away.

Felix rose from a leather sofa. “You look frozen.”

“I am frozen.”

“Then drink.” He lifted a bottle. “We’ve been waiting.”

There were four of them in the room besides Daniel: Felix, Harriet, Priya Shah, and Tom Armitage. Five faces arranged around the fire, each altered by time and still recognisable enough to make Mara’s stomach contract.

Six, she thought.

There had been six of them.

The empty chair by the window held a folded blanket.

Priya noticed her looking. “That’s for you.”

“I can stand.”

“You always did prefer an exit.”

The remark landed lightly, almost playfully. No one laughed.

Mara removed her wet coat. Daniel took it from her and hung it on a brass stand. Water pooled beneath her boots.

“How bad is it?” Tom asked.

“The drive’s flooded.”

“We saw,” Felix said. “There’s a camera over the gate.”

“Then you could have come down sooner.”

“We assumed you’d manage.”

“Felix,” Daniel said.

“What? She did.”

Mara looked from one face to another. The room was warmer than it should have been, but she could not stop shivering. On the mantel stood six champagne flutes, each marked with a small black ribbon. One remained untouched.

Her gaze fixed on it.

Harriet followed her eyes. “A little theatrical, perhaps.”

“Who arranged that?”

“No one knows,” Priya said.

Daniel’s expression tightened. “They came with the house.”

“Six glasses?”

“Apparently the owner likes symmetry.”

Mara looked at the empty chair again. A small envelope rested on its seat, cream-coloured, unmarked.

Felix reached for the bottle. “Let’s not make the first ten minutes unbearable.”

“Too late,” Tom said.

Daniel poured wine into a glass and offered it to Mara. She accepted, though her hand was still numb.

“To old friends,” Harriet said.

“No,” Mara replied.

The others stared.

Mara set the glass untouched on the mantel. “To getting through the weekend.”

Felix gave a short laugh. “That sounds promising.”

Outside, something struck the windows. The whole house seemed to flinch.

A low rumble followed, not thunder but the distant movement of water.

Tom glanced towards the hall. “The bridge may go.”

“What bridge?” Mara asked.

“The one you crossed.”

“I didn’t see a bridge.”

“You crossed it in the dark.”

“Can we leave if it goes?” Priya asked.

Daniel did not answer immediately.

The silence changed the room.

Harriet’s smile disappeared. “Daniel?”

“It’s a private road,” he said. “There’s another route through the woods, but it’s not passable in this weather.”

“So the answer is no?” Mara asked.

“The answer is that we wait and see.”

Mara turned towards the entrance. Through the narrow panes beside the door, the drive was visible as a rushing brown channel. Her car sat at an angle near the lower bend, one headlamp still glowing beneath the water.

She moved towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Daniel asked.

“To get my bag.”

“You left it in the boot?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not going back out there.”

“It has my medication.”

That was not entirely true. Her medication was in her handbag, which hung from her shoulder. But no one knew that, and she did not want them to know she had lied.

Daniel stepped in front of her. “The water’s higher than it was five minutes ago.”

“Then I’ll be quick.”

“Stop treating this like a challenge.”

Mara looked up at him. “Stop treating me like a liability.”

For a moment, neither moved.

Then the lights went out.

Harriet gave a small cry. The fire collapsed, sending sparks up the chimney. In the darkness, rain battered the windows and someone knocked over a glass.

“Stay where you are,” Daniel said.

A torch clicked on near the sofa. Felix’s face appeared beneath the beam, pale and distorted.

“Generator?” Tom asked.

“In the cellar,” Daniel said.

“Of course it is.”

Daniel found a lantern on the mantel and struck a match. The flame trembled between his fingers.

Mara heard a sound from the hall.

A soft electronic chime.

Her phone.

She pulled it from her pocket. The screen showed a notification from an unknown number.

DON’T LET THEM TELL YOU WHAT HAPPENED TO ELISE.

The message vanished before she could touch it.

“Mara?” Priya said.

Mara lifted her head. “Did anyone else get that?”

“What?”

She looked around the room. Harriet was watching her too closely. Felix had stopped pretending to examine the torch. Daniel’s face had become unreadable.

Then, beyond the front door, the iron gate gave a long, grinding shriek.

Water surged over the drive.

Mara crossed to the nearest window. The flood had swallowed the lower path entirely. Her car was gone now, dragged sideways into the hedge. The current curled around the gateposts and spilled across the road beyond.

No route out.

Behind her, Daniel turned the key in the front door.

The lock slid home with a quiet, final click.

Mara faced the five people she had spent twenty-two years avoiding, while the storm sealed Blackthorn House above the rising mere. Six glasses stood on the mantel.

Only five of them were in the room.

End of chapter one. 39 more chapters and about 74,192 words in the full book.