She studied me for a moment, then craned her neck around the doorframe to ensure I was alone.

“Do you…do you have any identification?” she asked, a tremor in her voice. Jesus, was she okay? Resting the bouquet on my hip, I rummaged in my bag for my work I.D. before pulling it out and showing her. She took her time scanning the details, and then before I knew it, she’d reached out and grabbed my wrist, pulling me inside. Her hand was cold. It all happened so quickly that I barely had time to react. I was standing in the foyer, still holding the flowers and my I.D. when she began flicking locks and pushing over deadbolts.

Whoa. That door had a lot of locks on it.

When she finally turned to face me, I had a proper chance to take in her appearance. Her light blonde hair was long and raggedy, and she wore a cream silky robe over a pair of peach-coloured pyjamas, slippers on her feet. Her complexion was pale, and there was a nervousness in her expression that made me want to put her at ease. She was like a twenty-first-century Miss Havisham, locked away in her big old house. I could already see that the furnishings were dusty and uncared for, which meant she probably didn’t have any household staff.

“Hi,” I said, clearing my throat. “I’m sorry for intruding, but like I said, Mr King wanted you to have these.”

She stared at me, seeming to flounder for a moment, and I got the feeling she didn’t speak to new people very often. Then her eyes went to the flowers, and her face lit up in a smile.

“Oh, my, they’re beautiful,” she said, coming and taking them from me. Without another word, she carried them into the living room and placed them on the window ledge. I noticed that she needed to squeeze them in, because there were a bunch of other vases there already. Some of the flowers were fresh, and others looked like they’d died a long time ago. I felt a little shiver run down my spine. There was definitely something not right about this woman.

“Thank you so much for bringing these. Oliver knows I love my flowers. I remember when I was still performing, I’d come back to my dressing room, and it would be full to the brim with bouquets. Oh, the smell was just heavenly.” She paused, and swallowed, her bloodshot blue eyes considering me shyly. “Would you like to…to stay for a cup of tea?”

I wasn’t sure if I did, but there was no way I could say no to her. She seemed so lonely, and she had clearly sequestered herself away from the outside world. I wondered if King was the only person who ever got to visit her.

“Of course,” I replied. “That’d be nice.”

She smiled again and motioned for me to follow. A moment later, we were entering a large, unkempt kitchen. The sink was full of unwashed dishes, but thankfully she set a clean-looking mug down in front of me for the tea. As she busied herself making it, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket and pulled it out.

Oliver King: Did you deliver the flowers?

Alexis: Yes.

Oliver King: How did she seem?

Alexis: She seems okay. I’m still here. She invited me in for tea.

I knew saying she was okay was stretching it a bit, because there was nothing okay about this situation, but I didn’t feel comfortable asking King about the state of his mother’s mental health in a text message. There was a long stretch in between me sending the text and King replying. Elaine had made the tea and was pouring some into my cup with an unsettlingly shaky hand when I felt my phone buzz again.

Oliver King: I’m still in the meeting. I’ll call you later. Be as sensitive as you can with her.

Well, it was obvious from his response that when King had asked me to deliver flowers, he hadn’t expected his mum to invite me in.

Alexis: I will. Don’t worry. Talk to you later.

Elaine sat down across from me, her hand still shaky as she lifted her cup to her mouth. She took a sip, then set it back down. I clasped my hands together in my lap. This was one of the oddest moments of my life, sitting in a kitchen having tea with a woman who was once a global superstar. I drank some tea.

“Goodness, you must think all this is terribly peculiar,” said Elaine, gesturing around the room.

I didn’t want her to feel bad, so I said, “Oh, give me peculiar over ordinary any day. It’s far more interesting.”

Something about my response made a tiny smile crop up on her lips. “I would have dressed if I’d known I’d be having company.”

I waved her away. “Don’t sweat it. Me and my roommate Karla practically live in our PJs when we’re at home. In fact, it’s the highlight of my day, getting home and slipping into a pair. And don’t even get me started on bras. Taking those torture contraptions off after a day’s work is pure heaven.”

Surprising me, Elaine laughed, a light, tinkling sound. She settled into her seat, looking a little more at ease now. “How long have you been working for Oliver?”

“Not long. His other assistant, Eleanor, is retiring soon, so he hired me to replace her.”

“I haven’t met Eleanor,” said Elaine. “But we spoke once or twice over the phone. She seemed very nice.”

“She is. I’m going to miss her when she leaves.”

So even Eleanor, the woman King trusted the most, hadn’t met his mum? The fact that he’d trusted me to come here made me feel…I don’t know, special.

Elaine shifted closer in her seat. “Alexis…what’s he like, at the office, I mean?”

“Mr King?”

She nodded. I chose my words wisely when responding. “He’s…extremely driven. People really respect him, and he’s a good boss. He doesn’t go crazy if I make a mistake or anything.”

She seemed happy with that answer, and now I knew something else. Elaine King had never seen her son work, had never visited him at the office. She was a full-fledged hermit. We spoke for another few minutes, and then I got the feeling she wanted me to leave. Not because I’d done anything to make her feel uncomfortable, but just because being around someone new seemed to take a lot out of her. I said my goodbyes, and she walked me to the door. When I stepped outside, I immediately heard her re-doing the locks.

What on earth had happened to Elaine King?

I caught the tube home and was just settling into bed for the night when my phone began ringing. It was King.

“Hello?”

He exhaled a long breath. “Alexis, I…I’m sorry. I didn’t realise she’d ask you in. She never asks anyone in. She comes to the door to collect deliveries, but she doesn’t let people inside, except for me and her therapist. She won’t even allow me to hire any household staff.” Wow, he almost sounded upset. It was a little jarring, since he was always so suave and put together at the office.

“Look, King, it’s none of my business. I know it must be difficult having a family member who….”

“Did you just call me King?” he said, cutting me off.

“Oh, yeah, sorry, I….”

“Don’t apologise. I like it.”

A silence elapsed, and then he said, “Alexis, I’d really appreciate it if you kept my mother’s current condition to yourself. Every once in a while, journalists come sniffing about. It’s a hard job keeping them away from her.”

“I can imagine. But don’t worry, you have nothing to fear from me. I won’t tell anyone.”

He seemed curious now. “I hope this doesn’t sound like an odd request, but could you tell me what happened? The fact she let you into the house is a big deal.”

“Of course,” I answered, and then began to detail the encounter from beginning to end.

When I was finished, King said, “She must have seen something trustworthy in you. I’m not surprised. I felt the same way the first day you came to be interviewed.”

What he said made me catch my breath. I just hoped he didn’t hear it. “You did?”

“Yes, you have a warmth about you, Alexis. I sensed it even after you got prickly when I told you I liked your picture. Do you find that a lot of people you don’t know very well open up to you?” he asked, and the accuracy of his question blew me away.