TWENTY-ONE | THE FALLS

As I took Cyrus’s hand, I made a split-second decision. I’d not yet met his family, but with each passing second the likelihood of that shrunk further. And, even if I did meet them, would I be able to discern their true nature? A chef at work or a barman would be unlikely to do anything that would suggest something one way or another, and Cyrus was willing to tell me the truth. About what I didn’t yet know, but I had a feeling I wanted – needed, even – to hear it.

So I took his hand, and I followed him out into the dark.

He drove. It was a nice car, more understated than I’d expected for a man of his arrogance and wealth. The seats were plush and comfortable, but the dashboard was relatively low-tech. Actually – I squinted through the dim light – was that a tape cassette player? I thought they’d become obsolete years ago.

I nodded to it. We’d been sat in comfort