Читать книгу The Forbidden Promise - Lorna Cook - Страница 16

The interior of the cottage was in good condition. ‘It’s very … brown,’ Kate offered as she looked at the solid wooden furniture and somewhat battered kitchen cupboards.

‘Built to last,’ James said. Illustrating his point, he gave the leg of the dining table a small kick as if it were a car tyre. The stone walls were their natural grey and Kate wondered whether painting them would be sacrilege. It would be tricky to put it back the way it was, should they not like the result. The sofa and armchair were so faded that she had no idea what colour they were originally. How long had it been since the war? Over seventy years of sunlight had faded the fabric, the dust probably ingrained within the fibres.

‘There’s one big bedroom upstairs but I thought I’d partition it and make it an en suite,’ James said.

Kate nodded and asked, ‘Where’s the bathroom now then?’

‘Outside.’

‘What?’ She was open-mouthed.

‘The ghillie would have used a tin bath in front of the fire. The loo is in an outhouse attached to the cottage.’

‘There goes the idea of toshing this place up quickly then,’ Kate said with disappointment. ‘Installing upstairs plumbing isn’t going to be a five-minute job.’

James shrugged. ‘Might be. For a plumber.’

‘Hmmm.’ She clicked her pen and made a note in her book.

‘Dear Diary,’ James quipped, ‘James is such a nightmare.’

Kate looked up and laughed, but he had turned and was examining the old cupboards. She moved over to the large fireplace, where an old whisky bottle of Macallan Glenlivet, marked 1926 but ten-year-aged, sat on the mantelpiece. Who had left it there? The ghillie, or someone else? And had it been there, on that mantel, ever since the war?

‘I missed that when I cleaned the general rubbish out,’ James said with a grimace. ‘Although now I wonder if we could leave it as a piece of the cottage’s history, among some other knick-knacks. Tourists like those, don’t they? Although not too many, as we’re the ones who’ll have to dust them on changeover days.’

Kate nodded. ‘Other than the plumbing and some new sofas, a lick of paint’s all that’s needed down here,’ she said. ‘Along with some mod cons such as a dishwasher, some pictures for the walls, maybe some moody landscapes of the Highlands, the loch, that kind of thing.’

‘Repaint the dining chairs and table, make them … less brown?’ James offered.

Kate agreed. ‘Cream? Nice and neutral?’

James nodded and she realised she was slowly warming to him. Maybe they could work together after all.

They drove around the periphery of the estate in the rattling Land Rover. James seemed unfazed when, after a few minutes, a deer ambled its way across the road.

Kate inched forward in her seat. ‘Wow, a real deer.’

Beside her James laughed. ‘Not a fake one.’

‘You know what I mean.’

He pulled the car to a complete stop so she could take a look, and Kate wound the stiff window down. The deer looked back at her and carried on chewing, obviously used to people. After a minute or so it decided they were friend, not foe, and bent its head confidently to continue foraging by the side of the road.

James’s stomach growled and Kate gave him a look. ‘Hungry?’

‘I’m always hungry. Do you want …’ He stopped, clearly debating if he should ask the next question.

‘Do I want …?’

‘To go to the pub,’ he finished. ‘It’s pretty good. Nice food. Decent wine. We don’t have to. We can just head back to the house.’

Kate glanced round at Whisky, already asleep on the blanket spread over the back seat.

‘It would be nice to see the pub and the village. I arrived in near darkness yesterday. It’ll be good to get my bearings. And some lunch. Will they let Whisky in?’

James nodded and they set off towards the village, where he parked in the small market square. There was a coach parked on the far side and Kate looked at it curiously. So tourists did venture to this part of the Highlands. Perhaps they were on their way to or from a nearby tourist attraction. That was good to know.

Inside the pub, it was busy. James, taller than many of the other customers, waved over the top of their heads to the redheaded man pulling a pint behind the bar. He nodded in recognition.

She looked around. Many of the tourists were pensioners, probably just off the coach. When Kate looked back, James was scouting out a table in the corner of the low-beamed restaurant. He had to bend slightly to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling, before he threw himself into the high-backed bench. Whisky squeezed under the table and promptly resumed sleeping as Kate sat on the bench opposite. They had one of the last tables and it had only just gone midday.

‘Angus, how are you?’ James asked as the barman arrived with menus.

‘Aye, not bad. Same day, different date. You know how it is,’ Angus replied. ‘Don’t need a menu, do ya, James? Already know what ya havin’?’

James looked embarrassed. ‘We’ll take menus. I might have something different today.’

Angus put menus in front of them, looked at Kate and then looked pointedly at James. After a moment he sighed, and stretched his hand out to shake hers. ‘James has no manners,’ he said. ‘I’m Angus.’

Without looking up from his menu James said, ‘Oh sorry, yeah, this is Kate. Kate sort of lives with us now.’

‘O … K …’ Angus said, clearly bemused.

‘I’m working there, up at the house,’ Kate explained as she leaned forward to shake Angus’s hand. ‘Helping to put the place on the map, so to speak. Turn it into a B & B and viable holiday business and then begin promoting it.’

‘Great,’ Angus enthused. ‘Some extra rooms round here would take the pressure off us a wee bit. We’re forever turning people away. Drinks?’

James ordered a large bottle of still mineral water for them. So, Kate reflected, this place had rooms and they were busy. It wasn’t as out of the way as she had thought, clearly. She was just about to voice this when James inched forward conspiratorially.

‘What’s in that notebook of yours, then? Your master plan to take over?’

Kate sighed. Here we go again. She was just about to launch into her defence but James got there first.

‘I’m joking,’ he said, holding his hands up, ‘I’m joking.’

But he wasn’t smiling, and she knew this would be ground they’d cover again.

‘Shall we order?’ he suggested. ‘The local steak and ale pie’s good.’

Angus didn’t look surprised when James ordered it. He showed Kate his notepad and said out of the corner of his mouth, ‘Surprise surprise. I already wrote it down, look.’

Kate stifled a laugh and then sat back after ordering a sandwich. ‘Are you that predictable?’ she dared. ‘Steak pie, every time you’re here?’

‘Not every time.’ James shuffled on his bench. ‘I’m traditional. I like what I like. I’m a man of routine, I suppose.’

Kate looked out the window towards the village square, watching the tourists as they got back on to the coach. Her mind whirred at opportunities to draw such a strong crowd to the house, but she resisted the urge to start scribbling in her notebook, lest James should comment.

‘A man of routine?’ she muttered absent-mindedly.

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I eat in here once or twice a week. I cook a bit at home, or Mum does. Then I go running most evenings or I swim in the loch.’

She looked back from the window. ‘You swim in the loch?’

‘Sure. You should try it.’

‘No thanks. Looks cold.’

He laughed. ‘It’s invigorating.’

‘That’s just another word for cold,’ Kate countered with a smile.

They spoke about her background while they ate. Or rather Kate found she was speaking a lot, as it dawned on her she was being re-interviewed. She let him hurl question after question at her. He did it with an actual air of interest and so she tried to be as friendly as she could, while also feeling she was having to justify her position at the house.

‘And so you left because …?’ James asked eventually.

‘What do you mean?’ she replied cautiously.

There was absolutely no way she was going to tell him she’d been accused of flirting with a bar-owner client, had received a formal warning that had gone onto her work record and, incensed, had thrown in the towel. After all these weeks, it still grated on her that she’d let her guard down quite that much that night; that she’d allowed herself to be led out the back door into the alley so her client wouldn’t have been on his own while he’d had a cigarette, that she’d fallen into the trap of drinking too much and had found him dangerously close to her before she’d realised what he was up to and had put an immediate but polite stop to it.

But it had been too late. His wife had followed them, long suspecting her husband of playing away. He had been cheating on her, Kate was sure. But not with her. And as if that night hadn’t been humiliating enough, the next day her account director said the bar owner and his wife had complained about her behaviour. Kate had been so upset she’d cried at work. And she never cried at work.

‘If everything you worked on was so fantastic – if every project you touched turned to gold …’ James said somewhat provocatively, ‘why leave?’

‘I just needed to get out of the rat race,’ Kate deflected. As much as she could sense James almost coming round to her presence at Invermoray, it felt highly possible he’d use the truth against her in some way, presumably to kick her out. Right now, she didn’t trust him enough to tell him.