Читать книгу Nikki And The Lone Wolf / Mardie And The City Surgeon - Marion Lennox - Страница 11

GABE woke and it was still daylight. It took time to figure exactly why he was in bed, why the clock was telling him it was two in the afternoon, and why a woman and a dog were curled up on cushions on his living room floor.

Horse.

Nikki.

Nikki was asleep beside Horse?

The dog didn’t fit with the image of the woman. Actually, nothing fitted. He was having trouble getting his thoughts in order.

He should be a hundred miles offshore. Every day the boat was in harbour cost money.

Um … he had enough money. He needed to forget fishing, at least for a day.

He was incredibly, lazily comfortable. How long since he’d lain in bed and just … lain? Not slept, just stared at the ceiling, thought how great the sheets felt on his naked skin, how great it was that the warm sea breeze wafted straight in through his bedroom window and made him feel that the sea was right here.

Lots of fishermen—lots of his crew—took themselves as far from the sea as possible when they weren’t working. Not Gabe. The sea was a part of him.

He’d always been a loner. As a kid, the beach was an escape from the unhappiness in the house. His parents’ marriage was bitter and often violent. His father was passionately possessive of his much younger wife, sharing her with no one. If Gabe spent time with his mother, his father reacted with a resentment that Gabe soon learned to fear. His survival technique was loneliness.

As he got older, the boat became his escape as well.

And then there was his brief marriage. Yeah, well, that had taught him the sea was his only real constant. People hurt. Solitude was the only way to go.

Even dogs broke your heart.

Sixteen years …

‘Get another one fast.’ Fred, the Banksia Bay vet, had been brusque. ‘The measure of a life well lived is how many good dogs you can fit into it. I’m seventy years old and I’m up to sixteen and counting. It’s torn a hole in my gut every time I’ve lost one, and the only way I can fill it is finding another. And you know what? Every single one of them stays with me. They’re all part of who I am. The gut gets bigger.’ He’d patted his ample stomach. ‘Get another.’

Or not. Did Fred know just how big a hole Jem had left?

Don’t think about it.

Watch Nikki instead.

He lay and watched woman and dog sleeping, just across the passage. Strangers seldom entered his house. Not even friends. And no one slept by his fire but him.

Until now.

She looked … okay.

She’d wake soon, and she’d be gone. This moment would be past, but for now … For now it felt strangely okay that she was here. For now he let the comfort of her presence slide into his bones, easing parts of him he didn’t know were hurting. A dog and a woman asleep before his fire …

He closed his eyes and sleep reclaimed him.

* * *

She woke and it was three o’clock and Horse was squatting on his haunches rather than sprawled on his side. His head was cocked to one side, as if he was trying to figure her out. Sitting up! That had to be good.

She hugged him. She fed him. He ate a little, drank a little. She opened the French windows and asked him if he needed to go outside but he politely declined, by putting his head back on his paws and dozing again.

She thought about going back to work.

The plans on the table were supremely uninteresting. Engineering had sounded cool when she enrolled at university. Doing stuff.

Not sitting drawing endless plans of endless air conditioning systems, no matter how complex.

Gabe’s living room, however, was lined with bookshelves, and the bookshelves were crammed with books.

And photograph albums. Her secret vice.

Other people’s families.

Nikki had been sent to boarding school at seven. If friends invited her home for the holidays her parents were relieved, so she’d spent much of her childhood looking at families from the outside in.

Brothers, sisters, grandmas, uncles and aunts. You didn’t get a lot of those the way she was raised.

Her friends could never understand her love of photograph albums, but she hadn’t grown out of it, and here were half a dozen, right within reach.

A girl had to read something. Or draw plans.

No choice.

The first four albums were those of a child, an adolescent, a young woman. School friends, beach, hiking, normal stuff. Nikki had albums like this herself, photographs taken with her first camera.

The albums must belong to Gabe’s mother, she decided. The girl and then the woman looked a bit like Gabe. She was much smaller, compact, neat. But she looked nice. She had the same dark hair as Gabe, the same thoughtful eyes. She saw freckles and a shy smile in the girl, and then the woman.

After school, her albums differed markedly from Nikki’s. This woman hadn’t spent her adolescence at university. The first post-school pictures were of her beside stone walls, wearing dungarees, heavy boots, thick gloves. The smile became cheeky, a woman gaining confidence.

There were photos of stone walls.

Lots of stone walls.

Nikki glanced outside to the property boundary, where a stone wall ran along the road, partly built, as if it had stopped mid-construction. Wires ran along the unfinished part to make it a serviceable fence.

She turned back to the next album. Saw the beginnings of romance. A man, considerably older than the girl, thickset, a bit like Gabe as well, looking as if he was struggling to find a smile for the camera. Holding the girl possessively.

An album of a wedding. Then a baby.

Gabe.

Really cute, she thought, and glanced across the passage and thought … you really could see the man in the baby.

Gabe before life had weathered him.

The photos were all of Gabe now—Gabe until he was about seven, sturdy, cheeky, laughing.

Then nothing. The final album had five pages of pictures and the rest lay empty.

What had happened? Divorce? Surely a young mum would keep on taking pictures. Surely she’d take these albums with her.

She set the albums back in place, and her attention was caught by a set of books just above. The Art of Stone Walling. The Stone Walls of Yorkshire. More.

She flicked through, fascinated, caught in intricacies of stone walling.

Gabe slept on.

She was learning how to build stone walls. In theory.

She’d kind of like to try.

She reached the end of the first book as Horse struggled to his feet and crossed to the French windows. Pawed.

Bathroom.

But … Escape?

Visions of Horse standing up to his haunches in the shallows sprang to mind. She daren’t risk letting him go. The faded curtains were looped back with tasseled cords, perfect for fashioning a lead.

‘Okay, let’s go but don’t pull,’ she told him. At full strength this dog could tow two of her, but he was wobbly.

She cast a backward glance at Gabe. Still sleeping. Quick check. Chest rising and falling.

She and Horse were free to do as they pleased.

When Gabe woke again the sun was sinking low behind Black Mountain. He’d slept the whole day?

His head felt great. He felt great all over. He was relaxed and warm and filled with a sense of well-being he hadn’t felt since … who knew?

He rolled lazily onto his side and gazed out of the window.

And froze.

For a moment he thought he was dreaming. There was a woman in the garden, her back to him, crouched over a pile of stones. Sorting.

A dog lay by her side, big and shaggy.

Nikki and Horse.

Nikki held up a stone, inspected it, said something to Horse, then shifted so she could place it into the unfinished stretch of stone wall.

He felt as if the oxygen was being sucked from the room.

A memory blasting back …

His mother, crouched over the stones, the wall so close to finished. Thin, drawn, exhausted. Setting down her last stone. Weeping. Hugging him.

‘I can’t …’

‘Mum, what’s wrong?’

‘I’m so tired. Gabe, very soon I’ll need to go to sleep.’ But using a voice that said this wasn’t a normal sleep she was talking about.

Then … desolation.

His father afterwards, kicking stones, kicking everything. His mother’s old dog, yelping, running for the cover Gabe could never find.

‘Dad, could we finish the wall?’ It had taken a month to find the courage to ask.

‘It’s finished.’ A sharp blow across his head. ‘Don’t you understand, boy, it’s finished.’

He understood it now. Nikki had to understand it, too.

People hurt. You didn’t try and interfere. Unless there was trouble you let people be and they let you be. You didn’t try and change things.

He should have put it in the tenancy agreement.

Stone wall building was weirdly satisfying on all sorts of levels.

She’d always loved puzzles, as she’d loved building things. To transform a pile of stones into a wall as magnificent as this …

Wide stones had been set into the earth to form the base, then irregular stones piled higher and higher, two outer levels with small stones between. Wider stones were layed crosswise over both sides every foot or so, binding both sides together. No stone was the same. Each position was carefully assessed, each stone considered from all angles. Tried. Tried again. As she was doing now.

She’d set eight stones in an hour and was feeling as if she’d achieved something amazing.

This could be a whole new hobby, she thought. She could finish the wall.

Horse lay by her side, dozy but watchful, warm in the afternoon sunshine. Every now and then he cast a doubtful glance towards the beach but she’d fashioned a tie from the curtain cords, she had him tethered and she talked to him as she worked.

‘I know. You loved him but he rejected you. You and me both. Jonathan and your scum-bag owner. Broken hearts club, that’s us. We need a plan to get over it. I’m not sure what our plan should be, but while we’re waiting for something to occur this isn’t bad.’ She held up a stone. ‘You think this’ll fit?’

The dog cocked his head; seemed to consider.

The pain that had clenched in her chest for months eased a little. Unknotted in the sharing, and in the work.

She would have liked to be a builder.

She thought suddenly of a long ago careers exhibition. At sixteen she’d been unsure of what she wanted to do. She’d gone to the career exhibition with school and almost the first display was a carpenter, working on a delicate coffee table. While other students moved from one display to the next, she stopped, entranced.

After half an hour he’d invited her to help, and she’d stayed with him until her teachers came to find her.

‘I’ll need to get an apprenticeship to be a carpenter,’ she’d told her father the next time she’d seen him, breathless with certainty that she’d found her calling.

But her father was due to catch the dawn flight to New York. He’d scheduled two hours’ quality time with his daughter and he didn’t intend wasting it on nonsense.

‘Of course society needs builders, but for you, my girl, with your brains, the sky’s the limit. We’ll get you into Law—Oxford? Cambridge?’

Even her chosen engineering degree had met with combined parental disapproval, even though it was specialist engineering leading to a massive salary. But here, now … She remembered that long ago urge to build things, to create.

Air conditioning systems didn’t compare. Endless plans.

Another stone … This was so difficult. It had to be perfect.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’

She managed to suppress a yelp, but only just. Gabe was dressed again, in jeans and T-shirt. He’d come up behind her. His face was like thunder, his voice was dripping ice.

He was blocking her sun. Even Horse backed and whimpered.

The sheer power of the man … the anger …

It was as much as she could do not to back and run.

Not her style, she thought grimly. This man had her totally disconcerted but whimpering was never an option. ‘I thought I’d try and do some …’ she faltered.

‘Don’t.’

‘Don’t you want it finished? I thought … I’ve been reading the books from your living room.’

‘You’ve been reading my mother’s books?’

Uh-oh. She’d desecrated a shrine?

‘I’m sorry. I …’

‘You had no right.’

‘No.’ She lifted the book she’d been referring to. Caught her breath. Decided she’d hardly committed murder. ‘I’ll put this back,’ she said placatingly. ‘No damage done. I don’t think I’ve done anything appalling.’

But then … he’d scared her. Again.

Shock was turning to indignation.

He was angry?

She met his gaze full on. Tilted her chin.

Horse nosed her ankle. She let her hand drop to his rough coat and the feel of him was absurdly comforting.

What was with this guy? Why did he make her feel—how he made her feel? She couldn’t describe it. She only knew that she was totally confused.

‘I’ve only fitted eight stones,’ she said, forcing her tone down a notch. Even attempting a smile. ‘You want me to take them out again?’

‘Leave it.’ His voice was still rough, but the edges of anger were blunted. He took the book from her. Glanced at it. Glanced away. ‘How’s the dog?’

‘He’s fine.’ She was still indignant. He sounded … cold.

The normal Gabe?

A man she should back away from.

‘We need to make a decision,’ he said.

‘I have,’ she said and tilted her chin still further.

‘Hi!’

The new voice made them both swivel. A woman was at the gate. She was middle-aged and sensibly dressed, in moleskin trousers and a battered fleecy jacket. She swung the gate open and Horse whined and backed away.

Even from twenty yards away Nikki saw the woman flinch.

‘It’s okay,’ the woman said, gentling her voice as she approached. ‘I hate it that I lock these guys up and they react accordingly. I can’t help that I’m associated with their life’s low point.’

Horse whined again. Nikki felt him tug against the cord. She wasn’t all that sure of it holding.

Gabe was suddenly helping. His hand was on the big dog’s neck, helping her hold on to her curtain-fashioned collar. Touching hers. His hand was large and firm—and once more caring?

Where had that thought come from? But she felt Horse relax and she knew the dog felt the same. Even if this guy did get inexplicably angry, there was something at his core …

‘Raff told me you’d found him,’ the woman was saying. ‘Hi, Gabe.’ She came forward, her hand extended to Nikki, a blunt gesture of greeting. ‘We haven’t met. I’m Henrietta. I run the local dog shelter. This guy’s one of mine.’

Horse whimpered and tried to go behind Nikki’s legs. Nikki’s hand tightened on his collar—and so did Gabe’s.

Hands touching. Warmth. Strength. Nikki didn’t pull away, even though Henrietta’s hand was still extended, even though she knew Gabe could hold him.

‘You want me to take him?’ Henrietta asked.

No.

Her decision had already been made but she needed Gabe’s consent. He was, after all, her landlord.

‘I’d like to keep him,’ she said, more loudly than she intended, and there was a moment’s silence.

Henrietta’s grim expression relaxed, then did more than relax. It curved into a wide grin that practically spilt her face. But then she caught herself, her smile was firmly repressed and her expression became businesslike.

‘Are you in a position to offer him a good home?’

‘Am I?’ she asked Gabe. ‘I think I am,’ she said diffidently. ‘But Gabe’s my landlord. I’ll need his permission.’

‘You’re asking me to keep him?’ Gabe’s demand was incredulous.

‘No,’ she said flatly. Some time during this afternoon her world had shifted. She wasn’t exactly sure where it had shifted; she only knew that things were changing and Horse was an important part of that change. ‘I want to keep him myself. Just me.’ Her life was her own, she thought, suddenly resolute. No men need apply.

No man—not even her landlord—was needed to share her dog.

‘I need to do a bit of reorganisation,’ she said, speaking now to Henrietta. ‘At the moment I’m working away …’

‘I can’t look after him,’ Gabe said bluntly. ‘Not when I’m at sea.’

‘I’m not asking you to,’ she flashed back at him. There were things going on with Gabe she didn’t understand. He had her disconcerted, but for now she needed to focus only on Horse. And her future. Gabe had to be put third.

‘I’m reorganising my career,’ she told Henrietta. ‘At the end of this month and maybe next, I’ll need to go away for a few days. After that I won’t need to.’ That was simple enough. She’d hand her international clients over to her colleagues.

Her colleagues would think she was nuts.

Her colleagues as in Jonathan?

Don’t go there.

Could she keep working for him?

‘I might even be rethinking my career altogether,’ she said, a bit more brusquely than she intended. She glanced down at the stones and then glanced away again, astounded where her thoughts were taking her. How absurd to think she could ever do something so … so wonderful.

Was she crazy? This surely could only ever be a hobby.

Concentrate on Horse. The rest was nonsense. Fanciful thinking after an upset night. ‘Whatever I do, I’ve decided I can keep Horse,’ she managed. ‘If I can get some help for the first two months.’

But Gabe was looking at her as if she was something that had just crawled out of the cheese.

‘You’ve decided this all since last night?’ he demanded. ‘Do you know how much of a commitment a dog is? He’s not a handbag, picked up and discarded on a whim. Sixteen years …’

‘We’re not talking Jem here,’ Henrietta said sharply.

‘Jem?’

‘Gabe’s dog,’ Henrietta told her. ‘Gabe found Jem on the beach sixteen years ago. She died three months back.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Nikki said, disconcerted, but her apologies weren’t required or wanted. Gabe’s face was rigid with anger.

‘We’re not talking Jem. We’re talking you. What do you know about dogs?’

‘I’ll learn.’

‘You mean you know nothing.’

‘You’re trying to talk me out of keeping him?’

‘I’m talking sense.’

‘I can keep him for the days you’re away,’ Henrietta interjected, but she was watching Gabe. ‘I run a boarding kennel alongside the shelter, so if you really are going to reorganise …’

‘You’d let her keep him?’ Gabe’s voice was incredulous.

‘It’s that or put him down,’ Henrietta snapped. ‘Nikki’s offering.’

‘And if I say no?’

There was a general intake of breath. If he said no …

What would she do?

Take Horse and live elsewhere? Somewhere that wasn’t here? There were so few rental options.

Go back to Sydney.

No! Here was scary, but Sydney was scarier.

Move on. Who knew where? With dog?

This was dumb. To move towns because of a dog …

But this afternoon she’d felt his heartbeat as he slept. The thought of ending that heartbeat …

Horse was as lost as she was, she thought, and she glanced at Gabe and thought there were three of them. She could see pain behind Gabe’s anger; behind his blank refusal to help.

She couldn’t think of Gabe’s pain now. She’d do this alone.

No. She’d do it with Horse.

‘He’s my dog,’ she said, making her voice firm.

Henrietta turned to Gabe. ‘So. Let’s get this straight. Are you planning on evicting Nikki because she has a dog?’

‘She doesn’t know what she’s letting herself in for.’

‘You work at home, right?’ Henrietta asked her, obviously deciding to abandon Gabe’s arguments as superfluous.

‘Yes.’

‘Fantastic. When do you need to go away again?’

She did a frantic mental reshuffle. ‘I can put it off for a while. Three weeks …’

‘Then you have three weeks to learn all about dogs,’ Henrietta decreed. ‘If at the end of that time you decide you can’t keep him then we’ll rethink things. So Gabe … I have a happy ending in view. What about you? You’ll seriously evict her if she keeps him?’

They were all looking at him. Nikki and Henrietta … Even Horse seemed to understand his future hung on what Gabe said right now.

‘Fine,’ he said explosively.

‘That’s not what I want to hear,’ Henrietta said. ‘How about a bit of enthusiasm?’

‘You expect me to be enthusiastic that there’s a dog about to live here? With a totally untrained owner?’

‘You’re trained,’ Henrietta said. ‘I’d feel happier if you were offering, but I have a feeling this guy will settle for what he can get. If the heart’s in the right place, the rest can follow, eh, Nikki?’

‘I … yes,’ she said weakly, wondering where exactly her heart was.

‘That’s great,’ Henrietta said and patted Horse. who was still looking nervous. ‘What will you call him?’

‘Horse,’ Nikki said. ‘I’ll need stuff. I don’t know what. Can you tell me?’

‘Gabe might give you a …’ Henrietta started and then glanced again at Gabe. Winced. ‘Okay, maybe not. Let’s take your new dog inside and I’ll make you a list myself. Unless you want to evict her first, Gabe?’

‘I’m going to the boat,’ he snapped. ‘Be it on your head.’

He headed for the boat, away from women, away from dog. Away from stuff he didn’t want to deal with.

He needed to sort cray-pots, mend some. He started but it didn’t keep his head from wandering. He kept seeing Nikki, sorting through her pile of rocks. His mother’s pile of rocks.

He kept seeing Nikki curled in front of the fire, sleeping beside Horse.

Horse. It was a stupid name for a dog.

What was also stupid was his reaction, he told himself. What was the big deal? His tenant had found herself a dog. It was nothing to do with him. As for the stone walling …

She wouldn’t touch it again.

Why not let her finish it?

Stupid or not, he felt as if he was right on the edge of a whirlpool, and he was being pulled inexorably inside.

He’d been there before.

There was nothing inside but pain.

The cray-pots weren’t hard enough.

He’d check the Lady Nell’s propeller, he decided. It had fouled last time out. They’d got it clear but maybe it’d be wise to give it a thorough check.

Ten minutes later he had a scuba tank on, lowering himself over the side.

He should do this with someone on board keeping watch. If there was an accident …

If there was an accident no one gave a toss; it was his business what he did with his life.

He had scores of employees, dependent on him for their livelihood.

He also had one tenant. Dependent?

If Horse decided to head for the beach again, he was bigger than she could possibly hold.

It was none of his business. She didn’t need him. The dog didn’t need him. No one did. Even if something happened to him, the legal stuff was set up so this town’s fishing fleet would survive.

How morbid was that? He was about to check a propeller. He’d done it a hundred times.

He needed to see things in perspective.

He dived underwater. Right now underwater seemed safer than the surface—and a whole lot clearer.

* * *

Henrietta left and came back with supplies, and Nikki was set. Dog food, dog bed, dog bowls. Collar, lead, treats, ball times six … Practically a car full.

‘You’ll need a kennel, but they don’t come prefabricated in Horse’s size,’ Henrietta told her. ‘I’ve brought you a trampoline bed instead. You’ll need to get a kennel built by winter. Oh, and there’s no need to spread it round town that I’ve brought this. Normally my new owners need to show me their preparations before I’ll agree to let them have the dog.’

‘So why the special treatment?’ Nikki had made tea. Henrietta was sipping Earl Grey from one of Nikki’s dainty cups, looking a bit uncomfortable. Maybe she ought to buy some mugs.

Maybe her life was going to change in a few other ways, she thought. Her apartment was furnished with the elegant possessions she’d acquired for the Sydney apartment. Some her parents had given her. Some she and Jon had chosen together. This teaset was antique, given to her by Jon for her last birthday.

The owner of a dog like Horse wouldn’t serve tea in cups like this. She hadn’t thought it through until now, but maybe she should shop …

‘I hate putting dogs down,’ Henrietta was saying. ‘Sometimes, though, I don’t have a choice. I can’t keep them all. And if potential owners don’t care enough to commit to buying or scrounging dog gear, then they don’t care enough to be entrusted to a dog. These dogs have been through enough. I’d rather put them down than sentence them to more misery.’

‘But me …’

‘You live with Gabe,’ Henrietta said simply. ‘You mistreat Horse, you’ll have him to answer to. Even if he says it’s nothing to do with him, he’ll be watching. And that’s the second thing. This place without a dog is wrong. Gabe needs a dog. If he gets it via you, that’s fine by me.’

‘He’s not getting him via me. This is my call. My dog.’

‘Yes, but you live with Gabe,’ Henrietta repeated, and finished her tea in one noisy gulp. ‘Living so close, you’re almost family, and now you have a dog. Welcome to Banksia Bay, and welcome to your new role as dog owner. Any more questions, ask Gabe. He’s grumpy and dour and always a loner but he has reason to be. Underneath he’s a good man, and he’ll never let a dog suffer. He treated Jem like gold.’ Then she hesitated. Made to say something. Hesitated again.

Nikki watched her face. Wondered what she’d been about to say. Then asked what she’d like to know. ‘Could you tell me about him?’ she ventured. ‘What happened to his mother?’

Henrietta considered for a long moment and then shrugged.

‘I shouldn’t say, but why not? If you don’t hear it from me you’ll hear it from a hundred other people in this town. Okay, potted history. Gabe’s mother died of cancer when he was eight. His dad was an oaf and a bully. He was also a miser. He forced Gabe to leave school at fourteen, used him as an unpaid deck hand. Maybe Gabe would have left but luckily—and I will say luckily—he died when Gabe was eighteen. He left a fortune. He left no will, so Gabe inherited. Gabe was a kid, floundering, desperately unhappy—and suddenly rich. So along came Lisbette, a selfish cow, all surface glitter, taking advantage of little more than a boy. She married him and she fleeced him, just like that.’

‘Oh, no …’

‘I’d have horsewhipped her if I’d had my way,’ Henrietta said grimly. ‘But she was gone. And Gabe took it hard. He still had his dad’s boat and this house, but little else. So he took Jem and headed off to the West, to the oil rigs. A good seaman can make a lot if he’s prepared to take risks and, from what I can gather, Gabe took more than a few. Then the fishing here started to falter and suddenly Gabe returned. He’s good with figures, good with fishing, good with people. He almost single-handedly pulled the fleet back together. But he’s shut himself off for years and so far the only one to touch that is Jem.’ She touched the big dog’s soft ears. ‘So maybe … maybe this guy can do the same. Or maybe even his owner can.’

‘Sorry?’ Nikki said, startled.

‘Just thinking,’ Henrietta said hastily, and rose to leave. ‘Dreaming families for my dogs is what I do. Good luck to the three of you.’

She looked at the teacup. Grinned. ‘Amazing,’ she said. ‘They say owners end up looking like their dogs. These cups fit poodles, not wolfhounds.’ She grinned down at Horse, asleep draped over Nikki’s feet, and then looked back to Nikki. ‘Poodle,’ she said. ‘Maybe now, but not for much longer. I’m looking forward to big changes around here. For everyone.’

Gabe slipped underwater, checked the propeller and inspected the hull. Minutely. It was the best checked hull in the fleet. Then he went back to mending cray-pots. By nine he was the only person in the harbour.

The rest of his boats were out, and he was stuck on dry land. Because of Nikki.

What was she about, removing his alarm? Telling Hattie to go without him?

He’d needed to sleep, he conceded. His head still ached.

Because she’d hit him.

It was an accident. She meant no harm.

She meant to keep the dog. Horse.

It was a stupid name for a dog. A dog needed a bit of dignity.

Dignity.

She’d have to get that fur unmatted, he thought, and getting the tangles out of that neglected coat was a huge job. Did she know what she was letting herself in for?

It was nothing to do with him. Nothing! He wasn’t going near.

She was living right next door to him. With her dog who needed detangling.

He’d yelled at her. Because she’d picked up a few rocks.

He’d behaved appallingly.

Why?

He knew why. And it wasn’t the memory of his mother. It wasn’t the dog. It was more.

It couldn’t be more. He didn’t want more, and more wasn’t going to happen.

It was dark. Time to head home.

Maybe he could take Jem’s old brushes across to her. A peace offering.

That wasn’t more. It was sensible. It felt … okay.

But when he got home there wasn’t a light on, apart from the security light he kept on in the shared porch.

Were she and the dog asleep?

She’d slept this afternoon. He’d seen her, curled on the hearth with the dog.

With Horse.

They were nothing to do with him.

He glanced at the gap in the stone wall. Sensed the faint echo of Nikki. And Horse.

By his side … Shades of Jem.

He was going nuts. The hit on his head had obviously been harder than he thought. Ghosts were everywhere, even to the feel of Jem beside him. Jem had always been with him, on the boat, under his bed, by the fire, a heartbeat by his side.

Whoa, he was maudlin. Get over it.

Disoriented, he found himself heading for the beach. A man could stare at the sea in the moonlight. Find some answers?

But the only answers he found on the beach were Nikki and Horse.