Glenn ran downstairs into the basement studio where he would be running his music workshop. There had been a lot of interest in that one from teenage kids under eighteen—possibly without their parents’ approval—but Chrissy had had to turn them away, since none of the ex-cons, especially not Glenn, had the necessary permission to work with children. Pity.
He bent and turned on the main power—and the basement tilted into another room entirely. But it was a room he knew. The B&B living room. Thierry was there—Frog as he’d always been known in prison, with awe rather than derision. Now, he bent over an old man. Louise’s father. Fear and tension filled the room, and Glenn quickly saw why. In his hand, Thierry held a large kitchen knife which glinted red in the light. He looked up at Louise, who was staring at him in horror.
“I’m so sorry,” Thierry whispered.
And then a wall of what looked like water wiped the scene away. Glenn sat on the floor of his studio. Surreptitiously, he glanced around to make sure he was alone. The dreams, second sight, whatever he wanted to call these visions, didn’t come so often these days. But still, they were not something he wanted to talk about with anyone but Izzy. In particular, he didn’t want to talk about this one.
Except, of course, he might have to. Getting to his feet, he knew he had to prevent Thierry doing whatever he’d done in Louise’s house. Thierry was not a violent man, far from it, but some tragedy involving Louise’s vulnerable father was going to tear him apart. Through accident or temper—to which he was not immune—Thierry was going to hurt someone and Glenn really didn’t like the look of that red knife…
Of course, the dreams were only ever possible futures, but enough of them came true to make Glenn very uneasy over this one. The best bet would be to steer Thierry away from Louise, which wouldn’t have been difficult, given the relative isolation of Ardknocken House residents. Only, Glenn had already asked him to help Louise with her computer.
Irritation and unreasonable guilt forced him across the room with unnecessary speed, turning equipment on, placing chairs and instruments. He had to concentrate on the reality of tonight’s workshop and thrust the dream back where it belonged. After all, there was nothing he could do about it.
* * * * *
When Louise left for the big house that evening, Ron, the fisherman staying in the self-contained flat, was sitting on his stairs watching the sunset. He called an amiable greeting to her, asked if she was heading to the pub.
“Might do later,” Louise replied. “I’m going to my first-ever woodwork class!”
“Do you have to go to the college in Oban for that?”
“Oh no. They’re starting classes up at the big house.”
“I thought the village would shun them,” Ron said.
“Why?” Louise asked pleasantly. “You haven’t.” Ardknocken House had given him the rights to fish the river.
Ron smiled. “True. But I live in London. I’m only here for two weeks. You folks have them in your backyard.”
Louise, who’d once been so uneasy about their presence that she’d forbidden her friend Izzy to apply for a job at the big house—much good that had done her—found herself bridling now in their defence. “I suppose we must have got used to them. In fact, they’re quite an asset to the community.”
“Must be,” Ron said peaceably. “Don’t let me keep you. Might see you in the pub later.”
Louise smiled and hurried on to Morag’s house. It crossed her mind that Ron might have been interested in her, which was flattering. He was a bit older, of course, maybe late forties, but he was attractive enough. Recently divorced, worked in insurance down in London. She tried to think of him as a possible boyfriend and instead found her head full of Thierry’s face clouded with passion, his lips contorted as he began to come, Thierry’s mouth on hers, his hands on her breasts, her hips, between her legs.
Oh Jesus Christ, please don’t let me run into him tonight!
* * * * *
Thierry stared at his computer screen.
WHERE’S THE REST OF THE MONEY? TELL ME NOW OR YOU’LL GO BACK TO JAIL.
His stomach twisted. The anonymous email had appeared in his Ardknocken House inbox with the stark words all in caps.
Somebody had connected him to the missing money. Up until now, his misdirections seemed to have worked, for the authorities had regarded it as several unconnected lesser frauds. But it looked as if someone was definitely connecting those lesser threads now.
Or it could be a crank, some stupid spam that just happened to mean something to him. Either way, no one could find the money, let alone trace it to him. He wasn’t going back to prison, not now, not ever.
“Thierry?” Chrissy’s voice broke into his tangled thoughts, followed by a rap on the caravan door. “Workshop time!”
Hastily, he shut down his laptop. “Coming. Have mine all turned up?”
“You’ve got four out of five so far. Good start!”
Thierry emerged from his caravan and strode in the back door and through the kitchen, where Jim was preparing trays of tea and coffee for every room.
“Nice touch,” Thierry observed.
“Izzy’s idea. Less sterile than college classes. It’s busy too. Guess the locals are curious.”
It seemed they were. Glenn was leading three young men and a girl—all under twenty, by the look of them—towards the basement studio. Izzy had taken up position at the foot of the main staircase, directing people to whichever class they’d chosen. Rab stood to one side with two men and…Louise.
Louise. His mist goddess. Whatever irresistible attraction had drawn them together in the mist yesterday had been notably absent this morning. He’d expected a little awkwardness—God knew, he’d felt plenty himself—but the frigidity he’d found left him both floundering and miserable. It would have been easier if only his perception of her in the mist had been wrong in the full light of day, if she’d been dull or ugly or even ordinary. But she still shone, the most beautiful and desirable woman he’d ever laid eyes on, never mind hands. And cock.
But she’d made it clear that she didn’t feel it too. Whatever she’d desired in him in the mist was no longer there for her. Though it twisted unpleasantly in his gut, he didn’t blame her. He wasn’t even surprised. He just wished he hadn’t wanted so badly to take her on the computer desk or the floor, or up against the door, or anywhere, really, providing he was inside her. He’d been desperate to see her naked.
But there she stood, several yards away from him, unaware of his existence. She didn’t look anywhere near him, appeared to be chatting with Rab. He dragged his gaze free and found Izzy watching him approach the staircase.
“Did you manage to take a look at Louise’s computer, then?” she asked. “Can you do anything for her?”
“Yes. Not sure she wants me to, though. She doesn’t like me.”
Izzy blinked. “Louise? I’ve never known Louise to dislike anyone.”
Thierry changed the subject. “Are my people in the library?”
“Yes, you’ve got four, fully paid up!”
As he expected, his workshop members were all middle-aged or older, trying to get their heads around technology they hadn’t grown up with or worked with. He began with his full disclosure.
“Hello, I’m Thierry Duplessis, and I hope over the next few weeks to help you do whatever it is you want to with your computer. I have degrees in computer science and I’ve worked with computers all my life, even the time I spent in prison. You should know that I was convicted of computer fraud—and am therefore not as good as I thought I was. However, I have served my time and wish now to pass on whatever skills I can. Legally, of course…”
* * * * *
Rab, who led the woodwork class, was a young man of few words but great talent with wood. He also turned out to be a good teacher and by the time the workshop ended for the evening, Louise was pretty enthused about her new project to build a coffee table for the B&B lounge, recycling old wood.
The workshop took place in one of the outhouses, where Rab seemed to both live and work. There was a wooden staircase, little more than a ladder up to a private loft area while, apart from a tiny shower room with toilet, the ground floor was taken up with cutting machinery, workbenches, and finished and partially finished furniture. It was a fascinating place to Louise, so she wasn’t altogether surprised when time was up and she opened the outhouse door to discover Morag leaning against the wall, waiting for her.
“Must be fun in there,” Morag observed, glancing from Louise up to Rab, who stood behind her at the door. “Come on, drag yourself away to the pub.”
“Lead me to it,” Louise said amiably. “Thanks, Rab!”
Rab nodded. She couldn’t be sure because it was dark outside now, but it struck her he might have been blushing. He seemed too young and kind to have done time in prison.
“Chrissy’s coming too,” Morag said as they walked across the semi-lit yard to the side of the house. “And Izzy, if Glenn can stay in with Jack.”
“They need a Cerys,” Louise observed, “so they can both come.” Several caravans were scattered across the yard. At the door of one, two men were talking.
“Aye, teaching two women to change their own tires,” one of them said in broad Glasgow accents. “Not exactly what I thought I’d be doing, but actually it was a good laugh. What about you, Froggie? Teaching them to hack the Bank of England?” He broke off to nod and grin at Louise and Morag. Although Louise didn’t know his name, she’d seen him around since the project began. Once or twice, he’d been in the pub with Glenn.
She smiled back, just as his companion turned around and she saw that it was Thierry. His gaze locked with hers, but he didn’t move or speak, and for once, Louise’s tongue seemed to have stuck to the roof of her mouth. Even in the semidarkness, his eyes drowned her—in memory or desire, she didn’t know which, and she didn’t want to think about it. She just knew her heart beat far too fast.
“Evening,” Morag said, and Louise hurried after her. “Definitely pub time,” Morag murmured.
* * * * *
“So,” Izzy said when she’d delivered the second drink of the evening to the table and sat down. “How come Thierry thinks you don’t like him?”
Louise felt her face flame. Since it was a Tuesday evening, the pub was quiet, save for the four women—and Kenny the barfly and Ron the fisherman, who sat at the bar—but she really didn’t want to discuss this in public. Or at all, really, even with her best friends.
“Dislike?” Morag said before Louise could speak. “Is that what it was by the caravan?”
“No, of course not,” Louise said hastily. God knew, it was anything but. It was herself she disliked.
“So Thierry is going to fix your computer?”
“No, well, maybe, I don’t know,” Louise said, flustered. She reached for her glass as if for protection. “He doesn’t know if he has all the parts, and in any case, he thinks I should have a new one.” She glanced around the three sceptical, expectant faces of her friends and knocked back half her whisky. “To be honest, I’m not that comfortable about having him around the house.”
Chrissy set down her own glass. “Because he’s an ex-con? Louise, he’s one of the gentlest men you’ll ever meet! I never thought you would be so prejudiced.”
“You mean asking a computer fraudster to build me a new computer?” Louise retorted. “I’m sure that sounds a great idea to most folk!”
Chrissy opened her mouth to retaliate—the men at Ardknocken House were like her children—but before her angry words could emerge, Izzy said, “Oh no, that’s not it. You’re happy to have Glenn in the house, so I really can’t see you baulking at Thierry. Plus you know damned well he’s not going to hack the B&B computer.”
Louise sighed.
Morag said, “There was a look. At the caravan.”
“What sort of a look?” asked Chrissy, apparently mollified for now.
Morag raised her glass. “I’d say she likes him.”
“Oh sod off, Morag,” Louise said crossly.
“Ah,” Izzy said as if it was becoming clearer. “So that’s it.”
“No, that isn’t it!” Louise exclaimed.
“Then you don’t like him?” Izzy teased. “Isn’t this where we came in?”
“Oh for—” She took another sip of whisky and plonked her glass on the table. “Right now, I like him a hell of a lot better than I like you guys.”
Izzy frowned at her. “What on earth happened? He only came to look at your computer.”
“And he was only gone an hour,” Chrissy added. “How did he manage to piss you off in that time?”
“He hasn’t pissed me off, and it’s got nothing to do with this morning!”
“You met him before,” Morag said, intrigued. “I knew there was something. Come on then, spill. If it’s good, I’ll buy us all another drink. Where did you meet him before? When?”
Louise sighed and gave in to the inevitable. “Yesterday. In the hills. Up by the waterfall. The mist was thick. I was afraid he’d fall off the edge, so I pulled him away.”
The three faces continued to gaze at her.
“And then?” Morag prompted.
“Then…oh wow.” She grabbed her glass again.
Morag began to laugh softly. “Oh, Louise, Louise.”
Izzy and Chrissy stared at her in wonder. “Really?” Chrissy sounded more delighted than anything else. “Did you take him home to the B&B? How did that get past the village?”
“No, I didn’t,” Louise said.
“Outside in the mist,” Izzy said just a little dreamily.
“I blame the mist,” Louise returned. “There’s something isolating about it, as if it cuts you off from everything else just because you can’t see it.”
“A little cocoon,” Izzy agreed. “Your own little world… What?” she added, becoming aware of Louise and the others gazing at her.
Louise, who was sitting beside her, gave her a friendly nudge. “I’m sure you and Glenn have lots of little moments. I don’t. Not with strangers. Or anyone much, really. That’s why I don’t want him around.”
“In case he thinks you’re easy?” Chrissy said.
Louise blinked. “Because I was easy. Seriously, have you not heard a murmur of this up at the big house?”
“Not a whisper,” Izzy assured her.
“I don’t think he’s a blabbing kind of guy,” Chrissy added. “The opposite, in fact.”
They’d all been leaning forward over the table, talking in discreet undertones that couldn’t carry across the room as far as the bar. As the pub door was flung open with a blast of icy March wind, Louise actually jumped. But it was her brother, Aidan, who stepped in the door.
As Louise smiled with as much relief as welcome, Chrissy threw herself out of her chair and flew across the room to hurl herself into Aidan’s arms. It was one way to defy gossip—be open. In fact, neither Chrissy nor Aidan cared what other people said, and Louise was the first to admit that Chrissy was good for her brother. Izzy, who knew Chrissy better, had said that worked both ways.
As Aidan hugged Chrissy, murmuring something in her ear and pressing a brief, forceful kiss on her lips, others pushed in behind him—residents from the big house. Archie, Rab…and Thierry.
“Put her down and shift,” Archie commanded, shoving past towards the bar.
Before she could be seen, Louise jerked her head away, towards Izzy, who grasped her hand briefly under the table, presumably in support.
Aidan was walking towards their table, his arm still around Chrissy. “Evening, all,” he said, ruffling Louise’s hair by way of brotherly affection. “What are you drinking?”
“Oh we’ve still got plenty,” Izzy demurred.
“Line them up,” Louise commanded, “while you have the chance!”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Thierry ordering drinks at the bar while Archie and Rab wandered over and sat two tables from Louise’s. The Ardknocken House residents were careful never to force their company on the villagers, and the presence of Louise and Morag meant they would keep their distance, although they did murmur civil hellos.
At the bar, Aidan and Thierry seemed to be exchanging idle chat while the drinks were being poured. Thierry didn’t so much as glance towards Louise. She should have felt grateful rather than piqued. Beside them, Kenny was holding forth to Ron the fisherman, whose gaze, however, was focused not on Kenny but on Thierry. Well, Ron had already stated his views on the ex-cons. Perhaps he had difficulty marrying up his prejudice with the quietly spoken man talking to the ex-cop.
After a moment, Ron’s voice drifted over. “Are you Aidan Grieve? Believe I’m staying at your place!”
Aidan smiled with his usual friendliness, murmuring a reply as he gathered his drinks. Again Ron’s gaze flickered to Thierry, who, oblivious, was walking away with his own pints. Still he didn’t glance at Louise.
I’ve seen him off, she thought and couldn’t understand why she didn’t feel more relieved.
Because she’d never known sex like the sex she’d had with him. So urgent and intense… She blinked, trying to refocus on the conversation around her.
“How’s the house?” Aidan asked Chrissy. They were doing up an old, ruined cottage by the shore.
“Looking good!” Chrissy enthused. “All the walls are plastered and we’re ready to decorate. Kitchen’s going in on Monday. We should be able to have that housewarming party pretty soon.”
“Before you furnish,” Morag advised.
“It’s not going to be that kind of party,” Chrissy said with dignity.
“Course it is,” Morag argued. “Everyone in the village will be there. The walls will be heaving.”
Chrissy looked thoughtful. “More room without furniture,” she said.
“Exactly. We’ll be there on Saturday. Cheers.”
Everyone laughed, although Chrissy and Aidan were exchanging glances as though seriously considering it. At least, if not this Saturday, then some time quite soon.
Later in the evening, as Louise brought her round from the bar—one for the road—she discovered her table empty, apart from Aidan, who was leaning across the table between to speak to Rab. Izzy was standing beside Archie, but there was no sign of either Morag or Chrissy, who’d presumably gone to the ladies.
As Louise set down the drinks and sat, a shadow fell over her. She glanced up quickly, and her heart leapt when she found Thierry standing there.
“I’ve got all the parts for a new computer,” he said. “If you want me to do it for you, I will. Just say.”
His dark eyes held hers only for an instant and then he turned away and went back to his seat.
“Thanks,” Louise croaked after him. As the others returned and conversation resumed, she realized she was joining in far more naturally. Bizarrely, she felt…happy.