something else, OK? Why are your pals here anyway?’
Once he’d told her about the skeleton on her lovely island, which she’d have preferred not to know, the conversation stalled. It got stickier and stickier until at last she’d finished her drink and could leave.
Oh, it wasn’t that she’d any particular problem with the police. Some of her own early experiences had been, well, unfortunate – Andy must somehow have picked up on that – but she’d been in the army since and her attitude to authority had changed. His job was like any other – you got good cops and bad cops. There’d been some right psychopathic bastards in the army.
Christie just couldn’t take being conned. He’d sized her up and decided to deceive her. Maybe he’d reckoned once she got to know him she’d be too charmed to walk away, or maybe he wasn’t planning to be around long enough for it to matter. Either way, it wasn’t a good start. In any case, right now she wasn’t looking for involvement with anyone. Anyone else.
Not that Christie was what you could call ‘involved’ with Matt Lovatt. He treated her like just another army comrade, and sometimes she wondered if he even noticed she was female. A couple of times, though, they’d really connected and he’d laughed like she’d never heard him laugh before.
It had been just hero worship, a teenage-type crush on this really great guy. Even though he and Lissa slept in separate bedrooms – separate wings, in fact – how their marriage worked was none of her business. Maybe he snored. Or she did.
But then, last night …
Last night, Christie had come home late from the pub. She’d enjoyed talking to Andy; she hadn’t talked and talked that way since she left the army and she was high on the unaccustomed pleasure. Her head was buzzing and there was no way she could sleep until she’d come down.
She went to sit at her bedroom window, as she often did, looking out over the bay towards the islands. The moon had gone down and as the Innellan street lights went out the night sky suddenly become a pitch-black background to a million million stars. Yet even with that deep peace, broken only by an occasional startling bellow from a stag, Christie’s mind was still sparking and fizzing.
Tea – that was the answer. She’d make a cuppa – and grab a biscuit or two as well. It was a long time since supper. She opened her door, then heard another door being quietly opened. She drew back, closing hers over, and swore silently.
That would be Lissa. She and Christie had the only two bedrooms to the front of the house; Matt’s was in the wing towards the back, up some stairs which came off the landing on the main flight, and Kerr had a bedsitter and bathroom on the ground floor, near the kitchen.
For a moment Christie paused. She’d rather stay awake all night than sit with Lissa at the kitchen table – but maybe she was going to the sitting room or something, and Christie could sneak past unseen. She was getting fixated on the idea of tea now, and the Hobnobs were calling her.
She opened the door again and tiptoed across the landing to look over the banisters. She could hear the wheezy ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall below, and also stealthy footsteps padding down the stairs.
But it wasn’t Lissa. It was Kerr Brodie in his dressing gown, and he’d come from Lissa’s room.
Stifling a gasp of shock, Christie shrank back hastily in case he should feel her eyes upon him. She was a little afraid of him already and he’d take it badly. She retreated, waiting until she could be sure he was out of earshot before she risked closing her door.
What the hell was going on? Did Matt know about this? And if he did, did he care?
She went back to her seat, oblivious to the stars and the night sounds, struggling with this unwelcome knowledge. She felt protective anger thinking of Matt being hurt, Matt who was the soul of honour and decency in her eyes. Lissa was his wife,
Once he’d told her about the skeleton on her lovely island, which she’d have preferred not to know, the conversation stalled. It got stickier and stickier until at last she’d finished her drink and could leave.
Oh, it wasn’t that she’d any particular problem with the police. Some of her own early experiences had been, well, unfortunate – Andy must somehow have picked up on that – but she’d been in the army since and her attitude to authority had changed. His job was like any other – you got good cops and bad cops. There’d been some right psychopathic bastards in the army.
Christie just couldn’t take being conned. He’d sized her up and decided to deceive her. Maybe he’d reckoned once she got to know him she’d be too charmed to walk away, or maybe he wasn’t planning to be around long enough for it to matter. Either way, it wasn’t a good start. In any case, right now she wasn’t looking for involvement with anyone. Anyone else.
Not that Christie was what you could call ‘involved’ with Matt Lovatt. He treated her like just another army comrade, and sometimes she wondered if he even noticed she was female. A couple of times, though, they’d really connected and he’d laughed like she’d never heard him laugh before.
It had been just hero worship, a teenage-type crush on this really great guy. Even though he and Lissa slept in separate bedrooms – separate wings, in fact – how their marriage worked was none of her business. Maybe he snored. Or she did.
But then, last night …
Last night, Christie had come home late from the pub. She’d enjoyed talking to Andy; she hadn’t talked and talked that way since she left the army and she was high on the unaccustomed pleasure. Her head was buzzing and there was no way she could sleep until she’d come down.
She went to sit at her bedroom window, as she often did, looking out over the bay towards the islands. The moon had gone down and as the Innellan street lights went out the night sky suddenly become a pitch-black background to a million million stars. Yet even with that deep peace, broken only by an occasional startling bellow from a stag, Christie’s mind was still sparking and fizzing.
Tea – that was the answer. She’d make a cuppa – and grab a biscuit or two as well. It was a long time since supper. She opened her door, then heard another door being quietly opened. She drew back, closing hers over, and swore silently.
That would be Lissa. She and Christie had the only two bedrooms to the front of the house; Matt’s was in the wing towards the back, up some stairs which came off the landing on the main flight, and Kerr had a bedsitter and bathroom on the ground floor, near the kitchen.
For a moment Christie paused. She’d rather stay awake all night than sit with Lissa at the kitchen table – but maybe she was going to the sitting room or something, and Christie could sneak past unseen. She was getting fixated on the idea of tea now, and the Hobnobs were calling her.
She opened the door again and tiptoed across the landing to look over the banisters. She could hear the wheezy ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall below, and also stealthy footsteps padding down the stairs.
But it wasn’t Lissa. It was Kerr Brodie in his dressing gown, and he’d come from Lissa’s room.
Stifling a gasp of shock, Christie shrank back hastily in case he should feel her eyes upon him. She was a little afraid of him already and he’d take it badly. She retreated, waiting until she could be sure he was out of earshot before she risked closing her door.
What the hell was going on? Did Matt know about this? And if he did, did he care?
She went back to her seat, oblivious to the stars and the night sounds, struggling with this unwelcome knowledge. She felt protective anger thinking of Matt being hurt, Matt who was the soul of honour and decency in her eyes. Lissa was his wife,
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