at any moment.
‘Nothing.’
‘We can’t do nothing!’
She pulled a piece of screwed-up paper out of the waistband of her skirt and laid it on the table and smoothed it out again. Her face was as crumpled as the sheet bearing the stark stencilled words.
Keep your paws off that chef, you dirty little whore.
She stifled a sob. ‘When I showed it to you this afternoon, you thought it was funny.’
Reading the note he’d laughed wildly, as if shocked beyond reason that anyone could take such an accusation seriously. Thank God Bel and the other staff hadn’t been around. Anger would have been fine, anxiety reasonable. But amazement bordering on disbelief – that cut her to the bone. No wonder she’d wept as she ran out of the restaurant.
‘I’m sorry, Kirsty. I was – well, shocked, I suppose. It seemed…’
‘Ridiculous?’ she asked in a muffled voice.
‘Don’t cry, Kirsty. It’s horrid for you. For both of us. But we mustn’t let it knock us off balance.’
‘You think it is ridiculous.’
‘It’s ridiculous to call you…cruel names.’
‘You think I’m still just a silly kid, don’t you?’
‘No, no. We’ve always been good friends, Kirsty, haven’t we?’ He leaned forward and rested a palm on her shoulder. His cologne smelled of sandalwood. ‘True friends. Friends who care about each other.’
She mopped her eyes with a lacy handkerchief. ‘I suppose so.’
‘You know so. And I hate seeing you upset.’
The directness of his gaze lifted her spirits. When he concentrated his attention on you, it was as if the rest of the world ceased to exist. Was this how Bel felt, when he looked straight at her? ‘So what are we going to do? Tell the police?’
He snatched his hand away as if he’d touched a live wire. ‘For goodness’ sake! How can they do anything? You’ve thrown away the envelope, we’ve both handled the message. Even if whoever wrote this left any fingerprints, which I doubt, they will have disappeared by now.’
Her tea had a tang of lemon. She preferred to take milk with it, but Oliver said that ruined the flavour and he was the expert. The song playing in the background was ‘Can’t Take My Eyes Off You’, one of Bel’s favourite schmaltzy tracks, yet Oliver had put it on for her. How long would it take to break the spell by which Bel had entranced him? Three times in the past year, he’d kissed her on the cheek by way of greeting or farewell. The kisses were chaste, but each one set her pulse racing.
‘I was wondering…there was this programme on Channel 4 the other day, about investigating crime. What about DNA tests?’
‘This isn’t a hunt for a sniper or a serial killer. The police won’t be interested, Kirsty. Trust me.’
Of course she wanted to trust him, but his reactionbaffled her. ‘You’re suggesting we let this…this creature get away with it?’
‘With what? Whoever sent that message wants to upset you. Don’t give him the satisfaction, Kirsty. The best thing you can do – we can do – is to behave as though nothing’s happened. Why should we let some sad person with nothing better to do get under our skin? Let them spin their lies about someone else if they want to spark a reaction.’
She stared at him. ‘As simple as that?’
‘Of course.’ He was breathing hard, as if this meant a lot to him. ‘After all, we know there isn’t a shred of truth in this note, don’t we? You’ve never laid a finger on me, nor me on you. We’re just very good friends – and I swear, we always will be.’
‘So this is Paradise?’
‘An outpost of Virgin Rail, actually,’ Daniel said. ‘Don’t worry. The Lake District gets better.’
Louise arched her eyebrows and stepped aside to allow him to pick up her suitcases. The train had disappeared north on its journey over the high moors to Carlisle and Glasgow beyond and a group of Swedes with bulging rucksacks were scanning the horizon in a baffled search for the vanished sun.
‘Nothing.’
‘We can’t do nothing!’
She pulled a piece of screwed-up paper out of the waistband of her skirt and laid it on the table and smoothed it out again. Her face was as crumpled as the sheet bearing the stark stencilled words.
Keep your paws off that chef, you dirty little whore.
She stifled a sob. ‘When I showed it to you this afternoon, you thought it was funny.’
Reading the note he’d laughed wildly, as if shocked beyond reason that anyone could take such an accusation seriously. Thank God Bel and the other staff hadn’t been around. Anger would have been fine, anxiety reasonable. But amazement bordering on disbelief – that cut her to the bone. No wonder she’d wept as she ran out of the restaurant.
‘I’m sorry, Kirsty. I was – well, shocked, I suppose. It seemed…’
‘Ridiculous?’ she asked in a muffled voice.
‘Don’t cry, Kirsty. It’s horrid for you. For both of us. But we mustn’t let it knock us off balance.’
‘You think it is ridiculous.’
‘It’s ridiculous to call you…cruel names.’
‘You think I’m still just a silly kid, don’t you?’
‘No, no. We’ve always been good friends, Kirsty, haven’t we?’ He leaned forward and rested a palm on her shoulder. His cologne smelled of sandalwood. ‘True friends. Friends who care about each other.’
She mopped her eyes with a lacy handkerchief. ‘I suppose so.’
‘You know so. And I hate seeing you upset.’
The directness of his gaze lifted her spirits. When he concentrated his attention on you, it was as if the rest of the world ceased to exist. Was this how Bel felt, when he looked straight at her? ‘So what are we going to do? Tell the police?’
He snatched his hand away as if he’d touched a live wire. ‘For goodness’ sake! How can they do anything? You’ve thrown away the envelope, we’ve both handled the message. Even if whoever wrote this left any fingerprints, which I doubt, they will have disappeared by now.’
Her tea had a tang of lemon. She preferred to take milk with it, but Oliver said that ruined the flavour and he was the expert. The song playing in the background was ‘Can’t Take My Eyes Off You’, one of Bel’s favourite schmaltzy tracks, yet Oliver had put it on for her. How long would it take to break the spell by which Bel had entranced him? Three times in the past year, he’d kissed her on the cheek by way of greeting or farewell. The kisses were chaste, but each one set her pulse racing.
‘I was wondering…there was this programme on Channel 4 the other day, about investigating crime. What about DNA tests?’
‘This isn’t a hunt for a sniper or a serial killer. The police won’t be interested, Kirsty. Trust me.’
Of course she wanted to trust him, but his reactionbaffled her. ‘You’re suggesting we let this…this creature get away with it?’
‘With what? Whoever sent that message wants to upset you. Don’t give him the satisfaction, Kirsty. The best thing you can do – we can do – is to behave as though nothing’s happened. Why should we let some sad person with nothing better to do get under our skin? Let them spin their lies about someone else if they want to spark a reaction.’
She stared at him. ‘As simple as that?’
‘Of course.’ He was breathing hard, as if this meant a lot to him. ‘After all, we know there isn’t a shred of truth in this note, don’t we? You’ve never laid a finger on me, nor me on you. We’re just very good friends – and I swear, we always will be.’
‘So this is Paradise?’
‘An outpost of Virgin Rail, actually,’ Daniel said. ‘Don’t worry. The Lake District gets better.’
Louise arched her eyebrows and stepped aside to allow him to pick up her suitcases. The train had disappeared north on its journey over the high moors to Carlisle and Glasgow beyond and a group of Swedes with bulging rucksacks were scanning the horizon in a baffled search for the vanished sun.
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