Highland Fling (12 page)

It had been Meggie who had shown her the ropes. Jenny had driven up in her own car and had been waiting for Meggie’s stand-in. She hadn’t expected the proprietor in person.

‘I’ve snuck out. Iain’s off doing something, and if I stay in on my own any longer, I’ll start chewing the carpet. Now, are you absolutely sure you want to do this? Things aren’t exactly the same as they were when you originally offered.’

Jenny had forgotten for a moment that running The Homely Haggis had indeed been her idea. ‘I know. But I think I’ll need a place to escape to even more now.’ Aware that Meggie was scanning her for more information about Philip’s disappearance, she’d said, ‘There’s nothing new to report. Philip’s still missing.’

She hadn’t said anything to Meggie about her client’s projected visit, as she hadn’t to Lady Dalmain and Felicity. They probably wouldn’t understand the significance of it, or if they did, it would only add to their anxiety.

‘I thought he probably was,’ Meggie had said.

‘And I thought you were supposed to be resting, Ms. Dalmain.’

Meggie had flapped her hands. ‘I promise I won’t do anything silly. Now let’s have a cuppa while I show you round the place. But do tell me, what did Felicity and the Matriarch say when you told them you were coming up here?’

‘To be honest, I didn’t tell Lady Dalmain – not that she’d have listened if I’d tried to. She’s one of those people who only want to talk. But I told Felicity and she’s going to come up later. I explained to her I needed a place to think, and she did understand. Dalmain House isn’t exactly a haven of tranquillity at the moment. Lady Dalmain just goes on and on.’

‘I bet. It almost makes one sorry for the old bat,’ Meggie had paused. ‘Not
actually
sorry, you understand, but almost.’

Jenny had laughed. ‘You’d better show me how to operate the kettle or this’ll be another business in trouble.’

Now, with Meggie gone, Jenny had a foolscap pad and a pen and was trying to brainstorm on her own. Ideas for the mill were as scarce as customers. Jenny sent messages over the ether. ‘Come on, Felicity! I need someone to talk to, and I’m starting to get very depressed and very cold.’

To warm herself, she put a light under the kettle. She was just wondering if she should have a hot drink herself when she spotted a vehicle.

Realising it was probably a good thing that Felicity hadn’t appeared, so she could face her first customer without an audience, Jenny put her shoulders back and smiled. Only when it was too late to remove the smile did she recognise the man striding over the
chippings towards her. Rather than remain grinning like an overkeen stewardess, she let the smile shrink inwards, so that when he arrived it was a barely noticeable smirk.

‘Oh my God, it’ you,’ he said, a few feet from the counter. He paused, frowned and seemed unnecessarily confused. ‘And I was hoping for some service,’ he added.

Jenny tried not to let her reaction show, or the fact that she was wondering if she could slam down the metal shutter quickly enough to make a statement, or whether it would embarrass her by sticking.

‘What can I do for you?’ she asked, more abruptly than she’d meant, not daring to risk the shutter. Something about this man made her heart race. It was anger, of course. She was still angry with him because of their first encounter. It was curious. She usually considered herself almost too easy-going. Why was she still holding a grudge, particularly when so much else had happened since they’d met?

His confusion had gone now. ‘Very little in the cooking line, I dare say.’

‘Cooking and making hot drinks are all I’m offering,’ she said, quietly, so he wouldn’t hear the tremor in her voice.

‘Are you working here, then? I thought you had another job in the area. Dalmain House, wasn’t it?’

‘And I thought you were on holiday and would have gone home by now, otherwise I would never have agreed to take this place on.’ She licked her lips, forcing some moisture into her mouth, which had gone dry. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ Realising she probably sounded as if she was entertaining the vicar,
her Home Counties accent emphasised by tension, she added, ‘Or something? Bovril, perhaps?’

‘Coffee, please, and a bit of flapjack. Did you make it?’

Ordinary good manners somehow seemed beyond her. She found herself snapping back in a most uncharacteristic way. ‘Even instant coffee takes a bit longer than that to make.’

His eyes glittered. ‘I meant the flapjack.’

‘No. But I will be making it in future, so be warned.’ There seemed to be some sort of reverse magnetism going on. She wanted to beg him never to come near her again.

Apparently unaware of her difficulties, he went on. ‘So where’s the owner? Having her baby?’

‘No, she’s resting, prior to having it. Have you any more questions? If so, perhaps you’d like to prepare a questionnaire and I could complete it at my leisure.’ She could hardly believe what was coming out of her mouth. She normally found it hard to be rude to people. And while this man was difficult, he didn’t really deserve the sort of antagonism she was throwing at him.

‘You really shouldn’t be sarcastic to the customers, you know.’

‘And you shouldn’t be rude to people who are preparing food for you. You never know how they’ll get their own back.’ She gave him a look that implied she wasn’t above spitting in the soup. Keep away from me, she wanted to say, you’re dangerous.

‘Was I rude? I didn’t mean to be.’

‘You were very rude, but don’t worry, it’s probably a habit, and I won’t take it personally.’

He frowned. ‘No, I don’t think I’m usually rude. No one else has complained, anyway.’

‘That doesn’t mean a thing. It’s probably just that other people you are rude to need you in some way. I don’t give a toss if you never have another cup of coffee again in your life. And as for the flapjack, you should be eating shortbread anyway, seeing as we’re in Scotland.’

He stared at her with bemusement and she couldn’t blame him. Her behaviour was appalling. ‘You are the most unsuitable person to be in charge of a fast food stall I have ever come across,’ he said.

She couldn’t snap out of it. I bow to your greater experience of fast food outlets, but in my opinion, you’re the most unsuitable person to be any type of customer at all, be it of The Homely Haggis or the Ritz. In future, you should make your own coffee and flapjack and carry it about in a little knapsack. And that’ll be one pound thirty, please.’

He dug into his pocket for some change. ‘I pity your husband.’

‘I pity your wife.’ She didn’t think he had one, actually. The words ‘I will’ would be too much like giving in, for him.

I haven’t got a wife.’

She shrugged. ‘Why aren’t I surprised?’

‘Have you got a husband?’

She frowned. This was too personal, and yet, strangely, she felt elated by the argument. After two days spent tippy-toeing round people’s sensibilities, discarding even the pretence of good manners was extremely liberating. In her working life she had always been polite and charming, anxious that people
should like and approve of her. Now, suddenly, it didn’t matter what this man thought, she could hurl any old insult at him. She couldn’t have cared less for his opinion of her. ‘Why would I tell you the time, let alone if I’m married or not?’

‘Which means you’re not.’

It didn’t, quite, but she didn’t think Henry fitted into the conversation anywhere, so she carried on, still unaccountably angry. ‘And that means there are two people spared from being miserable, doesn’t it? I don’t know why I don’t just throw this coffee at you.’

‘And I don’t know why, when you are the most disagreeable woman I’ve ever come across, I ever –’ He stopped. ‘I do find you extremely attractive,’ he went on, almost as an afterthought.

She threw the coffee. At the time it didn’t seem as if she had a choice and, joyful though the experience was, she was glad to note, even before the coffee landed, that he was wearing waterproof clothing. She was appalled at herself for acting so out of character, but somehow she felt released.

Her inner tension snapped. He was more surprised than angry and she suddenly found herself laughing. She had aimed low, so it was only a matter of some coffee on his Rohans, and it suddenly seemed extremely funny.

‘How dare you laugh! If there wasn’t a counter between us, you wouldn’t laugh.’

‘Maybe not,’ she gasped. ‘But there is.’ She took the precaution of kicking the door to, knowing she could lock it if he looked like coming round the side to do her a mischief.

‘I bet you don’t dare come out! I could keep you here all night, just by refusing to go!’

‘You could.’ She was still fairly helpless with mirth. ‘But I’m in here with the hot soup and the chocolate and you’re out there on the blasted heath.’ Trying to get herself under control she bit her lip and tried to think sad thoughts. It didn’t help.

‘It’ not a blasted heath, it’ a car park, in October.’

‘So they keep trying to tell me. I’m not convinced. I think they have a different calendar up here, and it’ actually January. If not February.’ She swallowed, shook her head briskly, and managed to get her mirth down to a smile that twitched at the corners. It felt like an achievement.

‘That’s because you’re a nesh Southerner, a Sassenach.’

Now she had laughed a lot of the tension out of her system, she could respond to him more normally. ‘I expect you’re right. Would you like another cup of coffee? On the house rather than on the trousers?’

He continued to scowl at her for a few moments and then he grinned and something funny happened to Jenny’s stomach. It sort of went into spasm, affecting her all the way from under her bra, right down to her knees. It was so powerful she wondered if some previously undiscovered muscles in her inner thighs were actually contracting. She glanced at him to see what it could have been that caused such a strong reaction. He was still grinning and Jenny became short of breath. How could someone so unpleasant, so confrontational and thoroughly bloody-minded suddenly become so – she shrank away from the thought – attractive? He wasn’t even good-looking, for goodness’ sake!

Jenny’s improved mood brought on by release of tension and laughter was evaporating. Aware that she’d just had an extreme physical reaction to someone she ought to dislike was disorientating. Henry had never made her feel her elastic had snapped. ‘I’ll do you another coffee.’

‘Perhaps it would be better if I made it myself?’ He seemed aware of her change of mood, which was hardly surprising.

The thought of him coming round to her side of the counter gave her a panic attack. She managed a nearly normal smile. It’s OK; I won’t throw it at you again, providing you’re not exceptionally offensive.’

‘Like I was before, you mean?’

‘Yes.’ It was getting easier to cope with. Her usual briskness was returning. ‘Would you like another bit of flapjack? The other one must be rather soggy.’

He frowned, or at least his eyebrows drew together into the semblance of a frown, but the twinkle beneath the brows made it unconvincing. I don’t like it. Something’s not right. You’re being polite.’

She laughed, a nice, natural-sounding laugh, and it made her feel better, more in control. I usually am nice. It’ you who are rude and confrontational.’

‘And it’ obviously infectious since it makes you like that too. You did throw a cup of coffee at me,’ he added, as if she might have forgotten.

‘It was a plastic cup, which doesn’t count, and I didn’t throw it at your head, as you deserved, but at your waterproofed middle.’ A quick glance down at where the coffee had landed proved to be a mistake. Last week she would never have described outdoor protective clothing as attractive. This week her sense of
style – such as it was – seemed to have gone to live with Henry.

‘The coffee was still wet, and yes, I would like another piece of flapjack.’

She gave it to him, and then fiddled in the bowl that served as a till. ‘Here, take your money back. I’ll tell Meggie I spilt coffee on the stock.’

‘No. I’ll pay for both cups of coffee, and the flapjacks. You’re right. I did deserve to get one thrown at me.’

‘Well, hallelujah!’ Jenny returned his smile as brightly as she could. How could he have gone from unpleasant to so attractive that she couldn’t look at him without melting in a matter of seconds? Was it him? Or had something strange happened to her? Perhaps in a few minutes she would find that Philip had not run away with all the important documents. Dalmain House would suddenly have become The House of Fun. Felicity would have turned into Mary Poppins and Lady Dalmain into a sweet little old lady. If only.

‘Well, if you really want to pay, it’s two pounds sixty.’

He handed over the money and just as he’d counted out the last bit of silver, he said, ‘I really want to take you out for a drink.’

The sinking feeling came again. She shook her head. She was practically engaged to Henry. Going out for a drink with a man who did what he did to her libido would be the most ridiculous folly. It was just as well he wouldn’t be around for much longer. ‘No, sorry. I’m here most evenings. And anyway, shouldn’t you be going home? Back to somewhere flatter, and warmer?’

He shook his head. I’m not here on holiday.’

‘But you said you were! I know you did!’ Anger and panic flooded her brain. He had lied to her! Supposing she had gone out with him, thinking he’d be gone in a couple of days? What would have happened?

‘I was on holiday when I first met you, but since then things have changed. I’ve been accepted for training as a member of the local mountain rescue team.’ He leant in and took her hand, lying carelessly on the table, and shook it. ‘Ross Grant.’

Jenny forced a smile. ‘Jenny Porter.’

‘Jenny, that’s nice,’ he said. ‘Now what about that drink? We’ve established we’re both single.’

‘Have we?’ She hadn’t wanted to give this impression, and yet somehow, she didn’t want to admit to Henry, either. He felt so far away, he somehow wasn’t relevant just now.

Ross was looking at her with interest, as if not caring whether she went out with him or not, but being interested in her answer for reasons she couldn’t guess.