Starburst (35 page)

“I am quite.”

“Too many late nights, burning the candle at both ends.”

Tess frowned. There was almost a frenetic edge to his voice. “Not really.”

“Are you sleeping with him again, then?”

Tess felt her face go on fire. “What?”

“Peter bloody Hansen. You just can’t stop yourself, can you?”

Tess swallowed hard. “I don’t know—”

“Of course you know what I’m bloody talking about. I saw him this evening. He was round at our flat knocking on the door when I got back from work. He recognized me and scuttled off like the rat that he is.”

Tess shook her head. “Allan, I—”

“Don’t even start to tell me you didn’t know he was here. Who was it you called just before you left the flat? Sure as hell wasn’t Sarah Atkinson, was it?” He picked up her mobile phone from beside the gear stick and punched at the buttons. “Look,” he said, holding the screen inches from her face. “Lo and behold, if that isn’t the name of Peter Hansen. Now, are you going to tell me that’s just coincidence?”

Tess closed her eyes tight. “Stop the car.”

“Why? Do you want to get out here and walk all the way back to his loving arms? Is that what the hell you want?”

“Please, just stop the car.”

Allan swerved into a lay-by at speed and slammed his foot on the brake and turned off the engine. The silence was absolute. Tess heard him let out a deep, quivering groan and turned to see him slump forward on the steering wheel, his head in his hands.

“I really didn’t know he was going to turn up, Allan. He just did and the arrogant bastard expected everything to be exactly as it was before.”

Allan raised his head and looked at her.

“And was it?”

“No, of course it wasn’t. Why would it ever be? I’m married to you now. I don’t want anyone else in the my life, least of all him.”

“But you were going to go out with him tonight, weren’t you?”

Tess paused, realizing at that moment how badly she had handled this whole situation. She should never have kept it from him. “Yes, I was. I was going to have dinner with him.”

“Jesus!” Allan muttered angrily, thumping his hand against the steering wheel.

“Let me finish—please! I agreed to have dinner with him only because he, in so many words, threatened to tell Alasdair Dreyfuss about our”—the word momentarily stuck in Tess’s throat—“relationship. I didn’t want to lose my job and I certainly didn’t want to lose you. I was going to have dinner with him and, I really mean this, Allan, that was going to be the end of it. I hate the man and I hate myself for getting involved with him in the first place, because I nearly lost you as a result. I decided not to tell you about him being here, because…well, I thought I could handle it myself.”

“Why? Did it never occur to you that this all involves me as well? If you screw up your life, you screw up mine as well.”

Tess looked down into her lap, feeling tears of stupidity and hopelessness begin to well up in her eyes. “I know, and I’m really sorry. I should have told you.” She opened the glove box in front of her and took out a box of tissues. She pulled out a wodge and wiped her eyes. “I have hated this week more than any in my whole life. I’ve felt I’ve been betraying you every moment of it, and to do that to someone you really love is just the most painful thing to bear.”

There was a long silence before Allan broke it. “I don’t know what to say, Tess. Maybe it’s slipped your mind, but after we’d sorted everything out last year, I thought we’d made an agreement we would never hold back secrets from each other. Hell, that was the fundamental reason we got married! And now you’ve just blown the whole thing out the window, as if all those endless talks we had on trust and reconciliation were just trite and totally expendable. And yes, that’s exactly how you always end up making
me
feel—totally and utterly expendable.”

Tess reached across and laid a hand on his arm. “Please, you must never, ever think that. I know I’ve made a hash of things but you have to remember that nothing happened, Allan, and nothing similar will ever happen again in the future, because you are the only person I want in my life.”

With a shake of his head, Allan turned the key in the ignition, pumping his foot on the accelerator and making the engine roar angrily to life. “We’d better go find Angelique.”

“Can’t we call a truce first?” Tess asked quietly.

Allan turned to her, letting out a long breath of consideration. “Okay, but for your friend’s sake only, because, Tess, you think back on what you’ve just said about nothing similar happening again. You used almost exactly the same words last year.”

“I know what is going to occur next,” Angélique said as she and Jamie lay on the sofa in the sitting room, the only source of light coming from the television.

“Okay, go on then, let’s hear it.”

“The man with the beard who was on the bus with her has followed her home and has got into the house.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. Through an open window, maybe?”

“Wrong.”

Angélique lifted her head from his chest and turned to look at him. “Why do you think that?”

“Could be intuition.” He smiled at her. “Or could be because I’ve seen the film before.”

“Oh, you are such a cheat!” she exclaimed, reaching for a cushion. The imminent blow never struck its target, as her arm stopped mid-arc when the door of the drawing room opened and the lights were turned on. Both she and Jamie turned to see Rory Stratton standing there in his dressing gown.

“Hi, Dad,” Jamie said. “I thought you’d turned in.”

“Yes, well, I was on my way upstairs when I heard a car arriving. You’ve got visitors.”

The news brought them both immediately to their feet. Jamie stared in bewilderment at the young couple that entered the room, having never set eyes on either of them before. Both were dressed as if they had been to a party, the man in a suit, the girl in a dark red cocktail dress with her face made up. Jamie spun round when he heard Angélique let out a gasp of astonishment.

“Tess!”

She ran across the room and flung her arms around the girl’s neck.

“Hullo, Angélique, how are you?” the girl said, giving her a kiss on both cheeks. “We’ve only just found out what happened to you. We came straight out to see you.”

Angélique pushed herself away. “I cannot believe this. How did you know I was here?”

“Yeah, good question,” Jamie said, still looking suspiciously at the couple.

“Well then, find out over a drink, Jamie,” his father retorted, still standing by the door as he shot a steely glare of disapproval at his son’s lack of welcome. “I’m off to my bed, so I’ll bid everyone goodnight.” He was about to leave the room when he glanced back at Jamie. “If you want to talk into the small hours, Allan and Tess can stay the night if they want. The double bed’s usually made up in the top spare room.”

Jamie nodded. “Thanks.”

As Rory shut the door behind him, the two girls walked across to the sofa and sat down, already engrossed in a deep private conversation. Still nonplussed as to what was going on, Jamie forced a smile on his face as he approached the man, his hand outstretched. “Hi, we haven’t met. Jamie Stratton.”

The man shook his hand. “Allan Goodwin.” He pointed over to the girl sitting next to Angélique. “That’s Tess—my wife.”

“Right…so, what can I get you to drink?”

“A beer would do me fine.”

“And for Tess?”

Allan shrugged. “Just something soft. She’s driving home.”

“Where exactly
is
home?” Jamie asked as he walked over to the drinks tray, not yet willing to extend his father’s offer of a bed until he had found out more about the couple.

“Edinburgh,” Allan replied, following him across the room. “In fact, Tess says she knows you.”

“Really?” Jamie shot a quizzical glance at the girl seated next to Angélique. “I can’t say that I ever remember—”

“She spoke to you on the telephone.”

“Concerning what?”

“Renting a room to a Mr. Hartson? She said he was a cameraman.”

Jamie stared hard at the man. “I seem to remember that call came from the International Festival office.”

“It would have done. Tess works there.”

“Oh, I see,” Jamie replied, glancing apprehensively at the girl. “But it couldn’t have been Mr. Hartson who told you we were here. He had no idea where we were going.”

“No, that information came from a reporter called Harry Wills.”

“Harry Wills?”
Jamie exclaimed incredulously, just stopping short of overflowing a glass of Coca-Cola over the floor. “Excuse me for asking this, but why did he think it necessary to tell you?”

“Because Tess hadn’t heard one word from Angélique since she left for France. She called Harry because she knew he’d had contact with Angélique in the past.”

“And Harry…told you everything?”

“Yes, he thought it would be safe enough now. He said he’d stopped his vigil outside your flat about three nights ago.”

“Yes, I know that, but I didn’t expect him to start telling people we were here.”

“Don’t worry, neither Tess nor I will be breathing one word on her whereabouts to anyone.” Allan studied the look of distrust on Jamie’s face as the young man carried the glass of Coca-Cola across the room and handed it to Tess. “I think, quite honestly,” Allan continued quietly when Jamie had returned to pour him his beer, “that, until this whole situation with Angélique is well and truly over, the more allies you two have in your camp, the better. Tess has become a good friend of Angélique, and she would never do anything to jeopardize either her safety or her privacy.”

Jamie handed Allan his beer, and then looked over to where Angélique and Tess were chatting, seemingly oblivious to his and Allan’s presence in the room. He gave a shrug. “I had no idea Angélique knew anyone else in Edinburgh. I wonder why she’s never mentioned Tess to me before.”

Allan shot a withering look at Tess and shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s the female mind for you,” he said, raising his glass of beer in salute. “They have a bloody awful habit of keeping secrets from us men.”

Even though Jamie had no way of knowing the poignancy of Allan’s remark, it was sufficiently male-bonding to break the unease Jamie had felt since the young couple’s unexpected arrival at the house. He too raised his glass to the man. “Listen, sorry about being a bit…well, unfriendly towards you. I was completely thrown into this whole game and I suppose it’s just made me quite…protective towards her.”

“Yes, I can see that,” Allan replied, glancing briefly at Angélique before turning back to Jamie with a grin on his face, “and I think I can probably understand the reasons why.”

Jamie felt his face colour instinctively at Allan’s quip. “So, how about it?” he asked, deciding to change tack to avoid further discussion on the subject. “Do you want to stay the night? As my father said, the bed’s made up.”

“That’s very kind, but we wouldn’t want to impose ourselves on you.”

“No imposition at all,” Jamie replied, looking over at the two girls on the sofa. “I doubt we’re going to stop those two talking for a while.”

“Looks that way, doesn’t it?”

“So you’ll stay?”

Allan tipped his head to the side. “All right, why not?”

“Good,” Jamie replied, walking over to the drinks tray. “In that case, we have no excuse now not to hit the hard stuff.”

H
ang on, lass, stop kicking around,” Rory Stratton muttered, squeezing his legs tighter around the body of the upended ewe to stop her from trying to make a break for freedom. He heaved her round in the pen so that he could cast light on the infected foot from the reddened glow of the early-morning sun. “Right, let’s see if we can’t get you back into shape.” He took a penknife from the back pocket of his jeans and began paring away the side of the hoof, wrinkling his nose at the foul smell of the foot rot. “My word, that’s not a good one, is it? I should have spotted you before.”

He turned round to pick up the aerosol can of antibiotic from the ground and started when he saw the figure standing behind him. Holding hard to the ewe’s feet, he stood upright, stretching out his aching back, and looked across at the young man whom he had welcomed to the house the previous evening.

“You’re up bright and early,” Rory said, giving the aerosol a shake as he appraised the man’s attire. “Not the ideal clothes to wear for a visit to a sheep pen.”

Allan glanced down at his dark blue suit and the expensive black loafers, already spattered with mud, and then smiled at the man. “Yeah, you’re right, but I just felt like getting out of the house and having a walk.” He leaned on the wooden railing, clasping his hands together. “Do you always talk to them like that?”

Rory laughed. “A bit mad, eh?” He bent down and gave the ewe’s foot a spray. “My wife sometimes accuses me of speaking more to my sheep than I do to her. She calls them the other women in my life.”

Allan pushed his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “At least your wife only has to compete with a load of woolly animals,” he said, turning round to look back at the house.

Rory glanced briefly at the young man, detecting an obvious tone of melancholy in his voice. He eased the ewe forward onto her front feet and let her go and watched as she ran to the far side of the pen, turning to eye him distrustfully. He walked over to the railing and put the aerosol can in the bag that hung on one of the strainer posts. “That sounds as if you’ve experienced a similar problem.”

Allan let out a long sigh. “Sort of.”

Rory took a towelling rag from the pocket of his padded waistcoat and wiped his hands. “Have you been married long?”

Allan turned and stared questioningly at him. “Why do you ask?”

Rory leaned an elbow on the railing. “Well, it’s probably none of my business, but I just saw that shiny new ring on your finger and wondered why someone would prefer trudging around a muddy farmyard at this time in the morning, rather than be tucked up in bed with a beautiful young wife.”

Allan bit at the corner of his bottom lip as he studied the weather-beaten face of the farmer, wondering whether he should rise to this line of questioning. “Sometimes things just don’t appear how they seem, if you get my meaning.”

Rory laughed. “I know exactly what you mean! I’m afraid, my friend, that’s just one of the anomalies of marriage. You’d think after twenty-seven years of being wedded to my wife, there’d be an almost Zen-like plane of understanding between us and we’d go out of our way to avoid the pitfalls which we know put us at loggerheads—but no, we both still get attracted to them like moths to a light bulb. What you’ve got to consider, though, is how boring it all would be without those little annoyances and niggling differences.” He flashed a wicked smile at the young man before pushing himself away from the railing and walking across the pen to release the ewe into the adjacent paddock. “I think it’s much more healthy to have a bit of fire in a marriage rather than let it smoulder aimlessly along. That can lead to problems.”

“And what about trust?” Allan asked.

“That’s fundamental to any relationship.”

“So there should be no secrets, nothing hidden?”

“That depends on their context, whether they’re being deployed for deception or protection. One represents total breakdown in communication, the other pure love.” Rory took the bag from the strainer post, slung it over his shoulder and climbed over the railings. He smiled at the young man. “Look, don’t think marriage is always going to be a bed of roses, but it’s infinitely better than sitting on a dung heap by yourself for the rest of your life.”

Allan smiled at the farmer. “That’s a good quote. I might use it sometime.”

“Well, remember where you heard it first. It’s a Stratton original.” He nodded his head in the direction of the house. “I think you might have company.”

Allan turned to see Tess coming towards them, her arms crossed as she walked along the road from the house. He glanced back at Rory. “We’ll be heading back to Edinburgh quite soon, so if we don’t see you, many thanks for letting us stay the night, and, erm…for the advice as well.”

“My pleasure,” Rory said, shooting him a wink. “Have a good journey back.” He made his way across the concrete apron to the lambing shed and hung up the bag on a nail inside the door, and then walked over to the grain store to turn on the drying plant for the day. Ten minutes later he was back in the lambing shed, climbing astride the quad bike. He fired up the engine and drove it outside. A hundred yards away, he spotted the young couple still standing in the middle of the road talking with each other, and then he witnessed the man putting his arms around his wife’s waist, drawing her into him and kissing her long on the mouth. Rory grinned with satisfaction at the sight, gave a brief self-congratulatory nod of his head and then set off at speed up the dirt track road towards the hill, trailed closely by his two fleet-footed sheepdogs.