Page 15 of Summer Escapes on the Scottish Isle (Coorie Castle Crafts #2)

It was as she ran a bath and poured in the bubbles she’d bought earlier did she understand that, actually, she was in danger. But it wasn’t a stranger she needed to fear. It wasn’t even Mack Burns. It was herself .

Freya, wearing pyjamas and a fluffy dressing gown, looked at the

clock on the mantlepiece and wondered whether now was a good time to

phone Hadrian. It was only ten fifteen, so he was sure to be up. Hadrian

was a night owl, rarely going to bed before midnight – unless it was to

make love – whereas Freya was usually ready to crash out well before

then.

Might he be out, though? There was a strong probability that he would be – and if so, would he want to talk?

Oh, sod it. She’d take her chances, and if he was too busy, then at least she’d tried and he couldn’t accuse her of not caring.

Curling up on the sofa, she tucked the dressing gown around her feet and picked up her mobile. But before she rang Hadrian’s number, she saw she’d had a missed call from her dad.

Hoping nothing was wrong, she debated whether to call or message him, not wanting a ringing phone to disturb the other patients on the ward. And if he’d only wanted a chat, he might actually be asleep by now, so the message won.

Sorry I missed you. Call me now if you want? Or I’ll phone you in the

morning xxx

Her phone rang almost instantly, making her jump. ‘Hi, Dad, is everything OK?’

‘Can’t sleep.’

‘Oh, dear. Why’s that?’

‘Dunno.’

‘You sound down.’

‘Just fed up, that’s all. I want to go home.’

‘It won’t be long now. Didn’t you tell me that the doctor thinks you’re doing well?’

Her dad grunted, which she took as an affirmative.

She said, ‘I did a big shop this afternoon after I saw you. Got some of your favourites, and a bottle of malt. I also got a bottle each for Mack and Cal.’

‘Who?’

‘Mack. You know, Jean’s son. Remember me telling you that he’d helped me move your bed downstairs? And they shifted the sofa into your room to give you more space in the sitting room.’

‘You didn’t tell me any such thing.’

‘I did. I told you this afternoon.’ She shook her head, exasperated. ‘You weren’t listening, were you?’

‘No, sorry.’

She’d noticed that he had a habit of doing that lately. Trying to engage his interest, she said, ‘You’ll never guess what I’ve been doing this evening! I went out on a boat.’

‘Whatever for?’

She heard him stifle a yawn.

‘It’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. Can I bring you anything?’

‘My navy jacket and those cord trousers I like to wear, the ones from Marks and Spencer. And a shirt.’

‘You’re convinced they’re going to send you home soon?’

‘They said so, didn’t they!’ he snapped.

Freya took a calming breath. She knew he didn’t mean to be sharp with her. ‘You’re tired, Dad. I’ll let you go to sleep.’

‘I told you – I can’t .’

‘Could you ask the nurse for something?’

‘Bugger, I need to pee now.’ He sounded so cross that Freya had to suppress a laugh. Oh, dear, he wasn’t an easy patient, was he? Never mind, they’d muddle through, and she was sure he’d feel better once he was home.

He hung up, and Freya’s thumb hovered over Hadrian’s number.

Making up her mind, she pressed it.

‘Freya!’ Hadrian shouted, and she moved the phone away from her ear. It sounded like he was in a nightclub or a bar. She could hear loud music and even louder voices.

‘Where are you?’ she asked.

‘Hang on, I can’t hear you.’ A couple of seconds later the noise level dropped considerably and Hadrian said, ‘That’s better, I can hear you now.’

‘Where are you?’ she repeated.

‘The Bustle Club.’

She’d never heard of it. ‘Who with?’

‘Just some people. You don’t know them.’

Try me , she wanted to say, but then she realised she wasn’t particularly interested.

‘You got to Skye safely, I take it,’ he said.

‘I messaged you, like you asked.’

‘Did you? I didn’t see it. I miss you.’

It didn’t seem like it. ‘I’ve only been gone three days.’

‘Is that all? It feels longer.’

Freya was flattered, until he added, ‘It’s probably because I’ve been so busy. You wouldn’t believe what happened yesterday.’

He then embarked on a long story involving a fellow artist, which Freya stopped listening to after the first minute.

When Hadrian finally drew breath long enough for her to get a word in edgeways, Freya took the opportunity to say, ‘My father will be coming home soon, thanks for asking.’

‘Are you annoyed with me, babe?’

Was she? Hmm, yes, she was. If the shoe had been on the other foot, the first thing she would have done would have been to ask about his ill parent. The second would have been to ask about him .

Hadrian had done neither. He really could be a self-centred sod sometimes.

Weariness swept through her. She was too tired for this. She wanted to go to bed and sleep for a week.

She had no idea what he had been saying when she interrupted him. ‘Sorry, I’m going to have to hang up. I’m asleep on my feet. I’ve had a frantic couple of days.’

‘Why? What on earth have you been doing up there? Too much sightseeing?’

Freya snapped. ‘I don’t need to see the sights. I used to live here, remember? For your information, I’ve been sorting my dad’s house out ready for when he comes home from hospital. It’s not been easy.’ She was close to tears.

Maybe Hadrian heard her distress, because he said, ‘I’m sure it hasn’t. Sorry, babe, that was insensitive of me. Ignore my weird sense of humour.’

Right now, she wanted to ignore him . ‘I’m tired, Hadrian. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.’

‘Don’t be like that. I didn’t mean it. Talk to me for a minute. Has it been really hard?’

‘Yes.’ She sulked for a moment, then relented.

‘There was one nice thing, though. I went out on a boat today. I kind of got railroaded into it, but the fresh air and change of scenery did me good. I was a guinea pig for a new venture.’ She proceeded to tell him all about it, ending with, ‘It really fired up my imagination. The colours here are out of this world. I’d forgotten how stunning they are: the many different blues and greys of the water, the—’

There was a muffled rustling sound on the other end of the phone, and it dawned on her that he wasn’t listening. He was doing what he often did when he was on a call – he was speaking to someone else while holding his phone against his chest.

Freya fumed in silence for a second or two, until he came back on the line. ‘Sorry, babe, I lost you for a minute. What were you saying about photos?’

‘It doesn’t matter, I’ll tell you another time,’ she said, knowing full well that she probably wouldn’t.

‘OK. Night, babe. Miss you.’

She wasn’t sure she believed he did. Or was she just being crabby because she was away from home, worried about her dad and bone-tired? That must be it, she decided after she ended the call.

Dropping the phone on the sofa, she rested her head against the cushion, uttered a deep sigh and closed her eyes, feeling rather sorry for herself.

Suddenly, Freya sat up.

There was a noise at the front door. Not a knock, but a kind of thud, as though someone had bumped against it. Might it be Rhona’s cat, asking to come in?

Not liking the idea of the animal being outside all night, especially on the street, she heaved herself off the sofa and went to take a look. The road her dad’s house was on wasn’t busy by any stretch of the imagination, but all it took was one car.

Opening the door, she whispered, ‘Puss, puss…’ But it wasn’t a cat that was on her step.

It was a bottle of cherryade pop and some chunks of tablet, wrapped in cellophane and tied with a length of tartan ribbon.