Page 24 of A Christmas Celebration
‘Oh, I know,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘I know he’s always up to something, but this sounds serious. He’s talking to Brodie about something and I got the impression he didn’t want to be overheard.’
‘Who is Brodie?’ Mick frowned.
‘The brother of the guy who owns Brambles.’
‘Oh him,’ said Mick. ‘I think he’s quite new in town, isn’t he? I didn’t know Angus even knew him.’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ I huffed, sounding exasperated myself. ‘You live here, Mick, so I thought you might be able to tell me something about him.’
Mick ran a hand around the back of his neck.
‘I don’t know anything about him.’ He shrugged.
‘What about his job?’ I asked. After the way Angus had worded what I’d overheard, I was questioning my artistic fantasy and thought perhaps Brodie wasn’t an artist after all. ‘What does he do for a living?’
‘No idea.’ Mick frowned, abandoning his neck and rubbing his hand along his jaw.
I was about to relay exactly what I’d heard, but the door flew open and I screeched in shock.
‘What are you doing in here?’ Archie laughed.
He was clearly amused by my reaction. I supposed I should have felt grateful that he’d forgotten I wasn’t completely my former self and a bit jumpy as a result.
‘Nothing,’ I shot back before Mick had a chance to open his mouth.
Archie narrowed his eyes, but didn’t probe further and I kept schtum. He might still be capable of winding me up, but I didn’t want him worrying unnecessarily about his father’s potential mischief.
‘Molly and I are heading into town now,’ he said. ‘Do either of you want anything picking up?’
I breakfasted alone, my head abuzz with what I’d overheard and then set off. I did manage to find the cottage again, butmore by luck than judgement. I had keyed the postcode of where I had been heading on Thursday into the repaired satnav and then, when I reached roughly the point where I thought it had fallen off the windscreen, I drove about until I struck gold. The cottage was easier to spot in the daylight and as I had taken the Land Rover, I had a more elevated position and could see further ahead.
The little detached house looked even worse in the cold light of day and had I not seen a light on and the curtain move, I would have assumed it was abandoned. It was far from falling down, but the garden was grotesquely overgrown, the windows were filthy and an air of neglect hung about it. I ventured down the path just as it started to rain, which made it all look even worse.
I knocked three times, each increasing in volume, before I got a response and only then was the door opened a couple of inches.
‘What do you want?’ came the gruff voice of the occupant.
It sounded like an elderly gent but as the person wasn’t willing to show their face, I didn’t want to assume.
‘I’m not buying anything,’ they shouted when I didn’t immediately answer. ‘What are you after?’
In spite of the hostile words, I sensed a hint of fear in the tone and wondered if I had done the right thing in coming back.
‘I’m not after anything,’ I said, taking a step back and receiving more of a soaking from the rain as a result. ‘And I’m not selling anything either. I just wanted to apologize.’
The rain then started to fall harder and I wished I hadn’t left my coat in the car.
‘What for?’
‘I knocked on your door Thursday evening’ – I shivered – ‘to ask for directions and left when you didn’t answer. Then when I got home, I was worried that I might have scared you, so I’ve come back to say sorry.’
‘That was you, was it?’ the voice snapped back.
‘Yes,’ I said, my teeth chattering.
The door opened a little wider and I got my first glimpse of the person who lived inside the cottage. It was a man, most likely in his eighties. He had white hair which had grown out of whatever style it had previously been cut in, deep stubble graced his chin and he was wrapped in a woollen overcoat. The air which wafted out of the door felt even chillier than that outside.
‘Thanks for letting me know,’ he sniffed, looking me up and down. ‘I did wonder.’
