Jules Bennett - One Summer At The Castle

Rosa glanced down at her bag which, even looped over her shoulder, was heavier than she’d expected when she’d packed it the previous day. ‘Well, all right. Thanks,’ she said, not without some misgivings. ‘If it’s not out of your way.’

Don’t do me any favours, thought Liam irritably, reaching for her bag and opening the rear door of the car. He tossed it onto the seat and then gestured for her to get into the front. His leg was aching from standing too long and he couldn’t wait to get off his feet.

‘You didn’t say if it was far,’ she ventured, after he’d coiled his length behind the wheel, and Liam shrugged.

‘The island’s not that big,’ he said, which wasn’t really an answer. ‘Don’t worry. It won’t take long to get there.’

Rosa hoped not, but the island did seem far bigger than she’d imagined as the Audi mounted the hill out of the village. They emerged onto a kind of plateau that stretched away ahead of them, very green and verdant, with small lakes, or lochs, glinting in the intermittent rays of the sun.

Away to their left, the mountains she’d seen from the quayside looked big and imposing. Their shadowy peaks were bathed in cloud cover, but the lower slopes changed from grey to purple where the native heather flourished among the rocks. Here and there the scrubland was dotted with trees, sturdy firs that could withstand the sudden shifts in the weather.

‘This is Kilfoil Moor,’ said her companion, nodding towards the open land at either side of the road. ‘Don’t be fooled by its look of substance. It’s primitive bog in places. Even the sheep have more sense than to graze here.’

Rosa frowned. ‘Are you a farmer, Mr Killian?’

A farmer! Liam felt a wry smile tug at his mouth. ‘I own some land,’ he agreed, neither admitting nor denying it. Then, to divert her, ‘The island becomes much less hostile at the other side of the moor.’

‘And have people—like—walked onto the moor and been swallowed up by the bog?’ asked Rosa uneasily.

Liam cast her a mocking glance. ‘Only in Jameson’s books, I believe.’

Rosa grimaced. ‘He sounds weird. I suppose living up here he can do virtually as he likes.’

‘He’s an author,’ said Liam irritably, not appreciating her comments. ‘For God’s sake, he writes about monsters. That doesn’t mean he is one!’

‘I suppose.’

Rosa acknowledged that she was letting the isolation spook her. A curlew called, it wild cry sending a shiver down her spine. A covey of grouse, startled by the sound of the car, rose abruptly into the air, startling her. She made an incoherent sound and her companion turned to give her another curious look.

‘Something wrong?’

Rosa shrugged. ‘I was just thinking about what you said,’ she replied, not altogether truthfully. ‘I think I agree with you. Jameson wouldn’t have brought Sophie here.’

‘No?’ Liam spoke guardedly.

‘No. I mean—’ She gestured towards the moor. ‘I can’t imagine any man who lives here going to somewhere frantic like a pop festival.’ She paused. ‘Can you?’

Liam’s mouth compressed. ‘I seem to remember saying much the same thing about half an hour ago,’ he retorted.

‘Oh. Oh, yes, you did.’ Rosa pulled a face. ‘I’m sorry. I think I should have listened to you.’

Liam shook his head. He didn’t know what she expected him to say, what she expected him to do. But if she hoped that he’d turn the car around and drive her back to the village she was mistaken. He was tired, dammit. He’d just driven over five hundred miles, and there was no way she was going to add another twenty miles to his journey. If she wanted to go back, Sam would have to take her. Right now, he needed breakfast, a shower and his bed, not necessarily in that order.

Or that was what he told himself. In fact, he was curiously loath to abandon her. He felt sorry for her, he thought. She’d been sent up here on a wild goose chase and she was going to feel pretty aggrieved when she found out he’d been deceiving her, too.

The awareness of what he was thinking astounded him, however. This had always been his retreat, his sanctuary. The one place where he could escape the rat race of his life in London. What the hell was he doing, bringing a stranger into his home? For God’s sake, she wasn’t a teenager. She was plenty old enough to look out for herself.

‘Anyway,’ she said suddenly, ‘I’m still going to ask him if he knows where she might be. I mean, if they are making a film up here, he will know about it. Where it’s being made, I mean. Don’t you think?’

Liam’s fingers tightened on the wheel. Why didn’t he just tell her who he was? he wondered impatiently. Why didn’t he admit that he’d kept his identity a secret to begin with because he’d been half afraid she had some ulterior motive for coming here? She might not believe him, but it would be better than feeling a complete fraud every time she mentioned his name.

‘Look, Miss—er—’

‘Chantry,’ she supplied equably. ‘Rosa Chantry.’

‘Yes. Miss Chantry.’ Liam hesitated now. ‘Look, I think there’s something I—’

But before he could finish, she interrupted him. ‘Oh, God!’ she exclaimed in dismay, and for a moment he thought she’d realised who he was for herself. But then she reached into the back of the car, hauled her pack forward and extracted a mobile phone. ‘I promised I’d ring my mother as soon as I reached the island,’ she explained ruefully. ‘Excuse me a minute. I’ve just got to tell her I’m all right before she begins to think she’s lost two daughters instead of just one.’

‘Yeah, but—’ he began, about to tell her that there were no transmitters for cellphones on the island when she gave a frustrated cry.

‘Dammit, the battery must be dead,’ she exclaimed, looking at the instrument as if it was to blame for its inactivity. Then she frowned. ‘That’s funny. There’s no signal at all.’

‘That’s because we don’t have any mobile phone masts on Kilfoil,’ said Liam mildly. ‘The place was deserted for years—apart from a few hardy sheep—and although things have changed a bit since then, we prefer not to litter the island with all the detritus of the twenty-first century.’

‘You mean I can’t ring my mother?’

‘No. There are landlines.’

‘So do you think Liam Jameson will let me make a call from the castle?’

‘I’m sure he will,’ muttered Liam, aware he was retreating back into the character he’d created. ‘Don’t run away with the idea that the island’s backwards. Since—since its modernisation, it’s become quite a desirable place to live.’

Rosa arched brows that were several shades darker than her hair. ‘Is that why you came here?’ she asked. ‘To escape the rat race?’

‘In a manner of speaking.’

‘And you like living here? You don’t get—bored?’

‘I’m never bored,’ said Liam drily. ‘Are you?’

‘I don’t get time to be bored,’ she replied ruefully. ‘I’m a schoolteacher. My work keeps me busy.’

‘Ah.’ Liam absorbed this. He thought it explained a lot. Like how she was able to come up here in the middle of August. Like why she seemed so prim and proper sometimes.

The moor was receding behind them now, and they’d started down a twisting road into the glen. He pointed ahead. ‘There’s the castle. What do you think?’

Rosa caught her breath. ‘It’s—beautiful,’ she said, and it was. Standing square and solid on a headland overlooking the sea, its grey walls warmed by the strengthening sun, it was magnificent. ‘It’s very impressive,’ she breathed. And not what she had expected at all. ‘But how can anyone live in such a place? It must have over a hundred rooms.’