But after buzzing his flat a few times, it’s clear he mustbe out.
Of course. Stupid me. At this time during the week, Dougwill be working at the car showroom. I wish I hadn’t been drinking because thenI could have driven along. But it’s not far. If I walk fast, I can be at theshowroom in five minutes.
I quickly text Adam to say I’ll be twenty minutes but I’llexplain everything when I get back. Then I hurry off, full of purpose and Dutchcourage.
I arrive at the car showroom and walk straight up to thereception desk. ‘I’d like to speak to Doug, please?’
‘Doug?’ The salesman looks puzzled.
‘He works here?’ I gasp, still out of breath from myrecord-breaking fast walk along here. ‘Doug Bannerman?’
‘I think you must have the wrong name. How’s the Porscherunning?’
‘It’s good. But...’ I take a breath.‘Okay, what about Charles Burrows?’
‘Never heard of him. Sorry.’
I give a sigh of frustration. ‘But Doug was here the day Ibought the car. Doug Bannerman?’ I say the name slowly, in case he misheard methe first time.
The salesman shakes his head regretfully. ‘Sorry, but we have no oneof that name working here. And I’m the boss, so I should know.’
*****
I sit on the perimeter wall of the showroom carpark,gazing into space, my head all over the place.
Doug doesn’t work here?
But he told me he did, that day I bumped into him here. Whywould he do that? Why would he lie to me about something like that?
At last, remembering Adam is waiting for me, I slide off thewall and start walking with a heavy heart back into the village.
There are so many question marks surrounding Doug Bannerman(if that’s his real name) and I can’t make sense of any of them...
CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE
Next afternoon, I’m out in the garden digging compostinto the vegetable bed and nursing a sore head after my pub session with Adamthe day before, when my farmer neighbour, Hamish, pulls up in his Land Rover.
Standing up, I wander over, glad of the distraction.
Sometimes, living in the middle of nowhere, I can get alittle anxious, feeling as if I’m the only person left alive on the earth. Thesolitary life also means I tend to think too much. Very dangerous. Case inpoint: after yesterday’s nightmare revelation at the car showroom (Dougnever worked there?) my mind has been occupied constantly with this mysteryever since I left Adam this morning, after a bad night in his stuffy spareroom.
I’m torn between desperately wanting to have it out withDoug and discover the truth about him once and for all. But also desiring neverto see his lying face ever again.
I’m just so glad I didn’t tell Carrie about my trip toEdinburgh. It was so foolhardy, looking back. Of course, if I’d known Dougwasn’t who he claimed to be, I’d never have gone with him. He’s been textingme, wanting to know if I’m feeling better and I can’t help thinking his worryabout me is genuine. But I’m so confused about everything, so I’ve just fobbedhim off with excuses about being fine but too busy to see him right now.
‘Nice day for it,’ calls Hamish cheerily, his head in theback of the Land Rover. ‘Brought you some seedlings. The wife’s put a boxtogether for you.’
He emerges with his gift of greenery and hands it to me.
‘Ooh, lovely! You’ll have to tell me what they are, though,because I haven’t a clue.’
‘She’s written little tags for you. Look.’ He points at the labelstuck into a pot of healthy-looking seedlings, which are apparently destined tobe leeks (if I don’t end up murdering them somehow).
‘Brilliant. Will you thank her for me? It was so nice of herto do this.’
‘A pleasure. It makes a nice change to have a neighbourwho’s always friendly and chatty.’
‘Weren’t the previous tenants very nice, then?’
