Page 39 of The Cottage in the Highlands

Her voice, calling out across the lawn, startled me. I was halfway through the broken section of fence.

I turned around.

Lily Cruickshank pursed her lips. “Did you drive here?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you can’t drive home like that.” Conflict travelled across her features. “I don’t want a car accident on my conscience.” She pointed at me in a gruff gesture. “You had better come back with me. Pull yourself together first before you go anywhere.”

She threw an awkward look over her shoulder. “I’ll stick the kettle on.”

I straightened up in surprise. I hadn’t expected that. Even Harley shot me a look, as if to say, “I didn’t see that coming either!”

I blinked and swiped my arm again across my damp cheeks. “Oh. Right. Thank you.”

She threw her eyes to Harley by my feet. “And I suppose you had better bring her with you too. Lord only knows what other damage she could inflict if we don’t keep an eye on her.” She gestured to the back door. “I’ll lock up here and see you round at the front.” I watched her vanish in a swirl of skirt and a flap of the heavy fleece she was wearing. What was she doing inside Merry Wood? That obviously meant she could gain access to the house, which meant she held keys for the place. That was odd. Why, if the house was sitting deserted, would Lily Cruickshank still possess a set of keys, and what for?

I brushed some hair away from my damp eyes and pulled a curious face at Harley. Bloody hell. And now she was offering to make me a cup of tea. Maybe underneath Lily Cruickshank’s concrete exterior beat a heart after all.

I headed round with Harley to the imposing entrance with its heavy panelled door. Lily locked up and, making no comment, urged us to follow her.

We trailed behind her, like obedient ducklings following their mother.

Lily brushed aside the woodland branches that dipped and weaved like loose shoelaces, crossed the glade, and indicated to her more modest but pretty abode as it emerged through the trees.

The hanging baskets either side of Lily’s front door swayed like little boats on a gentle tide.

“Door’s open,” she barked, as she bustled towards her flapping washing line strung between two ash trees in the back garden. “No need to lock your doors round here. Not like in the city where there are bloody robbers everywhere you turn.”

No mugger would dare take you on, I thought to myself. But she still made sure Merry Wood was securely locked up again. I decided not to raise that point though, otherwise it would trigger another exchange of words between us.

“You can’t miss the kitchen.” She pointed to Harley. “Is she housetrained?”

“Yes. She picked it up very quickly.”

“Only I’ve just mopped my kitchen floor and I don’t want her leaving puddles all over it.”

I assured her again that Harley wouldn’t do that.

“All right. On you go then.”

I arched my brows and headed towards Lily’s front door. Harley gazed past me, still secured on her lead.

Sure enough, the galley-style kitchen was straight ahead down from the hallway, decked out with red and white gingham curtains and beech-panelled cupboards.

I tried not to stare at Lily’s sitting room to my right. It was furnished with a duck-egg-blue sofa and two matching armchairs. Navy cushions and drapes contrasted the biscuit carpet. To the left was her bedroom. The door was pulled almost closed, giving a fleeting glimpse of a poppy-decorated bedspread and a heavy oval standing mirror.

I reached the kitchen and unclipped Harley’s lead. “Now, don’t let me down,” I muttered to her out of the side of my mouth. “No leaving any deposits anywhere.” I hadn’t lied to Lily when I said she had picked up house training very fast, thanks to Mum and Dad’s diligent training whilst I was at work. But if she got excited, she had been known to still emit the odd dribble.

Harley thudded her bottom onto the coffee-coloured laminated floor, as if to say, “Bloody cheek! I hope you’re not referring to me!”

I heard Lily thudding down the hallway, cradling a plastic washing basket filled with the clean folded clothes plucked from the line. “Here,” I insisted, jumping to my feet. “Let me help you.”

She brushed aside my offer. “I may be getting on, but I’m not incapable – at least, not yet.”

Lily dumped the plastic washing basket on the sink top, shrugged off her fleece and busied herself with her polka-dot teapot. She cast me a long look over the shoulder of her olive-green jumper. “So why did you get so upset?”

Wow. She didn’t go in for small talk or approach a subject with delicacy.