Page 52 of The Cottage in the Highlands

If Flynn Talbot didn’t want to revisit those days, what could I do?

I was musing over whether Flynn Talbot was busy, suffering from ill-health, or had simply decided to ignore my message when another dark thought imbedded itself. Oh blimey. What if he had passed away? I checked his account again and saw that it was several weeks since he had posted anything – a photograph of a stream under a mingling sunrise sky of raspberry and gold.

Athena’s burgundy lowlights emerged from around her office door, startling me. “Team update folks. In my office now please.”

“Not again,” groaned Cole over the top of his PC. “We’re in and out of that sodding office like it’s got a revolving door.”

I picked up my notebook and pen and followed the others into Athena’s gleaming glass domain.

I noticed her niece, Kerry, was already situated at the oblong meeting table. She delivered an awkward smile and I returned it.

Orion was last to traipse in, once she’d activated the office voicemail system while we were all out of action.

Good grief. How different was all this compared to the casual staff meetings we used to have at The Silver Ness News. Doug would saunter back from the cakeshop with glistening Danish pastries and we would devour those over steaming mugs of tea, whilst contemplating life in general and whether the latest issue of the paper could have been improved upon.

Then there would be a running joke about misspellings and grammatical errors. They hadn’t happened very often, thank goodness, but when they did, they tended to be real crackers.

We had printed the likes of “Mrs Allison presenting Mr Alcock with his cricket award for his googlies” and “Buy Carpets R Us – perfect for a good, hard shag.”

A pang took me unawares. I missed Frances, with her predilection for whacky nail colours, and I missed Doug’s dry wit and creased ties. I was so grateful to have another job in journalism. Of course, I was. But I still also longed for the tang of the sea waltzing in through the office windows whilst we worked. The office would be no more in a few weeks’ time. I resolved to take Harley for a walk along the beach front and see it again before it closed for good. A melancholy weight pressed down on me, until I realised Athena was staring at me.

I scrambled my brain to attention and pushed myself straighter in my seat.

Athena surveyed us all. “This short meeting is really just to keep you all up to speed and to let you know that Kerry will be investigating the inflated prices of a new skincare range launched by the comedian Lulu Stark.”

My brow creased with confusion. Surely, I should be leading on a story like that, seeing as I was the beauty writer? I became aware of several sets of charged eyes zooming in my direction, watching my response. Some of my colleagues must have thought the same.

It was still only Orion and me that were aware that Kerry was Athena’s niece, and from the snippets Orion had been able to feed me, Kerry had no training or journalistic background as it was. Lord knows how much longer that little gem could be kept a secret.

I cleared my throat and decided to confront the wrath of Athena.

I pushed my right hand upwards. “Sorry to interrupt, Athena, but seeing as this is a beauty-related story, I would have thought that as the beauty writer here at Goddess…”

Athena pinned me to my chair with her laser beam look. Kerry squirmed beside her. “I appreciate that, Leonie, but seeing as this is an investigative news story, I felt it would be more appropriate for Kerry to take the lead on this one.” Her lip sticked mouth bared a few challenging teeth.

Kerry couldn’t bring herself to look me in the face. She doodled in her notebook; her chocolate lashes trained downwards.

The meeting rambled on for another ten minutes, covering Cole’s suggestion of a pull-out of the best (and presumably most expensive) eateries in Scotland and a brief chat about Brandy’s idea of a competition where the top prize was a spa weekend for one reader and their dog.

Sometimes I did feel as if I were inhabiting someone else’s hallucination.

Athena dismissed us soon afterwards, swinging her sharp shoulder blades back towards her PC screen.

Resentment burned bright inside of me.

“Leonie?”

I turned around to see a shamefaced Kerry hovering by the breakout area. “Could I have a word please?” She reminded me of a ghostly, awkward schoolgirl loitering there.

“Sure.”

My indignation at her aunt’s decision to put her on such a prominent story bubbled on. I wasn’t proud of it, but Kerry’s embarrassment pricked my conscience.

We plonked ourselves down on two uncomfortable white abstract-looking chairs.

“I wanted to apologise,” she rushed in a panicked voice. “I promise you that this was not my idea, putting me on this Lulu Stark story.”

She didn’t give me a chance to comment. She carried on talking in a more urgent tone. “It was all Aunt Athena’s… I mean, Athena’s idea.” Her cheeks lit up. “Shit. I wasn’t supposed to…” She clamped her mouth shut.