Page 78 of The Cottage in the Highlands

There was a horrified, strangled gasp from Flynn. “Grandma! Please!”

“Well, it was so obvious she had a thing for him. She used to salivate every time she saw him. All rather common.”

Astrid Talbot eyed her grandson. “But onto far more important matters than who your grandfather was sleeping with. You need to tell me what’s been going on with Merry Wood.”

Flynn opened and closed his mouth. He looked to me and I widened my eyes. She was far more interested in the house than in the news about the letter. How odd.

He cleared his throat. “The house is still sitting there, furnished, from when you and grandfather lived there.”

Her eyes hardened like marbles. “I can’t believe this.” She whipped her head from Flynn to me, making her wooden necklace clack with the motion.

“And is that Lily woman still holed up in that grotty little cottage of hers?”

“Yes, Lily still lives opposite Merry Wood,” I clarified, giving her a look.

“I guessed as much. Dear me, don’t tell me the poor old dear is still pining for him after all this time! Isn’t it all rather pathetic?”

She let out a dry bark of laughter. “He lied to me. Your grandfather lied all those years ago. When we got divorced, he said the proceeds from the sale of Merry Wood would be split. He got some solicitor friend of his to organise it.”

“And you believed you received your half?” quizzed Flynn.

“Of course I did. Your grandfather had my proceeds from the house sale paid via some trust he set up. I had no reason to doubt him.” She tugged at her floaty tunic. “There was so much money swilling about at the time and I never once suspected he would swindle me.”

“I think swindle is rather a strong word,” I put in. “We’re not sure yet what happened or why.” I eyed her. “And you say you did receive your half of the sale proceeds of the house anyway?”

She whirled to confront me. “Well, yes, I did, but it’s still deception, isn’t it? What would you call it?”

Astrid Talbot didn’t give me an opportunity to answer. She paused as a couple of hotel guests tapped past on the polished tiled floor. “I want that house sold. I need the money! Can I rely on you, Flynn?”

“What?”

“Sell that bloody house. Make your grandfather see sense after all these years. It should have been sold there and then, the deceitful old swine!”

She rocked backwards and forwards, fury rising up on her face. “My lifestyle in Spain requires financial support. That tapas bar is eating up more money than I initially envisaged.” She grunted under her breath. “It makes me laugh when you consider how successful an artist your grandfather is.”

Then she caught sight of my expression, as though she had only just realised I was sitting there. She clamped her lips shut and adopted a guarded glint in her eyes.

“Don’t worry, Mrs Talbot. I know about your ex-husband.”

She narrowed her gaze and tried to look mysterious. “Know what?”

I lowered my voice in the hotel reception. “I know about him being Chandler.”

“Well, I hope you’re not planning on broadcasting that!” Her voice was fierce. “The Chandler brand is worth a great deal of money after all these years and the fact that no one knows who he is makes all of his works even more valuable.”

She flapped the hem of her tunic again. “If it comes out about who he is, his Chandler work will be worth nothing.”

Beside me, I detected Flynn’s discreet eye roll.

“You have my word, Mrs Talbot.” I could feel Flynn examining me again, with those killer silver eyes of his.

“Well, that’s something,” she said to no one in particular. She set her shoulders. “But that house needs to be sold, Flynn, and I’m relying on you to persuade your idiot grandfather to do the decent and sensible thing.”

She arranged herself on the sofa. “Now, anyone wish to join me in a G&T?”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Flynn and I departed the Fontaine Hotel.