Page 106 of A Scottish Country Escape

‘It was obvious Cameron Lomax was there,’ I said across the black roof to Elsa. ‘She must have known we heard him.’

Elsa tugged open her passenger side door. ‘It’s like she’s trying to protect him.’

‘Yes, but from what?’

‘From myself.’

We both jumped and whirled round.

A panting man was hovering a few feet away from us on the pavement. He snatched a few gulps of crisp, cold air. He looked conflicted and confused, as though he was still debating whether he should be there or not. I recognised him straight away from his photographs on social media.

‘I’m Cameron Lomax,’ he managed. ‘You said you wanted to talk to me.’

Chapter Sixty-Four

Cameron Lomax led Elsa and me back up to the apartment block and took us to the right and down a polished hallway.

The woman, who I presumed was his wife, stood open-mouthed as her husband edged past her. We followed, offering her apologetic nods.

‘Cameron!’

He stopped. ‘What, Ingrid?’

‘What do you think you’re doing?’

His tanned, lined face hardened. ‘Come on through.’

He gestured to their sitting room, which looked out over the stippled roofs and winking domes of the Glasgow skyline.

The room was all dark wood and cream walls and reminded me of a library. There was an expanse of burgundy carpet and the odd abstract painting on the walls, beside other more traditional works of sinewy men and women wreathed in sumptuous cloth. It was a really eclectic mix. ‘This is my wife, Ingrid.’

He pointed to the two-seater Champagne-coloured sofa and Elsa and I sank onto it under Ingrid’s chilly stare. ‘You don’t need to tell them anything, Cam. You’re not under any pressure.’

Cameron Lomax’s deep-grey eyes flashed back at her. ‘I know I’m not, darling.’

He waited until we were settled opposite him. ‘You don’t need to stay, Ingrid. You’ve heard it all before.’

Her mouth grew pinched. ‘Why are you doing this, Cameron?’

He threw her a weary look. ‘I want to.’

Discomfited, she pushed her too-long blonde fringe out of her suspicious eyes. ‘No, it’s all right. I’ll stay.’

Ingrid Lomax lowered herself down beside her husband on the other sofa and rearranged her long, thin legs which were encased in red jeans.

Cameron leant forward, angling his plume of greying hair, and Ingrid clasped one of her hands around his.

He managed a faint smile and then he began to speak. ‘I was in love with her,’ he admitted, sharing an apologetic glance with his wife.

It took me a moment to realise who he was talking about. ‘You mean Linda Carlucci?’

Cameron nodded briskly at my question. He raised his eyes up to the apartment ceiling, with its swirling cornice details. ‘I don’t know what I was trying to prove. Or to whom.’

He blanched at the memories he was dragging up again. ‘I should never have challenged Ross Ronald to that stupid bloody race. You have no idea what pain and regret I’ve been carrying around with me for the last fifty-nine years.’

He swallowed, not looking at Elsa, me, or his wife for a few moments.

‘It was a stupid race that went wrong. It was a race that I instigated. And because of that, Ross lost his life.’