Page 20 of A Scottish Country Escape

Chapter Twelve

‘And Clara wouldn’t elaborate on any of it?’ asked Cate over the phone that evening.

I pushed my mobile closer to my ear. I had retreated to my bedroom.

I dropped my voice lower. I could hear my grandma pottering around further down the hallway.

‘No. She assures me she isn’t ill. I’ve asked her a few times today why she was so adamant I help Dexter Grayling, but she just changes the subject or makes light of it. She insists she’s only being neighbourly.’

I played with my ponytail. ‘I don’t believe her. There’s something she’s not telling me.’ I shifted on my bed and pushed myself upright against my pillows. Outside, the milky early evening June sky was being buffered by clouds. ‘She’s keeping something from me, but goodness knows what it is or why.’

I waggled my bare toes, which were dipped in a slick of baby-pink polish. ‘We’ve always been so close. Sometimes, when I was a teenager, I would tell her things that I felt I couldn’t even tell Mum and Dad.’

Cate’s dusky voice was a welcome distraction. ‘And she will confide in you again. Whatever’s going on, Clara will tell you. She must have her own reasons for not saying anything.’

I grudgingly admitted she was right.

‘She’ll tell you in her own time.’

Cate then advised me in the meantime to focus on Paper Roses and to give some thought to what would be the best thing to do about Dexter Grayling.

‘He must think I wear a trilby, raincoat, and dark glasses,’ I ground out, picking at the corner of my duvet cover. ‘I’ve got no idea what he expects me to do. I’m not experienced in the dark arts.’

Cate laughed into my ear. ‘Well, he has only just moved here, so my guess is he wants you to speak to some of the locals and see if they know anything about Mrs Carlucci. And please try not to worry about Clara’s little turn today. She was most likely a bit tired and dehydrated.’

I made a noise. I wasn’t convinced by that explanation.

‘Remember,’ reminded Cate, ‘I can help you out in the shop and that will give Clara a break.’

My to-do list was expanding at an alarming rate. As soon as I ticked something off, another urgent task would take its place.

‘If you don’t push Clara to tell you what’s troubling her, you might find she suddenly confides in you anyway.’

I wished I had Cate’s belief. My grandmother and I each possessed a streak of stubbornness that ran in the family. Mum often joked that the word determination was stamped behind our ears.

‘Anyway,’ smiled Cate down the phone, ‘until that happens, I think you’re just going to have to accept she’s not going to divulge anything until she feels ready.’

‘That’s always the case with my gran.’

‘And in the meantime, let me know what I can do to help.’

‘Thanks, Cate. I appreciate that.’

I tried to pull up ideas and images for Paper Roses in my head, but right now, thoughts and concerns about my grandmother were cancelling out everything else.

I had only just finished my conversation with Cate when my mobile trilled again and a number I didn’t recognise glowed up at me.

Before I had a chance to say anything, a gruff male voice made me blink. ‘So, any thoughts about what we’re going to do?’

I sat up straighter on my bed. It took a few seconds to realise it was Dexter Grayling. He obviously didn’t go in for small talk. ‘Excuse me?’

His voice was weighed down with frustration. ‘I can’t let this situation slide.’ There was a heavy pause. ‘I’ve got deadlines; I’ve got my agent pressing me to deliver my next novel…’

I bit my lip. ‘I’m sure you can appreciate, Mr Grayling, that you aren’t the only person around here who has work commitments.’

‘Yes, I’m aware of that,’ he snapped, not seeming to be aware of anything else other than his own predicament. ‘But I’m telling you, that bloody Carlucci woman did something…’

I pulled a dismissive face and drummed my fingers on my jean-clad legs.