Page 65 of A Scottish Country Escape

I then spent the next ten minutes in the shower, my skin prickling with the knowledge that I was naked while Dexter was only a matter of feet away.

* * *

Dexter left Pebble Brook just as I was leaving for Paper Roses. He was returning to Hawk West Hall and Gran said she would join me in the shop today. I was relieved. I didn’t want her at home alone after last night’s incident. I also suspected she wanted to use the time to grill me about Dexter!

As we opened up the shop, she plucked our digital radio from the kitchen out of her hessian shopping bag.

‘What’s that for?’

‘So we can listen to the news,’ she said. ‘We might get blanket coverage about the reserve, now that Dexter is getting involved.’

We had a brisk start to the day, with a flurry of Londoners in to buy some gifts for relatives, and a trio of young mums looking for a suitable present to get for a retiring school teacher.

By the time we had wrapped their various purchases in sheafs of pastel-coloured tissue paper and received their thanks and grateful goodbyes, the lunchtime national news bulletin was about to be broadcast.

My nerves rattled as the newsreader gave details of a new government policy on tackling internet abuse, the memorial service taking place for a head of state in the Middle East, and the proposed price increase for postage stamps.

‘Maybe it’s a busy news day,’ I began, only for Gran to cling onto my arm as the polite-sounding newsreader began the final news story for the hour. ‘And, finally, well-known crime writer Dexter Grayling has surprised and delighted his legions of fans by announcing his support for a local nature reserve in Scotland.

‘The future of Fir Haven Nature Reserve, in the west of Scotland, is under threat from development but Mr Grayling, usually known for not only his gritty novels but also his lavish lifestyle, has released a statement this morning, in which he said: ‘This area of outstanding natural beauty is at the heart of the Fir Haven community and needs to be protected. I didn’t realise how breath-taking it was until I saw it for myself and, upon hearing from a dear friend what it means to her, I wanted to publicly express my fierce opposition to any plans for harming that area, now or in the future.’ A spokesperson for Atticus Development, declined to comment.’

Then a different voice took over the airwaves. This time, a bubbly weather presenter began to deliver the forecast.

Grandma’s smile was wide. It was lovely to see her like that, compared to the trembling white version of her from last night. ‘At least this will highlight what’s going on up there and bring it to far more people’s attention.’ Her optimism flourished. ‘And with any luck, it will let those developer idiots, and that cretin they had deliver that note, see that we’re not going to just slink away.’

I had begun chatting to a couple of Gran’s friends, Hilary and Stephanie, from her book club, who had brought in a poster they had designed ‘Protect Nature – Protect the Nature Reserve’ for me to display in the front shop window, when Dexter emerged through the door.

‘Did you just hear the news bulletin?’ he asked. ‘I caught it in the car.’

I found myself flapping around several sheets of tissue paper underneath the counter. ‘We heard it too. It was great. Thank you.’

Gran, Hilary, and Stephanie surrounded Dexter, buzzing with appreciation. ‘Thank you, young man,’ said Hilary as she looked up at him and flushed.

Dexter’s white smile lit up his face. ‘I haven’t done anything.’

‘Oh, you have,’ insisted my grandma. ‘You have such a high profile and you’re publicly backing our cause.’

Dexter lifted his gaze from the three admiring ladies to me. ‘I hope I can help. I’d like to.’

A hint of an amused smile fluttered at the corners of my grandmother’s mouth as she watched us.

‘That would be great,’ I said, struggling to keep my voice light. ‘The more people we have on board, the better.’

‘Oh, excuse me.’ Dexter waggled his ringing mobile in the air. He darted back outside the shop, making the doorbell rattle after him.

‘I didn’t realise he was so handsome,’ breathed Stephanie. ‘Those gossip column photos don’t do him justice.’

I was asking Gran if she thought placing the poster on the front door would be better, rather than in the window, when Dexter burst back through the door. His bright-blue gaze, which moments before had been almost playful, was thunderous. ‘Where’s the loyalty? Where’s the appreciation?!’

Hilary, Stephanie, and Gran stared at him, alarmed.

Dexter realised he must have frightened them and apologised, but his hard stare continued. I beckoned him through to the kitchen. ‘What is it? What’s happened?’

Dexter rubbed at his chin. ‘That was Angie, my agent. It seems my publisher’s patience has finally run out.’

‘What do you mean?’ I encouraged him to explain, although I could hazard a guess at what he was going to say.

His voice was flat, almost resigned. ‘They’ve given me six weeks to present them with my next novel.’