Page 68 of A Scottish Country Escape

‘You don’t know that it won’t,’ I argued as calmly as I could. ‘And say you do go back to London. You still wouldn’t be able to write.’

He paused. ‘Maybe a change of scene might help.’

My shoulders slumped further. He seemed like he’d already made up his mind and our lack of success so far was doing an excellent job of exploiting his concerns.

I battled to sound optimistic. ‘Let’s see what happens with the radio appeal. Give it a bit longer before you make any rash decisions.’

He mulled it over, the agony in his voice tugging at me. ‘OK. Let’s see what happens, but right now I’m not holding out much hope.’

* * *

My eyes burned into my mobile for the remainder of the afternoon, but there were no exciting calls from locals with any leads or helpful snippets of information we could go on, in order to locate Linda.

On the email front, I did receive one from a man claiming to have seen Linda Carlucci and Elvis shopping together in the frozen food aisle at the local supermarket, but that was the extent of it.

Gran did her best to allay my pessimism. ‘But Dexter sounded so down,’ I said, flopping down onto the stool behind the counter. ‘And now he’s talking about selling Hawk West Hall and going back to London.’

I could feel my heart juddering at the prospect.

The very thought of Dexter moving back to London filled me with a cloying, dark despondency.

‘It’s not good news, I’m afraid,’ blurted Mr Monteith, appearing from the antique shop next door and interrupting my thoughts. His cherubic face was red and he was tugging anxiously at his buttoned-up waistcoat in the shop doorway. ‘It seems that we won’t be able to stop so-called progress.’

Foreboding clung to me. I didn’t like the sound of that at all. ‘What is it, Mr Monteith? What’s going on?’

Grandma, standing beside me, rolled her pale eyes. ‘For goodness’ sake, man! Just say it before I have a coronary!’

I noticed him deliver a narrowed glower at my Gran. ‘I’ve been told by a contact at the council’s planning department that permission has already been granted for work to go ahead at the reserve.’

My fingers clutched at the edge of the shop counter. Any shreds of optimism I was hanging on to were falling away fast. ‘No! They can’t have done! For what?’

‘Luxury holiday homes for townies.’

Panic and disappointment crowded in on me.

‘And that’s not all,’ he added, dashing one hand over the top of his thinning silvery hair. ‘The work is due to start in the next few weeks.’

Chapter Forty-Two

I turned to my grandmother, my stomach churning. Images of the reserve, its throng of trees and streams desecrated by bulldozers, pushed their way to the front of my mind. I felt sick.

Gran lowered the volume on the iPod, which was pumping out a jazz medley. ‘I can’t say I’m that surprised.’

I sank down onto the stool by the till, dejected. ‘Everything is unravelling.’ I stared out of the shop door at the sun-tinted trees. ‘We’ve had no luck on the Linda Carlucci front and now the reserve is set to be destroyed.’

I couldn’t conceal the splintering hurt registering in my voice. ‘And now Dexter is talking about going back to London.’

Grandma touched me on my shoulder. ‘This isn’t my Elle at all. You’ve never accepted defeat in your life, just like your father.’

I rubbed my arms, concealed under my lacey vanilla top. ‘Maybe I’m getting more sensible in my old age.’

* * *

The next couple of days limped towards the weekend and Friday came around, bringing with it the start of August. The local school children had two weeks remaining before they returned after their summer break and already parents were dropping in to begin stocking up on stationery essentials for the new school year.

There had also only been a couple of texts from Dexter asking how Gran and I were. He then said he would be back in touch once he’d got things moving with having Hawk West Hall valued.

I bit back the pain in my chest. I couldn’t face texting him back and prolonging the inevitable.