Page 73 of A Scottish Country Escape

The red dot on Dexter’s sat-nav flickered like crazy in front of us. ‘Nearly there!’ I said with forced positivity. ‘Come on, let’s go and see what Mrs Carlucci has to say for herself.’

Chapter Forty-Four

The address Lucy had given me for Linda Carlucci was Fiore Cottage. It consisted of an old farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, cast adrift between Fir Haven and the next town of Tarran.

The red dot of Dexter’s sat-nav had throbbed on the screen, confirming that this was indeed the correct address.

The farmhouse sat on an incline, surrounded by thick spruce trees either side. It was constructed of washed-out white stone and possessed a sleepy air. The roof was angular and grey tiled, and two crumbly chimney pots sprung out of it on either side.

The sash windows were thirsty for a lick of paint around the sills, but the red front door appeared to have been installed recently.

My hand reached up for the door-knocker. Dexter was solemn.

‘Are you all right?’ I asked him.

He considered my question for a moment before nodding. ‘As all right as I can be, until we get this sorted.’

‘Come on,’ I urged. ‘Standing here doing nothing isn’t going to achieve anything.’

Apprehension was emanating out of him. I realised I wanted to hold him; to assure him everything would be ok; that his appetite and ability to write would come back.

But then visions of London and an empty Hawk West Hall bolted through my mind. It would be foolish of me to allow myself to feel anything more for Dexter, when he was leaving.

I had to try and put a stop to my feelings here and now. Easier said than done.

I realised I hadn’t knocked on the door, as I was so consumed by my thoughts, so Dexter did it instead.

We waited, squinting around at the mounds of cut grass and a wave of wildflowers springing out of the chocolate-coloured earth. There were no vehicles parked nearby, so I did wonder whether there might be anyone at home.

From inside the farmhouse, a dog barked. Dexter and I swapped hopeful glances. We waited a few moments longer, but there was no reply.

‘She’s not in,’ surmised Dexter, the charged glint in his eyes beginning to dim.

‘If she isn’t here, then we could find somewhere to grab a coffee and come back.’

‘Good idea. I just hope she hasn’t gone out for the evening.’

I peered upwards at the chimney pots, silhouetted against the scudding clouds. ‘Then we try again tomorrow.’

Over the intermittent barking of the dog, Dexter studied me. ‘Thank you.’

‘What are you thanking me for?’

‘For all this.’

I stared straight ahead at the closed front door, not daring to make eye contact with him. ‘I’m a sucker for lost causes.’

‘Gee, thanks.’

After a few more seconds, Dexter growled with frustration. ‘This is a waste of time. She’s not in.’

I folded my arms. ‘OK, let’s go and get a coffee and come back in a short while.’

We were striding back towards the car when a flicker of movement from behind one of the floral lemon-coloured curtains caught my eye and made me draw up.

Dexter frowned as I spun on my heels and returned to the door. ‘What is it? What are you doing, Elle?’

‘There is someone in. I saw those curtains move.’