Page 91 of A Scottish Country Escape

Shelley’s kohl-lined grey eyes hardened at the sight of Dexter holding my hand. ‘Dexter! What the hell are you doing?’

But he was ignoring her, tugging me along behind him through the array of protest placards, chattering families, and past the fluttering canvas stalls. He gasped over his shoulder as we picked up speed. ‘Elle, I just saw her! She’s here! Linda Carlucci!’

Chapter Fifty-Six

Several people swung round in curiosity as Dexter tugged me past them at speed. ‘Slow down, Dexter! For goodness sake!’

‘I’ve got to speak to her,’ he panted over his shoulder. ‘I’ve got to try and reason with her again.’

I picked up my pace, shouting apologies and offering embarrassed smiles to the bemused locals. I could see a figure ahead, moving steadily. She was wearing a chocolate-and-white-printed headscarf and a pair of outsized Jackie Onassis sunglasses.

When she slid a look to her right, I recognised her proud profile. It was indeed Linda Carlucci.

‘What are you going to say to her?’ I rasped, as Dexter’s hold on my hand sent a lurching sensation through me. ‘You can’t just accost the woman.’

Dexter’s eyes flashed back at me. ‘I’m not too sure, but I need to at least try.’

He stopped short, making me bang into his broad back. I stared up at him. He seized both of my hands in his. ‘Sometimes you only realise what you’ve lost when it’s taken away from you.’

Dexter scanned my face. His attention slid down to my lips and hovered there.

A ragged breath lodged itself in my throat. What was he talking about? Was he referring to us? Or was he talking about not being able to write? Or did he mean losing Nadia?

I forced my attention away from him, searching for Linda Carlucci’s current whereabouts. She had left the throng of the fair now, leaving behind the numerous stalls and buzzing chatter.

We moved off again, catching sight of her approaching a white Ford Ka. Keys shone in her hand.

‘Shit! She’s leaving!’ groaned Dexter. ‘Come on!’

My hair flapped behind me as we bolted side by side now, along the pavement. The afternoon September sun had made a cursory appearance and was sliding off the top of her car like melted butter.

‘Mrs Carlucci,’ I called, taking gulps of air. ‘Please!’

She turned around, swiping off her sunglasses. She narrowed her sage-green eyes at Dexter. ‘Oh, it’s you.’

Dexter drew up in front of her.

Linda Carlucci drank him in. There was an odd flash of something in her expression. ‘I’ve got to go,’ she stammered. ‘I’ve got a client coming for a tarot reading at 3 p.m.’

Dexter implored her again. ‘But can’t you just spare a few moments? Please!’

Linda Carlucci unlocked her car. Her hand appeared to tremble. ‘Sorry, but I’m busy.’

Dexter ploughed a hand through his hair. ‘Can’t you give me a few moments just to hear me out?’

She jabbed the car key further into the driver door lock and whirled round in her dark-brown boots. ‘I think it’s appalling what you’re trying to do!’

Dexter’s confusion was obvious. ‘Sorry?’

‘That little girl,’ she snapped, cranking open her driver’s side door. ‘Everybody’s talking about it – how you’re using her to try and get your curse lifted.’ She must have noticed Dexter’s discomfort. ‘Or should I say, your daughter.’

Dexter stiffened. ‘Who told you that?’

‘Well, it wasn’t me,’ I insisted. ‘You told me in good faith and I would never break a trust like that.’

Dexter’s jaw clenched at Linda. ‘You don’t understand the situation at all.’

Linda Carlucci folded her arms. Several silver bracelets clattered against her speckled wrist. ‘Oh, Mr Grayling, I think I do.’