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“I want to hear all about my daughter’s new career and about how you three met.”
Jason glanced at Cal, who suppressed a smile.
Georgie shuffled her feet.
“And you must tell us what we can expect of traditional heart-of-England food,” Cal said, redirecting the conversation, much to Georgie’s obvious relief.
* * * * *
The Stuffed Trout was exactly the sort of country pub that advertising executives use to sell everything from crusty bread to life insurance. Hanging baskets and potted plants lined up along the front of the thatched and whitewashed exterior of the rustic pub. Bicycles leant up against wooden picnic tables while cyclists stopped to try the ales and rest a while.
The interior was small and cozy, with low, beamed ceilings and staggered seating areas. It looked as if the place had been added to over the previous five centuries to accommodate the slowly growing population of the small village and the visitors who traveled to partake of its offerings. It had a warm atmosphere and a hearty welcome from a big, burly landlord. He sported a handlebar moustache, along with a pipe that never moved far from his mouth though it never seemed to get stuffed with tobacco or smoked at all. When he saw David and his entourage, he quickly cleared off his premier table, made jollier when he realized that they were going to sample the menu.
The food was excellent, but throughout it all Jason got the distinct impression Felice would rather entertain them with a dinner party at home. He observed her as she sidled alongside David, a cashmere sweater loosely tied over her shoulders, smiling as he greeted the locals with warm handshakes and anecdotes from the world outside Randlethorpe. She touched him just enough to catch the attention of the curious locals, but not enough to indicate whether they were an item or not -- a hand resting on his shoulder or a discreet touch on his arm to point something out. Whether she did it intentionally or not wasn’t clear, but the subtle smile on her mouth indicated that she more than enjoyed the wide-eyed speculation that evolved around them.
Attention was a funny thing, he reflected. Pretty much everyone wanted some of it. The right level of publicity and attention was good. Too much was bad, very bad. He had tried to keep his mind off Zoë, but it was getting harder all the time. His original reaction had been to bury his head in the sand. Greg would calm down and go away, eventually. Besides, if Greg couldn’t find him, what could he do? Nothing. Greg was powerless without him.
Despite that assurance, over the course of the day his hankering to resolve his guilt increased. He was pretty sure Zoë would have got wind of the potential exposé by now. That alone tortured him. He had to destroy the photos once and for all, simple as that.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said after the meal, while Felice and David were chatting at the bar with the landlord and his wife. “I’ve decided to do something to clean the slate over this situation with Gregory.”
“Oh, yes?” Georgie turned to him. “Have you come up with a plan?”
He nodded. “Greg’s lost his scoop, but I’m still not happy. I owe it to Zoë to lay it to rest once and for all. I’m going to head across country by train tomorrow. The photographs have got to be at my sister’s place in Edinburgh; I’m sure of it. I’ve got several boxes stored in her attic. I can’t think where else they would be. I just need to do it, to clear my conscience. I feel like I’ve let Zoë down.” The thought made the dull ache in his chest grow stronger. It had taken up residence there since he’d been forced to remember, like a constant nagging sense of dissatisfaction. Deep down he knew he’d already let her down, years before, but he hadn’t realized quite how badly, until now.
“I’m going to go up there myself and destroy the photographs and the negatives.” He was settled on his decision, and in the course of reaching it felt more relaxed than he had in days, as if his resolution had begun to ease a great weight from his shoulders.
“Sounds fair,” replied Cal. “But we’ve taken some time out for a break, and if Georgie is agreeable, we could drive up with you and --”
Georgie cut in before he had finished. “Yes, of course we’ll come with you. I’ve never been to Edinburgh before.”
/> “Well, okay, if you’re sure.” Jason thought it couldn’t do any harm, and the pair of them did help to stop him brooding on the issue around the clock.
Cal grinned. “Coming with you is the only way to ensure you stay out of trouble.”
“Hey, don’t push your luck, Austrian. I can just as easily go on my own.”
“Oh, you’re not planning to leave already,” interrupted Felice as she sidled back into her seat at the table. “You’ve only just arrived.”
“How about we stay until the day after tomorrow?” Cal said, for the sake of compromise.
“No harm in that. I’m only going to get rid of some old gear.”
“Great.” Georgie beamed.
Opposite him, Felice quietly sipped her brandy and smiled conspiratorially, as if she had something cooking up at the back of her mind. It triggered a reflex in Jason’s loins.
Staying another night was probably for the best, he decided. After all, what was the big rush? The photos had been waiting for over ten years. Another few days couldn’t do any harm.
* * * * *
Gregory Sutherland stormed out of the terraced house and slammed the door shut behind him. He strode over to the black Ford Mondeo that was double-parked outside and opened the passenger door. The three hired hands who waited for him expectantly slunk back in their seats when they saw the expression on his face.
“The bastard has done a runner on me.” His tone was vehement.
He got into the passenger seat, slamming the door loudly enough to make all three men cringe. Gregory didn’t notice, nor would he have cared. He needed to let off some steam.
“He hasn’t been back here in three days. His housemates say he left a message on the answer machine telling them he was going out of town for a few days and not to worry. Other than that, no clues.” He swore loudly and hit the dashboard with his fist.
