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Trees in the woodland area outside the office swayed gently, blocking the view down the hill to the sea and the village of Tobermory. Calum watched them, mastering his breathing.Must stay calm.‘I’m not calling some random Lamond back from wherever they are to investigate something on land belonging to her family’s arch-enemy when I don’t know her, have no desire to know her, and don’t want any Lamond on my land. Ever.’
‘You’re funny. But no need to call her back, she’s already here. I bumped into her a few weeks ago.’
‘Bully for her. One more Lamond on the island. Bloody fantastic.’ He flicked back to the screen, scowling at the email. If deleting it would remove the problem, he’d hit that little dustbin and erase the complication. Shame, nothing was ever that simple.
‘Calum. Stop it. Honestly, the Lamonds are ok these days. I know better than most how awful Arran was at school, but let bygones be bygones. Rhona’s a delight. She told me some fascinating stuff about Iron Age objects that have been dug up recently on Mull. I’m sure she’d be happy to help.’
‘Will.’ Calum’s tone was low, and maybe red had flashed in his eyes because Will recoiled. ‘I don’t care if she’s dug up a hoard of treasure from the dinosaur era. I’m not asking her. If you seriously think one of the Lamonds will do this out of the goodness of their heart, then you’re deluded. Even on the off chance she agreed, she’d probably charge a mint and make sure she found enough to prevent me building anything there. I know how their minds work.’
‘I’m sure she wouldn’t.’
Calum clenched his teeth to stop grating them. Did Will seriously believe this was simply about the incident from school? Had he been that blind for the last sixteen years? Will wasn’t the one they were gunning for any more. Maybe that made it easier to forget. Calum’s entire life had been shaped by those arseholes. Shoving his success up their noses was the only satisfaction and respite from the constant harassment he and his family had suffered at their hands. Every property he’d built or extended had faced objections – and he knew who was behind it. Projects had been delayed for months because of their interference. His name was mud all over the island because of them and their lies.
‘If you’re so bothered about it, why don’t I meet her and show her around? She doesn’t need to know who the land belongs to. I could be your agent.’
Years of mastering himself almost exploded in two choice words but Calum held it together. ‘No, thanks. Let’s leave her to unearth Rameses and his dynasty.’
‘Ok, if you say so, but this seems like a great chance.’
‘I need to send this email.’ Calum kept his voice level and gave Will a wave.
‘Ok, Calum. Thanks for the donation. See you.’ The French doors closed behind Will and Calum tossed his head back, letting out a silent snarl. Will’s intentions were great but sometimes he was so bloody naïve. Calum flicked through the planning report again. Where to start? As he scrolled through a long list of archaeology consultants in Scotland, one thing was certain, no Lamond would be part of his life ever again.
Chapter 3
Rhona
Rhona’s top stuck to her and she wiped sweat from her brow as her feet slapped the concrete. She tugged out her earbuds to listen to the sea lapping to her right. The heat reminded her of Crete last winter. From one island to another, though this one was home. At least for a little while. How ironic to be back living here after she’d sworn, when she left school ten years ago, she’d only return to visit family and friends. But without a home this was the best option – short term. She jogged on past the tiny sleepy harbour at Croig, stopping briefly to adjust her top, which kept riding up. Even with the best fitting sports bra, she jiggled too much. Seemed that way anyway. Not that anyone out here would see; the road was empty.
With a racing heart, she reached the front door of her parents’ house, slammed her foot on the doorstep and leaned over, placing her hands on her knees. Rambling bushes flowering in the May sunshine grew in front of the stone wall surrounding the lawn. Bees buzzed around as she caught her breath.
A cyclist whizzed by on the tiny single-track road winding its way past the house.
Rhona clicked open the door of the whitewashed villa. Built about twenty years ago, Rhona’s family had been the first to live in it. She whipped off her running shoes and put them on the rack in the front porch beside the other perfectly lined-up pairs. Her mum, Judy, liked to keep a handle on the cleaning. Mud on the floor would induce a hissy fit.
Rhona padded over the shiny wood floor into the kitchen to grab a drink.
Her dad, Alister, peered over his book from the kitchen table. ‘What have you been doing to yourself? You look exhausted.’
‘That was a tough run.’ Rhona pressed a glass to the lever on the American-style fridge. Cool water splashed in. ‘I’m out of shape. I can’t run when it’s too hot so I never did much exercise in Crete.’
‘Just don’t get obsessed, like some young people do.’
‘I don’t think I’ll ever be obsessed with running.’
‘Instead of overexercising, start looking for a job.’ He closed his book.
Rhona sagged into a chair and stretched out her legs. ‘I have a job.’
Alister stared at her with the same look he’d used on students for over forty years, right up until he retired from teaching maths last summer.
‘What?’ Rhona smiled back.
‘It’s not exactly what you signed up for.’
Too right. Her arms drooped at her sides. Doing research at home was worse paid than field work and that was saying something. Just as well she didn’t do it for the money. ‘It’s keeping me busy for now. Until I find something better.’
‘You just don’t seem your usual self. We miss cheeky-chops Rhona.’ He beamed like she was a ruddy-cheeked toddler. ‘Why don’t you consider consultancy work?’
