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Until that night.
I park up the car in front of the imposing sandstone building. The Jeep sits in front of the house, shining like a new penny in the evening sun. I can’t even think how old it must be, but it has certainly been well looked after.
Of course, it has. Major Canmore looks after everything in his possession with utmost fastidiousness.
The thought of coming face to face with the Major does not fill me with glee. Our last meeting was less than comfortable. A movement at the window catches my eye. I look up, but there is no one there. Perhaps it was the sun glinting off the glass. Or perhaps Major Canmore has just popped through to get his shotgun out the cabinet.
I consider getting back in the car. After all, I gave him my word. But there’s no chance that Victoria is in that house. She’s probably away on some tour somewhere, saving lives in a conflict zone. Her mother passed away quite a number of years ago. Ben said Victoria made it home for the funeral but she didn’t stay. Had to leave the same evening. Duty called. Ben said that the Major understood. He’d lived the same life.
I climb the sandstone steps to the porch and ring the bell. As the chimes echo through the house, I ponder the Major’s continued residence in such a big, empty house. If I remember correctly, he was a good bit older than my dad. It seems such a big place to manage alone.
The footsteps that thud along the corridor and over the hall floor are a lot sprightlier than I expect from a man in his eighties. A voice gives a muffled curse as the keys crash onto the wooden floor. The shadow bends to retrieve them then rattles the key into the lock.
“I’m sorry I took…” she gasps as she wrenches the door open. “Oh!” she exclaims. “It is you.”
CHAPTER 8
Victoria
I hand Corran a steaming cup of tea and lean back against the kitchen work surface to take a good look at him. He hasn’t changed much. He seems a bit…bigger…than the last time I saw him; more muscled, like the young man frame filled out to its full potential. I suppose he has his rugby career to thank for that. With over five hundred games for the Goshawks to his name and a well-deserved place in their Hall of Fame, my friend has certainly fulfilled his potential.
Corran notices my gaze. His cheeks colour and he looks down into his tea cup.
“Sorry,” I mumble, embarrassed to have been caught staring. “I just can’t quite believe we’re here, in my parents’ kitchen.”
“Just like the old days. Well,…”
I laugh. “Except for the fact you weren’t allowed in our house.”
“Yeah, well, that…” he says with a smile.
“I’m sorry I was so rude. I just wasn’t expecting it to be you. The man said his name was Joe.”
“That’s my dad. He…er…asked me to come. I’m quite good with cars. He’s better with tractors.”
My mouth opens in surprise. “Joe! Oh my goodness, I never even thought. If he’d said Mr. Beattie…” I exclaim with a laugh. “It never crossed my mind.”
Corran smiles and something in my chest twists.
What the hell?
That needs to not be happening.
I am not going there.
No way.
It hurt too much the last time.
I dig the heel of my hand into the burning sensation in my chest.
Corran’s brow furrows. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, thanks. Just a bit of indigestion. Too much eating on the go at the moment. So, your dad has eyes for the Jeep?”
“Yeah, the Range Rover bit the dust so he’s looking for something a bit newer…”
I laugh. “Of course. Er, he does know that it has over 140,000 miles on the clock…?”
