Normally he wasn’t at his most demonstrative before noon and anything more would have made her suspicious.
‘What do you think our guests would like for breakfast?’ she asked.
Nick had forgotten about them. ‘Mel’s never been a great one for breakfast,’ he said. ‘As for David – coffee I should think.’
‘And you?’ She looked up at him and her smile turned into a small frown. ‘What have you been up to? Digging with the rabbits? You’re covered in dirt.’
Nick ran a hand over his cheek. ‘Don’t laugh,’ he said. ‘I fell over.’
She laughed. ‘What were you doing?’
‘Tripped over a bramble,’ he said, avoiding the question.
‘Next you’ll tell me you grazed your knee and need a sticky bandage.’
‘A sticky plaster,’ he automatically corrected her. It was a habit from the days when Alusha’s English was fragmentary.
‘Poor love,’ she murmured with a soft laugh, and reached up as if to stroke his head.
He ducked quickly away. ‘Must go and shower.’ He blew her a kiss to stifle the faint surprise in her face. She watched him for a moment, narrowing her eyes in a sidelong glance that was both affectionate and suspicious at the same time, then gave a small wave, a slow fluttering of the fingers, before turning back to her vegetables.
It took him a while to find something for his headache. Pills and potions, though not exactly banned at Ashard House, weren’t encouraged either.
As Nick crossed the hall, the phone rang.
‘Mr Mackenzie, if you please.’ It was a male voice with a local accent.
‘Yes.’
There was a pause. ‘Is that you yourself, Mr Mackenzie?’
‘It is.’
‘You’re back then,’ the voice said.
Nick stiffened, then, as realization came, he almost laughed with incredulity. ‘You’ve got a bloody nerve!’
‘An unfortunate mishap, Mr Mackenzie. Ma friend, he didna’ mean for you to fall on the rock. He wasna’ thinkin’.’
‘Wasn’t thinking! He almost killed me.’
‘It was the gun,’ the voice chided. ‘If it hadna’ been for the gun nothin’ would have occurred, I think you’ll agree.’
‘Agree! My mistake was not using the bloody thing. Next time I won’t make the same mistake.’
A short pause. ‘In that case, Mr Mackenzie, it might be wise to try loadin’ it.’
Nick gripped the side of the table. ‘I’ll remember that. Thank you for mentioning it.’
‘Not at all. I trust your head mends good an’ quick. An’ if you’d leave ma coat by the back there, I’d be obliged. You’ve a wood store, have you not. If you would leave it there, just inside the door.’ There was a soft click as he rang off.
Nick wrenched the receiver from his ear and, holding it inches from his face, stared at it, unable to speak.
Then he gave a short exasperated cry. He was still muttering when he stepped under the shower.
Chapter 2
S ATURDAY , S ATURDAY . D AISY awoke feeling guilty, and it was a moment before she remembered that there was no need. She felt a wash of relief. No need to jump out of bed to push oranges through the expensive Californian juicer, which took hours to clean, no need to pound down the street to fetch newly baked croissants, nor feed freshly roasted coffee into the grinder whose screech carved right into her brain.
But then Richard would have put up with anything to get these things right. She knew the end had come when he decided it was time to get into heavy opera, and, not being one to do things by halves, had made her sit through over five hours of Götterdämmerung. She wouldn’t have minded if opera had been a genuine passion, but like most things with Richard, it was a matter of social éclat. Something that had to be endured to get his lifestyle into shape.
At the opera, during one of the all-too-short intervals, Daisy had failed to live up to cultural expectations in front of Richard’s friends by allowing her south London accent out of its cage – as often happened in times of
‘What do you think our guests would like for breakfast?’ she asked.
Nick had forgotten about them. ‘Mel’s never been a great one for breakfast,’ he said. ‘As for David – coffee I should think.’
‘And you?’ She looked up at him and her smile turned into a small frown. ‘What have you been up to? Digging with the rabbits? You’re covered in dirt.’
Nick ran a hand over his cheek. ‘Don’t laugh,’ he said. ‘I fell over.’
She laughed. ‘What were you doing?’
‘Tripped over a bramble,’ he said, avoiding the question.
‘Next you’ll tell me you grazed your knee and need a sticky bandage.’
‘A sticky plaster,’ he automatically corrected her. It was a habit from the days when Alusha’s English was fragmentary.
‘Poor love,’ she murmured with a soft laugh, and reached up as if to stroke his head.
He ducked quickly away. ‘Must go and shower.’ He blew her a kiss to stifle the faint surprise in her face. She watched him for a moment, narrowing her eyes in a sidelong glance that was both affectionate and suspicious at the same time, then gave a small wave, a slow fluttering of the fingers, before turning back to her vegetables.
It took him a while to find something for his headache. Pills and potions, though not exactly banned at Ashard House, weren’t encouraged either.
As Nick crossed the hall, the phone rang.
‘Mr Mackenzie, if you please.’ It was a male voice with a local accent.
‘Yes.’
There was a pause. ‘Is that you yourself, Mr Mackenzie?’
‘It is.’
‘You’re back then,’ the voice said.
Nick stiffened, then, as realization came, he almost laughed with incredulity. ‘You’ve got a bloody nerve!’
‘An unfortunate mishap, Mr Mackenzie. Ma friend, he didna’ mean for you to fall on the rock. He wasna’ thinkin’.’
‘Wasn’t thinking! He almost killed me.’
‘It was the gun,’ the voice chided. ‘If it hadna’ been for the gun nothin’ would have occurred, I think you’ll agree.’
‘Agree! My mistake was not using the bloody thing. Next time I won’t make the same mistake.’
A short pause. ‘In that case, Mr Mackenzie, it might be wise to try loadin’ it.’
Nick gripped the side of the table. ‘I’ll remember that. Thank you for mentioning it.’
‘Not at all. I trust your head mends good an’ quick. An’ if you’d leave ma coat by the back there, I’d be obliged. You’ve a wood store, have you not. If you would leave it there, just inside the door.’ There was a soft click as he rang off.
Nick wrenched the receiver from his ear and, holding it inches from his face, stared at it, unable to speak.
Then he gave a short exasperated cry. He was still muttering when he stepped under the shower.
Chapter 2
S ATURDAY , S ATURDAY . D AISY awoke feeling guilty, and it was a moment before she remembered that there was no need. She felt a wash of relief. No need to jump out of bed to push oranges through the expensive Californian juicer, which took hours to clean, no need to pound down the street to fetch newly baked croissants, nor feed freshly roasted coffee into the grinder whose screech carved right into her brain.
But then Richard would have put up with anything to get these things right. She knew the end had come when he decided it was time to get into heavy opera, and, not being one to do things by halves, had made her sit through over five hours of Götterdämmerung. She wouldn’t have minded if opera had been a genuine passion, but like most things with Richard, it was a matter of social éclat. Something that had to be endured to get his lifestyle into shape.
At the opera, during one of the all-too-short intervals, Daisy had failed to live up to cultural expectations in front of Richard’s friends by allowing her south London accent out of its cage – as often happened in times of
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