there?’ although if there was they were either deaf or dead.
She really had the shakes. She would have given pounds for a cup of strong sweet tea. She had landed in the kitchen, where there was a Calor gas stove, but she didn’t know how to turn it on, and she daren’t trust herself to balance a kettle on the logs.
Then she saw the bottles on a dresser. One was brandy, and if ever she had needed a brandy for her health’s sake she needed one now. It splashed when she poured, she could hardly hold the bottle, but she finally got a good measure into the glass and added a little soda water, then carried it back to the fire.
As soon as she had moved away from the direct heat she had felt cold again, which showed she was still in shock, and now she huddled down in a massive old armchair in front of the fire, pulling a rug over her.
She had never taken a drink this strong before. It scalded her throat and made her head swim before she was half way through it, but she gulped it down and within minutes she was asleep.
She could have slept till morning. She was in deep slumber when she was woken, so that she opened heavy eyes and stared stupidly, still slightly drugged by the brandy.
He could have been part of a bad dream—big, looming over her. Her head ached, she was aching everywhere, and she was still slowly and painfully regaining consciousness when she heard him say in a harsh voice that went through her brain like a buzz-saw, ‘How in hell did you get in here?’ and before she could answer, ‘Never mind how, just get out!’
CHAPTER TWO
‘I can’t go anywhere,’ Pattie croaked. ‘My car crashed.’
He showed no sympathy. He just went on glowering down at her, and as she raised her head pain stabbed so that she winced and he said, ‘Sure it isn’t a hangover?’
The empty glass was beside her. The way her hands had been shaking when she’d poured it out she could have spilled some of the brandy down her, she could be reeking of the stuff. She said stiffly, ‘Sorry, do let me pay for it, but I was shaken up. I ran my car off the track and I climbed in through a back window to get to the fire.’
‘With anyone else,’ he drawled, ‘I’d say you’re welcome.’
He had recognised her. She wouldn’t have thought she looked at all like her usual self, and the light was dim—fireglow, and there seemed to be a lamp somewhere—but maybe he remembered faces the way she did places. She remembered his face all right. Except that if anything he looked even grimmer than the last time.
She began, ‘I’m Pattie Ross ' and he cut in,
‘I know who you are. What I’m waiting to be told is what you’re doing here.’
The lodge was a long way off the road. If Pattie had been taking the track there was nowhere else she could have been heading but here, and she hadn’t the strength to be conciliatory. She could only blurt, ‘I want to interview you.’
‘You what?' He laughed derisively. ‘I’d rather be interviewed by the K.G.B.!’
She couldn’t deal with this. She leaned back and said wearily, ‘In that case I’ll have to trouble you to drive me into Grimslake,’ and for a moment she thought he would strike her. He was obviously seething with anger, and it was dark and the drive would be an unpleasant one, and what was she going to do if he took her to the hotel? She had no luggage and no money. Everything was down there in the car. In the morning she could retrieve her belongings, so she asked hesitantly, ‘Or could I stay the night?’
He glared at her from under beetling brows. ‘You’ll bloody well have to stay the night.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, and he snarled,
‘Save your breath, I’ve got no choice.' He looked as though he wanted to smash something, preferably her, and she said meekly, ‘I’ll stay here, shall I?’ The chair was no bed. It was lumpy. But there was no need for him to carry on as though she was going to disrupt everything. Of course she could sleep in
She really had the shakes. She would have given pounds for a cup of strong sweet tea. She had landed in the kitchen, where there was a Calor gas stove, but she didn’t know how to turn it on, and she daren’t trust herself to balance a kettle on the logs.
Then she saw the bottles on a dresser. One was brandy, and if ever she had needed a brandy for her health’s sake she needed one now. It splashed when she poured, she could hardly hold the bottle, but she finally got a good measure into the glass and added a little soda water, then carried it back to the fire.
As soon as she had moved away from the direct heat she had felt cold again, which showed she was still in shock, and now she huddled down in a massive old armchair in front of the fire, pulling a rug over her.
She had never taken a drink this strong before. It scalded her throat and made her head swim before she was half way through it, but she gulped it down and within minutes she was asleep.
She could have slept till morning. She was in deep slumber when she was woken, so that she opened heavy eyes and stared stupidly, still slightly drugged by the brandy.
He could have been part of a bad dream—big, looming over her. Her head ached, she was aching everywhere, and she was still slowly and painfully regaining consciousness when she heard him say in a harsh voice that went through her brain like a buzz-saw, ‘How in hell did you get in here?’ and before she could answer, ‘Never mind how, just get out!’
CHAPTER TWO
‘I can’t go anywhere,’ Pattie croaked. ‘My car crashed.’
He showed no sympathy. He just went on glowering down at her, and as she raised her head pain stabbed so that she winced and he said, ‘Sure it isn’t a hangover?’
The empty glass was beside her. The way her hands had been shaking when she’d poured it out she could have spilled some of the brandy down her, she could be reeking of the stuff. She said stiffly, ‘Sorry, do let me pay for it, but I was shaken up. I ran my car off the track and I climbed in through a back window to get to the fire.’
‘With anyone else,’ he drawled, ‘I’d say you’re welcome.’
He had recognised her. She wouldn’t have thought she looked at all like her usual self, and the light was dim—fireglow, and there seemed to be a lamp somewhere—but maybe he remembered faces the way she did places. She remembered his face all right. Except that if anything he looked even grimmer than the last time.
She began, ‘I’m Pattie Ross ' and he cut in,
‘I know who you are. What I’m waiting to be told is what you’re doing here.’
The lodge was a long way off the road. If Pattie had been taking the track there was nowhere else she could have been heading but here, and she hadn’t the strength to be conciliatory. She could only blurt, ‘I want to interview you.’
‘You what?' He laughed derisively. ‘I’d rather be interviewed by the K.G.B.!’
She couldn’t deal with this. She leaned back and said wearily, ‘In that case I’ll have to trouble you to drive me into Grimslake,’ and for a moment she thought he would strike her. He was obviously seething with anger, and it was dark and the drive would be an unpleasant one, and what was she going to do if he took her to the hotel? She had no luggage and no money. Everything was down there in the car. In the morning she could retrieve her belongings, so she asked hesitantly, ‘Or could I stay the night?’
He glared at her from under beetling brows. ‘You’ll bloody well have to stay the night.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, and he snarled,
‘Save your breath, I’ve got no choice.' He looked as though he wanted to smash something, preferably her, and she said meekly, ‘I’ll stay here, shall I?’ The chair was no bed. It was lumpy. But there was no need for him to carry on as though she was going to disrupt everything. Of course she could sleep in
Similar Books
The I.P.O.
Dan Koontz
Doctor Knows Best
Ann Jennings
To Wed A Viscount
Adrienne Basso
Beautiful Bad Man
Ellen O'Connell
Your Magic Touch
Kathy Carmichael
I.D.
Vicki Grant
Unexpected
Lori Foster
One More Little Problem
Vanessa Curtis