Chapter 2
Famous last words.
Paolo Rossini loved that expression, its portentous air. It was always particularly gratifying when it rang true.
‘It feels like nothing bad can happen today. It’s so wonderfully tranquil in here,’ Holly said, picking up the practice’s list for the afternoon. ‘And out there too.’
She was asking for it with that. Paolo wondered when it would come and bite them on the backside, like a rabid dog. He hurriedly took that thought back. They’d never had an animal with rabies in, and he didn’t want one now.
‘Aye,’ he said, from where he sat on one of the reception chairs. He straightened out his scrubs. ‘I think it’s that the spectre of Hugh no longer looms. You don’t get shouted at on arrival.’
At the end of the previous year, they had all been amazed when their workaholic former boss, Hugh MacDougal, had finally decided to hand over the practice to Holly. Of course, Holly was of a similarly driven mould, so perhaps that had had something to do with his decision.
Paolo glanced at the sea outside. Holly wasn’t wrong. All was especially peaceful about Eastercraig’s veterinary surgery today. Spring had turned to summer and the water, with nary a wave in sight, was a shade of lapis beneath a cloudless sky. The sun shone through the windows, warming the reception area like a greenhouse. Like a flower in full bloom, Paolo’s face now turned towards it.
‘Honestly . . .’ Chloe poked her head out from the kitchenette. ‘I swear he never took a two-week holiday in all the time I worked with him, and I’ve been here nearly ten years. Then you come along and he’s off.’
‘I doubt he felt he could, given it was virtually a second home to him for the last thirty years. But when we encouraged him to take some time away, I didn’t expect him to book a month-long cruise.’ Holly rearranged her expression to one of someone channelling inner calm, albeit with some effort. She cast her hand over the empty reception area. ‘Still, if it continues like this we’ll survive.’
During Holly’s first year in Eastercraig, Paolo had spent spare moments taking internal bets on whether Hugh MacDougal was going to huff at her, howl at her, or hurl the closest object to hand at her. In fairness, the last one never happened but their every encounter involved a roulette of Hugh’s reactions. Eventually, it had turned out Hugh, instead of hating Holly, had wanted to hire her to take his spot, only he’d been struggling with the thought of retiring. They shouldn’t have been surprised that ‘retiring’ in January meant dropping down to two mornings a week, not to mention haunting the corridors on his days off too and offering to help with consultations or operations. What was more surprising was that his unpredictable demeanour of the previous year had all but evaporated.
It took Paolo, Holly and Chloe several more months to nudge him towards taking a break somewhere hot, and Hugh had plumped for the Med, which satisfied everyone. Hugh could indulge his love of the sea, and with mainland Europe and a large body of water between them, it struck Paolo as a decent enough bulwark against any further spontaneous visits.
‘Exposure therapy,’ suggeste d Paolo. ‘One week wouldn’t have cut the mustard. The art of relaxation needs to be learned over time.’
‘And a goodly amount of distance. Well, we ought to be OK. I can manage the workload — this morning seemed to go smoothly enough,’ said Holly determinedly, as if she was psyching herself up for the rest of June. ‘On-calls might be tough, but I’ve got it.’
Paolo — Anderson and MacDougal’s veterinary nurse — interlaced his hands behind his head, crossing one leg over the other, as if he were reclining on a deckchair. Of the three of them, he was the most laid-back, except when it came to his love life. Not that there was much to be excited about on that front. Anyway, somebody had to be a little more chilled, to keep the surgery on an even keel. Chloe, the practice’s receptionist, couldn’t make it through the day without finding something to worry about. Meanwhile, Holly tended to take on too much — the claim she could manage a month without a second vet a case in point.
‘You can get a locum, Hols. It’s not a sign of weakness. But seriously, guys, we’ve got fifteen minutes for lunch. Can we manage to enjoy this while it lasts?’
Paolo closed his eyes as Holly went back over the schedule. He’d love to jet off somewhere hot too. His last trip had been to see his family in Glasgow, which wasn’t so much a holiday as an exercise in patience. His younger sisters were in and out of his parents’ house daily, all three talking nineteen to the dozen, as per usual. Alessandra, his youngest sister spent all week gushing about her new boyfriend, Luisa had moved in with hers a month ago, and Francesca had recently got engaged and could chat about nothing but wedding preparations. At least his parents were so focused on the latter they chose not to delve into Paolo’s relationship status at all that week. He’d let the familial chaos wash over him, as he always did, but he had been grateful to return to Eastercraig, and the quiet of his own flat.
A moment later, Chloe’s voice whispered in his ear, ‘Have you gone to sleep, Paolo?’
‘Nah. Just loving how bloody quiet it is.’
‘Don’t jinx it.’
He opened his eyes and took the tea from her. ‘Sorry. Heaven forbid.’
‘We need to drink up before Joe MacAllan arrives,’ said Holly. ‘He’s always prompt.’
Holly and Chloe sank back into their respective chairs, clutching their mugs. That postprandial moment before the next cases of the day arrived, when their clothes were still relatively hair-free and the floor still reasonably clean, was always one to be savoured.
And then the door flew open. The panes of glass in it rattled as it crashed on its hinges.
What had he said? It had been less than five minutes since the famous last words.
Paolo stood as a young woman bowled in, then stopped in front of them all. She was wearing a trench coat over a smart suit, and an incongruous pair of slightly muddy sneakers. Her hair was in a shaggy peroxide-blonde bob with a long fringe. Paolo had never seen her before.
The woman looked around, and let out a slow breath, as if trying to calm herself.
Next to him, Chloe was also on her feet, doing a stunned little dance that told Paolo she had no idea who this woman was or why she was groaning in their reception.
Holly gave a small cough. ‘Can we help you?’
The woman pulled back the long fringe which had obscured her face. She was visibly pale under a layer of foundation, her eyes rimmed red, remnants of mascara smudged on her cheeks.
‘I’m sorry, but is Hugh here? I need to speak to him. I’ve just been to the cottage, but nobody answered, and I’ve been calling his mobile but it’s gone straight to voicemail. And if he’s not here I thought someone might know where he is.’
Holly tilted her head to one side, and Paolo knew she was wondering how much to tell this distraught stranger. ‘I’m afraid Hugh’s not here. Could one of us help instead?’
‘Oh God!’ the woman said. She slumped into a chair, her head in her palms. ‘I really need him right now.’
Was this a new client? Paolo felt a pang of sympathy for Holly. For the past year, people had been wary about seeing her, rather than her predecessor. It was a tight-knit community, and while it welcomed incomers, Hugh had worked in Eastercraig so long he was spoken about in hushed tones verging on reverence. He was considered a living legend by the clients Holly had recently inherited from him. He knew it infuriated Holly that despite her excellent qualifications, and the fact it was her name on the plaque outside the surgery, people still questioned her abilities as a vet.
Holly pursed her lips. Sensing her annoyance, Paolo stepped in. ‘Is this about an animal?’ he asked.
The stranger looked up, her brow wrinkling. ‘What?’
‘An animal? Do you have a sick animal, back at home perhaps, that needs our help?’ said Paolo. ‘This is a veterinary surgery.’
‘No. I need Hugh. It has to be him,’ the woman insisted, a tremor appearing in her voice. ‘Is he off on a call? I could wait till he gets back?’
‘I’m afraid Hugh’s off for the next few weeks. But you’re in safe hands with us,’ he said in his most soothing tone.
‘For a few weeks?’ It came out in a squeak, her shock evident. She then let out another long, slow breath though a tiny gap in her lips.
Paolo bit his lip and tried another tack. ‘Maybe you can tell us who you are, what’s going on, and we can work out what to do.’
For a second time, the woman swept the fringe back, her hands shaking. Paolo looked at her features properly for the first time and couldn’t help but stare at her eyes. They were arresting, so blue they were nearly violet. The woman gazed about the room, despair and hope mingling on her face.
Chloe let out a gasp of realization. ‘I know who you are. You’re Skye, right?’
The woman’s eyebrows lifted. ‘Yes. But who are . . . ?’
‘Chloe. I’ve worked with your uncle for . . . forever. He talks about you all the time. And I remember you coming up when we were teenagers. You’d go for long walks on the coast path in that long black leather jacket and those chunky Doc Martens — but back then your hair was pink, and . . .’
Chloe tailed off, having caught the face Paolo was making at her. He had been trying to convey ‘you sound like a stalker’ through his eyes alone, and luckily on this occasion it had worked.
Paolo went and sat next to Skye, with the same tentative movements he usually reserved for terrified pets. He hesitated for a second, then put a hand on the woman’s shoulder. ‘Listen, duck. Hugh’s gone on a cruise for a month. He’s let out his house to some ladies from Derbyshire. I think they’re here on an artists’ retreat.’
‘So he really isn’t here?’ Skye’s eyes had grown round. ‘And the house isn’t empty?’
‘You were planning on staying with him?’
She nodded. ‘I’ve never known him not to be in Eastercraig.’
Paolo offered her a smile. ‘You’d be right. We almost had to book his holiday for him, he was so reluctant to leave.’
‘Where did you come from today?’ Holly asked.
‘Edinburgh.’
‘Don’t your parents live there?’ asked Chloe.
‘Yes.’ A pained look crossed her face, and she wrapped her arms around her waist, pulling them in tightly. Her voice dropped to a whisper, the tremble returning. ‘I can’t believe how much of a mess I’ve made. Oh, gosh. I need some fresh air. Sorry for taking up your time.’
Looking paler than before — if such a thing was possible — Skye got up and walked out of the door, leaving her handbag on the chair.
‘You had to jinx our peaceful afternoon, Paolo,’ hissed Chloe. ‘You—’
Through the window they could see Skye weave unsteadily towards the guardrail that separated the road from the drop into the loch below. Now she grabbed the railings, her body hinging over them as she bobbed on the balls of her feet. Beneath them, the tide was in.
‘Oh Christ!’ Holly sounded panicked, and it usually took a lot to affect her. ‘She’s going to throw herself over the edge.’
‘Och. It’s not exactly deep. Worst case, she breaks both legs,’ said Paolo, but he had already passed his mug to Chloe. He ran out the door.
Skye was still leaning over the railing as he approached, but at the sound of his footsteps, turned. Her empty expression was far more chilling than if she had looked scared, or determined.
‘Hugh doesn’t deserve to deal with me either.’ She spoke so quietly, her voice seemed to fall into the water below. ‘I’ve ruined everything.’
Paolo raised his hands in a gesture of peace and trod cautiously towards her. Skye didn’t move, and he took it as a positive sign.
He inched closer. ‘Don’t do anything rash, will you, duck?’
‘I . . .’ Skye stammered. ‘I’m sorry . . . ’
Paolo got to her and grabbed her hand, giving it what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze. Skye looked for a moment like she might cry, then she vomited all over his shoes.