Chapter Two
What was she going to do?
She was on her own, stranded in the middle of nowhere, in a persistent rainstorm, with no means of communication; a situation that was often the opening scene of a classic murder mystery – or horror movie – where the unfortunate victim…
‘ Argh !’
Chloe let out a scream of terror as there was a loud rap on the driver’s window and she all but vaulted into the passenger seat, her heart in her mouth, fear sending goosebumps scuttling across her forearms and causing the hair at the back of her neck to stand on end. Hunched in the footwell, amongst the scattered socks, the shampoo bottles, and the broken picture frame, she saw a man’s face appear at the rain-streaked window and her first thought was whether she had anything amongst the jumble of items around her that she could use to protect herself with.
‘Hello? Are you okay?’
She saw the man wipe away the rain from the glass then shield his eyes so he could peer into the car and a barrage of images flickered through her mind’s eye, each one more terrifying than the last. Before she could engage her brain and decide on a cause of action, there was a sudden flash of light, followed by a loud, frightening crack that caused the man to disappear from view.
Oh God, had he been struck by lightning?
Fortunately, just as she was starting to conjure up an even worse scenario in which she was the one wondering what to do with a dead body, the man appeared at the passenger’s window, his face wreathed in anxiety. Deciding to take a calculated risk, she clambered into the seat, inhaled a breath, and cracked open the window a couple of inches.
‘Ah, there you are. What happened? Are you injured?’
His voice held a discernible wobble and rain ran down his cheeks in rivulets, giving her the impression he was crying. When she met his eyes she saw only kindness and concern for her wellbeing, and she realised that if she didn’t want to spend the night inside a car buried in a hedgerow, followed by an early morning hike to the main road to flag down a different passing stranger, she needed his help, or, more precisely, his phone.
‘I’m fine,’ she said, offering him a faint smile.
‘Thank God, I had visions of… never mind. I’m Nick Harper, by the way.’
‘Chloe Campbell.’
‘Pleased to meet you, Chloe. Do you need any help?’
‘Yes, please. For some reason, I can’t get the engine to start.’
‘Have you called your breakdown service?’
‘No, I… My phone’s out of battery. I don’t suppose I could borrow yours?’
‘Sure.’
Nick fished in the pocket of his smart wool overcoat and produced his phone, posting it through the narrow gap in the window without hesitation, another reassuring sign. Did axe murderers hand over their phones to their victims without complaint or argument, especially one that was clearly the most recent model?
‘Thanks.’
She stared at the phone and paused. She had no idea who her breakdown cover was with, or what her policy number was. She groaned and set about accessing her inbox and searching for the renewal email, then gasped in dismay when she realised her cover had expired a week earlier. Now what?
‘Is everything okay?’
For a moment Chloe had forgotten that Nick was still standing in the rain, his shoulders hunched, his hands thrust deep into his pockets, his blonde hair plastered to his forehead. When he reached up to comb the sodden tendrils away from his face, she saw he was shivering and yet he remained there, his face creased with worry.
‘I… I can’t seem to find the details.’
‘No problem. I know a mechanic who’ll be happy to help. Do you want me to call him?’
‘Yes, yes, please.’
She handed the phone back through the window and Nick wasted no time selecting his friend’s number. After exchanging a few words, he passed the phone back to her. ‘He wants to talk to you.’
‘Okay. Hello ?’
‘Hello. I thought I should introduce myself personally as I suspect you might be feeling a little vulnerable out there in the middle of nowhere. I’m Joe Baldwin; I’m a qualified car mechanic, but nowadays I prefer to spend my time tinkering around with classic cars. Anyway, I’m happy to take a look at your Renault, but I’ve promised to take my sister to a party over in Farnleigh tonight, so I can’t come out with the tow truck until first thing tomorrow morning. I suggest you check my credentials, and then accept Nick’s generous offer to give you a lift to the Dog several pairs of Christmas socks, a bottle of mouthwash, her patchwork cushion, a couple of dog-eared magazines, and a few random kitchen utensils. When he bent down to help her retrieve them, she couldn’t fail to see the astonishment written across his face as he handed her a tin opener and a wooden spoon.
‘Thanks,’ she muttered, quickly shoving the items into her pocket. ‘I’ll just…’
She ran round to the rear of the car, prized open the boot and, under the relative shelter of the hatch, began to search for the bag that contained her valuables. To her dismay, Nick scooted in beside her to shelter from the rain and instead of offering his assistance, he was momentarily lost for words. She knew her car resembled the inside of a junk shop, and while she tried not to let his reaction upset her, heat flushed her cheeks, especially when she saw his jaw drop with incredulity as his gaze fell on the case of vodka she’d bought for Jade’s cocktail-making party that evening.
‘What is all this stuff?’
Chloe hesitated, her mind whirling, a tickle of panic itching at her chest. Now that she had secured a ride back to civilisation – and the services of someone to retrieve her car – the last thing she wanted to do was frighten him away. Who knew when the next vehicle would pass her way? And what if it wasn’t as easy to check out their credentials? So, without taking a moment to engage her brain, she blurted out the first thing that came into her head.
‘Oh, I’m just storing it for a friend of mine who’s in the middle of moving house, but then I had a last-minute booking for a Christmas cocktail-making class for the sister of another friend over in Farnleigh. I needed to use the car to get there, and I didn’t have time to unpack everything before I left.’
As soon as she’d said it, her heart plummeted. Her decision to fudge the truth to avoid embarrassment meant that she couldn’t now spend the next few minutes rummaging around in the cardboard boxes for the things she would need for an overnight stay at a B&B in case Nick thought she was stealing her friend’s belongings.
‘Right,’ said Nick, giving her a strange look.
‘Okay, shall we get out of this rain before we both die of hypothermia?’
‘Absolutely. This way.’
Nick strode towards a silver Range Rover parked on the grass verge a few metres away, slung his soddened coat into the back seat, and slid behind the steering wheel. Chloe dashed in his wake, climbing up into the passenger seat with an audible sigh of relief as warmth spread through her veins and her fingertips tingled as they started to defrost. The vehicle retained its “just-off-the-production-line” smell, along with the faint hint of lemon from the air freshener dangling from the rear-view mirror. As they drove past her dilapidated Renault, the contrast between the two vehicles was stark and yet she experienced a twinge of sadness, as though she was leaving a faithful friend behind to fend for themselves.
A few minutes later, they had rejoined the main road and Chloe finally started to relax. The car was now toasty, and her jeans and mud-splattered hoodie were starting to dry out, although she suspected her hair was more like a haystack than the tangle-free curls she had consistently tried to achieve every day of her life, until recently. Sadly, her hair and beauty regime had been the first thing to fall by the wayside when she’d lost her beach hut business.
She settled back into her seat and took the opportunity to surreptitiously study her rescuer. Now that he had removed his smart navy-blue overcoat, she noticed he was wearing a white, collared shirt of the kind corporate executives wore, its cuffs rolled back to reveal a chunky silver watch that she suspected cost more than she’d made in the last six months. His blonde hair was dishevelled from the rain, lending him a certain boyish demeanour, and his lips were curled upwards into a natural smile.
However, it was when her gaze fell onto his hands, gently caressing the smooth, leather-covered steering wheel as he coaxed the powerful vehicle around the road’s many twists and turns, that she experienced an overwhelming urge to reach out and run her fingertips across his tanned and toned forearms before trailing them down to his palms to intertwine her hands with his. A frisson of attraction zipped through her body, a reaction that was so sudden and so unexpected, that she gasped in surprise, and she was grateful when Nick broke the silence.
‘So, what exactly happened back there?’
‘I swerved to avoid a collision and… well, I lost control and ended up in the hedge.’
‘Did you get a look at the driver of the other vehicle?’
‘No, I didn’t. They were driving like a maniac.’
‘What were you doing on that road in the first place?’
‘I’d pulled over to take a call.’
‘Ah, I see. You were lucky I was passing by when I was. The road’s not much more than a farm track, used mainly by local residents taking a shortcut to the next village.’
‘What were you doing there?’
‘Taking a shortcut.’ Nick laughed. ‘I’m on my way back from dropping my aunt off at the airport. She’s flying out to Sydney to spend Christmas with her cousin and his wife. It’s the holiday of a lifetime for her, a real bucket list trip, or as she puts it “one last big adventure before it’s too late”.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘My uncle passed away earlier this year.’
A flash of pain scorched through Chloe’s heart at Nick’s unexpected response.
‘Oh, Nick, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—’
‘It’s okay. They’d always talked about doing a tour of Australia, but they own an apple orchard, and like every agricultural business the length and breadth of the UK, unless you have a full-time business manager, it’s impossible to take more than a few days off at any one time, and sadly it never happened. So, in a moment of festive generosity, I said I would “babysit” for Aunt Ruth while she’s away.’
‘You’re babysitting apples?’
‘It’s not just apples,’ said Nick in faux outrage. ‘There’s Mitzy, too.’
‘Who’s Mitzy?’
‘My aunt’s Yorkshire terrier.’
‘Oh, I’d love to have a dog.’
‘Then why don’t you?’
‘It wouldn’t be fair,’ Chloe said, a little too quickly, surprised that she had admitted a long-held dream to someone she had only just met when she had recently avoided the subject with her friends. ‘All my time is taken up with delivering my mobile cocktail-making classes, and while I’m sure most of my clients would be okay with me bringing a dog along with me, I know there’ll be others who wouldn’t.’
‘That’s a shame. Okay, let’s have some music, shall we?’
Nick touched the screen on the dashboard and seconds later the dulcet tones of Bing Crosby, who was busy dreaming of a White Christmas – probably while sitting in front of a roaring log fire – filled the vehicle. To Chloe’s surprise, Nick exhaled an exasperated sigh.
‘What’s the matter? Don’t you like Bing Crosby?’
‘It’s not that.’
‘What then?’
‘Why do radio presenters assume that every listener wants to hear wall-to-wall Christmas songs for six weeks of the year? It’s a bit boring, don’t you think? What’s wrong with mixing it up a little by including a few Bob Dylan or REM tracks? Maybe some Blues or Jazz, or country music, even. Some of these so-called Christmas songs sound like the kind of thing kids sing in the playground!’ Nick shot a glance at Chloe from the corner of his eye. ‘Sorry, ignore me. I suppose you love everything about the rapidly approaching “season to be jolly”?’
‘Not everything ,’ Chloe admitted, wondering how their conversation had veered into such dangerously personal territory so quickly. However, there was something about sitting there, safe from the elements, wrapped in the warmth of the sturdy Range Rover, the soft tones of one of the most iconic crooners of all time swirling through the air, that seemed to invite the sharing of confidences. ‘But I do love the cheerful, upbeat… Oh my God, did we just pass a sign saying Welcome to Cornwall ?’