Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
I spent the rest of the day trawling through social media in desperate search of acting work.
Louise made Evan and me Scottish salmon and cream cheese bagels for lunch, accompanied by salad and ruby red, juicy tomatoes.
I made sure I was ok to negotiate the stairs myself.
I’d been tempted to ask again for Evan’s help but concluded that was a road I shouldn’t be going down.
Common sense prevailed. Evan had to be kept at arm’s length, I decided inwardly.
I knew my emotions were threatening to tip over where he was concerned.
It was ridiculous. I’d only known him for a few days, and yet whenever he was around or looked at me, I’d come over all gawky and struggle to look at him.
I also had to keep Sacha at the forefront of my mind. It appeared she was back on the scene.
I struggled to ignore the wriggle of jealousy.
Maybe this was gratitude I was feeling rather than anything else.
Evan had stopped me from throwing the champagne over Fox, and he’d come to my aid earlier that day with my bruised ankle.
He’d been like a superhero, flying in to show me that I wasn’t all alone and that I could rely on someone else apart from my grandfather.
Yes, stated a strong, insistent voice inside my head. That was all it was. Gratitude and appreciation.
* * *
After a delicious early dinner of beef stroganoff and rice, I made my way up to my room to get ready for Dane’s concert.
I had thought about not going. After all, he’d abandoned me and my ankle on that walk.
Maybe it had just been Dane’s keenness to show me the area?
Maybe that was why he’d strode on ahead.
But something else persuaded me that I should go.
Dane did come to my rescue at breakfast, and Evan was going, too. Would it look churlish if I didn’t?
Evan’s voice made me spin round outside my room. ‘Managed ok then?’
A shiver of excitement shot up my spine.
I pushed a loose hunk of hair back behind my ear which had escaped from my ponytail. ‘Yes, I did, thanks.’
Evan leant on the wall, looking like a Greek God. ‘That’s a pity.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘I was hoping my maiden-carrying services might be required again.’
‘You need to concentrate on exposing the bad guys.’
‘Not as much fun, though.’
I reached for the door handle, struggling to steady the clattering of my heart.
Was Evan flirting with me?
Then images of Sacha danced in my head.
I closed the door behind me and slumped my back against it.
* * *
As I showered, washed my hair and got dressed, I resisted all thoughts of Evan, and instead I concentrated on what I should wear for Dane’s gig.
The man in question had appeared briefly at dinner, showing concern over what happened and enquiring after my ankle before helping himself to some stroganoff. Then he’d headed off again ten minutes later, saying he had to go and get ready to meet his band mates.
Alison and Bennett had exchanged exasperated looks.
He and his older brother were polar opposites.
Dane had the sass and cockiness, while Evan … oh, for pity’s sake! I was doing it again.
This was going nowhere, me thinking about Evan. It was fruitless. No doubt if anything had happened it would have ended up a disaster anyway, and with Sacha in the mix, it was a no-brainer.
After I’d finished applying my makeup, I rifled through the contents of my case.
I pulled an agonised face. What should I wear? I hadn’t expected to be invited to a rock gig.
My ankle was much better, but I decided to avoid the couple of pairs of strappy heels I’d thrown into my case and opted instead for my more sensible, sparkly trainers.
I’d team that with my rose pink, strappy, summer top, my slim-fitting, black jeans and my rhinestone belt.
I’d throw my denim jacket on over it all in case it got cooler when the gig ended.
I pinned my hair up at each side and dashed on some of my favourite Dior perfume. I grabbed my bag and phone and was just rounding the corner after heading downstairs when I collided with a chest. ‘Oh!’
Evan.
He was wearing a white T-shirt under a loose, black, linen shirt and dark combats. He smelled of cedarwood and his hair was tumbling back from his face in dark layers.
His serious expression shifted as he drank me in. ‘You look gorgeous.’
The air around us bristled. ‘Thank you. You don’t look too shabby either.’
There was a poignant crackle again between us. It was as if The Ramblings was holding its breath, eavesdropping in on our conversation.
‘I thought we could take my dad’s car.’
‘Don’t you want to walk there if it’s not too far? You won’t be able to have a drink.’
’We can get a cab back, and I’ll collect the car in the morning.’ He nodded down at my right foot. ‘And yes, I know you said it’s much better, but let’s not risk it.’
His words wrapped themselves around me. Something told me I could get used to this, being watched over and protected rather than having to do the watching over and the tending. But that warning klaxon about staying self-reliant and not getting hurt exploded in my head again.
The spectre of Leon reappeared. God, I hated him for the emotional debris and distrust he’d left in his wake.
Evan smiled down at me. ‘Come on, then. We don’t want to keep Bryan Adams waiting.’
I cocked a brow at Evan and laughed. ‘Something tells me Dane and his band would like to be compared to someone grittier than Bryan Adams.’
‘I know,’ he grinned. ‘That’s why I said it.’
Louise called out to us to have a great evening and returned to singing along to Michael Ball and Alfie Boe in the kitchen. Alison and Bennett had gone to visit friends in Aviemore.
* * *
We made our way out of The Ramblings and down to where Bennett’s car was parked up: the silver Mercedes which Evan had used to rescue me and my twisted ankle.
We jumped into it and set off.
As Evan edged us out of the grounds and onto the main road, in the far distance we could just about see the faint, grey shimmer of Loch Crawe and what looked like drones hovering like black dots.
‘Hopefully it won’t be much longer, and then you’ll be able to leave and see your grandfather,’ pointed out Evan.
He steered us towards a small line of traffic lights and then along the high street.
‘What’s he like?’ asked Evan. ‘Your grandfather?’
‘He’s wonderful, although I am biased. He’s funny, insightful and very caring.’ Just like you, whispered a voice in my head. I reset my head and concentrated on my grandfather again. ‘He used to work for the local council in their parks and gardens department, as I said. He loved it.’
‘And what about your grandmother?’
‘She was a hairdresser. She passed away fifteen years ago now.’
‘I’m sorry.’
I appreciated the winding shops beyond the passenger side window. ‘My grandma meant so much to him. He misses her like crazy, as do I. We just make sure we’re always there for one another. We always have.’
Evan clicked his indicator to the right and took us down a narrow street, sandwiched with quiet little gift shops and restaurants and cafes decked out with awnings. ‘And what about your parents?’
My protective shield experienced a sudden wobble under Evan’s questioning. ‘What about them?’
When he gave me a quizzical look, I blanched. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound rude.’
‘No. It’s ok. That’s the journalist in me rearing his head. You don’t have to tell me anything.’
Evan guided us into a car park situated at the side of a pub called The Whiskey Jar. I remembered that was where Dane said Disciple were staging their gig.
Evan turned off the engine and rested both his arms on top of the steering wheel. His sleeves were rolled up a little, and I could see a smattering of dark hair. My stomach flip-flapped around. Dear God, woman!
Something was pulling at me, encouraging me to talk to Evan; to open up and reveal a part of me I liked to keep hidden.
Vulnerability. This was a sudden, scary sensation.
Part of me wanted to jump out of the car and not say anything to him, but the patient, soft expression in his eyes was hypnotising.
I sighed. ‘It’s fine. Really.’ I picked up my bag by my feet and cradled it in my arms for something to do.
Snapshots of my mum and dad drifted like gossamer in front of my eyes.
They didn’t register with any sort of emotion.
Maybe a touch of sadness at what they felt they hadn’t been able to do for me – what they thought they couldn’t do and give to each other – but nothing else. ‘You can tell you’re a reporter.’
‘Like I said, please don’t feel you have to tell me anything you don’t want to.’
I lifted my right hand from the top of my bag where it was resting and flapped it.
‘No. It’s ok.’ I gathered myself. ‘I’m not close to my parents.
’ I hesitated, gathering my resolve to delve deeper into my past life.
Outside the car, the pub lights shone like torch beams into the descending darkness.
‘My mum got pregnant at eighteen and decided she wasn’t cut out for motherhood, so my maternal grandparents brought me up from the age of three months old. ’
The chatter of pub goers outside disturbed our conversation for a brief moment. We heard the pub doors clanging open and shut.
‘I’m sorry, Daisy.’
‘Oh, don’t be. I had the most wonderful childhood thanks to them.’ I shrugged my shoulders. ‘You don’t miss what you’ve never had.’
‘What about your dad?’ he asked.