CHAPTER SIXTEEN #4
He walked over to Sage, who had been watching Hal and her father from an old tree stump on which she was perched.
She was stroking Remington, his sleek head upon her knee, and for the first time since she had come back to England she was allowing the notion that she might actually be happy again to enter her head.
Rafe was stealing his way into her plans for the future, despite all of her barriers and concerns.
He had been so kind and dependable. A real rock these past few days.
In her old Barbour jacket and boy’s jeans, her wild brown mane tied up in a knot on top of her head, she looked touchingly young and vulnerable. Rafe marvelled at her for a moment, then in hushed tones, explained the situation while trying not to scare her.
‘If you agree, I’m going to put you on a little plane at Newquay.
My cousin, Kestrel, will be at the other end to collect you from Inverness airport and will look after you both for as long as you need.
He’s wonderful, Sage – I promise you’ll love him.
Santiago will never find you up there. Let me sort everything out this end. All right?’
‘You’re not coming with us?’ Sage asked in dismay.
‘I’m going to stay down here tonight, just in case your father needs me – Casper was worried about how volatile Santiago seemed.
Then Grouse and I will head back up to Newmarket to check on the horses.
Hal will love an adventure up to bonny Scotland.
It’s only a short flight, and it’ll be the safest place in the world. ’
Here she was, running from Santiago again. But the idea of getting away from everything was enticing – she longed for a little time and space to clear her muddled head. Within twenty minutes, they were all loaded up in the Discovery.
Dickie stood in the stable yard and waved them off, Remington at his side, the pair watching forlornly as the car sped up the potholed drive and away.
At the little airport, Sage caught Rafe’s hand up in hers and clasped it to her heart.
‘Thank you, I suppose, for sending me away!’ she said, trying to laugh but finding tears pricking her eyes.
‘I just want to keep you and Hal safe.’
‘Even though I’m endless trouble?’
‘Especially so.’
Sage kissed him, daring to believe it was true.
She took charge now, having had enough of being treated like a helpless damsel.
Despite Rafe’s protestations, she paid for their flights out of her wages.
She and Hal boarded the 10.15 flight from Newquay, with assurances from Rafe that they would see each other again in a few days.
Sage had a ghastly sense of déjà vu. Another flight on another aeroplane.
Would Santiago ever leave them alone? She thought of her mobile at the bottom of her handbag and knew, with dread, that she would have to turn it on again when they arrived in Scotland.
Sage thanked God that she had their passports stowed in her wallet but she despaired at the small amount of belongings they had with them, barely two changes of clothes each.
The flight was short, but they were buffeted about to such an extent that Hal had to use the paper sick bag.
When the tiny aircraft landed safely at Inverness, the sky was grey.
A cold easterly wind was ripping around the tarmac as they disembarked.
Sage fastened Hal’s coat buttons and pulled up her own collar in an attempt to keep warm, but Hal did not seem to notice the chill in the air.
He had perked up on landing and was now bouncing about excitedly, lobbying for a stuffed toy of the Loch Ness Monster from the airport’s little gift shop.
Lacking the energy to say no, Sage bought Nessie and a bottle of Scotch for Kestrel – her new funds seriously dwindling already.
They made their way through arrivals to meet Kestrel. Hal wove about the other passengers’ legs, making roaring noises and holding the little monster aloft while Sage wearily trudged on ahead, nervous about imposing on Rafe’s cousin – wondering whether he’d even turn up.
She spotted Kestrel immediately. He had that distinctive elegance of an aristocrat which one can never recreate if one is not truly high-born.
Despite his shabby, moth-eaten cream Fair Isle jumper and his holey brown corduroys, he looked as though he were shooting a fashion campaign, leaning against the grubby metal railing, his long, slim limbs unconsciously graceful.
She, too, caught his attention and he instinctively cast his eyes around for Hal, who promptly zoomed up to Sage, knocking into the backs of her knees.
Kestrel’s kind face broke into a smile as he timidly approached them.
‘Sage?’ he asked cautiously.
‘Yes,’ Sage said with relief. ‘Thank you so much for coming for us.’ She handed the single malt over to him.
He accepted it gladly, his handsome face lighting up.
He then leant down and deftly took her small bag from her, before beckoning for them to follow him.
No awkward kisses. He led the way out of the dingy building and across a car park to where a battered green Toyota Land Cruiser waited for them.
Two huge, grey, matted faces peered out of the front windscreen.
‘Those two grande dames are called Thistle and Myrtle – they’re my Irish wolfhounds. Have you seen one before?’ Kestrel asked Hal, who was watching the dogs with interest.
‘Yes, Paddington rides one called Wolfie in Paddington 2,’ Hal said instantly. ‘He’s massive!’
‘I love Paddington Bear. Yes, exactly, Hal. My girls are the same, although I’m afraid they’re also a bit smelly as they’ve already been for a lovely swim in the loch today.
They’re wonderfully kind though, and take good care of me.
’ Kestrel thought it was just as well that his passengers liked animals, since the dogs took up most of his ancient vehicle.
They all got in. Sage managed to wedge Hal between them, and the dogs curled up contentedly in the back.
‘Can I go there, please? With the dogs?’ Hal asked beseechingly, looking longingly behind him.
Kestrel looked at Sage. ‘I’m fine with it as long as you are.’
‘Yes, darling, that’s fine. Be gentle with them – let them come to you.’ Sage helped Hal climb over the back of the seat and into the back; she instinctively trusted Kestrel when he said that the dogs were kind.
Kestrel beamed.
‘I think we’re all going to get along famously,’ he said happily, the bottle of whisky clinking as he slipped it into the side pocket of the door.