CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The following morning, Jaz came into the café and in a lull between customers, I broached the subject of the blurry shape I thought I’d seen at the window of Bogg House the previous evening.
‘I was out of there straight away,’ I told her with a shudder. ‘I did a five-point turn so fast I’m surprised I didn’t take the hedge with me. I might have imagined it, I suppose. But what if there really was an intruder?’ I swallowed. ‘Or a ghost.’
Jaz laughed. ‘Well, I think you can definitely discount the presence of some kind of spooky spirit.’
I smiled in spite of everything. I was normally quite a practical sort of person, but these days, my imagination was going wild!
‘The thing is... there’s a gang of teenage boys who ride quadbikes in the field next to the house and I caught one of them in our garden. I’ve been wondering if it was him.’
‘Right. Well, at least the house is empty, so there’s nothing to steal at the moment,’ said Jaz.
I nodded, although I couldn’t help remembering thinking he had something in his hand as he ran for the gate, hidden behind his back.
‘But maybe you did just imagine it?’ Jaz shrugged. ‘The headlights reflected in the window, maybe?’
‘You might be right. But I think I’ll wait until Mac and the team are there before I venture over again.’
She nodded. ‘When are they next there?’
‘Not until tomorrow. The new windows are arriving, I think.’
She paused, thinking. ‘How about I go over with you later? Just to put your mind at ease that nothing’s happened?’
‘Would you?’ I sighed with relief. ‘Honestly, Jaz, I’ve been so worried. I thought about phoning the police to report an intruder, but I kept thinking, what if I just imagined it? What if it was just a trick of the light?’
‘Of course we can go over there.’ She smiled. ‘I’ve been hearing all about this wonderful house, but I still haven’t been inside it.’
‘This afternoon?’
‘Great. You’re on.’ She grinned. ‘Hey, maybe Bogg House really is haunted?’
‘Oh, stop it!’ Laughing, I gave her a gentle push over the counter. ‘Go and sit down and I’ll bring your coffee. And strictly no more talk about ghosts and ghouls, please.’
*****
Later, around lunchtime, Mac himself came into the café. He joined the small queue that had formed and gave me a wave, then continued talking to the tall, dark-haired man he’d arrived with.
When it was their turn to be served, I cut two slices of the chocolate cake they’d ordered, and in conversation, it emerged that Mac’s friend was an artist and he’d be displaying his paintings at the same exhibition that would be showcasing Kenzie’s pottery.
I hadn’t caught his name but he seemed really nice. He and Mac had been friends for a long time. I smiled at him. ‘I’ll definitely be checking out your work.’
‘Great!’ He looked pleased. ‘Bring all your friends. And your relatives. And any strangers or dogs you happen to pass on the way.’
Mac laughed. ‘It’s time you gave up being an accountant and started painting full-time.’ He turned to me. ‘His paintings are brilliant, by the way.’
At that moment, the bell over the door tinkled and in walked Rhona.
Mac pushed a note into his friend’s hand. ‘Get the order, will you? I need to use the gents.’
I smiled across at Rhona and she started to walk over.
Then suddenly, she stopped, a strange look on her face.
Mac’s friend saw my expression change and he turned around and saw her. Rhona was staring over at us, her face pale, as if she’d seen a ghost.
‘Rhona? Are you okay?’ I called.
At first, I thought she hadn’t heard me. Then she seemed to snap out of her trance. ‘Ellie, hi! Look, I’ll come back later when you’re not so busy,’ she said, before turning and hurrying out.
I didn’t have time to go after her because there was a queue of customers waiting to be served. Mac came back from the gents and while I made their drinks, he briefed me on what was happening over at the house, confirming that the windows were being delivered the following afternoon. Then they took their coffees over to a table by the window.
As soon as I had a minute, I nipped out to the glamping site, crossing the grass over to the Bedouin-style tent, which I knew Rhona was getting ready for a hen party arriving the following day.
‘Hey, are you okay?’ I asked, out of breath after just that short walk.
‘Have a sit down. You’re doing too much,’ she scolded me, indicating the nearest bed.
‘You’re getting to be as bad as Zak at telling me off.’ I smiled. ‘And anyway, I don’t have time for a rest. I just wondered what you came into the café for? You looked... well, as if you’d seen a ghost.’
She folded her arms. ‘What? I don’t know what you mean...’
I studied her with a little smile. Her reddened cheeks were the giveaway. ‘Rhona, you can tell me, you know. Crikey, I blubbered all over you the other day, worrying about that Rachel woman. You don’t have to pretend to be strong with me...’
She stared mutinously at me for a moment, her lips pressed together.
Then her chin wobbled, and her whole body seemed to slump. ‘You’re right.’ She sighed. ‘I saw someone I used to know. I got a shock, that’s all. I’m fine. Really I am.’
‘Who was he?’ I asked softly, thinking of the dark-haired man in the café. Mac’s artist friend. ‘Or would you rather not talk about it?’ I shrugged. ‘Look, just tell me to shut up. There’s nothing worse than having to rake over memories of past romances – if that’s what it was.’
She nodded. ‘Okay. Well . . . button it!’
‘Ha! That’s me told.’
‘We need to order more boxes of tissues, by the way.’
I stuck up my thumb. ‘I’m on it. Right, I’d better get back. You’re sure you’re okay?’
‘Positive. Now, shoo!’
I walked back to the café, wondering about Rhona and Mac’s friend. It kind of confirmed what Sylvia had said about Rhona having grown up in the area.
I might never find out what had gone on between them, though.
Because the subject, thanks to Rhona’s remarkably swift change of topic, was clearly closed...