Chapter 4 #3
The first page is a chapter headed “Goblins.”
“Oh my god,” I say, enchanted. Fairies dance around the title holding hands, while others sit in the letters, their pointy ears giving them a mischievous, jaunty air. “How are they here?” I breathe. “The other copy has no illustrations.”
“Ah, this one is from my own personal collection. No human has seen this in centuries.”
I straighten, staring at him. “But how do you know that?”
He blinks as if coming to from a dream. I open my mouth to repeat my question, but he closes the book, his big hands gentle on the cracked leather. “I am so sorry. I am keeping you from your task. I believe you wanted the phone.”
“Pardon?”
He gestures at the landline sitting on the big desk.
“Oh yes.” I look at the book yearningly.
He smiles. “I promise you may look at it again. But you wanted to attend to your car, did you not?”
“I did.”
“You may use my laptop if you like. There is no password.” He nods at me and, hefting the big tome, he slides it into its place on the shelf. “I will leave you to it,” he says, inclining his head in a courtly bow.
I nod, watching him leave the room in his big strides, his body moving gracefully.
I stand for a few moments, looking around the room, my thoughts racing, and then jerk back to reality.
I grab the laptop. It opens to a beautiful aerial shot of a beach.
It’s stunning and I’m pretty sure I recognise it as Pedn Vounder.
I remember reading somewhere that the beach is one of the most beautiful in Cornwall, but it is secluded because of the difficulty of getting to it.
Someone with a drone must have taken this photo.
I stare at it for a long few seconds. The mysteries about Sigurd are multiplying. So much doesn’t add up. There’s something odd about him, but do I fear him because of that?
I consider the question for a few moments and conclude I don’t.
I feel no fear whatsoever. He’s gentle and kind, and all my instincts say I should trust him.
Then I remind myself that it’s immaterial because I’m going home today.
Suppressing the sharp pang of regret, I click on Google to find the nearest branch of my car hire company.
Five minutes later, I stroll into the kitchen. Sigurd is reading a book, his long legs propped up on the table, and a steaming cup of coffee by his side. He looks very content. He looks up queryingly.
I grimace. “The hire car people say they have a car in Penzance if I want it. They’ll send someone to pick up the dud from the Porthcurno car park.”
He sets the book down on the table. “Penzance is not far from here. I will take you.”
“Oh, there’s no need. I’ve already put you out.”
His eyes twinkle. “Yes, but there were unforeseen benefits to that.”
I laugh. “I wouldn’t be expecting them from Handy Hire, though.”
He throws his head back, laughing. As before, the loud, robust sound makes me want to laugh too. And now it makes me want to draw up a chair and sit beside him and will him to touch me again.
I do none of those things because this lovely interlude is nearly over. Instead, I smile at him. “Well, that would be lovely if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.”
He pushes an object towards me, and I realise it’s my phone. I tap on the button, but the screen remains stubbornly dark. I repress a sigh at the thought of buying a new one. Another charge on my credit card. It’ll be pleading for mercy soon.
Sigurd gets to his feet, stretching, and then grabs his coat from a chair. It’s an olive-green parka and suits him, making him look even younger.
“Let us go.” He hands me my own jacket and gestures for me to follow him.
I trail after him, my eyes hungrily taking in my last glimpse of his lovely house.
He leads me out of a back entrance that brings us onto a small parking area.
There are two huge garages, and in front of them sits an old Land Rover.
I smile gratefully at him as he opens my door for me—such courtly gestures from such a wild-looking man. I wonder why he’s single.
He climbs in next to me, and the car is immediately filled with his amber and sandalwood scent. I take in gulps of it as unobtrusively as possible. Time seems to be speeding up like sand falling through my hands, and try as I might, I can’t catch it back.
He starts the car, and we drive up a winding lane.
The radio is playing Chris de Burgh’s “A Spaceman Came Travelling” and something about the whimsical strangeness of the song seems appropriate for how I’ve spent the last couple of days in Cornwall.
The car is soon toasty warm. The wind buffets us, but his big hands are steady, his eyes alert on the roads, even though we only pass a few other cars.
He clears his throat. “So, you will not be seeing this Adrian again, yes?”
The question jerks me out of my thoughts. “Eh? Hardly likely. It might end rather badly if I do.”
The atmosphere in the car abruptly changes. His hands tighten on the steering wheel, and a low rumble comes from him that makes my eyes widen. “He would hurt you, Cary?” he growls.
“Oh my god, no. No,” I say more calmly. “Of course not. I mean, he might bore me to death, but that’s as physical as he’d get.” His hands relax, and I stare at him. “Were you honestly angry about that?”
He glances at me with wide eyes. “Of course,” he says simply. “I will not have you mistreated. I would have no man or woman mistreated.”
Touched, I smile at him and pat his hand. “Well, you’ve no need to worry about Adrian.” I look around with interest as we pass through a small village, the restless gleam of the sea visible beyond. “It’s very pretty around here,” I say. “I hadn’t realised.”
“Ah, Kernow has always held a spell on its visitors.” He clears his throat. “Tell me, have you read the new book on the discovery of the barrow in Derbyshire?”
I turn in my seat. “Oh my god, I loved it. The author’s theories were really compelling.”
His eyes light up in enthusiasm. “Tell me what you thought of the third chapter.”
The drive passes too quickly as we discuss books.
I discover that his mind is as impressive as his body.
He’s engaging and forthright but always eager to hear my opinions.
Conversation with Adrian could be sticky as glue, but with Sigurd, it’s like drinking a sparkling champagne that’s so delicious you want more and more until it goes to your head.
We drive into Penzance far too soon. The buildings look grey in the winter gloom, but the Christmas lights are bright. Sigurd takes the side streets with the obvious ease of knowledge and pulls up outside a car hire place.
I unbuckle my seat belt and go to open the door, turning as he says, “I would open the door for you, Cary.”
“Oh, there’s no need,” I to start to say, but it’s to thin air.
He comes around the front of the Land Rover, the wind lifting his hair that gleams in the winter light. His coat clings to his broad shoulders.
He opens the door, and I smile at him. “You don’t have to do things like that for me. It’s very nice, but I don’t expect it.”
“Mayhap you should,” he says solemnly.
I shake my head, taking his hand as I jump out of the car. We stand on the pavement for a second, and then I square my shoulders. It’s time to go. We’ll be going in separate directions, and I won’t see him again.
Ignoring the feeling of intense unhappiness at the thought, I straighten up and say in a cheerful voice, “I won’t be long. There’s no need to wait for me.” I put out my hand. “Shall we say goodbye now?”
He stares at me for a few seconds and then calmly reaches out and taps my hand to lower it. “Nay, I will come in with you.”
“Are you sure? Won’t it be boring?”
“Not at all.”
“You lie.”
He snorts. “I cannot lie to you.”
“You’re far too charming for your own good.”
We step into the office, and the heat hits us immediately. I unfasten my jacket and step up to the counter. The man behind it smiles at me.
“Hello,” I say. “My name is Cary Sutton. I rang earlier with a problem with my hired car.”
“Ah, the one in Porthcurno. They just brought it in, sir. One of our mechanics lives in the village and he had the tow truck which was handy timing. Your case is here.”
“Oh, thank you so much,” I say gratefully. “You said you had a spare car for me, so I need to pick up the keys and sign the new paperwork.”
“Yes, sir.” The man reaches for a file and then goes still when Sigurd steps up to the counter. They stare at each other, and there’s a strange beat of silence.
“So, paperwork?” I prompt.
There’s a small movement to my right. I glance at Sigurd and notice he’s doing something with his hand—a lazy, almost idle flick of his wrist. He catches my gaze and gives me a very innocent smile, eyebrows rising.
I turn back to the man behind the counter. His eyes seem glassy. “Erm, the paperwork?” I say again. What’s the matter with him? “Hello?”
Sigurd snaps his fingers, and the man’s eyes focus again. “So sorry,” he says breathily. “Hello. Nice to meet you. How can I help you?”
“Erm. You were just going to give me a car,” I say slowly. Cornwall is proving to be very pretty, but equally as weird. I watch in disbelief as he shakes his head.
“Ah, no. Sorry, sir. We don’t have any available cars.”
“What? But you just said you did.”
“Ah.” He taps on his computer. “Unfortunately, someone booked it.”
“In the last five seconds?”
He nods eagerly. “Yes. I’m so glad you understand.”
“I don’t—”
Sigurd intervenes. “Ah, that is very sad, is it not, Cary? I will take his bag for him.” He holds out his hand, and the assistant hastens to pass him my case. Sigurd turns to me. “We shall go, yes?”
“But I can’t. I have to get a car.”
“Ah, not from here.” He pulls what he obviously thinks is a tragic face. “So sad. Too bad.”
My eyes narrow, and I look between them, but the assistant is tapping on his computer as if we don’t exist, and Sigurd’s face is blank. “Cary?” he prompts.
“We’ll try another car firm,” I say firmly.