Chapter Fifteen
‘So, exactly what was it like being stuck in the lift with Flynn?’ Jazz asked Lara a few days later while they queued for tickets at the cinema in Keswick.
Jazz’s birthday was coming up and she was going spend it with her husband and two young children, but this was a ‘grown-up’ outing on one of the few evenings when she and Lara had a night off – and Jazz’s police-officer husband, Luke, was on a day shift, so he could look after the kids.
‘To be honest, it was pretty boring,’ Lara said. ‘We were in there for over half an hour.’
She’d said that same thing to at least a dozen of her colleagues since the incident. Every time she said it, she was sure that her nose grew an inch and the word ‘Liar’ flashed across her forehead in neon lights.
Being the butt of jokes had been the least of her worries, but, fortunately, Fiona hadn’t decided to show the historian the chalice and she had left after examining the relic, hinting that she might return in the New Year to film a proper piece about Ravendale’s treasures.
Lara would have to have everything sorted by then – if she was still in her job.
Jazz shuddered. ‘I’d have freaked out. I’m so claustrophobic. I’d rather climb those tower stairs ten times a day than get in that lift.’
‘Then let’s not talk about it. I’ve heard so many lift jokes, it’s driving me mad. Everyone for miles around seems to know we were stuck.’
‘Well, you know what the Ravendale rumour mill is like. At least Flynn’s had the engineers in to fix the thing, so I suppose that’s a positive. I’m still not ever getting in it, though.’
They reached the front of the queue.
‘This is so nice,’ Jazz said, with a dreamy sigh as they headed for the bar and kiosk. ‘Obviously, I love the kids to bits, but it’ll be nice to see a film that doesn’t involve talking animals, talking cars or witches having an existential crisis.’
They collected their drinks and popcorn from the bar and took them into the cinema, an arthouse place with small screens and plush red seats. It was great to be away from the castle and from the drama around the Winter Spectacular, the chalice, and Flynn.
The latter, however, proved to be a distant hope, because they hadn’t long taken their seats when Jazz mentioned the man himself again.
‘How do you think our new techie is settling in? Seems like he knows what he’s doing.’
‘He does …’ Lara said, and not only with his job, Lara thought, recalling being in his arms with an electric thrill. ‘He certainly seems to have found his feet quickly.’
‘He definitely has. The catering team are impressed, and not only at his expertise with a screwdriver.’ Jazz smirked.
Lara didn’t want to go there but was too intrigued to change the subject. ‘Oh?’
‘Yes. He’s caused quite a stir. One of the café team dropped a whole tray of crockery when he walked into the café for his bacon butty.’
‘Now you’re joking!’
‘Only half joking. He’s a popular customer when he comes in. Is he single?’
Lara shrugged. ‘I think so, but I couldn’t say for sure. I don’t know him any better than you or anyone else at the castle.’
‘Oh, come on. After being trapped in a lift with him, I thought you’d have had plenty of time to chat …’
‘We were only stuck for half an hour,’ Lara protested.
The cinema screen sprang into life and the speakers boomed out with music for a car ad. Jazz spoke loudly into Lara’s ear. ‘But you must have been close in that confined space.’
‘We were fine,’ Lara said, refusing to rise to the bait and even hint at what actually happened – and what almost had.
‘He is very handsome, if you like that Mr Rochester-slash-Heathcliff kind of vibe,’ Jazz said, during an ad with soft classical music.
‘I bet he’s left a trail of broken hearts from Land’s End to er …
wherever the top of Cornwall is. Maybe that’s why he took the job here – to get away from someone. ’
Lara wouldn’t have been keen on dating either of those fictional heroes. ‘I – don’t think him leaving was anything to do with a relationship. I just think he wanted the job. And it’s Launceston,’ Lara added. ‘The top of Cornwall.’
Jazz ignored this and her eyebrows lifted in delight. ‘So, you have talked to him – about his past, I mean?’
It was natural for her friend to want to know about their newest member of staff. He was probably the most intriguing and exciting character to have joined since they started working there. ‘Yeah, we’ve talked.’
‘And?’
‘He was seeing a woman a while ago but it fizzled out. He hasn’t mentioned being involved with anyone else recently.
That’s all I know,’ Lara said, hoping she’d satisfied Jazz’s curiosity without breaking Flynn’s confidences.
‘I’d appreciate it if you didn’t share that with anyone.
I’d hate for Flynn to think I’d been discussing his personal life with all and sundry. ’
‘I’m not “all and sundry”, but of course I’ll keep it to myself. But I asked because I’d also heard something about him.’
‘What?’ Lara blurted out, just as an ad ended abruptly.
The sharp-faced woman behind them, who’d been kicking the back of her seat, tapped Lara on the shoulder. ‘I do wish people wouldn’t talk through the film.’
‘Actually. These. Are. Just. The. Ads,’ Jazz enunciated, without turning round. She shared a grin with Lara, who, although a little embarrassed, was also highly amused.
‘I’ll tell you more later,’ Jazz whispered, plunging her hand into her popcorn and crunching it noisily.
Lara settled back and the film, a new adaptation of Jamaica Inn, began. She was ready to banish all thoughts of a certain brooding colleague from her mind right until the anti-hero, Jem, appeared, and she couldn’t help wondering how perfect Flynn would have been in the role.
After the warmth of the cinema, the biting cold outside made Lara catch her breath.
It was dark now and the Christmas market was in full swing.
It was the first time Lara had been and she was blown away by the atmosphere, the aroma of glühwein, and a choir singing carols.
Even though she was surrounded by it at work, experiencing the season as a ‘layperson’ rather than a professional made Christmas suddenly feel very close and real.
‘Wait,’ Jazz said with a hiss. ‘Isn’t that him over there?’
Across the street, Flynn was standing by a Czech-inspired craft stall selling beautiful Christmas straw dollies with a woman carrying a baby.
They were a distance away and Flynn’s companion was bundled up in a thick scarf and bobble hat.
She was laughing at something Flynn said and he was smiling back.
They didn’t seem uncomfortable together or as if they were strangers.
‘He might just have bumped into her …’ Jazz said. ‘She seems pretty young.’
‘Agreed,’ Lara said. Even from a distance, she and Jazz could sense that the woman was at least ten years younger than them: her clothes were on trend and she had a kind of bubbly effervescence as she laughed with Flynn and with her baby.
It was then that Lara finally twigged that the girl was Molly, the waitress.
‘Shall we go for Italian, Greek or Thai?’ Jazz asked, taking no further interest in Flynn. ‘It’s early, so we can probably get a table without having to book.’
‘Yes. Yes … of course. You choose. Call it a birthday treat from me.’
They walked in the opposite direction and chose the Greek taverna on the square, got a table and ordered mezze. With a gin cocktail in hand, Jazz told Lara about her family birthday plans and Lara listened patiently, determined to focus on her friend.
Even so, when Jazz went to the ladies, Lara’s mind turned back to Flynn and Molly.
They’d obviously bumped into each other and were having a quick chat.
But they did seem very friendly – friendlier than you’d expect from two almost complete strangers who’d spoken only twice previously.
Twice, as far as she knew at least. Lara didn’t track Flynn’s movements.
He might have been to the café after the first night of the lights.
Jazz returned and they tucked into the mezze while the bouzouki music rose in volume.
The restaurant was filling up and a couple walked in and sat down at a table across the way. They were clearly loved up, constantly touching each other on the arm or linking fingers and leaning over the table to whisper things to each other.
Jazz lowered her voice and murmured, ‘They’re having an affair.’
‘How do you know?’ Lara mouthed back.
‘He supplies our veg. She’s not his wife,’ Jazz whispered, plunging her pitta into the taramasalata.
‘Ouch,’ Lara whispered, selecting a stuffed vine leaf while worrying the couple might overhear.
‘You never know what secrets people keep,’ Jazz said, still sotto voce. ‘Oh, that reminds me. I was going to tell you what I heard about Flynn.’