Chapter 64
‘He’s shacked up with a Bedlington Terrier? Isn’t there a law against that sort of thing?’
The two of them had finished dinner, a shepherd’s pie that Tara had expected to provide her with at least four meals.
Tug, with an appetite that had surprised her, even given his size, had polished off three quarters of it and was currently on his third mug of industrial-strength coffee.
It had been on the tip of Tara’s tongue, more than once, to ask him whether he was planning to sleep that night.
Each time, thankfully, better judgement had held her back.
Looking a lot more comfortable than when he’d first arrived, Tug was now wearing a sweatshirt, sweatpants and socks that Justin had left behind.
Her husband’s things were too small and tight for her new friend, but they beat the hell out of the rain-soaked clothes he’d arrived in.
His own clothes were tumbling around in the dryer and Tara had already identified an expensive jacket of her husband’s for him to travel home in. The rain would ruin it.
‘Not an actual dog,’ she replied. ‘A woman who looks like one.’ Glancing at her wine glass, Tara realised she’d finished it.
Which meant absolutely no more. Not only had she admitted a large, unknown man into her house, but she still had to work glass at nine hundred degrees centigrade.
‘I’ve never met her, but the boys have shown me pictures.
She’s thin as a bamboo pole, jumpy as a flea and her hair is this mass of mousy corkscrews that never seems to be out of her eyes.
It’s a wonder she can see where she is half the time. ’
‘Does she bite?’
‘Bloody good question. You wouldn’t let her lick an open wound, that’s for sure.’
Tug said nothing, which probably meant he didn’t approve of her bitching. She reached out, picked up his plate and stacked it on top of her own.
‘On the other hand, she’s fifteen years younger than me, earns more in a year than I did in ten and can talk politics and current affairs and has an informed opinion on the climate crisis, and the tensions in the Middle East and the relevance of the old silk road in modern-day commerce. In other words, way out of my league.’
Tug got to his feet and picked up the now-empty serving dish. ‘Do you want him back?’
The simple question stunned Tara. ‘You’re the first person to ask me that.’
‘Really? Seems obvious to me. Because if the answer’s yes, I’d say you’re in with a fair chance. She sounds exhausting and sooner or later, he’ll find that out for himself.’
‘And if it’s no?’
‘Even easier. All you have to do is – what do the young folk say? – win the break-up.’
Tara gave herself a second. She’d never considered that a possibility. Surviving the break-up, that had been the limit of her ambitions. She said, ‘And that becomes an awful lot easier if Logan Quick’s money is real.’
He cocked his head to one side. ‘How come?’
‘If I have money, I get to keep this house. I can buy Justin out, no matter how much he demands.’
Outside, the garden lights were still on, and the diving girl statue was softly illuminated. At dinner, she’d made Tug sit with his back to the view, as though if he looked too long at the statue he’d guess that she was hiding something.
Tug said, ‘And that’s important?’
‘Yeah. I know it’s too big for me, but I love it like one of my children. Almost. Definitely more than I love my husband.’
‘It’s a beautiful house. I don’t blame you for wanting to stay.’
She smiled at him. He didn’t smile back and she wondered if, in spite of what he’d said, he disapproved of how important bricks and mortar were to her.
‘What will you do,’ she asked, ‘if the money’s real?’
He answered quickly, but of course he’d already thought about it. ‘Buy a small house,’ he replied. ‘And a small boat. Maybe a small dog.’
Carrying the plates, Tara set off for the kitchen. ‘If it’s a Bedlington Terrier I won’t visit.’
Now he smiled. ‘Duly noted.’
‘And will that be enough? Small house, small boat, small dog? It sounds a bit like a …’
Tara stopped. It was not for her to judge the limit of someone else’s ambitions.
‘Small life?’ Tug finished for her. ‘It’s all I ever wanted.’
‘There’ll be a lot of change left over,’ she said. ‘If the rumours about Quick’s fortune are true.’
He thought for a moment. ‘I can probably find a use for it. There’s always someone who needs money. Lot of my old service mates for a start.’
Tug joined her by the dishwasher. He ran the serving dish under the tap, although he’d pretty much scraped it clean.
‘Can I ask you something?’ he said, handing her the dish.
‘If you want dessert, I can probably find some ice cream in the fridge.’
Shit, she was flirting. What was wrong with her? She’d only just met this guy and still wasn’t sure he could be trusted.
He showed no sign of responding, which was probably a good thing. ‘Have you noticed anything unusual? Even before the token arrived?’
‘What sort of unusual?’
He didn’t reply immediately, then, ‘I don’t want to freak you out. God knows, this is all weird enough. Only, a few weeks ago, maybe more than that, I started noticing a black Volvo hanging round. I’d see it in the car park and outside the garden centre too.’
‘The same car?’
He inclined his head. ‘I can quote you the reg number. Too fancy for the estate where I live.’
‘I can’t say I’ve noticed a black car. But I wasn’t exactly looking out for one.’
‘How about feeling you’re being watched? Before the TV crews started showing up, I mean.’
Tara felt her body tensing up. ‘Now you’re freaking me out.’
‘Logan Quick probably didn’t pull our names off the electoral roll. Someone like that would have done his homework.’
Tara couldn’t help a glance round at the uncovered windows. ‘You mean he’s been watching us? Probably still is?’
‘I’d expect him to have someone else do it, but yeah. Have any of the others said anything?’
‘Not to me. But I didn’t ask.’
Both of their phones pinged simultaneously. Tug found his first.
‘From Craig.’ He had to screw up his eyes to see the small print. ‘He wants the seven of us to meet up ASAP. So we can come up with a plan.’ He glanced up. ‘Not sure what plan he has in mind. Or where we’d meet without the world and his wife trying to join in.’
‘They could come here, I suppose,’ Tara said. ‘Plenty of room, and the security’s good when I don’t compromise it by admitting strange men.’
Trevor was still trying to read the WhatsApp conversation. ‘What’s a yurt?’
Momentarily puzzled by the non sequitur, she replied, ‘A posh tent, I think. People stay in them at festivals. Why?’
‘Robin’s offering a yurt for the meet-up. It’s in a field somewhere between Bodmin and St Austell.’
Tara picked up her phone and googled the yurt. ‘It’s a wedding venue,’ she said. ‘That makes sense. Robin’s a wedding planner.’
‘He’s suggesting tomorrow night. Can you make it?’
She thought about it. ‘I guess.’
Tug smiled. ‘Looks like we have a date.’