In Her Secret Fantasy (15 page)

“Out of…” Chrissy closed her mouth and swallowed. “You were
not
out of order.
He
was, and I’m grateful to you. You know that.”

Rab still looked puzzled. “That’s what I thought. But it seems to have given him the wrong impression about you and me.”

“What makes you think so?” she asked faintly.

“He seemed to be warning me I had a rival and that you weren’t…trustworthy. I just thought you should know. In case he’s too interested in your…in you.”

Chrissy forced a smile. It struck her Len wasn’t warning Rab but trying to stir up trouble for her since his more serious effort with the gun didn’t seem to have led anywhere.

She said, “He saw me with Aidan Grieve. There’ll be gossip in the village as well. It doesn’t matter.” She hesitated, new unease filtering through the old. “You get on okay with Len?”

“Aye, he’s all right.”

She drew in her breath. “Look, don’t say anything to the others, but maybe you should steer clear of him, just for a bit. Watch your back.”

Rab’s eyes widened.

“I might be wrong,” Chrissy said in rush. “But he might be spiteful. Between you and me.”

Rab scratched his neck. “Glenn should know.”

“I’ll speak to Glenn. You keep it to yourself just now, Rab, even when you’re pissed.”

“’Course,” Rab said, slightly affronted, as he got to his feet.

“Thanks,” Chrissy said.

Her first port of call in the village was the public library, presided over by Morag Wallace, currently invisible behind the giant pile of books in her arms.

“Hey, book monster!” Chrissy called, since the place was currently empty. “What have you done with Morag?”

“Crushed her,” came Morag’s voice as she dumped the pile on the nearest table. “It’s a game. See how many I can carry before the tower falls down.”

“Slow day?” Chrissy suggested.

“Deadly. But since I abandoned all the shelving in order to go the pub on Hogmanay, there’s no shortage of work. Just distraction.”

“Hello.” Chrissy waved her leaflets. “Got some distractions here. Fancy a workshop in art? Writing? Making jewellery? Basic computer skills? Music?”

“Sure. Bring them on.”

Chrissy blinked. “You can’t do them all at once.” She put a pile of leaflets on the issue desk. “Read that, spread the word, sign up and bring your friends and readers.”

“Maybe I will.” Morag abandoned her precarious book tower and wandered over to pick up a leaflet, scanning it briefly. “Sounds fun, actually. Talking of fun, what’s this I hear about you and Aidan Grieve?”

Chrissy rolled her eyes.

Morag smiled. “You’re all right. I’m not looking for gory details, just warning you. True or not, the word is out.”

“I wasn’t discreet,” Chrissy confessed ruefully. “There didn’t seem to be any point.”

“There isn’t.”

Chrissy sighed. “Not sure I can face the post office now. Mrs. Campbell will crucify me.”

“I’ll take your notice in at lunchtime, if you like.”

Chrissy straightened. “No. I’m too proud to be intimidated by the old witch.”

“Give her a treat. Walk in hand in hand with Aidan. Hell, stick your tongue down his throat.”

Chrissy laughed. “I’m almost tempted.”

“Go on. He’s round at the harbour fiddling with his boat. Or at least he was when I came by to work.”

Chrissy walked towards the door. “I never saw Beelzebub as a librarian before.”

“Well, my dear,” Morag said with mock fiendishness as an old lady passed Chrissy in the doorway, “you’ve never been to library school. Morning, Miss Hughes!”

Chrissy left, laughing, and went straight to the post office to ask Mrs. Campbell to kindly display her leaflet in the window. Mrs. Campbell, her eyes bright with more curiosity than hostility, sniffed and agreed. Chrissy made a mental note to check up tomorrow, before she left to stick one on the village notice board across the road. Then, she walked round to the Community Centre to leave some leaflets there.

That done, she contemplated the church hall. She didn’t suppose the minister would mind her putting up a leaflet there. If he was around, she’d ask him. And, she acknowledged, it took her close enough to the harbour to see if Aidan was there.

The minister, whom she’d only ever seen from a distance before, was unexpectedly young and shy. He agreed happily to host her leaflet on the church hall notice board in return for her taking one listing the various church services and events to Ardknocken House.

“Thanks,” Chrissy said in surprise. “I’ll let the boys know.”

All it took to be accepted, it seemed, was time. Though she doubted anything less than several generations of law abiding citizens would be enough for Mrs. Campbell.

Her heart beating just a little faster than it should, she walked around the corner of the grave yard and into the harbour.

She saw him at once, sitting on the front of the boat with his legs dangling down towards the quay. Or at least the sea between. He wore a bulky sweater, rain jacket and gloves, his head bare apart from earphones.

He was talking to a white-bearded old man, and his blond hair blew across his face.

God, he’s beautiful…
He took her breath away, even from this distance. Then he looked up and saw her and a spontaneous smile broke across his face. Her heart turned over and she knew that whatever he did and wherever he went, she was lost in him.

How the hell did that happen? I don’t do this. I’m Ms. Sensible where men are concerned, always was, even before…

She squashed the barrage of confused thoughts. Aidan lifted his hand to her. The old man waved too, then shambled off towards the beach. Aidan jumped onto the quay, and strode towards her, pushing his earphones around his neck. Rather to her surprise, he took her straight into his arms and pressed his cheek to hers.

“You spoke to Louise. Thanks.”

“I hope it helps,” she said breathlessly.

“She’s already been on the phone to the Council. Whatever you said made an impression.” He released her partially, leaving one arm around her shoulder as he urged her back towards the boat. “What brings you down here? Missing me?”

“Maybe, but I came to pimp our new workshops. I’m hoping people will sign up now they’re not quite so wary of the project. We had a good open day in November that helped a lot.”

“So I hear. I expected much more opposition. Truth be told, I had plenty myself.”

“Yes, well, we’ve clearly got one wrong.”

“Seen him this morning?”

She shook her head. “No. Glenn says he’s gone to Mallaig to buy supplies for Jim.”

“Nah, he’s gone to meet our friends from the island.”

She stared. “How do you know that?”

“Read their text messages,” he said with a wink.

She felt her eyes widen along with her mouth, which he shut, one finger under her chin.

“Don’t ask. The good news is I can take you for coffee.”

She raised one eyebrow at him. “Trying to get all the gossip over with at once?”

“It doesn’t work that way, I’m afraid. No one will stare directly, so just ignore everyone else and gaze into my eyes.”

She laughed “Adoringly?”

“If you can manage it.”

“Morag says I should just stick my tongue down your throat in the post office.”

Aidan grinned. “Go for it. The tea room’s just as good.”

“Hmm. Quick coffee. I need to get back.”

The tea room wasn’t busy, but several people there, both staff and customers, greeted Aidan with enthusiasm and even smiled at Chrissy. Aidan took it all in his stride, exchanged questions after the health of various family members, and then walked away to join Chrissy at the table in the window.

“I used to be too discreet to come here,” Chrissy confessed. “Afraid of upsetting the locals by contaminating it.”

“No, they’d have been wetting themselves with curiosity.”

“That wasn’t the impression Glenn and Dougie got when they went to the pub.”

“Pub’s different,” Aidan said. “And Glenn’s a physically intimidating person. Especially when he’s uptight about something, he looks mean as hell.”

“I know, but he isn’t.”

“And I hear you all go to the pub now.”

“Not en masse. But yes, we’re getting there. And Izzy brought me here a couple of times. We’re integrating. Slowly. That’s why—”

She broke off. That was why the Len situation was so galling, but she couldn’t say it aloud. She gave an impatient shrug, and Aidan nodded.

“I know. Two coffees please, Frances.”

In danger of being overheard, they kept the conversation mostly impersonal and neutral, which could have felt awkward and didn’t. Curiously, it was another way to get to know Aidan, discovering his taste in books and films and food and just enjoy his company, which was beguilingly easy. Overlaying everything, of course, was the zing of physical awareness. She liked that too. She’d never been so comfortable with such a feeling before. And yet this now was so much more intense.

When they’d finished and Chrissy stood up to go, Aidan said lazily, “I’ll walk you up the road. We can go the beach way.”

“Not exactly a short cut.”

“Give yourself a break,” he advised. “If you take an extra ten minutes, will it really matter?”

“No,” she admitted and took his hand as they walked along the front towards the beach.

She didn’t notice until they’d cut onto the cliff path that he had one earphone still in his ear. She stared. “Are you listening to football or something with one ear?”

“On a Monday morning? Hardly.” He paused, gazing out over the path. A smile flickered over his face and was gone.

“What?” she asked.

“See that cottage down there on the edge of the beach? Well, that ruin down there on the edge of the beach. I used to imagine living there, parking my boat in the front garden. What was left of it seems to have fallen down in the gales now.”

He was right. There were only a few random stones and part of a gable wall. Chrissy had never really noticed it before.

“Isolated, peaceful, overlooking the sea,” she said thoughtfully. “Would you really have been happy there?”

He shook his head. “No, I had to get away. See places, do things.” He walked on, swinging her hand in his. “Dreams get muddled. And change.”

“So what’s your dream now?”

“I’ll let you know when I work it out. What about you, Chrissy? Are all your dreams wrapped up in the project?”

“For now,” she said calmly. “I don’t do life plans.”

“No point. Everything changes.” They walked in silence for a while, turning up the fork in the path that led to the far grounds of the big house. “I’m glad you came by the boat this morning.”

“So am I,” she said, touching her head to his shoulder.

He halted, turning her to face him. “The thing is, I won’t be able to see you for a couple of days, probably. Stay away from Len, but don’t try and look for him if he vanishes.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Oh shite, Aidan, what are you doing?”

“My job. And when it’s done, please can I take you out for dinner?”

“Not unless you tell me what’s going on,” she said firmly.

He put his mouth to her ear, sending a thousand tingling shivers of pleasure straight down her body. She gasped.

“Trust me,” he whispered, and when her head snapped back in anger, he covered her mouth with his and kissed her with deliberate yet aching sensuality. She tried to break free, to speak, but in the end she just loved his kiss too much and gave in, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him back. He held her nape and delved deeper. Against her tummy, his erection lengthened and hardened. Answering lust dampened her knickers. She’d have rolled in the cold grass with him if he hadn’t finally raised his head.

“I’ll be in touch,” he murmured, pressing his lips to hers once more, briefly, and then he turned and strode back down the path.

She stared after him, stunned. He pushed the other earphone into his ear and began to run.

Chapter Fourteen
Have I just had the nicest PFO of my life?
The question nagged her the rest of the way back to the house. He’d mentioned after the job and dinner but in retrospect, the rest of that little scene had felt horribly like good-bye. Before he’d even left Ardknocken.

“I’ll be in touch.”
That little phrase had a tendency to mean the opposite. If you were going to get in touch you’d no need to say it.

Then what had the coffee been about? A thanks for passing advice and a couple of phone numbers to Louise?

He was going after the drug dealers—the man on the island, and Len—and he didn’t want or need the distraction of a clinging woman.

Do I cling? I don’t cling!

And I’m
so
worrying about the wrong thing here. Whether or not I’m dumped, he’s up to something he doesn’t want me to know about, which has to be bad for him.

Her stomach twisted with much more immediate fear. He was putting himself in danger. That was why he needed space now, whatever happened or didn’t when the job was done.

She sped up, striding into the house in time to field the first call about the workshops. She got a sign-up out of it, and then, since it was nearly lunchtime, she went in search of Glenn. Izzy, who was cleaning the stairs, let her into the flat, yelled to Glenn and directed her to the downstairs study that had once been Glenn’s bedroom.

It made a good study, with bookcases lining the walls, a sofa, two desks with laptops and a set of keyboards, behind which Glenn sat, earphones on, surrounded by wires and sheets of paper, in full composing mode.

He glanced up in a distracted sort of way as she clattered down the spiral stairs, and pulled off the earphones. “What’s on your mind?” he asked vaguely, his hands still hovering over the keyboards.

“Aidan,” she blurted. “He’s up to something.”

“Cop,” Glenn reminded her.

“He told me to stay away from Len.”

“Good advice.”

“I had to tell Rab the same thing. Whatever else he is, Len seems a vindictive shite.”

Glenn nodded.

Chrissy threw herself into the chair at his desk, glaring at him in frustration. “What’s Aidan up to, Glenn?”

“You know.”

“I don’t know all of it!”

“He doesn’t want us to know.”

“Then how can we help him? And don’t say he doesn’t want our help because—”

“He doesn’t
need
our help,” Glenn interrupted. “If I had to guess, I’d say the guy’s used to working on his own, getting himself in and out of situations a lot stickier than this one. Give him space, Chrissy.”

Her stomach twisted.
Clingy woman…

If she wasn’t dumped now,
she
had to end it. She couldn’t live with this every time he went away, knowing he was in danger. Whether he stayed with the police or went with private security to Iraq or wherever, he would do the same thing. And so would she. It could only get worse.

She closed her eyes, and an image of his bloody corpse sprawled in a cave immediately forced them open again.

“If it helps,” Glenn said, “he may look angelic, but he isn’t. I couldn’t take him.”

Chrissy smiled unhappily. “You can’t know that.”

Glenn shrugged. “I can guess.”

“How?”

“Something in his eyes. He watches, thinks ahead. Plus he’s got poise, speed, and he’s bloody strong.”

Chrissy stared at him, searching his own hard, apparently brutal eyes. “Have you two butted heads already?”

“’Course not. Call it recognition. That’s why I didn’t spot him as police. He’s like me.”

Aidan, who’d been listening to Black’s phone through at least one earphone all morning, was forced to cut short his walk with Chrissy when Black called an unknown man.

“He hasn’t got the shipment, and he won’t pay. Will I take him out the deal?
Right
out?”

“Of course not, moron. Find the shipment.” The new voice spoke English with a decidedly foreign, though not easily placeable, accent.

“He’s looking for it too,” Black said, which was what sent Aidan scurrying back to the boat.

In hindsight, kissing Chrissy hadn’t been such a good move. He’d wanted to make an impression, ensure she remembered him and still wanted him when this was over. And she melted so deliciously in his arms, wriggling against him and kissing him back with such passion that he was hopeful.

On the other hand, the inevitable bulge in his jeans made it difficult to walk let alone hurry back down the cliff side. But at least there were no strangers around the harbour when he arrived. From his phone, he set in motion the trace on Black’s new call, then settled down to wait, hammering the same nail into the same piece of wood on the cabin door, and then the deck, while he whistled and watched activity on the sea and on the shore.

There were, however, no signs of a tiny boat puttering across the sea from the direction of the island. Instead, a strange, slightly battered and very dirty car drove into the parking area and stopped. Two men got out. James Black and his pal from the island.

Aidan carried on whistling and hammering, pulled out the nail again and wandered onto the open part of the deck to set down the ravaged piece of wood. The two men were walking around the tiny harbour, muttering to each other and staring at the few vessels tied up there. Only old Tam was around to talk to them. He said good morning and got a slightly stunned response.

Aidan straightened his back as if it hurt, then went and got his second plank for purposes of pointless mangling. He was damned if he’d actually take the boat apart when he might need to sail her any moment.

The two neds walked towards him.

“Morning,” Black said, presumably having learned from Tam.

Aidan nodded amiably. “Morning.”

“This your boat, aye?” Black asked.

“Aye.”

“Nice.”

“Thanks. Needs a bit of work, but she goes.”

“Where do you take the boat out to?” asked Black’s companion.

“All over,” Aidan said unhelpfully.

“Ever been over to the wee island just past the headland there?” He pointed across the mist.

“Sure. Loads of times. I grew up here.”

“How long does it take from here?” Black asked.

Aidan shrugged. “Not long.”

“Anybody live there?” Black’s pal asked sneakily.

“Nothing there. Except occasional seals.”

“You a wildlife man yourself?”

“Not really. Took my girlfriend out to see them not so long ago.”

Black’s eyes narrowed. “At night?”

“Daytime,” Aidan said gently.

“Mind if we come aboard and see your boat?”

“Aye, I do mind, as it happens,” Aidan said. “I’m working on it. Come back tomorrow. Or the weekend might be best. Why, are you looking to buy?”

He seemed to be doing a fine job of baffling and intriguing them. He was almost sorry when Black’s phone began to buzz. So, it seemed, was Black.

“What?” he growled into it. The sound vibrated through Aidan’s left ear too. Beyond them, hurrying from the church side of the harbour, came Len.

“Get away from him, you bloody idjits,” Len’s voice uttered in Aidan’s ear, almost hissing as if between closed teeth. “He’s ex-polis.
I’ll
look in this village. I fucking live here. Go and search somewhere else.”

Black’s expression was murderous, but his mate nudged him, and he took a deep breath before saying reluctantly. “Aye, right.” He broke the connection and gave Aidan a rather ferocious smile. He looked like a crocodile. “Got to go. See you around.”

Aidan nodded and wandered back to the hatch, picking up his hammer on the way. He began to whistle again, every nerve alert.

Sure enough, Len wandered over to the boat. Aidan stopped hammering and came out into the open.

“Hello, thought it was you,” Len said disingenuously. He jerked his head towards Black’s car, now bumping its way towards the High Street. “Friends of yours?”

“No. Strangers passing through. They seem interested in boats, but I’m not selling.”

“Don’t blame you,” Len said. “This your retirement present to yourself?”

“No, my dad gave me it for my sixteenth birthday.”

“Generous.”

“Formality, really. I’d been nicking it for years. It was his.”

“Tut, tut. And you a cop, too.”

“Not anymore. Wasn’t then either.”

“You’re a flexible man…Aidan, is it?”

“Aidan Grieve.”

“Len Martin.”

Aidan nodded.

“Do boat trips, Aidan?” Len asked.

“Nah, I like my space. And don’t go putting the idea into Chrissy’s head either, or she’ll have me wired into one of her crazy money-making ventures.”

“Aw, come on.” Len smiled. “We all like to make money.”

“Aye,
money
. Not the peanuts she’s talking about.” He nodded dismissively, went back inside the hatch and started hammering again.

Len walked away. Aidan smiled. Hint of resentful, bent cop successfully conveyed.

It was as he took the time to walk home for tea that Black’s phone rang again in his ear. “It’s in hand,” said the same foreign voice as before. “Go back to the usual rendezvous and wait for instruction.”

“In hand?” Black squeaked. “Fuck, is he coming here? Fuck. He’ll stand out like a sore thumb, man.”

Interesting, and alarming, that there was quite so much terror in his voice. They must work for one scary bastard. Or…did Black have reason to be especially scared?

The voice on the phone spoke with contempt. “Of course, he won’t come anywhere near your shitty little operation. But someone who counts will.
Me.
And you’d better not piss me off.”

The line went dead.

Aidan flexed his fingers, absorbing the old familiar adrenaline rush. It was on. He’d sleep on the boat tonight. But first, there was the meal with his family—the least he could do, really. But he’d never been near his family in the middle of a job before, not even when he was with the regular police, and it felt bloody odd. Not to say tense, as if his very presence was endangering them. It wasn’t, of course; it was far too soon. But still, the sooner he was back on the boat, the happier he’d be.

His mum hugged him when he came in, which was unexpected. She’d got used to him being around the last week and had stopped overreacting at the sight of him.

“Good lad,” she murmured in his ear. He couldn’t make head or tail of that either until he walked into the kitchen and found Louise humming to herself as she peered at a casserole in the oven.

“Why am I a good lad?” he asked her.

“We’ve got someone from the council coming out on Wednesday, and someone from the NHS on Thursday. Mum thinks it’s a great idea and is convinced it’s yours.”

Aidan raised his eyebrows. “When we both know it was Chrissy’s.”

Louise straightened and hung up the oven glove. “Well, it was your push, however wrong the direction, that made Chrissy think. We were just drifting along, going further and further under.” She shifted uncomfortably. “Thanks.”

He went to the sink and turned on the tap. “Don’t mention it. Glad to do something right by accident.”

Louise laughed. “Tea?”

“Go on.” As he washed his hands, he watched her, unspeakably relieved to see the signs of dissolving tension inside her. Her shoulders were more relaxed, the set of her mouth less tight. A bit of hope, a feeling of doing something, making things better for everyone. Her moment of happiness made him smile, and turning from the kettle, she caught it.

“What?” she asked.

“Just glad to see you looking happier.”

“You look happier too. Is that down to Chrissy as well?”

His gut twisted. “You’ve lived here too long. I haven’t known Chrissy a week. Don’t marry us off.”

“Don’t fuck it up,” she retorted.

He blinked. Louise didn’t swear very often. When she did, it generally betokened strength of feeling. She was right, of course. Although he barely knew Chrissy, there was something different, something…special in his heart when he thought of her, when he was with her. Like the spark she’d talked of that had always been missing from her relationships. He’d cared for women in the past, felt their loss when, one way or another, he’d inevitably fucked it up, to use his sister’s apposite expression.

The spark warmed him now. It might not lead to happily ever after, but wasn’t it worth pursuing? Seeing where it did go? How would he do that if he buggered off to Iraq?

Maybe, she’d wait for him. She wasn’t like Julie, his last girlfriend, who hadn’t let two weeks go by before she’d started seeing other men. Chrissy had deeper loyalties, deeper affections. For a moment, he imagined coming home to her on leave, excited and deliriously happy to be with her again. She’d embrace him with her whole body and they’d have another couple of weeks together, maybe a month. More than they’d had already.

Who was he kidding? He couldn’t make her wait, make her live like that. And deep down, something bleak surrounded this fantasy of his future. Was there no more to life than this boom and bust? Days of peace between lonely adrenaline rushes and squalid violence?

For an instant, the last week rushed on him, swamping him. Home. Chrissy. The peace of the sea. He’d done stuff, a lot of stuff, that made things better for a lot of people. He’d learned a lot, developed skills, many of them unique. He didn’t want to waste those. He didn’t want to be a glorified bodyguard week in week out. He didn’t want to be killed in a foreign land. He wanted Chrissy. He wanted home. His home, his terms…

“Aidan?” Louise said anxiously. “Are you all right?”

He laughed. “Fuck, yes.”

“Aidan! Language!” his mother scolded from the door.

He stared at his tiny, irate parent. “How come you hear that perfectly, when the rest of the time you’re deaf as a post?”

“Where’s the post?”

Aidan laughed and hugged her on his way out to track down his dad.

Chrissy stood by her bedroom window, gazing down over the beach beyond the village. No seals, not even the two she’d seen so often on the big rocks—when had it become quite sane to think of them as randy selkies?

So, she was really going to dump Aidan, even before they were an acknowledged couple, because she couldn’t stand his job. Because she didn’t care for the glimpse of life with him that she’d just been shown: uncertainty, danger, long partings.