His heart stilled at the sight of Beatrice standing by the door face to face with a rain-soaked man he’d never seen before. He knew by instinct and the look in Beatrice’s wide eyes that this must be her husband.
Atholl froze to the spot and watched them.
‘Rich?’ Beatrice breathed out the word, barely audible.
‘They don’t make it easy to find this place, do they?’ Rich replied, standing stock still in front of her, his overnight bag dropping to the floor. ‘Looks like I missed a good party. I’ve been driving round all the lanes in the dark. Bloody sat nav’s useless round here.’
‘What are you doing here?’ she said, breathlessly.
Richard’s stare broke away from Beatrice at the realisation that another man was watching their exchange. Awkwardly, he looked over at Atholl, then back to Beatrice. ‘Umm, can we talk, in private? I’ve come all this way to see you.’
‘The inn’s full, I’m afraid, if you’re planning on staying,’ Atholl called across the room, his voice gruff. He had moved behind the bar where he was mechanically loading glasses into washing trays.
Beatrice spun round to look at Atholl, and she thought she saw him wince at something in her expression.
‘Of course, I can make up a bed for you, if Beattie wants me to?’
‘Beattie?’ Rich echoed, cocking his head. When he spoke again, he addressed his wife, closer to her ear, and she watched his eyes as he spoke. ‘Please, let’s talk.’
She reached for his wrist, grasping it. ‘All right, come with me. I’ve got a room. You can get dry and I’ll make you some tea but then you’ll have to go.’
Echo padded back into the bar and sat upright, leaning against his master’s legs. Rich eyed him warily.
‘It’s all right, he’s a friendly soul. He’ll no touch ye,’ Atholl spoke with a growl.
Rich laughed. ‘Hah, I’m not afraid of any sheepdog.’
Atholl’s nostrils flared and he forced his eyes away from Rich, who was staring confidently at him. ‘You two go on up,’ Atholl said with a note of finality in his voice. ‘I’ll bring up a tray of tea in a minute.’
Beatrice led Richard from the bar and towards the stairs. As they passed Atholl and Echo, Rich squeezed himself against the wall cautiously, keeping his hands away from the sniffing dog.
Beatrice looked straight at Atholl, her brow furrowed and her eyes wide like a roe deer caught in headlights by the roadside: alert, tense and ready for flight. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.
After they’d left and the stairs creaked with their footsteps, Atholl reached for the cloth he’d thrown over his shoulder only moments ago when he’d been clearing the glasses, before the shock of seeing Beatrice reunited with her husband and before his world spun off its axis. He brought the cloth down onto the bar in a hard slap, clenched his fists and took a long, deep breath with his eyes closed. When he opened them again, his gaze fell upon the sight of the trampled heather on the dancefloor. He gathered it all carefully in his arms and tossed it on the bar before making his way to the kitchen to make tea for Beatrice and her husband.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Words At Last
‘Umm, nice room,’ Rich said, eyeing the bed with one eyebrow raised.
Beatrice chose to ignore the snarky tone in his voice. ‘Richard, it’s the middle of the night, what are you doing here?’
‘I’ve been calling you and you haven’t replied. In the end I asked your sister where you were and she told me.’
‘Shedid?’
‘Well, after she said she’d tear my bollocks off and hand them to me if I caused any trouble, but yeah.’
Beatrice’s eye was drawn to the rain drops running from Rich’s coat onto the rug. ‘Take that off, and your boots too. You’re soaked through.’
Rich was grumbling about having to park along at the train station as the street had been closed for a party. Beatrice barely heard him. All the while she was thinking of Atholl’s expression moments ago. Was he about to come in here with tea for the man she’d told him had broken her heart only a few short weeks ago? What must he be thinking?
‘Beatrice, I had to talk to you,’ Rich was saying as he threw off his boots. Her attention snapped back to him. He was wearing a new jumper she didn’t recognise and she was reminded of the long time they’d spent apart. So many things must be new in his life.
‘How’s your new place?’ she asked, avoiding looking at the stool he’d pulled out from the dressing table for her. He perched on the chair he’d dragged over from the window.
‘Fine, a bit lonely, sometimes.’ He shrugged and attempted a smile. ‘I called at the house this week to check it was ready for the new occupants, and to see where you were… all your stuff’s still there… anduh, anyway, I had a man with a van coming over to get my gym equipment and with you not being there, I don’t know, I started thinking.’
