‘Ghosting? Lizzie? I’m afraid I need all the details,’ said Robbie getting out his notepad.
‘No you don’t and you can put that away. It’s not a matter for the police. I was an idiot and I’ve learned my lesson. What do they say? If it seems too good to be true, then it probably is.’ Liv reversed from under the tree and viewed it from standing up to see if she could see any pink paper.
‘MaybeIshould ascertain if it’s a police matter or not.’
‘I’m afraid however much it hurts ghosting isn’t a crime.’
Robbie put his notepad away. ‘Ahh, that’s tough. Who did it happen to?’
‘Me,’ said Liv, but she was pleased that she no longer had that instant feeling of shame and embarrassment. It really wasn’t to do with her; it was someone else with far bigger issues than she had if they got some sort of pleasure out of what they did. And at least now she knew it wasn’t Fraser.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise. People can be unkind. I’m afraid I get to see the worst of society sometimes.’
‘I bet you do,’ said Liv, tilting to one side just to check the packages.
‘Here,’ said Robbie, handing Liv his business card. ‘I know you’re not local but I do have connections and if there’s ever anything I can do to help, don’t hesitate to call me.’
‘Aww thanks, Robbie,’ she said giving him a hug and feeling him tense under her embrace. Clearly hugging wasn’t his forte.
Liv checked her pockets for one of her own business cards but she had none on her. ‘If you ever have any search engine emergencies you make sure you call me. Effie has my details. I need to dash.’
Robbie looked serious. ‘Will do.’
‘Bye, Robbie. Nice to have met you,’ she said pausing at the door. He was a funny one but she was still going to miss him.
She went into the hallway. After almost a week she was going home and leaving this odd place behind but that meant leaving the people too. Liv tried not to think too much about it as she took the stairs two at a time.
It didn’t take a minute to gather her things together. Liv took one last look out of the window at the stunning view. She let out a little sigh as she left the bedroom. Despite it seeming a bit dingy at first, it had soon become cosy and she loved the history seeping from its walls. As long as that history didn’t include ghosts, she would be forever grateful that she’d not met Janet in person.
Downstairs was quiet so she left her bag by reception and went to say her goodbyes to one local she knew wasn’t inside. It was chilly outside but not quite as bitterly cold as it had been – that or she was hardening up. Across the yard it was as if Ginger had been expecting her. She had her head peeping over the bottom half of the stable door. Her big eyes watching Liv as Mariah Carey sung at them from the radio.
‘All I want for Christmas is youuuuuuuu!’ chorused Liv. Ginger eyed her suspiciously. ‘Here you go,’ said Liv offering her the carrot on her flat palm. Ginger’s giant tongue swept it all away with one lick.
‘Blimey you’re a greedy cow!’ she said with a chuckle.
‘Have you gone all Dr Dolittle?’ asked Fraser making her jump.
‘Jeez, I thought I was alone.’ She pointed at Ginger. ‘Apart from my learned friend here.’ She went to give Ginger a head rub but the cow was keen to check there were no pieces of carrot lurking anywhere, so Liv’s hand got another slobbery lick.
‘I was just checking for any English invaders,’ he said pretending to look serious.
‘Very wise,’ said Liv. ‘I hear there has been the odd one about.’
‘Yeah, odd being the key word there,’ he said with a laugh.
‘Hey! I resemble that remark,’ she joked and gave him a playful whack on the arm. Then it all felt a bit awkward so she turned her attention back to Ginger.
Fraser leaned in close and she could hear him breathing. ‘Are you scared of spiders?’ he asked.
‘I know I’m an English jessie but no, I’m not scared of spiders.’
‘That’s good because…’ He pointed above her head and they both looked up to see a spider’s web sparkling in the daylight. The intricacies of the web made it quite beautiful.
‘Is this where you launch into that famous Scottish poem. Wee tim’rousbeastie?’ she asked.
Fraser laughed. ‘That was a poem about a mouse by Robert Burns. You’re thinking of the Robert the Bruce story.’
‘Too many Roberts,’ said Liv returning to watch the spider making its web.
