Jess grinned. ‘You might be on to something there.’
Explaining about Vivi’s accident, the reason Jess was looking after Digby and ultimately the reason she was at Kirkshield in the first place, took the rest of the walk to the village hall. Someone had strung coloured bulbs across the front of the low building since the last rehearsal, the first bit of Christmas cheer she’d seen.
‘What happens about Christmas decorations at the castle?’ she asked as Sebastian pushed open the door. ‘Do you want any up for the party?’
‘I don’t think so,’ he replied.
‘Will you have any at all, with your father passing so recently?’
‘My nephews are coming to stay for Christmas, so we’ll have to have something. To be honest, Jess, with everything else going on, it’s not been high up in my thoughts.’
‘Ah, you’re here. Jolly good.’ Mrs Keel hurried them inside before he could say anything else, pressing carol sheets into Jess’s hands and leading Sebastian to the piano. He unbuttoned his coat, looking as though he was about to discard it, but the air in the hall was almost as frigid as outside, and he kept it on.
‘Space heater is broken,’ the woman to Jess’s right said as she shuffled into line, and so she opted to keep her own coat on, too.
Chapter 15
The following afternoon, Dee didn’t realise how reluctant she was to return to the castle until she and Robbie drew back into the yard beside his cottage, the remnants of their picnic in a rucksack on the seat between them.
He’d taken her to a wonderfully sheltered nook further up from the waterfall. There he’d spread a tartan rug out on the weathered granite so they could nestle against the curved rock, totally sheltered from the weather, and well away from prying eyes.
She supposed that was why she’d never found the spot before, even though she thought she knew the whole estate, having walked most of it at one time or another.
Not that they’d needed the seclusion for anything more than to shelter them from the brisk breeze. Nobody could have passed judgement on them as they enjoyed the picnic and the view – as he’d claimed, it was the perfect spot.
Robbie made a very good cheddar and pickle sandwich, and he’d brought a flask of strong black coffee which they drank as they watched birds cartwheel on the thermals high above them.
Dee wasn’t sure when she’d last felt this relaxed, this contented in someone else’s company, and their conversation eased its way back to how it had been, before.
They talked most about the place they both loved: Kirkshield. Its varied landscapes and hidden gems, like the curve in the rocks they currently occupied. When a cock pheasant was startled by one of Robbie’s spaniels and flew past them, low and insistent with its distinctive panickycack-cackcall, Robbie watched it fly with a wry smile on his face.
‘Hide well, young man,’ he said, sighing as his attention came back to Dee.
She frowned, confused by his words. ‘Why would you want the bird to hide? You want them to fly don’t you, on shoot days?’
‘I suppose,’ Robbie said, shaking his head as he pulled his cap further down, as though he was also trying to hide from something. ‘What would you think of me if I told you I’ve never enjoyed the killing. I know it’s part of the sport, that it’s how the industry works, I just don’t revel in it like some do.’
Dee’s eyebrows arched. He’d never admitted to this before. Maybe the fact Henry had gone was easing everyone’s tensions, allowing people to indulge in honesty in a way nobody would have dared before. ‘I think that sounds like you and my son are on the same wavelength. He’s always hated the shooting, too.’
‘Don’t get me wrong, if someone wings a bird and a dog brings it back alive, I’ll do what needs to be done, but otherwise …’
He didn’t finish his sentence, instead he pulled in a long breath.
‘It must be difficult, then, being the estate gamekeeper. How have you coped all these years?’
‘Lack of other options, I suppose. When I was a kid I shot with my dad, never thought twice about it. Always knew I’d be expected to take over when he retired. But one day – I suppose I was probably about fifteen – I found a wee fallow doe. She’d taken some pellets to her rump and my dog found her in a thicket. Hiding there, she was, waiting to die. Long story short, I managed to nurse her back to health, and I still remember the day I set her free – the look on her face at having a second chance at life. Like she didn’t quite believe it was real. Never felt the same about shooting after that. Tried to stick to the clays ever since.’
‘Will you tell me the long version of the story, one day?’ Dee said. She tried her best to ignore Sebastian’s words, but they kept creeping back to the front of her mind, with the threat that he was going to sell the castle, possibly the whole estate. Where would her and Robbie’s second chance at friendship be if the estate was ripped up and sold off? Where would Robbie end up? Where would she go, come to that?
‘Aye, I will. Watch out, incoming …’ he said, holding his arm out to shield her as one of his spaniels zoomed towards the pair of them, knocking over the flask before it jinked away. They bumped shoulders as he stood the flask upright and reprimanded his dog, albeit in amused tones. He clipped the sandwich-box lid back in place.
‘You can hardly blame him, those sandwiches were lovely,’ she said.
‘Why, thank you m’lady,’ he said, the twinkle in his eye as he smiled at her making Dee’s stomach flip.
‘Do you ever allow your dogs any snacks? I was always giving the old Labrador bits and bobs. Used to drive Henry wild.’ Dee grinned. Atticus had loved the occasional crust or the rind from a piece of bacon, and Dee had been happy to oblige. She knew full well it antagonised her husband, but Henry’s anger had applied itself to everything she did over those last few years, and at least she’d managed to make the dog happy.
‘I try not to, but that’s easier said than done. He’s the most persistent,’ Robbie said, pointing to the red and white spaniel looping his way around the grass. ‘Even as a pup he was expert at wheedling out a food source. Once found him doing his best to open a tin of caviar someone had left at a peg after a drive.’
