What the hell did she think she was going to say to either of them?Cynthia, you remind me so much of my mother I feel I can talk to you about anything.Or:Hi, David, it’s me, I’m perimenopausal, so please ignore everything I say?Or,Oops, sorry rang your number by mistake, but now we’re here, how are you?
She shuddered even to think of humiliating herself that way, so no! It was nearly a week now, and though there was no part of him needing time to think that she didn’t understand, she couldn’t help feeling desperate to speak to him. She’d call right now, or message, if pride weren’t such a masterful thing. She wondered what he thought about her not getting in touch. Was he taking it that she needed time too? Was it even bothering him? Maybe he’d already moved on.
Someone who apparently hadn’t was Paul Kinsley, because as she checked in to the doctor’s reception, he texted asking if they could speak the next day and there went her stress levels again.
She messaged back:
Sorry, going to be in Wales on assignment and rubbish reception. Will Saturday work for you?
Why was she even entertaining this now when her constantly irritated self was going into meltdown?
Great. I’ll call around eleven.
She considered replying with a thumbs up emoji but added a message instead:
No change of mind about Molly Terrance, so hope you’re going to be telling me what I want to hear.
She waited – and waited – but no reply came, and then it was time to go in for her appointment.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The next day, having suffered a near-sleepless night, Cristy let Connor drive her car over to Wales as his hadn’t made it back from the valet yet and she was too tired to be trusted at the wheel.
They spent much of the journey attempting to discuss their approach to the upcoming meeting, but she kept dozing off and waking up suddenly, trying to recall where they were in the conversation – until finally she fell into a kind of abyss, and the next thing she knew, they were bumping along a pitted track past the farmhouse and stables to the car park Meier had mentioned.
She straightened up slowly, easing a crick in her neck and noticing with relief that there was no fog today, though no sunshine either. The sky spread out ahead of them was vast and leaden, the landscape dull and rambling as it dipped for miles down into the valley bed, rising and swelling again into the opposite mountain. Sheep dotted many of the closer fields, and laid out just beyond the car park, perched like landed spaceships at the top of the hill, were at least two dozen domed structures quietly taking in the view.
‘Definitely wasn’t expecting a glamping site,’ Connor commented, killing the engine. ‘They look pretty … futuristic, don’t they?’
Cristy nodded. ‘And deserted,’ she added. ‘Where is everyone? Someone must have seen us arrive.’
Turning to her, Connor said, ‘At the risk of getting my head bitten off, are you OK?’
Confused, she said, ‘Why would I bite your head off for asking that?’
‘You seemed to be having a few bad dreams on the way here.’
Embarrassed, she said, ‘Did I say something … ? Sorry if I—’
‘You don’t have to apologize, I just thought … I guess it’s David. I mean, obvs it’s him, but if …’
‘It’s not just him,’ she confessed, experiencing a sudden urge to be truthful. ‘It’s me and what’s happening to me. Actually, it’s what happens to most women at my time of life, but please don’t worry. I’ve seen someone about it, and once the HRT kicks in, I should be as good as new. Meanwhile, if I start going of the rails about anything, please risk me biting your head off if you try to pull me back. Actually, no, I shouldn’t be your responsibility, and you shouldn’t have to suffer my mood swings—’
‘It’s OK,’ he said gently. ‘I’m here for you. Now, if you look over your left shoulder, you’ll see we have an audience.’
She turned, started and gave a laugh. A hairy-chinned billy goat had its face pressed to her window and was watching them with beady, amber eyes. ‘He’s cute,’ she said, ‘although he does have horns, so are we stuck here being the lemons again?’
‘Hey, Jasper,’ someone called, ‘where are your manners?Recule!Let the lady out of the car.’
As if understanding, the goat turned, took the carrot he was being offered and trotted on his way, munching happily.
Their rescuer – unmistakably Meier, she recognized his voice – was laughing as he pulled open the car door for her to get out into the icy drizzle of rain.
‘Sorry,’ he said good humouredly. ‘He enjoys visitors but doesn’t always understand the rules of early engagement. Hi, I’m Claude. And you must be Cristy. It’s good to meet you.’
As she took his hand, warm and strong, she wasn’t sure if she felt a small wave of something coasting into her. More likely it was the heat of his skin absorbing the cold of hers. He was taller than her, around six feet, his shoulders broad, his wavy hair rain-spattered and dishevelled, while his deep-set black eyes shone with humour. His smile was magnetic. There was certainly something about him, and it had taken her all of a few seconds to sense it.
‘It’s good to meet you too,’ she told him. ‘This is Connor, who you no doubt recognize from your home movies.’
