Alive.
The realisation settled in her bones: whatever had happened in this room had not required wiring, plugs or logic.
It had required her.
Beth backed toward the stairs, never taking her eyes off the machine.
Halfway up, the lights faded.
Not snapped off.
Faded.
Until the basement returned to dull, ordinary darkness.
Just before she reached the top step, a final, almost playful chime echoed behind her.
And somewhere deep within the machine, metal shifted against metal.
Patiently.
Chapter Ten
‘Don’t you miss the buzz of city life?’ Charlie asked, making a grand sweep of his arm towards Edinburgh Castle and almost decapitating a group of startled tourists.
‘No,’ Kieran said, dropping a few coins into the battered hat of a man curled against a shopfront. ‘I don’t miss elbowing my way along Princes Street, that’s for sure.’
They reached The Devil’s Dram, their old haunt from uni days. The type of pub where the windows wept condensation and the doorway was permanently blocked by diehard smokers. They squeezed inside, jostling through the weekend crush, and lucked into a table just vacated by a pair of students who looked barely conscious.
‘Right,’ Charlie said, shrugging off his jacket. ‘What are you having? Pint of heavy? Wee dram?’
Kieran smirked. He could already see where this was going. ‘Just a pint’s fine.’
‘Or,’ Charlie continued, eyes bright, ‘I could get you a Flirtini. Maybe a Unicorn Whisper with extra sparkles on top?’
‘You’re an eejit.’
‘Nah, seriously. I’ll ask for a tiny umbrella and a pink straw. Something to make you feel special.’
‘Just get me the pint, you dafty.’ Kieran laughed, a genuine one, grateful he’d escaped Cranley for a few hours. Charlie’s ridiculous banter was nostalgic in the best way; it reminded him of a younger version of himself, before life had got messy.
Charlie pulled a theatrical sigh. ‘Fine. Pint of lager for you, one Princess Potion with fairy dust for me. Sorted.’
He returned with two pints of Innis & Gunn and a laminated menu tucked under his arm. ‘My stomach thinks my throat’s cut,’ he announced, rubbing his belly.
They ordered macaroni cheese with garlic bread. Comfort food, pub grub. No flamboyant names or themed nonsense. Straightforward and safe.
‘So, you don’t miss Edinburgh. Is that because Cranley’s crammed with gorgeous women desperate to hook up with a soon-to-be billionaire tech giant?’
Kieran spluttered mid-sip. ‘Hardly. The handful of women I’ve met are either happily partnered or old enough to have lived through three recessions.’
The server plonked cutlery, napkins and condiments on the table. ‘Thanks,’ said Charlie. ‘Come on, Kieran, there must be someone close to your age! Ah, don’t tell me: you’re still pining for Lisa.’
Denying it would be a lie. Admitting it… Heather, Charlie’s wife, had been good friends with Lisa. Not so much after the split, since Heather had aligned herself with Team Kieran, but he didn’t want to seem like a lovelorn loser. ‘It still hurts, OK. Let’s leave it there.’
‘Fair.’ Charlie nodded, which meant absolutely nothing, because he never let a topic go if it intrigued him. He picked at the beer mat. ‘But you’ve got to give me something. Two or three youngish, attractive women in Cranley willing to fall for a saddolike you… Then I’ll bore you with tales of fatherhood and the joys of a pregnant wife who now requires assistance clipping her toenails.’
Their food arrived. Charlie tore into his with the enthusiasm of a man facing his last meal. Kieran chased a forkful of macaroni round his plate. Whohadhe met in the younger age bracket? Jinnie, happily married and with a baby. Angela, possibly married, also with a baby. Then there was Beth. He knew next to nothing about her. Except that she cooked very well and appeared to have an allergy to babies.
