She wagged a finger in his face. ‘You can’t hide the truth from those who know.’
‘I don’trememberanything,’ Kieran insisted. ‘Seriously. My brain’s more scrambled than a plate of eggs.’
Wilma studied him a moment longer, then sighed. ‘Maybe that’s for the best.’
Kieran frowned. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
She hesitated. ‘Let’s just say Cranley has … traditions. Quirks. You’re not the first outsider to get swept up.’
A chill ran down his spine. Jo had said something similar. ‘Traditions like what?’
Wilma tapped the side of her nose. ‘I’ve said enough. Get yoursel’ home, laddie and have a rest.’
Back home, Kieran sank into the sofa, eyes fixed on a TV show he didn’t remember putting on. His temples pulsed again, faint but insistent.
Prom leapt into his lap, tail curling neatly, purring like a small, self-satisfied engine.
Kieran rubbed his forehead. ‘What is going on in this village?’
Prom’s eyes gleamed. Too bright, too knowing. And for a heartbeat, Kieran could have sworn the cat smiled.
Chapter Twenty-Five
‘Nooo.’ Beth stared at her phone as if sheer willpower might vaporise the message. Deleting it would only erase pixels, not the words already tattooed on her brain.
I’m all packed up for Eilean Driftach but I’d like to drop by today. Or tomorrow, whichever suits you best. Luke xx
Two kisses. She fought the urge to reply with a selection of ‘up yours’ emojis, if such a thing existed.
The previous message, from Diana, had been far easier to deal with:
Right, I’ve gathered the girlie gang – me, Kit and Nina – and we’re cordially inviting (telling) you to get your bumpkin arse over to mine on Friday for a night of debauchery.
Beth had tomorrow evening off ahead of Ed and Angela’s latest ‘drum up business’ brainwave: a pub tombola where punters brought wrapped, vaguely Scottish-themed tat, bought a ticket, and won someone else’s daft offering. Beth had been tasked with deep-fried everything – Mars Bars, pizza, black pudding, Scotch eggs. She feared the defibrillator might earn its keep.
She typed before she could overthink:
Come this afternoon. After three, as I’m working lunchtime. Let me know what time. The Jekyll & Hyde.
She pressed Send. Then she messaged Diana to confirm Friday night, not mentioning Luke. That was a hill she had to climb alone.
Then work. The kitchen had no time for melodrama.
‘We’ve actually got a few bookings,’ said Rose, whisking batter like a woman possessed. ‘I told Ed and Angela relying on walk-ins isn’t a strategy, it’s a hobby.’
‘I agree,’ said Beth, tugging open the fridge. ‘Ed’s looking at TableTap or SeatSavvy. Hopefully that’ll help.’
They fell into their rhythm. Rose chattered about her new boyfriend – ‘super cute, also cooks’ – while Beth listened, her mind ricocheting between Luke and a certain sequinned squatters’ rights genie.
Lunch brought a welcome buzz. A family of six loved the Cauldron Mac and squealed when Rose brought out sticky toffee pudding with sparklers.
Beth’s phone buzzed and she checked it. Luke:3.30.Fine. She scrubbed down every surface, then nipped upstairs.
At the small dressing table, she scraped her hair into a scrunchie, dabbed on lip gloss, then wiped it off. She didn’t need to impress Luke. She just needed to hear him out.
‘Angela,’ she murmured at the bar, ‘Luke’s due any minute. I’ll wait in the beer garden.’
‘No worries.’ Angela lowered her voice. ‘Remember what I said – focus onyou. Whatyouwant.’
