Mats rose politely. ‘I hope I haven’t chased you away.’
‘Not at all,’ she replied equally politely.
Ears burning with the cold as she hurried across the road to the welcoming warmth of home, she wondered about Mats and Josefin. The easy way he’d sat down for coffee and a chat didn’t indicate much distance between employee and employer. If they were both divorced, there was nothing to prevent a relationship, though the nanny was a decade older than Mats with his shampoo-commercial-glossy hair and designer jeans and boots. People fell for who they fell for.
She let herself indoors, switching on the light that bathed her hallway in a golden glow. In one way, sheconsidered Mats a better human being for valuing Josefin as a friendly, competent woman.
But also, judgy though it was … what a waste.
The phone in reception was ringing. It was Tuesday morning. Orla had returned to work after her time off but didn’t answer. Ezz turned away from her computer and reached for her landline phone, intending to take the call from there.
The ringing stopped.
She began to swivel back to her keyboard when she heard a male voice in the lobby say, ‘Rothach Hall.’
She froze, grimacing. It sounded like Mats had answered the phone.Why?The landline was for business.
‘Oh, really?’ she heard him say. ‘No, I wasn’t aware. I’m Mats Larsson. My parents own Rothach Hall so you can speak to me. Mm-hm. Mm-hm. Oh?’ Then after a lot of other listening noises he said, ‘Certainly we’d be interested. I’ll give you my email address so you can send over your proposal. I’ll speak to a couple of people at this end … yes, do.’ A clatter suggested the handset had been replaced.
Ezz scarcely had time to wonder what query he’d felt it necessary to deal with himself when Mats strolled into her office, looking pleased with himself.
Her first reaction was to explain. ‘Orla must have left her desk for a moment. I was about to answer the call in here.’
He waved away her words. ‘It was very interesting.’ He wore running gear, the muscles of his long legs visible beneath tight joggers, and he stuffed his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. His hair was messy. ‘I had no idea your sister had been in a gardening TV show.Garden Gladiators, was it?’
Horror sizzled through Ezzie like a static shock. She licked suddenly dry lips.
He waited, as if expecting her to launch into an account of the show and Thea’s involvement. When she only gazed at him, he continued. ‘That was the production company. Apparently, they’re resurrecting the show, and they want to talk to us about filming here at Rothach Hall – with your sister front and centre. It sounds like a great opportunity. People love to visit a place that they see on TV, so visitor numbers should shoot up. We might even become a destination on organised tours. Filming will begin in the coming summer, so they want to scout the location and chat to Thea.’
Words seemed to fire themselves from Ezz’s lips. ‘She won’t do it. You shouldn’t ask her.’ A buzzing began in her ears, and she grasped the reassuringly solid edge of her desk in case she fainted at this awful news arriving out of the blue. Or out of the self-satisfied mouth of Mats Larsson.
His smile vanished. ‘Excuse me?’ He seemed to draw up his long frame to appear even taller than usual. When Ezz gazed at him mutely he gave her a cold look. ‘I think we can safely let her speak for herself, don’t you?’ Then he spun on his heel and marched from the room. A moment later, the front door opened and then snapped closed.
Ezz unfroze. She grabbed her phone with trembling hands and called Thea. As she waited out the ringing tone, she seethed. Bloody Mats Larsson. His quelling look had said:Who do you think you are?Well, she was Thea’s sister; that’s who she was. ‘Come on, Thea, answer,’ she whispered. But it was voicemail that picked up. Ezz gabbled a message. ‘Ring me the second you get this.’ Fingers trembling, she texted the same few words.
Thea didn’t reply.
Ezzie jumped to her feet and paced, craning vainly through the window in the hopes of seeing Thea busy in the grounds. What could she do? Grete would never expect Thea to work with a TV crew again, but Ezz had seen her go out with Josefin and the children earlier, the children coming to the office door to chorus their hellos and Grete saying, ‘Ezzie, we must talk soon,’ before waving and following the others out into a freezing winter day. Erik Larsson would understand too, but Ezz could hardly send him an email:I don’t like your son’s way of doing things and your wife’s gone out so I’m going to interrupt your busy day with my worry.
Should she run after Mats and find a way to halt him? But he’d seemed so welcoming of the contact fromGarden Gladiators, and, frankly, snotty with her, probably because she’d forgotten everything her online course had taught her and challenged him in the panic of the moment. She tried Thea’s phone again. Still no reply, though Ezzie knew she was somewhere in these vast gardens, parkland, and woods. After another fruitless glance through her window, she hurried from her office, across reception and up the dogleg stairs, half-running into the public rooms on the top floor. They were, as she’d expected, deserted, though looking festive after she’d repeated the stars and garland treatment up here.
She tried the back window first. From there she could see over to where Manor Road joined the main coast road and beyond to the foothills of the Cuillin Mountains. The bracken and heather in their winter colours of gold, russet and brown made the hills look like enormous tabby cats’ backs below a cold blue sky. The only greenery came from swathes of pine and spruce. For once she spared the viewonly a glance before peering down into the courtyard, then trying to see through the greenhouse glass. No Thea.
Moving swiftly into a front room, ignoring a Christmas swag of pine and berries on the windowsill near a gallery of framed delicate and aged fabrics, her gaze combed the formal gardens and lawns, across the park to the paddock where Mary and Clive grazed, and Scotch and Haggis rested their heads on each other’s necks.
And finally, in the entrance to the herb garden, she spotted Thea, foreshortened because Ezz was two storeys above.
A figure faced Thea. It looked like Mats Larsson.
‘Shit,’ Ezz hissed. And her heart plummeted like rocks tumbling down the Cuillin Mountains.
