The Winter Sea (Slains, #1)(100)

The countess started laughing at a comment Colonel Graeme had just made, and to Sophia’s ears the outburst caught the spirit of her mood, and she laughed, too.

The colonel’s lean face turned to hers, appreciative. ‘Now, there’s a bonny sound.’

‘And one we have not often heard, of late,’ the countess said, recovering her breath and looking fondly at Sophia. ‘Patrick, I do see that we shall have to keep you with us yet awhile, for as you see we sorely need amusement.’

The colonel settled in his chair and smiled. ‘I’m happy to supply it,’ he assured her, ‘while the whisky lasts.’



Jimmy, on my doorstep, held a covered dish in both hands like a Wise Man bearing precious gifts. ‘I telt ma freens at the St Olaf Hotel aboot yer fa doon Ward Hill, quinie, and they thocht ye micht need this.’

I stood aside to let him in. I still felt a little groggy from my writing, having surfaced at his knocking, and the darkness he stepped out of was my only way to judge the time. He’d clearly been up to the hotel himself—his eyes were shining happily and Scotch was on his breath, but it could not be all that late, or a gentleman like Jimmy Keith would not have even thought of coming round to call.

‘Ye should be sittin doon,’ he told me, nodding at my bandaged ankle, and he freed one hand to help me hobble to the nearest chair. A richly warm, brown-sugared smell was rising from the bowl he held.

‘What is that, Jimmy?’

‘Just a wee treat. Ye’ll be needin a fork and a spoon,’ he decided, and fetched them, then set the bowl down on the table beside me and took off the cover to show me a huge chunk of caramel-brown cake sweetly sinking in a pool of cream. ‘That’s sticky toffee poodin, and ye’ll nivver taste better than fit they mak at the St Olaf Hotel.’

After the first heavy forkful I had to agree it was almost worth spraining my ankle for.

Jimmy shrugged my thanks aside. ‘Nae bother. I was on ma wye up, onywye, tae empty oot yer meter.’

‘Oh, I’m fine,’ I told him, quickly. ‘I’ve still got coins left.’ I didn’t especially want to get either of his sons into trouble, and I was pretty sure that, if he got a good look at the meter, he would know the needle wasn’t resting where it ought to be. I was relieved when he accepted what I’d said without a comment and directed his attention to the Aga in the kitchen.

‘And yer a’richt fer coal, are ye?’ He had the door open, assessing the fire.

‘Yes, thanks. Stuart stoked it up for me.’

‘Oh aye, I see.’ His tone was dry. ‘He could nae build a fire worth a damn.’ He took the poker, prodding round the coals until their new position suited him. ‘Mind, it’s rare ye’ll see Stuie dee onything fer onybody but his ain sel. Ye’ve fairly inspired the loon.’

I was grateful I was eating, and I only had to mumble something noncommittal through a mouthful of pudding before the telephone began to ring, and rescued me. I hobbled over on my own to answer it this time, and Jimmy let me do it.

Graham’s voice felt warm against my ear. ‘Hello.’

‘Hi.’ Holding the receiver closer, I lowered my voice.

Behind me, Jimmy closed the Aga’s door with a decided clang and stood. ‘I’ll jist fetch ye a bittie mair coal fae oot back,’ he announced, and went whistling past.

Graham asked, ‘Was that my father?’

‘Yes.’

‘You’re being well looked after, then.’

‘I am. He brought me sticky toffee pudding.’

‘Good man. How’s the ankle?’

‘How did you hear about that?’

‘I have sources. How is it?’

‘Not bad. Dr Weir says I need to stay off it a couple of days.’

‘Ah.’

‘Why “ah”?’

‘Because I had a proposition for you, but if you’re supposed to rest…’

‘It’s just a sprain, it’s not that bad.’ I glanced around to make sure I was still alone. ‘What kind of proposition?’

‘Well, I thought that since my brother’s home and looking after Dad, and since it’s difficult for me to come to you with those two hanging round the cottage all the time…I thought that you might like to come to Aberdeen this weekend.’

It was my turn to say, ‘Ah.’

‘You could bring your computer,’ he said, ‘so you won’t lose your writing time. I’ve got some marking of my own to do.’

‘It’s not that. It’s just I promised to have lunch with Jane, my agent, up in Peterhead on Saturday.’ I didn’t tell him that Jane had, in essence, invited him, too. There was no way I’d even consider subjecting him this early on to Jane’s scrutiny. She could be worse than my father when it came to grilling my boyfriends, and I didn’t want Graham grilled. He was special.

‘Nae bother,’ he said. ‘I could come and get you after lunch. We’d still have half the afternoon and evening, and all Sunday.’

Put like that, and with his voice so close against my ear, persuading me, I couldn’t think of any reason not to tell him, ‘All right, then. I’d love to.’

‘Good.’

Jimmy, still whistling, was coming back. Raising my voice to a more normal tone, I said, ‘OK, I’ll phone you tomorrow. We’ll work out the details.’