ON DEVIL'S BRAE (A Psychological Suspense Thriller) (Dark Minds Mystery Suspense) (15 page)

“I don’t suppose you bought anything?”

“No, the prices were way beyond anything I could afford, and there were few for sale anyway. There was a self-portrait I admired and would have liked, but it was already sold. I have some of Susan’s smaller stuff here. Actually, it’s in the bedroom you’ll be using. I haven’t finished clearing it yet.”

“Are you going to show me the rest of the place after breakfast?”

“Before! It’s not that large, apart from the land, and it’ll only take a minute.”

***

“I think if it was me, I’d do up the kitchen and bathroom first. And you really need central heating— those bedrooms are particularly freezing.”

“I’m not sure I want to spend the money, Julian. After all, I’ve no idea how long I’m going to keep the place.”

“Well, done up, this could fetch a small fortune. Highland cottages are selling well these days, and being in this valley, it’s a dream cottage. A new bathroom and kitchen shouldn’t set you back more than about ten grand, max. It’ll be an investment. If it was me I’d do it and probably keep it for a few years at least.”

Ah! But Julian didn’t know about the little problems she had been having.

“Actually, I’ve had two offers for it, and it’s not even on the market.”

“There you go! What did I say? Hang on and let them better each other.”

“I don’t think they allow gazumping in Scotland.”

“Right, that’s the inside done. What about outside? I noticed an attached barn of some sort. Is the land out back all yours?”

Cassandra didn’t want Julian to look inside the outbuilding, but he was already opening the door and peering in.

“What’s that awful acrid smell? Jesus, Cassandra have you had a fire? You should be more careful.” He pointed to the tin she had left lying on the floor.

“What were you doing?” He hunkered down and pulled out a piece of burnt cloth. “Jeans?” Cassandra gazed at the back of his blonde head and wondered how much she should tell him.

When she didn’t answer, he stood up and turned round. “Is there something you’re not telling me?” Julian guessed after looking at her face.

Cassandra took a deep breath. “Let’s go in and have breakfast, and I’ll tell you everything.”

***

So Cassandra described the scenes with the thrown paint, the sculptures, and the fire. She didn’t mention the decapitated hare or the face staring at her from the woodland, or the odd feelings of being watched half the time. She certainly wasn’t going to mention the watcher on the hill, either. She didn’t want him raising merry hell and telling the terrible twins. Between the three of them, they would have ganged up on her and dragged her screaming all the way back to Liverpool. After she finished retelling the escapade with the fire, she gazed at Julian’s handsome face which had undergone a shade paler during her telling.

“Bugger! You’re telling me, you believe someone came in here and actually set fire to that tin of rubbish during the night?”

Cassandra swallowed and nodded.

“And this was
after
they threw paint around? Why didn’t you mention it as soon as I arrived? Have you thought about telling the police?”

Cassandra felt stupid. “Apart from the paint throwing, I thought I’d caused the fire somehow...it was an accident. There’s plenty of linseed oil in the shed—Susan obviously used it. The tin was old and rusty. It probably corroded and somehow ignited. Oh, I don’t know!” She threw up her hands.

“Perhaps one of your neighbours wants to drive you out? Who the hell would do this? Has anyone been rude or threatening in any way?”

Cassandra shook her head. “Not really. The farm people are pretty weird. Mrs Campbell is downright rude, and her sons look and act like they’re a sandwich short of a picnic, but no one has threatened me.”

“There’s no passing traffic, no tramps up here at this time of the year—it’s too bloody cold. It has to be a neighbour! What about those two offers on the cottage? Who are they from?”

“One’s from Donald and Fiona…well, Donald really. Fiona’s his girlfriend, and I don’t think she has any money, but there again I’m only guessing. The other offer came through my solicitor, and we don’t know the identity of the person. It may just be a crank. Or it could of course be Donald, as he’s so keen.”

“There are plenty of cranks around. Could this Donald be trying to
persuade
you to sell?”

She shook her head. “He hasn’t come across as being malicious. He seems okay, a little slimy, but certainly not a cheat.”

“Well, who else is there living here apart from the nutters at the funny farm?”

Cassandra smiled at his attempt to lighten the atmosphere. “Angus. He lives alone, but he seems honest. Then there are the Blackmore sisters. Lorna Blackmore has had some sort of breakdown and is kind of pathetic and screwy but in a trivial sort of way. She’s hardly violent,
and I don’t think she actually leaves the house. Her sister, Elizabeth, looks after her. She’s sensible and caring.”

“I bet you a fiver it’s the farming lot.”

“No. They’re sullen and rude, but they’re hardworking farmers. They’ve been here for years. Angus told me.”

“What about any strangers in the village? Don’t you think you should tell the police?” he persisted.

Cassandra sat and thought for a minute, her arms crossed, hands on her elbows. She suddenly felt weary of it all. “No strangers, apart from one man whom I bump into from time to time. And he seems pretty much harmless whenever we’ve spoken. Look, can we please just leave it for now? I told Angus about the paint, and he has no idea who it could be. Perhaps it’ll pass once I’ve lived here for a while. Some people just don’t like newcomers.”

Julian didn’t look convinced. “Well, it’s your decision. We’ll see how the next few days go. Remember, villages can be very insular, and in some places you have to live there for years before you’re accepted. But promise me this—if anything else occurs, you will get on the phone to the police at once?”

Cassandra nodded. Relief flooded through her. For the first time, she realised how nice it was to have company. She would sleep better while Julian was there. Surely, whoever was playing these nasty surprises on her would stop once they learnt she had outside help and support and wasn’t going to be put off?

Chapter 20 January 2013, Inverdarroch

After breakfast, Cassandra cleared the remainder of the stuff from the bedroom and made up the spare bed. Julian helped take some of the bulkier items downstairs, in between composing photographs of the cottage and surrounding land.

Cassandra poked her head outside the front door and peered up at the sky. The snow forecast for the week hadn’t yet arrived, and the day seemed calm. She thought it was a good time to take a long walk and blow away some of the gathered cobwebs.

Half an hour later, she and Julian were striding through the forest, heading for the highest hills.

“I think this whole valley is tremendous,” Julian enthused. “It’s like something out of a film. You know, I really think you’d be mad to sell. Keep it for a few years, do it up, and then make a killing. You only have to use your imagination to see what can be done with it. And it’ll be fun coming up here. We can stay for weeks in the summer.”

We?
It was news to Cassandra. Julian was the one with the imagination. He was fun to be with (most of the time), good-looking, educated, and enthusiastic about a lot of the things she believed in. But there was no ‘we’. Julian didn’t make her heart sing or make her feel like spending the weekend in bed with him. She didn’t want to get dirty with him. There simply was no ‘zing’, no sexual attraction between them. She slowed her pace.

“Come on. What’s the matter? Surely you’re not tired already?”

“No, of course not.”

“You never told me what you’d been offered for the place. You’ll have to go back to your solicitor and tell him you’re not selling. It’ll work in your favour. Force the price up.”

“I never agreed to sell. Although I got the impression he thought I would.”

“That’s okay then. Have you thought about what needs organising? You know, repair work. There’s bound to be plumbing and electric jobs, before you consider the garden, fencing, ditching, and hedging…that sort of thing. Of course, we can do a lot of it ourselves, but the more heavy work will need a builder.”

There he goes again
, she thought.
We
.

“You mentioned a fella named Angus. Didn’t you say he was a composer? What sort of music does he write?”

Cassandra’s face softened as she thought of Angus. “Classical.”

Julian looked disappointed. “Shame. Not modern then? “

“No.”

They walked on in silence for some time, the steepness of the hill made conversation difficult. Once they reached the summit, Julian threw himself down in a bed of springy heather and lay looking up at the sky. Cassandra sat down beside him, knees drawn up and leant back on her elbows. She stole a look at Julian and wondered why she felt nothing but friendship. Not a flicker of desire despite his blonde good looks. Somewhere, back in his bloodline, there must have been lusty Viking blood.

She tried to imagine what sex would be like with him. If he used his customary enthusiasm, he would almost certainly go at it like a ram. She pictured Julian with an arched neck, biceps flexed and bulging, buttocks pumping, and roaring his orgasm to the whole world. He would expect sex with him to be perfect. Christ, he looked perfect. Like a classical Norseman. She rolled over onto her stomach and tried hard not to giggle. She wasn’t being fair.

She felt his arm snake round her waist. “You know, you’re looking very good. I believe you’ve lost more weight, and I like your hair longer,” he whispered in her ear.

Cassandra was surprised since Julian never usually touched her. She felt her body stiffen. “I’ve got a proposal for you,” he continued. “Why don’t we get married?”

Cassandra rolled away and sat up. Her jaw dropped open.

“
What
?” Whoa! Where did that come from?

He smiled a lazy smile. “I realise I’ve surprised you, but we’ve known each other for years now, and we’re comfortable together. Being married would hardly change things.”

“But you don’t
love
me. I don’t love you! Not the kind of love to get married. You’re mad!”

“Look, we can live comfortably together. After that little girl’s death and what you’ve went through with consoling Susan, I realise you shouldn’t be on your own.”

“I’m fine, really I am. It’s why I’ve come up here, to sort myself out. I don’t want a prop.”

“And I do love you.”

“Julian, you do
not
! Not in the way a man and woman should love anyway. “

“Hey! How do you know? What does it matter how I love you?”

“Because, because…” She couldn’t finish, as she felt her throat closing and God damn it! She was going to be needy and burst out crying if she wasn’t careful. Because she wanted to be told she was beautiful and sexy and gorgeous. She didn’t want a husband who felt
comfortable
around her. She wanted someone who would tear her clothes off and make rough passionate love to her all night long, leaving her sore and bruised and feeling like she would never stand up again in a week. She knew just the man, and it certainly wasn’t Julian. Ye gods! Julian was enthusiastic about almost everything except sex.

“Look, let’s not argue. I’ve said I want us to get married, and we’ll discuss it later. Right now, let’s enjoy the day.”

“But Julian…we’ve never even had a serious groping session, let alone slept together. I like you, but I simply don’t fancy you. It would feel like sleeping with a brother.” As soon as she said it, she knew she shouldn’t have chosen those exact words.

“It’s fine. Sex isn’t all it cracked out to be anyway.” She knew it!

“Julian,
are
you gay?” There, she said it. The question she had always wanted to ask, but the thought of Daphne Potter always put her off.

He laughed. “No! Never! I’m what you call of an asexual nature. Listen, some asexual people do engage in sexual activity despite lacking any desire for sex or sexual attraction. If
you
want sex to please you, I’m happy to acquiesce. In fact I think we ought to…see how we get along. You might even prove me wrong. I may actually enjoy it!”

Cassandra stared before realising her mouth was still open and closed it. All these years they had known each other, and she never guessed. Well, so much for friendship. She stood up, determined not to get embroiled in a discussion she would rather not have. “Let’s get going before the weather changes,” she said. She turned and walked away.

And walk they did. They must have covered many miles that day down into the next valley, with Julian taking lots of photographs with Cassandra’s advice. Neither raised the subject of marriage again, and Cassandra hoped it had all been a joke. But somehow, knowing how predictable Julian was, she knew it wasn’t. She wondered what had brought the ‘proposal’ on. Perhaps Cynthia or Rosie had spoken to him and triggered the idea. It certainly wasn’t because she had come into property. Julian was never hard up, as far as she knew. He owned his own place, earned a good salary as a senior university lecturer, and drove a Porsche. She didn’t really believe him when he said he wanted to take care of her. He always savoured his freedom.