It broke my mother’s heart. Later, when she learned he had died, she just didn’t want to go on living.’
From anyone else, the words might have sounded over-dramatic, but she spoke quietly, without emphasis, relating the events as they had happened.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said again, his hands deep in the pockets of his leather jacket. ‘It must be very painful for you to talk about it.’
‘It used to be. But it’s five years since my mother died. I’ve got over the worst.’
‘And now you—live with Daniel McGregor?’
She nodded. ‘He’s been like a second father to me.’
Luke wondered how much of this Scott Anderson had known. He must have known Ella had a sister, of course, yet he had never mentioned it. Why? And even when he had arranged for Luke to stay at the presbytery, he had not said a word about its other occupant. Scott and Ella only tolerated one another, Luke knew that, but had it some other deeper significance that the conflict of artistic temperaments Luke had imagined?
‘Do you see that mountain across the loch—the one that’s almost obscured by the mist? That’s our most famous landmark—Ben Lui. And the one beside it, the smaller peak—that’s Ben Ifor.’
Realising that Abby was speaking again, Luke tried to pick up the threads of her conversation. But it was difficult when his mind was filled with questions he was reluctant to voice, and presently she shivered, and suggested they walked back.
On their way up to the house, he said: ‘What do you do all day? There can’t be much work for a girl like you here.’
‘You’d be surprised,’ she smiled. ‘I work at the inn.’
‘The inn!’ Luke was surprised.
‘Why?’ she teased him. ‘You’re not teetotal, are you?’
‘No, but …’
Luke made a helpless gesture, and she chuckled. ‘But you don’t think it’s a suitable occupation for someone who lives in the presbytery, is that it?’
‘I suppose so,’ he agreed ruefully.
She shook her head. ‘You don’t have to concern yourself. I’m not the local barmaid. I look after the Dalrymples’ three children. The Dalrymples keep the inn,’ she explained.
Luke nodded. ‘I see.’
The wind was beginning to rise as they entered the house, and Abby hunched her shoulders expressively. Mrs Tully was in the hall, and she viewed the girl with impatience.
‘You’ll be having pneumonia, miss,’ she announced, with a sharp familiarity. ‘Away upstairs and take a bath before supper.’
The girl took her scolding with an affectionate grimace, and Mrs Tully shook her head at Luke as she ran upstairs. ‘I never thought,’ she exclaimed. ‘Perhaps you would have liked a bath, sir.’
‘A shave will do,’ remarked Luke easily. ‘Er—Father McGregor said I might use his phone …’
‘Yes, sir. The study’s free now. Father Daniel has gone over to the church.’
‘Thank you.’
When Scott came through, his voice was faint and barely distinguishable, and it was impossible for Luke to speak as forcefully as he would have liked.
‘I’ve met the girl,’ he said without preamble. ‘I gather that was why you sent me up here.’
‘Now why should you think that?’
There was faint amusement in Scott’s voice, but Luke found he was not amused. ‘It’s obvious, isn’t it? Arranging for me to stay here! You knew I couldn’t avoid meeting her.’
‘So what did you think of her?’ Scott asked. ‘She’s a beautiful creature, isn’t she?’
‘Why didn’t you tell me Ella had a niece?’
‘Why didn’t I? Why didn’t she?’
‘I don’t know.’ Luke was impatient. ‘Some idea of protecting her image, perhaps. What the hell! The girl’s only her niece. She could have told me.’
‘But she didn’t.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Nothing.’ Scott was annoyingly guileless. ‘Anyway, what of it? Abby isn’t the reason you went up there.’
‘Isn’t she?’
‘What do you think of the place? What do you think of Ardnalui?’
Luke sighed. ‘Exactly what you’d expect me to think, I suppose. You’re right, it is the ideal setting for the series. But something tells me we won’t be filming here.’
Scott laughed. ‘Remote, eh? Yes, I knew that. As a matter of fact, someone’s put forward a suggestion that we should do the filming in Cornwall. There’s a village there that—–’
‘And you let me come up here!’ Luke was getting angry, resentment at the feeling of being manipulated destroying all his earlier enjoyment of the place.
‘You needed the break, Luke. And I’d hazard a guess that Dan made you welcome.’
‘He did. But that’s not the point—–’
‘Cool it, Luke. Okay, I guess I did think it would be amusing for you to meet Abby—–’
‘Amusing!’
‘—but I wasn’t trying to take a rise out of you. You have to believe that, Luke. Abby’s a nice kid. Why should Ella have it all her our way?’
‘All her own way? What’re you talking about?’ ‘Well, Ella could have—helped the girl, contributed to her upbringing. But has she? Not one blind cent!’
Belatedly, Luke remembered what Abby had told him about her parents being dead and Daniel McGregor making himself responsible for her. It hadn’t registered at the time, but now he did wonder why Ella had never cared sufficiently to send money for her own niece’s welfare.
‘Are you sure about that?’ he asked now, loath to relinquish the image he had always held of Ella—as someone warm and generous, someone who cared about people more than possessions. She could be arrogant, he knew that, but then so could he, and he knew the feelings she had for him were not counterfeit. His feelings towards her were less easy to analyse. Since his disastrous first marriage, he had avoided that kind of commitment, and although he liked Ella very much, and was fond of her, he was not yet convinced that their temperaments were compatible to that extent.
‘Ask me that question when you get back to town,’ Scott told him blandly. ‘Now, how long are you staying?’
‘I don’t know yet.’ Luke wanted to go on talking about Ella, but obviously Scott
