I will allow him to think that I am interested in developing the hotel.’ He knew Mitchison didn’t think he could pull it off; the man probably thought Royland knew about Sigma already. If so, so be it. They would negotiate with all the cards on the table. And he meant every card. As he put the phone down, he had already decided to find out all there was to know about Paul Royland. And he meant all. He was going to leave nothing to chance.
Behind him the door opened and his wife appeared, laden with carrier bags. ‘Rex! When did you get in, honey? Why didn’t you say you were flying back today?’ She dropped the bags and kissed him on the cheek.
Rex stepped back a little. ‘I came back sooner than I expected, that’s all,’ he said testily.
‘Is something wrong?’ His wife’s radar was finely tuned to every nuance of tone.
‘Nothing, honey, nothing. They are a load of old women back there in the States, that’s all. The drop in the price of oil is scaring the shit out of them.’
‘And they don’t want to invest any more in Europe?’
He shrugged. ‘They haven’t said yes or no. They’re hesitating and while they hesitate, someone else is going to get his goddam hands on Duncairn.’ He walked over to the bar and reached for a bottle of Bourbon. ‘Except they’re not. The Royland woman’s husband has written to Mitchison. He’s prepared to talk. She’s ill apparently.’
Mary sat down slowly, unbuttoning her white raincoat. She kicked off her shoes with a groan. ‘Poor woman. We must send her some flowers or something.’ She glanced at her husband and frowned. ‘Go easy on that stuff, honey, you know what the doctor said.’
‘That doctor is a fool.’ Rex refused to meet her eye. ‘I reckon he thinks I’m getting old. They all think I’m getting old.’ He drained the glass and slapped it down on the bar.
‘Were there problems in Houston, Rex?’ Mary asked gently.
‘Nothing I can’t handle.’ Hooking his finger into the knot of his tie he loosened it slowly. ‘I’ll be flying up to Aberdeen tomorrow and as soon as Mitchison can arrange it I’ll meet with Royland and get this deal tied up. Then perhaps that would be a good time to think about planning our retirement, what do you say?’ He turned away from her before he could see the alarm in her eyes.
The roses glowed in the misty morning sunshine as Clare reached up to cut them from the back wall, putting them gingerly into her basket one by one. She swore as a thorn pricked her.
Paul had driven straight to the office when he returned from Bucksters on Monday morning so she hadn’t seen him until yesterday evening when he had returned at about seven.
‘David and Gillian missed you,’ he said curtly as he walked in. ‘I explained that you were unwell.’
‘Was it a good party?’ She smiled at him tentatively, trying to gauge his mood.
‘Their parties are always amusing.’ He walked across to the sideboard and began to rummage in it for his whisky. ‘May I ask what you did all weekend?’
‘Nothing. You told them the truth, as it happens. I wasn’t feeling well.’ She knew she sounded defensive.
‘I see. Clare, I’ve been thinking.’ He poured two double whiskies, neat, and handed her one. ‘I think perhaps you should go away for a holiday. A couple of months in the sun would do you good.’
She shook her head. ‘Perhaps after Christmas; I don’t want to go away now.’
‘Why not?’
‘I want to go up to Scotland. I have to sort out one or two things.’ There was a moment of silence.
When he spoke his voice was grim. ‘May I ask what sort of things?’
‘Duncairn, for one.’ She looked him straight in the eye. ‘I want to discuss the future with Jack Grant. There are repairs that need doing as soon as possible to the hotel.’
‘I see. And where is the money going to come from?’
‘I am sure I can find it. I still have money of my own, Paul.’
‘Yes; and I know exactly how much. How far do you think that will go?’
‘Far enough for the time being.’
‘Clare! You’re crazy. You might as well stand on the edge of that damn cliff and tear up the money, note by note, and throw it into the sea. No one in their right mind would contemplate pouring money into that hotel.’
‘Except the man who wants to buy it. You wouldn’t object to him throwing his money away, I take it?’ She tried to keep her voice steady.
‘He doesn’t want the hotel, Clare. He wants the oil.’
‘Well, he’s not getting it.’ She clenched her fists. ‘I thought I would go up north later this week.’
‘We have a dinner party on Saturday, if you remember.’
‘Early next week, then. I’ve made my mind up, Paul.’
He had slept in the spare room, and he had left for the office before she was awake.
Thoughtfully she reached up to clip another rose, sniffing it absent-mindedly before she dropped it into her basket. Since Zak’s visit she had not left the house.
When the meditation had ended, she had remained sitting on the floor, still staring at the guttering candle, waiting for him to speak. Slowly he had risen to his feet and walked across to the window. Opening the curtains, he stood, looking out into the road. For a long time he said nothing, then at last he turned.
‘Clare, I think I must suggest you turn your meditations in a different direction. What you are doing is a valid exercise, but it is not one which is going to bring you the results you need. I want you to go back and practise some of the methods I first taught you. Especially the counting.’ He smiled. ‘That is the one you find so boring, I think you said.’
‘But why can’t I go on as I am?’ She looked up at him. ‘What am I doing wrong?’
‘You are not doing anything wrong, as such.’ He hesitated. ‘I have been trying to decide what is taking place. As you suspected, although your technique is correct, what is happening to you is not usual; it is not what you expect from a simple visualisation. There are several possible explanations. The most obvious, and the one I hope it is, because it is the least complicated, is that you are remembering a previous incarnation; that you were this Isobel in another life and that meditation has given you access to the memory.’ He gave an almost apologetic smile.
Clare stared at him in astonishment. ‘That’s not possible!’
‘Why? Don’t you believe that you have lived before?’ He frowned.
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it. I suppose I’ve had feelings that I’ve been here before – doesn’t everyone? But not as Isobel, Zak.’ She shook her head firmly.
‘What makes you so sure?’
‘I
