Page 3 of Forever Ink

I looked around smiling, thinking about a future here with Rhys. “I’d love to bring Rhys to have a look, but it would have to be when we get back from the farm. We’re spending Christmas with Da,” I said.

“I can work with that. Nobody else is interested in the old place, and I’ve not been pushing for buyers.”

“Why are you selling the place? Why’d you move into town?” I asked. I could see how much she loved the place.

She let out a soft huff but smiled. “Memories, lad. Both good and bittersweet. I needed to move on—not forget, mind you. My Carl was the love of my life much like I suspect your Rhys is to you—but I knew he wouldn’t want me rattling about this old place on my own. Lottie and her little ones keep me active in town, and my house is only a short walk to hers.”

I nodded, not knowing what to say and finding I had a great deal of admiration for Mrs Cowan.

“You bring your man here after the Christmas break. Show him around and let me get to meet him properly like. I’m not making any promises, Simon, but I think this cottage might be the right fit for you and Rhys.”

“Thank you, Mrs Cowan. I can’t wait for Rhys to see the place.”

“Call me Dorathea or Dot. You’re not that cheeky little bastard who stole my best cider apples anymore. Kind of fitting if Tulip Cottage and the orchards ended up being yours, come to think of it.”

I left Tulip Cottage and Dorathea, smiling. We hadn’t talked about money, but I had a good feeling. I just hoped Rhys loved the place as much as I did when I showed him.

Chapter 2

RHYS

I glared at the saucepan and what was supposed to be a béchamel sauce. Only I didn’t think béchamel should be so lumpy. Half of it had stuck to the bottom of the pan, and the rest was a congealed mess that didn’t look at all appetising. I probably shouldn’t have added the milk as quickly as I did. It was a damn foolish rookie mistake, and the sauce wasn’t salvageable. ‘It seemed like Simon might get his wish for and not have to eat vegetables after all.’ Groaning, I threw the pan into the sink. I was going to need a jackhammer and possibly dynamite to unstick the mess on the bottom of that pot.

A loud rap on the front door distracted me from my sauce dilemma. It was probably Mouse wanting to chill out before he headed home to Callum’s and the controlled crazy that was living with an eight-year-old. Swinging the door back, I frowned. Donald Mathis the constable stood there in his civvies, a white button-down shirt and worn looking denim jeans a far cry from his normal uniform. His brow was creased, and he wore a frown. Gone were the days when him looking at me like that would send me into a tailspin. Now, I was just worried about what had upset him.

Donald had been on leave for the last three weeks and he looked good. His close-cropped beard and hair had grown a little longer, showing he was nearly as red as Simon. I also noticed with shock that his left arm was tattooed. Huh. I didn’t know coppers could have tattoos.

“Hey, grumpy cat. I thought you were still on leave.” I opened the door wider and motioned for him to come inside. Donald’s mouth flicked up in a smile at the nickname. After everything that had happened with my father and stepmother, Donald and I had become friends. He was a few years older, probably closer to Simon’s age, but on getting to know the stern-faced policeman, I’d discovered he had a generous personality and a humorous side I could connect with. He didn’t often show it, and the constant pain he suffered from his back tended to put him in a sour mood, but he was getting better at dealing with it. I happened to think the acupuncture sessions were helping him, even if Doc pish pshawed the idea.

“You have another run in with Sergeant Duff?” I asked.

“Nah, he’s been off my case since I caught those little shits vandalising the cars on the main street. Is Simon around?” Donald took a seat on the old sofa, and I had a moment of panic trying to remember if we’d pulled the tube of lube out from the side cushion along with my underwear. Donald didn’t strike me as a homophobe or prude, but there were limits to how much I wanted to share with my friends.

“Sy had to do some things. He should be back soon. What’s this about?”

Donald rubbed the back of his neck. It was a tell he had that tended to show up when he was nervous or was stressed. “I got some news, and I was kind of hoping Simon might be here for some support. Look, there’s no easy way to tell you this so I’m going to get right to the point, yeah?”

“I think that’s a good idea.”

“Okay, so I have a friend who works in the CPS and they—” Donald clasped his hands together and gave me a stern look. “I shouldn’t be doing this, but you’re my mate and what your family did to you was fucking shite.”

I nodded, worry starting to creep into my thoughts.

“They’re not going to charge your stepmother.”

“What the fuck?” I stood, not sure what to do with the sudden anger and confusion I felt. “Why? I thought they would at least charge her for what she did to the store.”

“The CPS said they didn’t have enough to charge her with the accusations about what she did to you, and the others can’t be substantiated. And the evidence brought against your father does not have her name tied to any of it.” Donald looked as defeated as I felt.

“My dad?” I croaked out, afraid that he, too, would get away with what he’d done.

“Don’t worry about him. The CPS has a list of charges as long as my arm, on top of the attempted murder charge.” Donald stood, coming over to sling an arm over my shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “Come on, let’s go make a cuppa, and you can explain to me what that godawful smell is.”

That got a laugh out of me. I hadn’t really noticed before, but now Donald mentioned it, the flat smelt like burning cheese. Donald followed me through to the kitchen where I opened the windows and put the kettle on the hob.

“So, is there nothing that can be done about Susan?” I asked, fishing out the Earl Grey tea bags I knew Donald preferred.

“I’m not sure. I’m going to talk to Sergeant Duff about it. He knows the law inside out. That man should have been a barrister, not a copper. They did caution her, so maybe it will be enough for her to keep away, but I can’t promise that.”

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