Page 60 of Joker in the Pack

“Don’t ever keep a secret like this again, you hear me?”

“I won’t, I promise.”

Working on the theory that there was safety in numbers, the three of us checked inside for any evidence of unwelcome visitors. When we found nothing, Maddie insisted on waiting until I’d locked myself in before she and Dave set off home. She’d barely been gone five minutes when her first text arrived.

Maddie: Just checking you’re okay?

The messages continued throughout the next day, on the hour, every hour. If I took more than two minutes to reply, I got a phone call.

“Are you still alive?”

“I was in the shower. Please tell me you’re not going to keep this up all through the night?”

“You get eight hours’ sleep.”

“I’m rolling my eyes at you.”

“Roll away. Eight hours.”

Maddie kept her word. I got a message at eleven and another one at seven. I might have feigned irritation, but I did sleep easier knowing I now had four people looking out for me.

Warren had phoned on Sunday afternoon while I was still at Maddie’s, and he’d promised to keep an ear out locally in case anyone mentioned the trouble at the cottage. Kids liked to brag, right? And Tate checked in just after nine on Monday morning.

Tate: How was your weekend?

Olivia: Great! Better than I thought it would be.

Mainly because I’d spent a good portion of it unconscious.

Tate: Any more problems at the cottage?

Olivia: Someone threw eggs and paint at the door, but that was it.

Tate: That’s horrific! I’ll arrange for a new door to be installed.

It was sweet of him to offer, but I didn’t want to become his charity case. Nor did I fancy fanning the flames of the Olivia-is-a-gold-digger bonfire.

Olivia: That’s very kind of you, but I’ve already scrubbed the worst of the mess off, and the door still works fine. How was golf?

Tate: Be sure to let me know if you change your mind. We had a couple of good games, but we hit turbulence on the flight to St. Andrews.

St. Andrews? I hadn’t realised he was going that far. Edward had always liked to travel to far-flung places at the drop of a hat like that. How many more of his qualities did Tate share? If he enjoyed fine dining and going to the theatre, that would be lovely, just as long as he didn’t have Edward’s penchant for playing the field. I couldn’t go through that again.

Olivia: Was Scotland cold?

Tate: Freezing. I’ve been looking forward to you warming me up. Are you free tonight?

How could a text message start my heart thumping?

Olivia: I’m around all day.

Tate: Pick you up at seven?

Olivia: I can’t wait :)

I’d told a tiny white lie about my door, and I spent the morning cleaning up the mess. The eggs came off, but the paint was stuck fast. Rather than keep scrubbing, I ordered my own paint from the internet to go over the top of it—a lovely shade of dark purple to complement the name of the cottage. While I was at it, I bought a lighter shade for the window frames. They needed replacing really, but I didn’t have the cash for that. Hopefully, they’d last another year with a coat of paint.

Then it was time for my post office run. I’d been avoiding the village as much as possible, but I couldn’t get out of it today. I even considered cycling to Stonystead to avoid Betty’s glower, but there was just too much to carry. Maybe if I had a rucksack or a bicycle basket, but neither had turned up in Aunt Ellie’s stash. At least, not yet.

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