Page 10 of The Boathouse By the Loch

Jake nodded. ‘You just neglected to mention the food.’

‘Well, enjoy your meal.’ He gave Jake a knowing wink. ‘I’ll letGayle know you’ll be joining them for dinner. Oh, and if you need anything, just knock,’ he said. ‘I’m right next door.’

Jake watched him enter the attic bedroom next door and emerge two seconds later wearing a coat. ‘I’m going to get that takeaway in Aviemore. Dinner is at seven, by the way.’

Jake watched him dash down the stairs. Seeing Nick reminded him that there was another reason Marcus had been anxious to return to London. When they’d bumped into Nick in a clearing in the forest where the old lodge with rooms to rent had once stood, they’d discovered he was preparing the site so that building could start. Bizarrely, Nick hadn’t even been sure what was being built. But what had really piqued both Jake’s and Marcus’s interest was that apparently the Ross Corporation was building something ‘hush hush’ on the land. But Nick Addison did not work for the Ross Corporation.

Perhaps they’d contracted out to another company, which would be most unusual. Or perhaps it was just a local rumour that someone had started. After all, it was Lawrence, the receptionist at Cedar Lodge, who had mentioned it. But it was something neither of them could ignore. Nothing went ahead without Marcus’s say-so. If the Ross Corporation was building something without Marcus’s knowledge, it meant only one thing – Marcus was losing his grip.

Marcus was checking his side of things back in London, but Jake decided to go on his own fact-finding mission and see if he couldn’t wheedle more information out of young Nick Addison; see what he now knew about what was planned for the building site. And this was his opportunity to do just that. Jake decided that the information might be worth risking an evening meal consisting of fast food.

‘Wait!’ Jake rushed forward and looked over the banister. He heard the front door click shut; Nick was already gone. His throbbing head told him that dashing down the stairs after him was not an option. Questioning Nick would have to wait. Jake turned into his room and closed the door. His attention was drawn back to his phone.

He picked it up off the bed, debating whether to ring Faye back and apologise for his unreasonable behaviour on the phone. But was it unreasonable? Had Faye and Marcus been talking about him behind his back? He couldn’t decide. He sat for a long moment in the limbo land of indecision, staring at his phone. Then he sighed and put the phone on the bedside cabinet. Apologies led to explanations, and Jake decided he wasn’t in the mood for either.

He put his feet up on the bed and leaned into the plump feather pillow cushioning his back. He yawned and stretched his arms wide. He looked at his watch; he had half an hour until dinner. He was going to keep his eyes open this time.

From his vantage point on the bed, Jake took a good look around his new quarters. The room was vastly different to the one downstairs; it was light, bright and airy, with white walls and modern furniture suggesting a minimalist approach. Jake tried to recall the detail of the tiny rooms in the doll’s house, but he doubted that this room was based on Eleanor’s designs.

It was all conjecture anyway, whether Robyn had copied designs from the doll’s house – whether she had even seen it. It could have been a coincidence. But thinking of Marty, Jake doubted that very much. It made perfect sense; what other reason would a complete stranger pay for Marty to look after the gardens of his house? She was feeling guilty for copying those intricateinteriors that Eleanor had fashioned as a child when she’d ripped out the interior of her doll’s house and set about redesigning it.

He turned his head, catching a glimpse of the gardens and, off to the right, the roofline of his own house. It made him think about the business he had there the next day. It made him think about Marcus. ‘Maybe I should have got on that plane with him.’ Jake closed his eyes.

Marcus. The same questions were swirling around his head like a broken record. What if Marcus had been right and there had been someone else with them on that mountain on that day? What if someone else had in fact made the choice of who to dig out first, just as Marcus had been saying all along? But if that were true, then who were they? And why hadn’t they come forward and made their presence known? It wasn’t as if they hadn’t had plenty of opportunity; the place was literally buzzing with news journalists citing a ‘freak’ avalanche, reporting in their terse journalistic prose, printing their sensationalist, attention-grabbing headlines: Ski tragedy strikes construction entrepreneur’s family– in the full knowledge that money and tragedy combined well to sell newspapers.

Didn’t everybody want their five minutes of fame? Surely, if somebody else had been there, had dug them out from the snow, they’d have come forward to take the credit. He could see the headline:Local hero saves the Rosses!Why hadn’t they? Why hadn’t they made themselves known in anticipation of some financial reward? The newspapers would have paid handsomely for their side of the story. It didn’t make any sense.

Jake felt himself drifting off in a sea of confusion.

Chapter 5

‘Jake.’ A gentle tapping at the door followed his name.

‘Yeah,’ Jake opened his eyes.

‘Dinner will be in ten,’ Gayle called from behind the closed door.

Jake sat up and tossed his legs over the edge of the bed. He rubbed his eyes, wishing he hadn’t told Nick he was joining Gayle for dinner. He felt like crawling under the covers and calling it a night. He dragged himself to the bathroom. He splashed cold water on his face and looked in the mirror. His short, cropped blonde hair was standing on end on the side he’d lain on while napping. Jake patted his hair with his sopping wet bandage.

He unwound both bandages. The scabs showed they were finally healing; he’d just have to be careful not to open them up again. Jake had a fresh roll of bandages and carefully bandaged them again. Hopefully it wouldn’t be long before he could dispense with the bandages altogether.

Jake patted his hair one last time, tutting at his reflection in the mirror. He looked at the shower, then at his watch. It was too late to have a shower; he was already late for dinner.

Jake hastily closed the bedroom door behind him and rusheddown the stairs, gearing up to apologise profusely to Gayle. After all, she was going out of her way to cook that night.

Approaching the bottom of the stairs, he heard voices, male and female, coming from the kitchen. Jake instinctively slowed.

‘I think you should just tell her how you feel.’ Gayle’s voice carried from the kitchen.

‘But it’s never the right time. Besides, it’s probably nothing.’

‘Probably nothing?’ Gayle said haughtily. ‘Then why are you here, asking me if she’s spoken to me, and wondering if there’s something going on she hasn’t told you about?’

Jake frowned. Was Gayle talking to Nick? Jake thought he’d left to get a takeaway in Aviemore. Surely, he couldn’t have been and come back so quickly.

Jake walked slowly down the last few stairs. He hoped a stair would creak loudly to announce his presence. Failing that, he’d have to fake a coughing fit, because by the sound of it they were talking about problems in his personal life.

‘Look, I’m sure everything is fine. She’s got a commission to do a job in London, that’s all.’

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