Chapter 67
The whistle of the platform manager in Glasgow Central sounded through the air. The sleeper train from London slowed down, till eventually it came to a stop at the platform.
All the passengers were waiting to disembark the carriages, including Terry and Candy. They were standing in silence, waiting for the doors to open.
It was Terry who opened his eyes first. Candy had come much closer to him while they were sleeping. The reality of that moment was touching the surreal for him. Powerless to move away from her; breathing as light as possible, not wanting to wake her up yet, he let himself free to gaze in leisure at her sleeping face.
He noticed the bluish shadow of the delicate skin of her eyelids. The long blond eyelashes he wanted to feel brushing against his lips. The tanned bridge of her nose. The freckles that spread towards her cheekbones, reminding him flock of birds up in the sky flying in formation all following one another. And then the rogue freckles, the ones having escaped the flock. Above her brows, hiding behind sleepy curls of hair. Others close to her slightly parted lips. Made for kissing...
He had trouble believing they were there, sharing a bed after everything that had happened. But as much as he was pinching himself, the situation had also become unbearable.
He had to get up.
The train doors opened. Streams of people flooded the platform in no time. They both got out. First him, took her suitcase in one hand when she followed and gave her his hand to help her while she stepped out of the train.
The first thing she remembered that morning, was his scent. Warm and masculine, the smell of earthy amber; enough to make the urge to bury her face on his chest very real, even before she opened her eyes. Like the first rays of sunshine on her face, this awakening desire which hit her, had unnerved her.
The easiness with which they had come close, after everything that had come between them, had come in the end so natural; like everything before that moment of waking up next to each other, had all vanished.
She couldn't deny to herself even the fact that she was the one who had made the first moves, much to her surprise. A surprise which under the bright morning light had turned into dismay. She had allowed her heart to yield to her impulses, to her need to feel him close to her, when her mind was telling her their relationship had no future.
"Candy, you need to get up."
She heard him say her name and by the time she opened her eyes, he had disappeared in the bathroom.
The abrupt realisation inside her, had dampened her mood. And he had followed suit. Neither knew exactly how to behave.
Typical, formal?
Perhaps friends?
How much friends? Too little friendship bordering to acquaintance... or too much?
How much friendship was too much for them?
When even the smallest touch was like
a burning match;
Thrown inside a field begging for rain, it could be the one spark for thoughts and feelings they were unable to know where they would lead them.
Their morning on the train had been subdued, numb.
He was courteous, she was polite. Either one talked about the night before. The conversation ranged between whether they slept ok and in Candy's case, the extent of her hunger before they reached the breakfast buffet. They sat down and she tried to avoid his examining stare.
What could she say to him?
That she couldn't let them get closer?
That she wouldn't be able to say - no - if he asked her the one question she feared from him?
She kept the conversation neutral by asking him, whether he had been on the west coast of Scotland, to which he answered her yes. His answers were almost like a geographical brochure, despite him having hinted he had spent all his summers in Scotland with his family.
Terry very much avoided talking about his past life with his father's family. It was a subject that even under the best of circumstances he wasn't keen to share, more so now when he had found himself trying to analyse her every gesture, the tone of her voice.
Τhe way she looked at him.
Or better said the way she avoided looking at him.
Whatever hopes he had woken up with, they were evaporating as fast as the morning mist under the warmth of the summer sun. He tried to calm his frustration, thinking that perhaps it's temporary, it's the tiredness from the journey. He shouldn't jump to conclusions. Then again, this situation that was quickly forming between them, felt very familiar - a game of one step forward and two backwards - and he wished that for once, they could find the strength to come clean about their feelings when they would touch ground on the Isle of Barra.
Saying about touching ground...
He hadn't told her about changing at the last minute, all of Christian's travel plans. As she was walking beside him, taking in the sounds and the smells of the city of Glasgow on their way to the taxi rank, he hoped she'd be ok with how he had taken over from Christian and had put his own stamp on how he handled things.
It was early in the morning and it felt nippy even if that was mid of July. The air was damp. It smelled like vinegar from the beer distilleries which were built around the city. Compared with the summer warmth in London, the weather was somewhat off-putting but despite that, the Glaswegians seemed like hearty people, loud and cheery, the way they interacted with one another. Quite polite and forthwith in their manners.
She liked that. Took her mind off her troubled thoughts and put a smile on her face. Terry kept throwing her half glances, with amusement lighting up his turquoise eyes.
Their accent was thick like molasses. She could hardly make heads over tails how the round vowels rolled off their tongues like boulders, while some consonants vanished in the air and others sounded dominant like lords of the Highland castles. All the while the banter between the locals was peppered with words she had never heard before.
"Welcome to the West Coast." Terry told her, sensing her amazement.
They reached the taxi rank. The driver took their suitcases to put at the back and let them go in the car.
"To Paisley airdrome, please driver." Terry said and let himself fall back once the driver started the car.
He turned to Candy and met with her questioning stare, just before she was to make that question vocal.
"We're flying to the island, Candy." He said.
She almost jumped from her seat, her eyes became almost double in size when she heard that they'll be flying to the isle of Barra.
"What?! Had Chri-"
"No. He hadn't." He cut her. "If we followed Christian's plan we'd have to spend the day in Oban, at the coast, and leave the next morning to the Hebrides. The ferry takes twelve hours, Candy to reach Barra, Candy." He explained.
She hadn't realised that Christian was to take her to edge of the world, so far away from London.
Τhe dread she felt when she had read his letter, started spreading in her again, as if it obeyed some rules of a tide, governed by her heart; an anxiety ridden tide that came into action whenever her mind turned towards Christian and his secrets. A particular secret she carried herself in her handbag, darkened her thoughts even further.
While the taxi was speeding toward the airdrome and the sun was climbing higher on the sky, she had her face turned towards the open window, let the morning breeze sweep over her face. The grass had turned golden in the fields, which stretched up to where their eyes could see, with large rolled bales of hay sitting at the end of long straight lines of land.
Home...
Candy hadn't brought any objection to his change of plans, but she had turned rather quiet at the same time.
"I hope I haven't made you upset." He said to her.
"No..."
She didn't turn to see him when she replied. Her silence frustrated him. "Then what?" He asked her while feeling she was leaving things unsaid.
"It is not something I want to discuss now, Terry." Her voice trailed off, carried away by the rushed air through the window inside the car.
He didn't react. Even if he wanted very much to press on, to find the reason behind this change in her mood, he had caught the driver glancing to them through the rear view mirror...
They hadn't even left Glasgow yet, and the tension between them had started rising once again; he decided to wait till they actually were the two of them in the privacy of their rooms, once they had arrived on the island. Then, he would ask her and wouldn't back down if she offered him the answers she did at present. Suddenly she turned. Her eyes peered down in the depths of his.
"I am not upset. Please stop trying to analyse my every silence and sigh."
She actually meant what she said. If they were to survive those two weeks together, she had to have room to breathe, without feeling like she was constantly under the scrutiny of his stare.
"Don't tell me... Is that too one of your rules, Candy?" His escaped frustration was evident in his words.
She opened her mouth as if she was going to reply to him and then she didn't. She turned towards the window again.
"Whatever pleases you Terry."
He was getting more and more annoyed of her closing up like a clam, not saying much all morning now, compared with how she was during the night.
Candy wasn't prepared for another match of emotions and words flying like sparks between them. She wasn't prepared to start another fire, another fight. She wasn't annoyed with Terry shortening their journey, but with his gesture of doing so, the way he took control over the plans of someone else.
He had to have his stamp put on how things were done. That scared her if she was to be honest. Having also being a strong minded kind of a woman, no wonder they clashed so much. And then, her worry about Christian hadn't dissipated. She had rather tried her best to push it at the back of her mind, trust in Terry telling her he knew what he was doing. She should sit there, acting convinced that Christian had everything at hand, he had a plan to sort himself out.
Under the drama and the tension of the previous day, a lot of her thoughts had sunk like monsters under the surface of the sea. Had let her for a little while to concentrate at the present. At herself and Terry being together in a small cabin on a train. She had allowed herself even to get close to him, she had confessed things to him she had never thought she ever would confess.
The sight of a couple of planes at the distance became bigger as they were approaching the airdrome. A small crowd of people had been gathering outside a large white tent.
The taxi approached closer and stopped. The driver got out and opened the passenger door for the couple to come out.
"Weather looks fine." He said to Terry when he gave them their suitcases and smiled.
"Indeed, it does look like a good day to fly." Terry replied in an equal cordial tone.
"Where will be flying if I may ask?" The driver asked with interest.
"To the Isle of Barra." Candy said to the man when she took from him her suitcase.
"Well, I wish you both a good trip. The Hebrides are pretty bony this time of the year." He tipped his cap to them and left.
Candy threw a glance at the two planes of the Imperial Airways.
"Nervous?" She heard Terry asking. He stood next to her.
"A little." She replied with a sheepish smile. "I haven't flown since when Alistair and I... that summer..." She said with a gaze stolen by the memories that were flooding her mind.
She didn't need to say more. Terry knew that summer very well. It was the happiest summer in his life and the most nerve racking at the same time. The summer Candy made him realise what he was meant to do with his life. The summer he realised he had fallen in love with her.
He coughed, putting a stop to the reverie Candy was slipping into.
"I'll go in to let the officer know we're here." He said to her.
Candy stood there, while she looked at the people who were starting to get on one of the planes. Flying was something which despite having the opportunity to do in the past, she hadn't conveniently decided to actually do it. Reason was that after Alistair had been lost while flying his fighter plane on the Great War, flying was one of those memories she had of him, when the two of them had jumped on that plane which belonged to Terry's father.
It was such an incredible irony that Terry was the one who had pushed her in two different occasions, to do the one thing she had connected with people who had passed away and had left a big hole in her life. First he had pushed her by force to get on his horse in an effort to make her reconcile with Anthony being dead and now, unknowingly by taking charge and changing Christian's plans, he was to make her get on a plane when she had avoided going into one, even when she had decided to join Albert on his travels, only to backtrack once the subject of flying came to the fore.
So there she was. She had to put up a brave face and do it. She had come that far already. If she was to turn back and head to the train station to return to London... even if she wanted to do it, even if the fear of flying, the anxiety of spending two weeks with Terry, everything about the whole endeavour was filling her with dread - turning back to London, wasn't an option. Not when she didn't know whether a return to London would jeopardise Christian's plans.
Terry came out the tent with the Imperial Airways officer and headed towards her. Despite the lack of sleep, the cuts and bruises on his face, he looked very handsome in his linen navy blue suit and fedora hat. He too had gained a tan under the London sky and his blue eyes shone as if they had trapped the sun inside them.
To her, he looked so young right there and then, she was transported to their past and they were both teenagers.
The rhythmic thumbing of her heartbeat in her ears...
Nothing had changed;
Since the old days between them. The years which had passed were without any effect; regardless whether he had been engaged to another woman for ten years and her having shed the old self, trying to distance herself as much as she could from the Candy she and he knew. All that and still they held no consequence over their feelings for each other. Feelings which just like back then, were left unspoken even now.
He caught her gaze. She was driving him up the wall, she was torturing him, but he could very well just go ahead and admit it, with her and only her, he was a masochist. They were now on the verge of embarking on fourteen days of being just the two of them on a island at the edge of the world; while for the time he had been in London he had passed through a whole spectrum of feelings,
feeling despondent, hopeless, ready to give up
To being angry, enraged, careless whether he lives or dies
Jealous, so so jealous
And then the few times she was in his arms...
Νo words described the state of his inner world on those moments.
Still they were there. Never in his life, he had been left with no idea or even an inkling what could be in store for them. It could be a disaster and it could heaven. Right now with Candy's quiet spell this morning, the balance was tilting towards a direction that made him worry.
Most of the people were boarding the flight to London. The flight to the isle of Barra had been once a week. It had only started that summer and run on a testing period, since the airways wanted to gauge whether they would be popular or not. The plane was a ten seater one and apart from Candy and Terry, there were four more passengers waiting to get in.
Before they came on board the aircraft, the officer wished them a safe journey and he introduced them to the pilot who assured them that the weather was beautiful for flying that morning. The six passengers, made a beeline. Candy and Terry were the last to get in. He made way for her to go up the short ladder first. She gave him a nervous smile.
"We'll be fine." He whispered to her.
She heard his soothing voice reassuring her. Tears welled up inside her eyes. Many years ago, single-handedly he had helped her wounds over Anthony's death to start healing and now, unbeknown to himself, he was doing it again. For Alistair this time.
The day that had dawned in London was like every other day. The sun rose from the east as per usual. Colour returned to all things slowly as the darkness drained from the sky. A wall of sound rose around the cabin in the woods. The singing of the birds flooded the air that was turning warmer.
Despite this idyll moment of a new day, for Christian it was the complete opposite. There was quiet inside him when he opened his eyes. Absolutely stillness, a void which looked as if it had the power to absorb thoughts and feelings, leaving behind a hole filled with nothing.
He had woken early, around seven in the morning. The sun already bright, casted beams of light turning the floating dust gold, as it filtered through the windows, inside the cabin. It was that light that had woken him up. He got up from the sofa where he had fallen asleep and got ready, as quickly and quietly as he could.
He peeked inside the bedroom before he left. Alice was still sleeping. He felt guilty for leaving her on her own. He didn't know whether he'd return that night. There were a few things he needed to put in place. In retrospect, bringing Alice so far away from London - it took him two hours to get to the cabin - was not fair for her, and it was tiring to get back and forth but it also meant he had complete control over Charlie.
Charlie MacDonald - he didn't even trust him to give water to a saint - let alone trust his word, even if they shook hands and "spit on it". That man hadn't reached where he was by playing fair and square. All his moves had to do with what was his advantage, his gain over the opponent and everyone in the complete sense of the word, was an opponent for Charlie.
The only thing sacred for him, was the family. The MacDonalds weren't a big family. Mother had died in her sixties, a few years back, father had abandoned them a long time before that. Never had given any signs of life. Charles was convinced he wasn't alive. A violent drunkard he was and a gambler. It wouldn't surprise him if he had his throat sliced over gambling debts, his body finding its forever home at the muddy bottom of Thames.
He only had two more brothers, Wal and Bert. Together, they had formed the Elephant & Castle gang, which was the area of London, where they had grown up. Their ascent to become the most powerful gang in London had been as gruesome as the murders described in the multiple police reports which became almost like the chronicle of their domination.
They had taken Sabini and his men out on a legendary by now fight at Epsom Road, a few years back. Wal had left Charles and Bert after that, moved to the States where he became a bodyguard for the rich and famous. Bert had moved to Birmingham and acted as Charlie's representative on their dealings with Billy Kimber and the Birmingham Boys who had become quite a powerful gang in the Midlands and had their sights on controlling more and more horse racecourses. It made more sense to have them as allies than enemies.
For Charlie, staying on top of the food chain was harder than the effort it took for him and his brothers, not counting the lives that were lost from his people while they fought to reach that spot. It was an endless game of chess, one strategic move after the other, alliances to make and break from a day to the next on a world where nothing remained constant, everyone was out to get everyone under the ideal circumstances and survival of the strongest was the straight line on which everything was kept on a precarious balance. It wasn't a life for the faint hearted.
More or less, all the above were known to Christian. Once he got acquainted with MacDonald, in the brutal way that he did, that evening of his gallery opening, Christian took care of learning everything he could find out, about this man who's shadow hung over his life like a bad cloud; dark and ominous, for which he was more than certain that it wouldn't go away till it would drown him without a moment's notice when Christian had fulfilled his purpose.
His plan had only one aim. To gain the upper hand, find himself one step ahead and surprise MacDonald with a twist he wouldn't be able to avoid of escaping from.
"You must be fucking insane!" Alice had yelled to him when he revealed to her that his next big target was to break into the Duke of Grandchester's mansion.
He had tried to ease her worry, though truth to be told, it wasn't logic who had pushed him to attempt that task. Desperation had prompted him as he had run out of options. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, he could say. In front of Alice, he kept calm. He had the situation at hand. It was the only way, the one job he'd do with her lover and then MacDonald had assured him, he'd leave him in peace.
Alice had looked thoughtful. Nothing that Christian that said to her, had managed to break the cloud of worry that had darkened her stare.
"Just that last one, Alice and then-"
He had looked at her. His word balancing on uncertainty. Could he trust her?
"Then what?" She asked him, once his silence had been dragging for more than just the time needed to group his thoughts.
He hadn't answered. Instead he took his eyes off of hers. Took a gulp from his beer. Got up. Lit a cigarette. Did everything else apart from answering her. The time window to lay his cards open had closed.
"Then what Christian?" She had asked him again, her question being more pressing.
He took a couple of drags from his cigarette. Had stood in front of the sink, looking at the darkness outside. Stared at his faint reflection on the window. A ghost. His body slumped over the sink, fag through his fingers, he grabbed the edge of the sink.
"I'll be done with this life after that, Alice..." He had finally said.
As he was approaching London, his final words to Alice kept echoing in his mind.
He had spoken the truth after all, even if he had spared her all the details. The only difference was that Christian was done with this life of his already. By the time, the train to Glasgow left, together with Rose and Terry, Christian's old life too was speeding away from him. He didn't need to wait for the night he would break into Richard Grandchester's stately house. Even if everything he had planned from that moment onwards, he was forced to implement, he would have to bring this plan of his to the end. Dig down inside him to find the will. One step at a time.
He parked his motorcycle.
Step one - Meet with Charles MacDonald. The clock was ticking backwards and they had to discuss the details of him getting into that mansion.
It took two hours for the airplane to touch down on the isle of Barra, to what was probably the most spectacular landing of an aircraft, since it touched down on the actual coast, on a piece of land of wet sand exposed by the tide.
While up on air, nervousness took had taken its hold, thoughts had vanished, mind had emptied and...
It took only a bump, a shake of the aircraft caused by the wind -
Candy's hand stretched across the narrow corridor between the two airplane seats where she and Terry were seating and grabbed his hand as he had it resting on the arm of the chair. He had turned startled by her impulsive move. His eyes were smiling.
"Don't be scared, nothing will happen..."
His voice barely was heard, drowned by the noise of the engine, but it didn't matter. She had heard its softness, the absolute certainty it carried; nothing bad would happen to her, when he was by her side. He turned his hand up; opened his palm and closed her hand into his.
Leaned towards her - "Enjoy the views Candy. We're passing by the West Highlands, flying towards the Hebrides. It's very beautiful."
Terry was right. With her hand safely inside his, she stretched her neck and looked outside the window. Her gaze swept over the landscape below them. The fields had turned into squares of green and yellow, the tall trees over the slopes had turned into the peaks of the waves of a sea smelling of pine. They went through clouds for quite some time, till they finally opened. The Atlantic ocean was beneath them, an expanse of deep blue, stretching as far as their eyes could see.
Candy felt like all her problems were sinking beneath that vast surface of blue. The Hebrides appeared in front of them. She turned and came in direct contact with Terry's eyes, looking at her. That same ocean, the blue of his eyes she found herself lost into them. Her heartbeat became faster.
The airplane started its descent. She tightened her grip on Terry's hand. Nervous but equally mesmerised by the remoteness of the place, she kept her eyes glued on the exposed beach they were about to touch down.
"We're here..." Terry said, his voice soft was heard next to her, as the plane slowed down to a halt.
He only had stated a simple and straight forward fact, but to her it held much more.
Wasn't she the one who had fought against her feelings for Terry since the moment he showed in her life again? Unexpectedly on a summer evening, after ten years of silence. She fought a lost battle in the name of self preservation. She knew very well that if she was to be hurt again, it would have been much worse, a lot more than the first time round, when she left him on those hospital stairs.
And yet, they were now there. The two of them and she was in love. She had been aware from the moment he showed in front f her on the train. The stark reality she would have to spend time alone with him in a place so far removed from where they were, hundreds of miles away from her life with Christian. A life that - if she was to be honest - had had a full stop put into, an end on the morning she woke up and he was gone.
Terry's twin brother...
She removed her hand from his. Walked in front of him as they disembarked the plane.
There was a small building on the beach, a cottage one could describe it. Several people were waiting in front of it. Friends and family of the people who had arrived with them. There was also a woman of short stature and quite plump looking who Candy liked immediately as they were approaching; the woman was in her fifties and reminded her of Miss Pony, with her dark hair put up on a wide bun. She wasn't wearing glasses and her eyes were the colour of the sky above them, light blue, and her cheeks full and red like ripe apples, having been blasted since birth by the Scottish gale strength winds. She didn't look as if she was in any danger to stand against those winds, because she looked a hard weathered woman but the warmth of her eyes, when they came to close enough distance for her to ask them whether they were Mr. and Mrs Graham, made her immediately likeable to both of them.
They stopped. Terry gave a quick glance to Candy who looked as if she had slammed her face to a wall. Cleared his voice and gave the woman his most radiant smile.
"Yes we are..." He answered with extra warmth in his voice. He grabbed Candy's hand before she even opened her mouth to say anything otherwise.
She felt the squeeze of his hand. The corners of her mouth curled up in response, despite the fire she felt on her cheeks.
"Mrs. Burns I presume?" Terry asked the woman.
"Aye Mr. Graham. I've been waiting for you and your darling wife. Welcome to Barra!" She said and smiled to them, glancing at both their faces. Those folk from London, she hadn't seen many, perhaps they were counted to the fingers of one hand, they all looked strange to her. Kind of constipated, the way they smiled up to the tips of the ears, not knowing exactly how to behave.
City folk from down south were a different breed altogether,
She thought. But she wasn't one to pass judgement. They looked polite and warm enough. Of course she had been surprised when Terry had phoned her to let her know that Mr. Blake and his companion wouldn't be able to travel and instead he and his wife would take their booking instead. Him and his wife were newlyweds as he had said. They jumped to the chance for an impromptu honeymoon.
By the look of them, when they entered her car, for Mrs. Graham, it looked like the wedding was more impromptu than the honeymoon. She had looked startled and yes, she wasn't wearing any wedding ring.
But...
As Sarah Burns had concluded, she wasn't one to pass judgment. They didn't look like murderers. The man was extremely good looking, and even if they were not married (or were they?), they looked very compatible. In fact, based on her matchmaking experience, that man and that woman sitting at the back of her car, looked like they already knew each other pretty well by their body language. Despite the girl being mostly quiet and certainly on edge while the guy tried to keep the conversation with Mrs. Burns going; at the same time, he glanced at his companion with a mixture of nervousness and amusement.
Their drive arrived to their destination.
There were no trees on sight. Only green grass that spread up to a beach which was guarded on both sides, by rocks the colour of dark caramel and chocolate and a surface smooth like butter, having been battered by the Atlantic ocean coastal weather, for thousands of years.
Candy stared at the golden fine sand and the turquoise waters. She held her breath. Her eyes followed the curve of the beach up to the right hand side where the land stretched to the front, as if it had taken a step inside the sea. There was a small cottage there where the waves almost licked its front door.
The scenery was ragged, remote and at the same time breathtakingly beautiful. She imagined how it would be under a storm born from the depths of the ocean's horizon and shivered. Waves of excitement lapped inside her belly and she tried to calm herself down, knowing all too well, her reaction came from the fact that this place had a magical power - she felt it right away - and she was there with non-other, than the man who had kept her heart captive since she had been an innocent teenager.
"It's so beautiful." She exclaimed as they stepped outside the car and her eyes feasted on their surroundings.
She turned immediately and met with Terry's stare. He too looked taken over by the place. Christian must had been here before, there was no doubt. The views of the ocean and the beach it was as if it came straight from a painting.
"The sunsets are something to look for here..." The woman said while she stood behind them, being amused by their reaction. It was not her business to put her nose into other people's affairs - the couple in front of her though
she could bet the gravy she put on the Sunday roast
even if they weren't married, by the time they left, no much more time would pass without a ring on that lass's finger. That certain she was for the power of their isle of Barradise to make love flourish. She cleared her throat to draw their attention and walked towards the cottage.
She unlocked the door and came in. Candy and Terry followed, each to their own world of thoughts which it was clear for them both, they involved each other.
Mrs. Burns turned and looked at them.
"As you can see, the main room of the cottage is rather large, since it contains both the kitchen area, the dining and living room"
It was a fairly sized room with old wooden floors; The ceiling was low with thick oak tree beams that extended from one side to the other, being darkened with time. There was a rather large dark slate fireplace taking most of the wall on the one side of the room; a small sofa was facing it, and an armchair was placed by its side, near the one window of the room that overlooked the small bay outside.
At the opposite side of the room, there was one more window, a folded bed just below it, and next to it the dining table which also faced the kitchen area which was small but functional with its wood stove. By the other side of the fireplace, there was a tall side table with a portable gramophone on it and a few records stacked below it.
Terry and Candy looked amused by that. "That is a gift from the previous tenant who insisted that we keep it for when he comes back whenever that is..." She explained.
Then she turned to her left, there were two doors. One of them was the bathroom which was very basic and the other door was the bedroom. It carried the same cottage feel as the main room. The wooden beams though curved above the bed area, creating almost an alcove feel with the two small windows on each side. The bed was quite a generous side with a thick mattress and a thick shag pile blanket on top of it.
Candy felt her throat drying up as quickly as a water hole in the desert under a glaring sun who at the same time was burning her face. She was certain she was sweating and panicking in the thought her desperate heartbeat was so loud, it could be heard by Terry and their companion.
And then Terry's audacity, to phone and introduce them as Mr. and Mrs. Graham...
Now, they were stuck in that lover's nest, in a corner of earth carved out of paradise. She took a deep breath. She was in need of air. Left both Terry and Mrs. Burns at the room and came out of the cottage as quickly as she could, wanting the sea breeze to dry the moisture that was gathering at the corners of her eyes.
She stared at the ocean, had her mind lost within the sun's sparkles as it hit on the water.
"Mrs. Graham..." She heard the woman's voice behind her. She turned. Terry was standing at the cottage door. He looked so tall, the way his body almost filled the entrance.
She sounded worried and a bit perplexed by Candy's sudden departure. "As I said to Mr. Graham, I hope everything is to your satisfaction. I know it's not fancy but-"
Candy felt awful. She had come out as being rude and all that woman had done was to show them the place, which under all other circumstances would have been classified as a dream to stay. For her now, it felt like her nightmare...
"No, please Mrs. Burns! Everything looks perfect! Please forgive me, it has been a rather long journey all the way from London and-" She rushed to excuse her behaviour.
Immediately, their hostess looked relieved. She didn't let Candy to complete her sentence.
"No, no, there is no need to explain-"
"Please call me Rose...Mrs. Burns!" Candy added with a wide smile. Saw Terry's brow arching up. She had no intention to change her name now. He had gone ahead and had changed everything else, without her having consulted on anything.
Mrs. Burns returned the smile. "Great then! I will let you both alone to rest. There are a couple of bikes in the shed for you to use. The village is only thirty minutes on foot from here. There are plenty of supplies in the pantry and I left in the oven some roast beef with potatoes should you warm it up for dinner." She said before she headed for the car.
"Thank you for everything!" Candy replied while she felt her cheeks starting to ache from the smile she kept fixed on her face.
"Will be back by Friday in the morn to bring you supplies." She responded as she was switching the car's engine on.
Terry had approached Candy and placed his hand around her waist. He felt her tensing but all they could do was smile to their hostess and wave her goodbye. He knew he was walking on very thin ice and that Candy was taken aback while he introduced them as a married couple but he had passed caring of what she thought.
He had tread all that time with care and worry not to do a wrong move. Yes, at the very end, he thought he had destroyed everything and then on the night in the train, while they were on their way to the island, they had come so very close. He had breathed a sigh of relief, knowing she had put what happened behind her. But he had annoyed him with her brooding silence in the morning. That rollercoaster of feelings had taken its toll.
They waited till Mrs. Burns car was out of their sight. She then, without addressing him, turned and left him standing with his arm still extended to where her waist was. She walked with quick determined steps to the cottage. He followed her, waiting for the storm to break out. He closed the door behind him.
Still silent, she went inside the bedroom.
"Where are you going Candy?" He asked.
She appeared with his suitcase in hand. Placed it outside the room. Her glare was full of emerald arrows she was about to strike Terry with.
"Miss Rose White is sleeping in the bedroom!" She raised her voice.
"Mr. Graham can sleep in the f...olding bed!" She looked at him and with saying nothing else she stepped inside and slammed the door close.
More than aware that the Blind Beggar could be under surveillance by police officers, Christian had pulled the lapels of his jacket up and the paperboy hat he wore down to cover his stare from the outside world, and with wide strides and his hands shoved deep inside his pockets, came in the pub.
In similar fashion, without turning left or right to see who was around, he crossed the floor and arrived at the bar, lifted the flap up and came on the inside, while he muttered a quick good morning to the bartender who nodded his head and said nothing else apart from continuing his own business of tending the bar.
Christian rushed down the stairs and equally so wasted no time to arrive in front of MacDonald's door. There were no men outside. There he made his first stop. It wasn't long, just perhaps ten, twenty seconds at the most while he took his cap off, brushed his hair with his hand, and put it back on again, this time leaving his stare free of obstructions. Took a deep breath while having his eyes closed, turned the door handle and came in.
MacDonald lifted his head from reading some papers on his desk. The initial surprise very quickly turned to annoyance, the way Christian had barged in.
"One day those damned balls you carry Picasso, will bring your ending."
"I could say the same about your tongue Charlie..." Christian replied to him, very well knowing of the clear challenging in his voice.
MacDonald kept his eyes fixed on Christian as he took the chair and sat down. "Your luck is named Alice and she's hidden away, otherwise I'd say you're growing too big for your shoes lad."
Christian didn't reply. He took his tobacco out and rolled himself a cigarette. Lit it.
MacDonald put his hands up on the desk, knitted his fingers together. "Don't you think I won't find her quick enough to put a bullet in your body."
"Not before I hand you in the treasures the Duke of Grandchester keeps inside that safe of his." Christian said and blew the smoke out. "As I said, Alice is just my collateral. She's treated like the queen she is..."
Charlie groaned. It was true that Christian had managed to gain the upper hand through Alice and thus having the control and the lead in this collaboration between them but he hated following orders.
To sweeten the pill, Christian continued. "Two years ago, there was a big auction in London, organised by Fellows Auctioneers." He begun saying this story. "They specialise in auctioning jewellery from Russian aristocrat refugees."
The last few words piqued MacDonald's interest. Lit a cigarette himself. "Go on." He asked Christian who had stood up and was pacing inside the room.
"Vera Alexandrova, a seventeen year old girl for whom I was commissioned to paint her portrait by her aunt - for reasons none other than trying to find her a husband - had only arrived from Russia and apparently for the poor girl, she was the only one from the family who did survive the persecution. They were a very rich family with close ties to the Romanovs. On her she had almost the entire collection of jewellery of her mother and grandmother from which she had spent some in order to reach England. Her aunt, a close friend of the Duchess of Grandchester, decided to auction the remaining jewellery of astonishing beauty and craftsmanship and a Faberge egg, encrusted with diamonds and the money collected would make her niece's dowry."
MacDonald had followed Christian's pacing and story with unwavered interest. In fact, by the time Christian dropped the Faberge name, he had his absolute, undivided attention. Inside the office of Charles MacDonald, you could even hear a pen drop.
"To say that the sole acquirer of Vera Alexandrova's stash was no other than the Duke of Grandchester... I gather you must have seen this coming already." Christian concluded and sat down to the chair.
MacDonald was speechless. There was a question which he didn't get the time to make it, since Christian answered it before it left his lips. "I didn't attempt to do this before, because I cannot do it on my own. The Grandchester state house is enormous, with lots of private grounds around it."
"I see... and what I can offer then?" MacDonald asked him. He sounded as if he was eating from Christian's palm.
"I want you to find me the best jewellery cleaner you can find, who looks the part too." Christian said.
"Have him visit the Grandchester mansion on Monday the 20th, early in the morning, 10am. The House of Lords will be convening on that day, the Duke is also a Lord so the moment he leaves, we wait and move. Your man will go first, as an appointment for cleaning the Grandchester jewels has been set by the Duke himself. When the butler won't be convinced and before he goes to the phone to inform the Duke, your man hands him this."
Christian took out of his pocket, the handkerchief, the one with the Grandchester coat of arms.
"It belongs to the family..." Christian said, while his eyes were square and still on MacDonald and the handkerchief which he now had in his hands. "Your man will say that the Duke also forgot this in the shop in Hatton Garden..."
"I will also happen to arrive the same time, five minutes later... I have been asked by the Duke to draw a portrait of his wife. I'll deal with the rest when I'm there." Christian added and took the handkerchief from MacDonald. "This," He said, "I'll give to your man just before he goes in the house." Christian smiled. He wasn't a fool to let his one thing that connected him to the Grandchesters, stay with MacDonald. "Once we know where the jewels are, then we meet again."
"I see you have thought of everything." MacDonald said, which included his last move with the handkerchief.
"My stand hasn't changed Charlie. I want out after this. You won't hear from me, see of me, know of me, I'll be gone, I'll vanish into thin air. That's our deal, ok?"
MacDonald nodded in agreement. "I have to hand it to you - You have a fucking brain as well as balls between your legs, Chris."
"Don't get too friendly Charlie, I might start fancying you." Christian responded to the compliment and clicked his tongue. Shoved the handkerchief in his pocket.
"You've got three days. Leave messages for me upstairs at the bar. I'll be back on Sunday."
And with those last words, Christian turned around and left. He didn't explain anything further and left MacDonald with more questions than answers on a few things but the time being, after the story he had heard, and seeing the Raven's plan being unfolded, he decided to keep still and follow, even if this hadn't been his style.
The phone rang. He picked it up. A man with a Glaswegian accent was heard on the other side of the line.
"Charlie MacDonald?" He asked.
"Yes, that's me." The boss replied.
For a moment there was silence. "The couple left Glasgow..." He heard the voice telling him.
"Send a man at Barra." MacDonald said.
"And keep me informed."