Chapter 14

Clara felt surprisingly good about herself, given the circumstances. Of course, there was still the matter of the dead woman and the recent break-in at her house, but somehow, she felt like it was going to be okay. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she had felt like that. Up to this point, her life had been a sequence of one bad incident after another, but now she was confident that eventually, she would have peace. Not now, not in the next few weeks, but maybe months or years and she felt like that because of John Smith and the kindness he had shown her. John, a complete stranger, had spent the night on her sofa just to protect her from a burglar who fortunately hadn't come back and they had talked for a long time. It wasn't even the fact that he had shared his personal feelings with her, but the simple act of just having a conversation with someone she didn't know. Clara had been on this island for six months and she had only made one friend. John had made her realise that what she had been feeling was loneliness and at the same time, he had lifted it a little. But for now, Clara had issues to focus on other than her loneliness.

The police had stopped by in the morning, investigating the scene of the crime, taking prints off several surfaces and door handles and Clara hoped that there would be others besides her own. They had also advised her to change the lock which was why Clara found herself at the hardware shop after work. It occurred to her that maybe she should have asked Amy to bring her a new lock back from the mainland because as soon as she walked into the shop, she realised that it was a lot smaller than the ones she had visited in London. With a sigh, she accepted the fact that it was too late to ask Amy for help and walked up to the front desk.

"Hello, how can I help you?" a middle-aged woman behind the counter asked, flashing her a bright, fake smile which she probably used for every customer.

"Hi, um," Clara greeted her, "I'm looking for a new lock. For a front door. Preferably one that can't be picked."

The woman laughed. "An unpickable lock, huh? Sure, I think you'll find that in the aisle with the energy-creating lightbulbs and the screwdriver suitable for all sizes of screws."

Clara glared at her in response to her rather unfunny joke and while she was still looking for a decent comeback, another person stepped in and interrupted her thoughts.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but isn't it your job to help your customers, not make fun of them?" the young man asked, looking straight at the woman behind the counter.

Clara smiled when she spotted the man next to her and she felt like congratulating him on his response. The man looked a few years younger than herself and the lack of an accent told her that he wasn't from around here either, not originally. Then, he turned towards Clara.

"I know a couple of things about locks," he explained. "I doubt we'll find one that is unpickable in this shop, but I'm sure they have a few good ones. Want me to take a look?"

Yesterday, Clara would have turned him down because she was an independent woman who didn't need any help and could manage on her own, but if the last 24 hours had proven anything, it was that accepting help wasn't as bad as she had initially thought. So she smiled at him in response.

"That would be nice, thanks," she replied happily. "I'm afraid I don't know much about locks."

"Alright," the man said and gestured towards the aisles. "Follow me."

He seemed to know exactly where he was going as if he already knew the shop by heart and in her mind, Clara pictured him moving here and constantly running to the shop to get something for his new house. He couldn't have lived here for very long because he had an accent, but it wasn't a local one.

"Do you have someone to install it for you?"

Clara turned her head and looked at him, suddenly realising that she had trailed off and didn't have a clue what he was talking about. "I'm sorry, what?"

The man chuckled. "The lock. I assume you don't want to put it on a shelf as décor."

"Oh, that," Clara replied and uttered a short laugh. "No, um, I'll ask my friend's husband. He always fixes stuff around my house in exchange for a soufflé or two because my friend can't cook."

"That's a very clever ruse," the man remarked, the amusement audible in his voice. He came to a halt in front of a shelf and when Clara turned to look, she noticed that they had found what they had been looking for.

"Well, those are… locks," she noted. "Lots of them."

"Well spotted," he congratulated her. "How secure do you want it to be?"

Clara took a deep breath and inspected the selection. The price range seemed to vary a lot and she wasn't exactly sure how much to spend on a simple lock. "I would like to make it less easy for burglars," Clara said eventually. "Is there something that can do that?"

The man laughed. "This is Scotland. Don't people usually leave their doors unlocked here? I doubt you'll have burglar problems."

"Oh, I wish that were true," she muttered under her breath.

"What? You had a break-in?"

Clara turned her head and looked at the man once more. For a brief moment, she wondered whether it was actually smart to tell him. After all, she had spent six months without really talking to anyone. But he was nice, wasn't he? And he was helping her choosing a lock. "Yesterday," she replied and gestured towards the shelf. "Hence the new lock."

"Oh, alright," the man said and suddenly, Clara took a step back. It wasn't anything he had said or how he had said it, but for a brief moment, she noticed a strange look on his face that was somewhere between mischievous and amused and she decided to put some distance between them until she had figured out what was amusing about a burglary.

"I hope they didn't steal anything important?" he asked and his voice sounded as if he already knew. In fact, the longer Clara paid attention, the more details about him bothered her. She blinked a couple of times, trying to take in his looks, his accent, his posture, his entire presence and the longer she looked, the more he frightened her.

"No, um, they didn't," Clara said absent-mindedly and she hoped that her sudden nervousness didn't show. "So, well, what's your name? You've never introduced yourself."

She was stammering now and every cell in her body told her to run away. It could be a coincidence, he could be a random, nice man who just wanted to help her out. But if he wasn't, what did he want? Was she in danger?

"My name's Ciaran," he explained and when he turned around, he was smiling at her. It seemed so sincere and honest and it frightened her to her core as his name resounded in her head. "And yours?"

Not knowing what else to do, Clara looked at her watch. She was in desperate need of an excuse to get as far away from him as possible. "Oh, is that the time?" she spluttered nervously. "I'm afraid I have to go."

Without waiting for his response, Clara spun around and headed towards the exit. She only vaguely heard him call after her, asking about the lock, but the blood was pounding in her ears and that was the only sound that mattered to her right now.

As she started her motorcycle, Clara knew that there was only one place she could go, only one person she could trust with this and she dearly hoped that she wasn't underestimating him. Suddenly, it was as clear as day in her mind. Straight out of nowhere, it had just popped into her head and she knew what she needed to do.