She said unevenly, ‘That, damn you, is not what I mean.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m not acquainted with the code you’re using today.’
‘All right.’ Chin lifted, she confronted him, her face cold with contempt. ‘Someone’s slashed the tyres on my car—all of them. I didn’t do it, so that rather puts you in the frame—as the only other person around.’
He bent and retrieved Melusine, hoisting her to his shoulder, where she draped herself bonelessly, with an expression of such idiotic bliss that Tara longed to strangle her.
As he straightened, he was frowning. ‘When did this happen?’
‘Oh, for God’s sake—what kind of game are you playing?’
‘I could ask you the same,’ he came back at her harshly. ‘Why in hell should I do such a crazy thing?’
‘You threw me in the river,’ she defended.
‘You asked for it.’
‘I could have drowned!’
He laughed. ‘Not you, darling. You walk on water.’ He paused. ‘When did you last see your car intact?’
‘Last night, I suppose. I haven’t used it today. I—I went out on the river after breakfast. I was planning to leave this evening. Go back to London.’
‘I saw your boat had gone,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘I got here about two hours ago. But I didn’t notice anyone hanging around.’
‘Why,’ she said, ‘does that not surprise me?’
Adam looked at her coldly. ‘Get one thing straight,’ he said. ‘I did not damage your bloody car in any way. God forbid I should detain you here any longer than strictly necessary,’ he added, with a bite. ‘However, I’m prepared to have a look at it—see if any of the tyres can be saved.’
‘They can’t.’
‘And if not,’ he continued, as if she hadn’t spoken, ‘I’ll ring the police and the garage for you.’
‘Don’t tell me,’ she said. ‘This time you’ve brought your mobile phone.’
‘If you’d prefer to walk to the nearest call box,’ he said pleasantly, ‘be my guest’
She bit her lip. ‘No—I mean, I’d be—grateful.’
‘Can I have that in writing?’ He unwound the purring Melusine and handed her back. ‘Here,’ he said curtly. ‘I don’t want to be charged with alienation of affections as well.’ And he strode off.
Tara stared after him. Only a few days ago he’d held her, touched her with the hands of a lover. The taste of his mouth still burned on her lips. Now they were strangers again—aeons apart—separated by an abyss of suspicion and hostility. And she had no idea how to bridge the gulf—or if she should even try, she reminded herself painfully.
It was a crowded few hours. The police came, examined the damage, and found some tyre-marks that matched neither hers nor Adam’s in a corner of the yard.
‘Looks a bit personal to me,’ one of them remarked. ‘Got any enemies, miss?’
She did not look at Adam. ‘Not that I know of. Except—I had a set-to with a man looking for antiques a few days ago,’ she added hurriedly. ‘And later someone tried to break in. I did report it.’
‘We know who you mean.’ The policeman nodded. ‘But he couldn’t have done this because we picked him up on Bank Holiday Monday. Got into a house with alarms and a security camera,’ he added with a chuckle.
‘I see,’ Tara said slowly, and with dismay.
‘He didn’t mention he’d been here, so we’ll have another word with him,’ the policeman went on. ‘But we’ve got a puzzle here,’ he added, pulling a face. ‘Difficult to see us getting a result over this.’
Later, a breakdown truck arrived and removed the car, the mechanic promising it would be ready the next day.’
With Adam silent at her side, Tara watched it go. She said stiltedly, ‘Thanks for all your help. But don’t let me keep you any longer. I’m sure you have things of your own to do. People waiting for you.’
‘I’ve come down here to work,’ he said curtly. ‘I’m going nowhere.’
‘Oh.’ She digested this. ‘Are you—staying somewhere local?’
‘As local as it gets.’ He nodded towards Dean’s Mooring. ‘I’m camping over there for a few days.’
‘But how can you?’ Tara protested. ‘There’s no electricity—no water.’
‘Sweet of you to be concerned.’ His tone was derisive. ‘But they were both connected earlier today, together with the telephone. I need to have a good look at the interior—decide what structural alterations will be necessary.’
‘Oh,’ she said, touching the tip of her tongue to dry lips. ‘I—see.’ She paused. ‘You—you didn’t bring Buster?’
‘Not this trip. He’s being looked after for me.’
‘By Caroline, I suppose?’ She kept her tone casual, hating the swift shaft of pain that transfixed her.
‘Naturally.’
‘Well—I hope this rain doesn’t get any worse.’ Now she sounded almost inane, she thought despairingly. ‘I’m sure you’ll find holes in the roof over there.’
‘Then I’ll just have to make sure they don’t find me.’ Adam bestowed a wintry smile on her, and departed.
Tara turned, with a silent sigh, and trailed back into the house.
Melusine jumped down from the dresser to greet her with a chirrup.
‘Traitress,’ Tara muttered as she bent to stroke her. ‘Let’s see what’s left for supper.’
She felt too depressed and on edge to be really hungry, so she compromised with cheese on toast.
In a way, she wished it
had
been the so-called antiques dealer who’d slashed her tyres. She could have understood that. Now she had the worry of knowing there was someone else who actually wished her harm. X—the unknown factor, she thought.
It should have been comforting to look across at Dean’s Mooring and see a light burning downstairs. But it wasn’t. In some strange way it made Tara feel lonelier—more isolated than ever.
‘Great,’ she muttered, as thunder rumbled in the distance. ‘That’s all I need.’
She tried to settle down with her book, but Melusine, who hated storms too, kept prowling round, clearly spooked.
‘Come on, baby.’ Tara lifted her gently into her arms, trying to subdue her own nervousness. ‘Let’s have an early night, and try to sleep through it.’
For a while this plan looked like it was working. The storm seemed to be receding, and Tara was just drifting into slumber, when the entire room was enveloped in sudden blue light and an almighty crash of thunder sounded directly overhead, shaking the whole house.
‘Oh, God.’ As Melusine yowled and shot under the bed Tara sat bolt upright, her mouth dry, her heart pounding as lightning flashed and the heavens roared again. She’d forgotten that storms could get trapped, circling endlessly, in river valleys.
I’m never going to sleep now, she thought, waiting for the next onslaught. I’ll make myself some tea—see if that helps.
She got out of bed, slipping on her robe as she went out on to the landing and switched on the light She was halfway down the stairs when the next flash came. She paused with a gasp, closing her eyes, waiting for the inevitable roll of thunder. When she opened her eyes again it was to find everything still pitch-black, with no friendly overhead bulb to show the way.
‘Oh, no,’ Tara groaned. ‘Not the electricity. It can’t do this to me.’
She waited for a moment, hoping it was just a temporary glitch, then cautiously began to feel her way down the rest of the stairs.
As she gained the hall she became aware of another noise making itself heard above the storm. A persistent knocking at the front door.
Her voice was tremulous. ‘Who—is it?’
‘Adam—open up.’ His voice was curt.
‘I’ll have to find the key.’ She ran her hands along the wall until she reached the hook where it hung, then fumbled it somehow into the lock and undid the chain.
‘Are you all right?’ She was caught in the powerful beam of a torch, and put up a hand to shield her eyes. As Adam stepped in he brought the cool, clean smell of rain with him.
‘Yes—but the storm’s knocked the power out.’
‘I saw your lights go off suddenly,’ he said abruptly. ‘That’s why I came over.’
‘You were—watching the house?’ Her hand went to the lapels of her robe, pulling them together. ‘Watching me?’
‘Yes.’
There was something about his tone. She said, ‘Something else has happened—hasn’t it?’
‘Perhaps. Probably nothing. I don’t know...’
‘Tell me.’
He sighed. ‘I saw a car’s lights coming down the track about an hour ago. I went out with the flashlight and it turned round and drove off.’ He hesitated. ‘I found that—odd, so I decided to—stand guard.’
‘Oh, God.’ Tara’s hand flew to her mouth.
He swore softly. ‘I knew I shouldn’t have told you.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, you should.’ She paused. ‘Did you see what kind of car it was?’
‘I only caught a glimpse as it was turning. A big, dark saloon of some kind.’ He took her by the shoulders, turning her firmly towards the kitchen. ‘Let’s have some coffee. Is there any brandy here?’
Her teeth were chattering. ‘In the dining room. The sideboard.’
‘We’ll get some candles burning first, and the kettle on. With light, and a hot drink, it will all seem better.’
‘I wish I could believe that.’
She sat in the rocking chair, listening to the storm hammering at the house and watching Adam in the candlelight. She felt cold, but it wasn’t wholly through fear. Some of it was excitement, dangerous and illicit.
The coffee he made was strong, and judiciously laced with brandy. She felt the comfort of it penetrating down to her toes as she sipped.
She said, with a touch of constraint, ‘This is—very kind of you.’
He shrugged, the lean face suddenly remote. ‘When there’s an emergency people have to pull together.’ He paused. ‘The worst of it seems to have passed.’
She said, ‘Yes.’ And, in a little rush, ‘Do you think they’ll come back? Whoever was in the car?’
‘No.’ Adam shook his head. ‘They won’t. Because they know you’re not alone.’
She thought, But I will be...
She cupped her hands round the beaker. ‘I wish Buster was here. I’d have asked you to let him stay with me.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘But I didn’t know your riverside idyll was going to develop a sinister side.’
‘Nor I.’ She was silent for a moment, bending her head so that her hair swung protectively across her face. ‘Adam—would you stay here tonight—please?’
‘As a substitute for Buster?’ he queried drily. The blue eyes rested on her thoughtfully, levelly. ‘I don’t think that’s such a good idea.’
‘I don’t want to be by myself.’ Her voice shook. ‘I’m scared—and I’ve never felt that way before—not here.’
‘The storm’s nearly over,’ he said quietly. ‘The power will be back on soon, and the car may well have belonged to lovers desperate for privacy.’
‘You don’t really believe that. Or why would you have stood guard?’
‘Because I’m crazy,’ he said grimly. He paused for a moment, then sighed harshly. ‘You win, Tara. I’ll get a few things and come back.’
‘I’ll make up the bed in my parents’ room.’ She got to her feet.
‘No need for that. I’ve a sleeping bag.’
‘Then I’ll get you some towels.’ She looked at him, trying to smile. ‘Adam—thanks.’
His mouth twisted. ‘Let’s get the night over with before we talk about gratitude.’
She was upstairs when he returned, a sleeping roll under one arm and a travel bag slung on his shoulder. He put the roll on the bed, glancing at the nightlight which she’d placed in a saucer on the bedside table. ‘Every modern convenience.’
‘Is there anything else you need?’ She hovered in the doorway.
‘Now there’s a loaded question,’ he drawled, then shook his head with sudden impatience. ‘Go to bed, Tara. It’ll soon be morning, then you’ll have your car back and you can leave.’
He walked across to the window, thrusting the curtain aside and staring into the darkness, his back straight, his shoulders rigid.
She said quietly, ‘Adam—you’re still angry with me, and I don’t blame you. I’m sorry I tore up your picture—said those things. I had no right...’
‘It’s not important.’ His voice was crisp and he didn’t look round. ‘Anyway, I’d planned to give you the painting, so in a way you had the rights of ownership.’
‘Oh.’ That rocked her slightly. She swallowed. ‘Well—goodnight.’
He turned then. His smile appeared to have been chiselled out of stone. ‘I think that’s too much to hope for—don’t you? Now, off with you, and let’s get what sleep we can.’
She trailed slowly across the passage and into her room. It seemed a lifetime since the storm had woken her, and the sheets felt chill and unwelcoming.
Still wearing her robe, she pulled the covers round her, then blew out her own nightlight.