On Deadly Tides Page 6

“Another time I might really enjoy that, but I’m not in the right mood today.”

  “In that case, what you need—what we both need—is nature. I know where some red squirrels live, not too far from here, and if we’re lucky, we might be able to spot a few.”

  “That sounds perfect,” Penny replied. “Exactly what I need. Let’s drink up and be on our way.”

  Chapter Nine

  Afternoon sunlight filtered through the canopy of treetops, casting dappled shadows on the woodland path that was part of the grounds of Plas Newydd, a stunning neo-Gothic country house located on the north bank of the Menai Strait, about eight miles west of Beaumaris.

  Penny and Colin had arrived in time to join a guided red squirrel walk. Treading quietly, they passed several feeding stations filled with sunflower seeds. The group paused to listen for activity in the tree branches overhead, but the woods remained stubbornly still and silent.

  The red squirrel ranger gave a brief account of the red squirrel reintroduction program after their numbers went into serious decline in the 1990s. And now, after careful and loving management, their numbers were on the upswing, and the squirrels were once again beginning to thrive.

  “And in case you were wondering,” said the guide, “a nest of squirrels, that is, the mother and her young, is called a drey. And a group of squirrels is called a scurry, but because squirrels are solitary creatures, you don’t often see one. A scurry, that is. I haven’t given up hope we might yet see a squirrel today.”

  The group walked on, hoping for a sighting, until they reached a clearing where some seeds had been scattered on top of a tree stump. Amid the bracken, ferns, sticks, and branches, the guide spotted something and at the exact moment she pointed to a bushy red tail, Colin raised his camera. The group watched, entranced, as the squirrel scampered up the tree stump, picked up a seed, and ate it. And then, with a saucy flick of his tail, he vanished up a tree and was gone.

  The walk was soon over, and the group emerged into the open parkland, flooded with bright sunlight.

  “Would you like to see the interior of the house now?” Penny asked, referring to the guidebook they had purchased in the gift shop. “There are some lovely 1930s-style rooms, and a serious collection of Rex Whistler paintings.”

  “I’d rather walk round the front of the house,” Colin said. “And after that, we could wander around inside and then have a cup of tea and a scone in the café.”

  They walked down the path that led to the house. “It’s interesting, this house,” remarked Penny, “because unlike most grand houses, you approach it from the rear, through the grounds and gardens, and the main entrance is saved for the spectacular view over the strait and on to the Snowdonia mountain range.”

  They walked at a moderate pace, in a smooth, steady gait, with their bodies close together, and as Penny’s hand swung past Colin’s, he caught and held it. Hand in hand, they rounded the corner of the building and strolled along the terrace with the beautiful views Penny had just mentioned. When they reached a bench, Colin gestured at it and they sat. They maintained their closeness, and he tucked her arm under his as he continued to hold her hand.

  “We haven’t known each other very long, but I’m going to miss you,” he said.

  “I’ll miss you, too. But I suppose it had to end sometime.”

  “Tomorrow. I heard from my agency that I’m booked on a flight that departs Manchester Airport at noon, so I have to leave early in the morning.”

  “Where are you off to?”

  “Botswana. The client wants photos of critically endangered black rhinos.” He let out a little sigh and looked at her. “If it had been someplace closer, like Scotland, I would have asked if you’d like to come with me.”

  “They don’t have too many black rhinos in Scotland.” Penny’s face relaxed into a soft smile. “But if you’d asked me to go with you, I might have said yes.”

  “I would have offered to give you a lift home in the morning, if there’d been more time. You don’t drive here in the U.K.?”

  “No, I never had the desire to. I like public transportation. I’ll just take the bus to Bangor, where my friend and business partner is going to pick me up. Not a problem.”

  “I think you said you live in Llanelen. Is that right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “How did you come to be there?”

  So Penny told him how she’d left Canada with a degree in fine arts, to go backpacking around Europe, visiting the galleries and museums. And how she’d stopped off one afternoon in Llanelen on her way to Holyhead to catch the ferry to Dublin, met a lovely woman who had taken her under her wing, and stopped the night. And that night turned into one more day, and soon she had begun to put down roots. Tiny and weak at first, but over the years those roots had strengthened and deepened, and now Wales was her home and she loved it dearly, from the bottom of her heart. She couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.

  “And you?” Penny asked.

  “I grew up in Toronto in what was then a pretty shabby neighbourhood, but now, of course, it’s gentrified, and those red brick, three-storey Victorian row houses where several families used to live are now home to a young couple in their early thirties—he’s a lawyer and she works in marketing or public relations—and somehow they can come up with the million dollars or so they need to buy the place.”

  “Did you have brothers and sisters?”

  “No, only child. You?”

  “Same.”

  “Your childhood, was it happy?”

  “No, I can’t say that it was. I grew up with my grandparents in Nova Scotia, and we didn’t have much. They sacrificed a lot for me.”

  “And your parents?” he asked gently. Her eyes clouded over, lost in a private pain from a time long ago. “Or maybe you’d rather not talk about that.”

  “No, it’s okay. But you’re right. It isn’t something I normally talk about. My mother was severely depressed, and my father left us to find work in Toronto. That’s what a lot of men from the Maritimes did back then. I think the plan was that once he was settled, he would send for us. But after a while, we stopped hearing from him, and then my mother died, so I went to live with my grandparents.” She hoped she wasn’t revealing too much, too soon, in a way that signalled she was desperate for intimacy.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.” He squeezed her hand.

  When the moment passed, they talked some more, eagerly discussing their interests and describing how their travels and experiences had led them to where they were today.

  Across the strait, as dark clouds rubbing against one another began casting deepening shadows over the mountains, Colin stood up and extended his hand to pull her to her feet.

  “The weather looks like it’s closing in.” He checked his watch. “We’d better go in, if we want to see the interior. The house is going to close in an hour.” They wandered from room to room, not saying much and not taking in much of what they were seeing, either. Even the massive Rex Whistler mural in the dining room failed to capture Penny’s attention the way it might have at another time, and had she been with someone else.

  They drove back to the hotel through a gentle, misty rain. Wrapped in an easy, comfortable silence, neither spoke on the journey until they reached the Beaumaris town limits, and as they passed a row of terraced houses painted in pretty pastel colours, Colin asked Penny what she’d like to do about dinner.

  “It looks like we could be in for a rainy night, and we’ve been out all afternoon, so how would you feel about just having dinner at the hotel?” she replied.

  “Sounds like a good idea.”

  * * *

  When they reached the hotel, Colin said he needed time to prepare for his upcoming assignment, and after agreeing to meet in the restaurant in a couple of hours, and a brief embrace in the lobby, they went to their rooms.

  After notifying reception that she would be checking out in the morning, Penny lay on her bed, thinking about the time she’d just sp
ent with Colin. Then, ambushed by a contented tiredness, she rolled over on her side, tucked her hands under the pillow, and closed her eyes. Twenty minutes later she awoke refreshed, and after a gentle soak in a leisurely bath, she wrapped herself in a white towelling robe, and sifted through her limited selection of clothes. Mostly casual outdoor wear, they were perfect for plein air painting and walking, but not suitable for dinner in the formal dining room of a lovely hotel. Wishing she had time now to pick up an evening outfit with a bit of style or sparkle in one of the local shops, she had to settle for the simple dress she’d worn to the artists’ dinner on Sunday evening.

  Once dressed, she studied her hair in the mirror as she brushed it, and wondered if it was time for a change. She touched the smooth, even ends of her tapered blunt cut, coloured in a soft, sophisticated, natural-looking red and meticulously styled by Alberto, the Spa’s resident hair specialist. She made a mental note to ask him when she got back if he thought a change in hair style would be a good idea. Should she try something shorter? A lighter colour?

  While she applied her lipstick, she allowed herself to think about how the evening might end. Although she knew how she wanted it to end, she wasn’t sure that would be for the best in the long run. Something was telling her it didn’t feel quite the right time. It was early days. And all that, of course, was assuming he felt the same way.

  She decided not to let the fact that they would be going their separate ways in the morning cast a gloom over dinner. Resolving to be cheerfully upbeat and to make the most of their remaining time together before they had to drag themselves back to their everyday lives, she let herself out of her room and made her way to the restaurant.

  As she passed through the lobby, a glimpse of Bill Ward shouting into his mobile made her rethink her route. But as she paused, wondering if she could avoid him by going the other way round to the dining room, he caught sight of her and gave her an airy wave. So she felt she had to keep going; if she changed her route, it would be awkwardly obvious that she was avoiding him.

  “Well, yeah, but hopefully this means I can at least sell the property now without her getting in the way again with all her ridiculous legal claims,” he said. “I mean, we weren’t married, and we broke up well over a year ago, so why she thought she had any right to keep living in my house is beyond me. But now she says she wants to buy it, and all that money she’s been waiting for is coming soon.…”

  His agitated voice faded away as Penny left him behind. Why do some people conduct what should be private conversations on their mobiles in public places, she wondered. Especially when it’s about their domestic troubles. Do they think they’re in some kind of bubble, and no one can hear what they’re saying?

  At the sight of Colin waiting for her at the entrance to the restaurant, all thoughts of Bill Ward and his telephone conversation vanished, and she focused on the man she was there to meet. They were shown to a table by the window, away from the rest of the diners.

  “I’m sorry I’m not better dressed,” Colin said. “I don’t even have a tie with me, although I could have borrowed one, I suppose, but nobody wears them very often anymore. At least my shirt is clean.”

  Over dinner they continued exploring each other’s pasts.

  “How did you get started on a photography career?” Penny asked. “No, let me guess. It started as something you really enjoyed doing and then grew into something more.”

  “That’s exactly what it was. It was a hobby, and then it became my second career.”

  “What were you doing before?”

  “I worked for a Bay Street investment firm. We promised our clients we’d make a lot of money for them, and we did. But the truth is, we made even more money for the firm and for ourselves. And after twenty years or so of that, I wasn’t happy anymore and couldn’t see myself doing it any longer.”

  “Was it the hours?”

  “That was part of it, certainly, but ultimately it was the ethics. We made money investing in organizations with questionable business practices. Oh, they were legal, but that didn’t make them right. At least, not the way I came to see it. So I got out. And I had what I thought was a decent portfolio of wildlife photos that I’d taken on holidays around the world, so I applied to a few photo agencies and started getting assignments. And now I’m doing what I love. Of course the money’s not nearly what it used to be, but that’s not the point. I’ve got enough money. More than enough.”

  “That’s interesting about your career change,” said Penny. “I’ve started to feel a bit restless myself. I was in Dublin recently, and after a visit to the national art gallery, I realized I’ve been missing that kind of experience. Small-town life is good, but there are times when it feels like the world has so much more to offer, and I’m missing it.”

  “Maybe you need to get out more.”

  “Yes, I do. In fact, when I left Dublin, I told myself that’s exactly what I was going to do. I had a friend who died a few years ago—Emma Teasdale she was called, the one I inherited my cottage from, actually—and she and I used to go to art exhibits and concerts in Manchester and Liverpool, and I definitely need to do more of that.”

  “That should be easy enough. And your Spa? Do you like running a business?”

  “I don’t have much to do with the day-to-day running of it. My partner looks after the operational side of things, although we make all the important decisions together. But the actual work part, the manicures—to be honest, I’m getting bored with that.”

  “Sounds like you’re ready for a new challenge.”

  “I’d like to spend more time painting. Or maybe getting more involved in some other way in the art world.”

  Happy and relaxed in each other’s presence, and each pretending that it wasn’t their last evening together, they conversed easily and smoothly, diving eagerly into the other person’s life.

  “Tell me about your ex,” said Penny.

  “She was a corporate lawyer for one of the big firms, and boy, did she work hard. I saw for myself how much harder women in positions like that have to work than men, to get ahead. But when I began to lose interest in that high-stress life, our relationship was in trouble. I wanted less, and she wanted more. And finally, when I just couldn’t live like that anymore, it became apparent to both of us that our relationship had run its course. We didn’t have anything important in common anymore.”

  “So you’re divorced, then?”

  “No, we never married. And now it’s your turn.” He speared a forkful of salad. “Have you ever been married?”

  “Not quite,” said Penny. “But there was someone once. Tim, he was called. We were both in our early thirties. We were engaged, but he drowned, saving a child’s life, before we could marry. He was a police officer, and if he’d lived, I’m sure my life would have turned out very differently.”

  Colin put his fork down and reached across the table to take Penny’s hand. “I’m so sorry,” he said as he gave it a gentle squeeze.

  “It felt as if something inside me died. I just never experienced that depth of feeling again.” She took a sip of wine, to which she had added a generous splash of mineral water. “Of course I was younger then, so perhaps that added to the intensity of my feelings of loss and grief. I think we become a little more accepting of what life throws at us as we get older, and we’re able to handle setbacks better.”

  “And no one after that?”

  “More recently, there was another police officer. Bethan’s former boss, in fact. I was very fond of him, and we were good friends, but that bit of chemistry was missing, so that’s really all we ever were.”

  “And are you still friends?”

  “Well, he met someone and moved to Scotland, so it all worked out well for him.” She smiled at Colin over her wine glass. “He’s a good man, and I’m glad he’s happy.”

  They lingered over coffee until, finally, there was no putting it off any longer.

  “It’s getting late, and I’ve go
t to finish packing,” said Colin, placing his napkin on the table. “I’ve got an early start in the morning. I don’t know how you feel about all this, but I’d feel better knowing that I’ll see you again as soon as we can arrange to get together.”

  “I’d like that,” said Penny. “Earlier I told you that if you’d been able to invite me to go to Scotland with you, I might have said ‘yes.’ If I were to invite you to Llanelen, what would you say?”

  “Yes. I’d say yes, thank you.”

  “Then consider yourself invited.”

  The evening just felt over, so they decided not to prolong the inevitable with a farewell drink in the bar. They walked together upstairs, and outside Penny’s door, he took her in his arms and held her. She closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest. Her heart was hammering. She desperately wanted to ask him in, but was afraid to. What if they had this one night together, and she never saw him again?

  He gently released her and took a step back into the corridor as she opened the door to her room.

  “Good night.”

  “See you soon.”

  “How soon?”

  “You’ll be hearing from me.”

  Chapter Ten

  “You look refreshed, considering,” said Victoria Hopkirk the next morning when she greeted Penny off the bus in Bangor. Tall, slim, in her early fifties, and with shoulder-length blonde hair, she was Penny’s best friend as well as her business partner. “A few days away on a painting break seem to have done you good.”

  “I had—well, it was definitely a busy and interesting time.”

  “So I hear. Let’s put your gear in the car and then go for a coffee and you can tell me all about it before we head home.”

  When they were settled in the coffee shop of a department store overlooking the busy bus station, Victoria wrapped her hands around her mug and leaned forward. “Well, we heard you found a body, and of course we’re dying to hear all about it. What happened?”

  “She was a young woman. A newspaper reporter from New Zealand. I found her on the beach on Saturday morning. We spoke to her the night before, and she was so young and eager, and excited about her future, and there’s something about her that makes it all just terribly upsetting. I’ve been trying not to think too much about her, and do you know, what with everything else, I’ve almost managed to put finding her body to the back of my mind.”