‘Blind when it comes to him, though,’ Rob said. ‘You’ll see.’
On the walk home, her torch beam illuminating the road ahead, Stella turned her thoughts to Caitlin’s agitation. She hadn’t brought up her fears in the pub in front of Rob, but that was probably because she didn’t want to add to his paranoia about Jamie. The police had spoken to everybody and then things had gone quiet. If they thought Esmé had been deliberately poisoned, something else would be happening. Esmé must have developed a taste for Jamie’s health drinks, not realising that she could not have more than one a day. Or perhaps she had taken a load of the supplements to try to get rid of a cold or something. People didn’t always act rationally. Especially if Esmé had been ill; even something like a bladder infection could affect your judgement. Stella remembered how loopy she had felt when she had a bad bout of cystitis.
Stella let herself into the main house and took off her boots and coat. Sitting on the bench to unlace them, she was eye level with the shoe rack opposite. There were wellingtons in different sizes and Esmé’s walking boots, and on the bottom rack a few pairs of much smaller shoes. Presumably they had belonged to Jamie as a child. A thought that she had been pushing away, trying not to be judgemental, veered up. What kind of people sent their only son away to school? If she ever got to be a mother, she would never do such a thing. Although, perhaps Jamie’s mother was protecting him. If even half of the rumours about the curse of the Munro family and his father’s personality were true, then Jamie had been better off at boarding school.
The next morning, the house felt very empty without Esmé, and the dogs were subdued. Jamie seemed determined to show Stella his bad side, as if wilfully confirming the terrible things people had been saying in the pub the night before. Well, Stella thought, not ‘people’ so much as ‘Rob’.
Jamie barely spoke to her in the kitchen, sticking to the absolute essentials as they moved around each other. She left him mixing his protein shake and wondered if he was hung over.
Now, he appeared from his office. ‘Can you scan these?’ He was holding out a sheaf of papers.
‘No problem,’ Stella said, expecting him to place them on her desk. Instead, he stood behind her, waiting.
‘Just a minute.’ Stella was emailing her mum. It was the usual message, cut-and-paste that all was well, and she just had to type her name.
‘I’m fine. No problems.’ He was reading over her shoulder. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘What?’ Stella pressed ‘send’ and turned to give him her attention. ‘You shouldn’t read people’s private correspondence. It’s rude.’
‘If it’s about me then I think I will.’ Jamie’s bad mood had boiled over and his expression was dark. ‘What do you mean “no problems”? What problems were you expecting? And you signed an NDA, you’re not supposed to be talking about—’
‘I’m not,’ Stella said, her amusement at his prickly response transforming into anger. ‘And if you have so little faith in my professionalism, I don’t know why you hired me.’
Jamie took a visible breath. The deep crease between his eyebrows smoothed. ‘That wasn’t about me, was it?’
‘Not everything is, you’d be amazed to discover,’ Stella said. Although she realised with a stab of fear that there was something about Jamie that made her distinctly unprofessional. He got under her skin, made her speak in a way she would never – had never – spoken to an employer before. Luckily, he didn’t seem to mind, and the last of his frown disappeared and was replaced with a small smile.
Stella turned back to her screen, but Jamie didn’t leave. ‘Why wouldn’t you be fine? Is this your heart thing?’
‘When I went away to university I promised I would keep in touch every day, let them know I was all right. So they wouldn’t worry.’
‘You’ve contacted them every day since you were eighteen?’
‘It doesn’t take long and it makes them feel better.’
‘But you’re okay?’
‘I’m fine,’ Stella said. ‘Especially now. I got worse again at uni, had to drop out in my second year, but since the valve op I’m better than fine. I’m brand new.’
‘So why the daily digest?’
Stella turned back to him, weighing up her answer. It was habit, mainly, she supposed. And it would feel like tempting fate. If she said hey, I’m well now, I’ll just phone on Sundays like a normal person, fate might swoop down and crush her for her hubris. Well, she wasn’t going to tell Jamie that. That wasn’t rational. ‘It isn’t difficult and I don’t want to make them worry.’
‘But maybe it does. Make them worry, and you. It keeps your condition front and centre in their minds, stops them from moving on.’
Stella’s mouth went dry. She hadn’t considered that, was so used to it being front and centre, whether she wanted it to be or not.
‘Sorry,’ Jamie said. ‘None of my business.’
‘That’s okay,’ Stella said. ‘You make a valid point.’ What she didn’t add was that she had spent her whole life waiting for the other shoe to drop and she didn’t know any other way to live.
‘I just found this.’ He leaned down and opened the web browser, typing rapidly. A basic-looking blog appeared on the screen with the title MUNRO FRAUD. Stella glanced at Jamie. ‘You shouldn’t google your own name, you know.’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘Look.’
There were only a couple of posts on the blog, both dated within the last week. The first had a picture of the house at night, the windows lit up and, in one, Stella just visible. ‘Bloody hell,’ Stella said. ‘Our mystery photographer.’
‘Contact my lawyer, please,’ Jamie said. ‘See what he has to say.’
After Jamie had left, Stella read the entries. They were light on fact and heavy on speculation.
Jamie Munro is known for his dangerous self-experimentation, but in the light of recent events, it must be assumed that he has extended these reckless activities to others, to the detriment of their health. Local girl Ellie MacDonald died in mysterious circumstances just a few months ago and the Munro’s long-serving housekeeper was recently rushed to hospital and has not yet returned. Could she be the latest victim of the notorious Munro Curse?
As if matching Jamie’s bad mood, the sunlight disappeared. Stella pulled on her coat and stomped around the grounds, releasing her pent-up energy and giving the dogs some exercise at the same time. ‘He’s a grumpy bastard, isn’t he, Tabs?’ She stroked the dog’s silky head and tried to laugh away the hurt. She didn’t want to care, but the wanting made no difference.
Without warning, the sky turned black and freezing drops of rain began hurling down, stinging Stella’s skin. She called Angus and Tabitha and ran back to the house, all three of them drenched and frightened by the sudden wildness. Stella dried the dogs with the old towels Esmé kept in the boot room and gave them each one of the tooth-friendly treats from the bag in the kitchen. Angus lay down happily in his bed, chewing contentedly, but Tabitha stuck to Stella’s side, shadowing her so closely she kept almost pushing her over.
The storm raged all afternoon and Stella couldn’t settle to work. She avoided Jamie’s office and watched from one of the upstairs windows as lightning flashed across the sky and the sea churned and roiled like the opening to hell. She kept stroking Tabitha and telling her that everything was all right, but Stella had never felt the remoteness of their location so keenly.
As the sea boiled and the rain lashed horizontally across the landscape, Stella could easily imagine some mythical beast rising from the depths and she hoped the lifeboat at Mallaig hadn’t been called into service. No human should be outside at that moment, let alone on the water.
It wasn’t late, but the early dark and freezing air made it feel that way. Stella ate a couple of rounds of cheese on toast and made herself a second mug of tea to chase it down. She washed some red grapes and put them in a bowl to take upstairs to balance out the protein-and-carb dinner. Jamie was in his exe
rcise room, probably hanging from his inversion bar like a bat.
Stella said goodnight and closeted herself in her bedroom. It was already familiar and comforting and Stella was perfectly happy pottering around and then getting into bed early to read.
Stella was sitting up in bed, reading through the bundle of letters, when the lights went out. The curtains were drawn tightly against the cold and the darkness was absolute. She reached out and felt on the bedside table for the small torch Jamie had given her. With its light, she located her jumper and put it on over her vest top, and then wondered whether she ought to go and see if something needed to be done, or sit tight in her warm bedclothes and wait it out. The air in the room was cooling rapidly.
There was a knock at her door and she said, ‘Come in.’
A glow sliced into the room and Jamie put his head around the door frame. ‘Just a power cut. Nothing to worry about.’
‘I’m fine,’ Stella said and then wondered why she had.
Jamie stepped into the room. He had a lantern in one hand and it lit the room impressively. ‘It might stay off for a wee while. I’ll light the Aga, make sure the place doesn’t get too cold. I can bring a gas heater up here if you like?’
‘No, it’s okay. I’ll just wrap up,’ Stella said. ‘Do you need help with anything?’
He shook his head. ‘That’s above and beyond. I’ll just light the fire and head back to bed.’
His gaze fell upon the pile of letters. ‘Were you working?’
‘Just reading,’ Stella said.
He looked uncomfortable, and for a horrible moment Stella thought he was going to say that she’d crossed a line, that by reading out-of-hours she was somehow violating his privacy.
‘Am I that bad?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘As a boss,’ he said, walking closer and frowning at the letters. ‘This stuff isn’t urgent. I probably won’t even use it in the book—’
‘Oh no,’ Stella said, relieved. ‘I’m not reading it for you. For work. I’m just interested. I’ve gotten quite fond of Jessie. She’s expecting, now, and I want to see what she has.’
‘She’s pregnant?’
‘Yes.’ Stella waved the letter she’d been reading. ‘I guess she and her husband were closer than it seemed.’
‘You’re really into this, aren’t you?’ He shook his head. ‘Seriously, Stella. How did I get so lucky?’
He looked into her eyes, and there was a moment. A spark of connection. Stella felt her chest tighten and she forced herself to breathe out. If you don’t breathe out, you can’t breathe in. That’s one of the first things you learn. It came out a bit noisier than she had planned and Jamie moved forward in concern. ‘You all right?’
Stella gulped some air before answering. ‘Fine.’
‘I’m sorry I’ve been a bit tense recently.’
‘You’ve had a lot on your mind,’ Stella said.
‘I shouldn’t take it out on other people. My dad—’ He stopped, looking down. ‘He did that.’
‘Esmé is going to be all right,’ Stella said. ‘She’ll be home before you know it.’
He put the lantern down on the floor and pulled matches from his pocket. There was a candle in a holder on the dressing table, something which Stella had seen as purely decorative until this moment, when Jamie carried it over to her bedside table. Then he lit the pillar candles that were in the old fireplace. Finally, he took a small box from his pocket and showed it to Stella. ‘Head torch. The strap comes out here.’ He pulled an elastic from the back until it extended, then let it go with a snap. ‘Switch is on the side. Use this if you go walkabout so that you’ve got your hands free.’
‘Thank you,’ Stella said.
‘No problem.’ Jamie hesitated as if he was going to say something else, but then he just smiled and left, closing the door gently behind him.
Stella looked at the door for a moment, seeing his figure as if he was still stood there. Solid and reassuring, smiling at her as if he cared, looking as if he saw her. Spots danced in front of her eyes, mixing with the flickering shadows, and Stella realised that she wasn’t breathing again.
The power came on by lunchtime the next day and Stella went around blowing out candles and switching on lights before sitting down in front of the welcome glow of her computer screen. The wind had calmed a little, but the rain was still lashing down and the sky so thick with black cloud that it looked like evening, not midday. By three o’clock it was full-dark and Stella went back around the house, closing the curtains.
‘I just heard from Nathan,’ Jamie said, finding Stella yanking some recalcitrant drapery in the dining room.
‘Oh, right,’ Stella said, not looking at him.
‘He’s still in Glasgow. Doesn’t think he’ll make it back until the weekend.’
‘Doesn’t he have work?’
Jamie smiled. ‘Nathan can work anywhere. He’s probably talent-spotting as we speak.’
Not for the first time, Stella wanted to ask why Jamie worked with Nathan, why he felt so loyal. Instead, she peered out at the slice of gloomy garden still visible through the curtains. ‘How many miles of cloud does it take to make it this dark at this time?’
‘Sun would be setting soon, anyway.’ Jamie joined her at the big bay window.
‘I don’t know how you stand it,’ Stella said.
‘I don’t all that well. Hence, California.’
‘Oh, right, yes. God, you must miss it.’
‘Not at all, actually,’ Jamie said. ‘It’s good to be back. I can’t believe how much I like being here, to be honest.’
Stella twitched the curtains into place, closing the gap so that she didn’t have to see the rain blattering at the glass. ‘It’s such a shame. It’s so beautiful around here when it’s not pissing down.’
‘Maybe it’s even more beautiful because it’s fleeting,’ Jamie said. ‘And it makes you work a bit for it.’
‘I suppose. And if Scotland had glorious weather, it would be instantly overcrowded. Everyone would live here.’
‘There is that,’ he said. ‘It’s actually a government secret. We keep it cold to keep the English out. Joke,’ he added quickly. ‘I’ve nothing against the English.’
‘Well, some of us are all right,’ she said, deadpan.
He laughed and Stella tried not to feel too pleased. Jamie smiled a lot, part of his charm-boy routine, but he didn’t laugh often. He sounded really young when he did and his face just creased up completely, lines around his eyes folding like origami. When he laughed, she wanted to make him do it again.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
9th October, 1848
My dearest Mary,
I write this to you while my husband is out of the house and in the strictest confidence. Please do not tell faither or any other person as I cannot risk word reaching Edinburgh, however unlikely that may seem. I am perfectly well but I feel the need to unburden myself and there is nobody here I can speak with candidly.
Mr Lockhart has been vexed of late and last night he became most agitated. He claimed that I did not care for him at all and that I was plotting with my society friends to keep patients from his door. It was not helped by our dinner guests who had been speaking with animation about dear Simmy – which is the name some of them use for Mr Simpson. They moved from his kindly manner and sonsie face to the enormous fun enjoyed at mealtime. Mr Laing said that Simmy had been rolling about on the floor with his children and they had all laughed until they felt sick. Mrs Laing had tried the famous chloroform and become so silly that she had begun impressions of farmyard animals, much to Mr Laing’s amusement. Apparently Mrs Laing has never seen a coo as she made a noise like a dog and flapped her arms like a bird.
I told Mr Lockhart that nobody could expect that of him as he did not have children, but that one day he would be able to frolic with the dear one we are expecting. It did not calm him in the way I hoped and he even spoke of bringing a child in from elsewhere and de
manded to know if you had an unwanted child, perhaps, waiting in the wings to be brought onto our stage. When I told him that I did not know of any unwanted children, he said that I should ‘wait until there was a death in the family’. And that ‘if a man is lost, there are hungry mouths to feed and children become surplus. And if a mother is lost their babe may be moved to another pair of arms for safe-keeping.’ It was a warning, Mary. He must increase his business before this bairn arrives or I do not know what he will do. If I could turn the hands of the clock forward, produce a strapping five- or six-year-old for Mr Lockhart, I would, but alas that is impossible.
Mary, I need your counsel. What should I do? I talk of his services and pass on every little compliment I can think of but it does not seem to help. I do not feel it is my place, nor that I make an especially compelling hawker. However, I feel I have no other choice. I have agreed to try.
Your loving Jessie
‘I’m extending my ice bath today,’ Jamie said.
Stella looked up from the spreadsheet. Jamie’s ice bath experiment had run for the full thirty days and she assumed he would be stopping them, not making them worse. ‘Why?’
‘I have been thinking about the benefits of a slow heart rate.’
Just the word sent Stella’s hand fluttering to her chest.
‘You’ve seen the results,’ he said, gesturing to the screen. ‘Resting heart rate is consistently ten bpm slower after the bath than before. Even taken after the physical movement of getting out. I’ve been concentrating on the ketones in my blood, but I want to repeat the experiment with a focus on heart rate. I’ll take a resting pulse every twenty minutes for the first two hours after the ice, and then every hour for the following six.’
‘What are you hoping to see?’
‘A good scientist never hopes to find a particular result. It increases bias,’ Jamie said. ‘But I’m hoping to find a sustained improvement in my resting heart rate.’
Stella helped Jamie carry the buckets of ice up the stairs, while continuing to voice her concern. ‘You already had extended it, remember? There are health risks involved. You told me that—’
Beneath the Water Page 19
