“That sounds like her but I’d feel better if you’d spoken to her directly, then we could be sure.”
“I’ll try again later but the aunt said she was out buying a new dress for a date tonight. Apparently Mandy’s over you and wants nothing more to do with you. Her new fella is loaded and gorgeous and she’s forgotten all about you. She went out of her way to make that really clear.”
“I hope to God she’s telling the truth but stalkers with Mandy’s persistence don’t suddenly give up.” Saying this, Craig couldn’t figure out why the aunt would lie. Craig had met her a few times. He hadn’t liked her, she was as vain and arrogant as her niece. But she’d always protected Mandy - usually from herself - and lying for her wouldn’t help her.
“I’ll let you know when I manage to get hold of her.” There was a hesitation before Muir added, “you sure the boat’s okay?”
“It’s fine you big fanny,” said Craig, hoping Bill hadn’t been exaggerating about his talents.
“There’s that famous charm again.”
“Let me know when you get hold of Mandy, preferably by the throat,” he said, hanging up before he could ask any more questions about the boat.
“Well?” said Freya.
“He’s not sure. He spoke to Mandy’s aunt who swore blind she’s in Inverness, but he hasn’t spoken to Mandy directly. He’s going to try again and let us know.”
“The aunt’s covering for her. Mandy’s here,” said Freya. “She’s the only one mental enough to do something like this.”
“You’re probably right. In that case you’d better be careful, she’s still gunning for you.”
“I can handle her and I’ll enjoy it.”
“She’s insane Freya. Don’t underestimate her.”
“Craig’s right,” said Nora. “Mad people have great strength and they’re unpredictable.”
“I’m going to make sure she pays for what she’s done,” glowered Freya, green eyes burning.
Craig had worried that Mandy would kill Freya but now he feared the desecration of her parents’ graves was the final straw and Freya was done playing nice. He wasn’t going to let his wife go to jail for his barmy ex.
Mandy was hungry, getting chilly in her shorts and her legs ached from being crouched in the trees. The ancient gravedigger was taking an age to fill in the graves. An alarming wheeze rattled in his chest and his face was red and blotchy. Still, if he did keel over it would be one less ugly person to look at. Her lip curled with disdain at his dirty sweaty clothes, the white stubble that covered his cheeks, his sparse grey hair revealing the shiny red scalp beneath.
Mandy’s worst fear was getting old and losing her looks. She didn’t think she could bear it if she walked down the street and no heads turned her way. Sometimes she dreamed of a young death at the hands of something quick and painless yet tragic, leaving behind a beautiful elegant corpse. Her body would be dressed in all her jewels and finery. There would be a line of distraught ex-boyfriends and admirers queuing to pay their respects, devastated that they’d never get to see or touch her again. At the head of that line would be Craig, the grieving widower, unable to tear himself from her side even though he knew her beautiful body was just an empty shell, the woman he adored gone. A week after her funeral he’d take his own life, unable to go on without her. They’d be reunited in eternity, never to be parted again, forever young and beautiful.
She sighed with happiness. What a lovely dream. She was determined to make it a reality.
Finally the wizened old digger finished filling in the graves and he patted down the earth with the shovel. Reverently he placed a bunch of fresh flowers on each of them and crossed himself before hobbling away, exhausted.
Mandy glared at the graves, which looked so neat and pretty. She wanted to destroy them but the thought of what all that nasty earth would do to her nails held her back.
A minute after the old man had disappeared the bald man emerged from behind the church and she sniggered. His arms and the lower part of his face were bright red. The idiot hadn’t worn sunscreen. He looked extremely pissed off too, furious eyes fixed on the graves. She watched as he looked up and down to make sure no one was watching before sneaking up to the graves. Mandy forced herself not to burst out laughing when he took out his unimpressive dick and pissed over both graves. It was a shame Freya would never know what he’d done because the liquid would soon evaporate in this heat. Once again she wondered who he was and considered approaching him, clearly they shared a purpose but he looked dangerous. No, much better to continue to watch him from afar and see what else she could discover about him.
With a satisfied smile he zipped himself up and she let him disappear back inside the church before leaving her hiding place. It was late afternoon but it felt like the sun was about to set, the village telling all the interlopers to get out and it was working. Boats were returning to dock, people getting into their cars to leave, trying to anyway. The three uniformed police officers were stopping them as they arrived on the car park to question them, probably about the desecration, Toby flapping about between them like a giant stick insect. Ugly pig. It insulted her that he’d thought he’d have a chance with her.
Mandy meandered down the hill and onto the dock, trying to look like a casual tourist. She walked right past Freya and Craig’s boat, craning her neck to peer inside but she couldn’t see anything because of the light reflecting off the glass so she continued on her way. She stepped onto her own boat, which was moored just two boats down from Freya and Craig’s and entered the cabin. Their boat was bigger than hers and the fact that Freya was enjoying more luxury than her rankled but soon Freya would be dead at the hands of the bald man and the next holiday Craig took would be with herself. They wouldn’t come back to this crappy village again. Instead they’d go to the Caribbean, Italy, Dubai, somewhere with a bit of class.
It was a relief to pull off the black wig and let her own gorgeous hair loose. She was in desperate need of a shower, the wig had made her sweat.
When voices caught her attention she peered through one of the tiny windows and saw Craig and Freya arm-in-arm, not looking too happy. In fact Freya seemed positively livid and Craig was trying to calm her down. Her face was red with rage and Mandy was glad, it only made her look uglier. What the hell did he see in her? She’d never understand.
They stopped by the side of their boat and Craig took Freya’s face in his hands and kissed her. Mandy released a grunt and slammed her fists down on the small Formica table. His kiss was full of love and passion and it caused her physical pain to see it. He should be kissing her not that moody cow. When Freya gazed back up at him her expression was much softer, her eyes gentle and Mandy wanted to scratch them out of her head. She was forced to watch as he whispered something in her ear, making her giggle, his hand covertly cupping her breast. Mandy couldn’t understand how he could touch those big soft breasts. Surely her small pert ones were much nicer? She didn’t even need a bra whereas Freya required bloody scaffolding. Freya smiled and nodded and Craig lifted her onto the boat before jumping on. Then they disappeared inside together, probably to shag.
Mandy took a dirty saucepan from the sink - she never washed up - and began hammering the walls with it, splattering them with red sauce and denting them. Fuck the damage, she’d let Marcus have a quick feel-up and he’d forget all about it. She closed her eyes and gripped onto the sink for dear life, the thought of what they were up to so close to her driving her mad. She wanted to charge in there and stab the pair of them to death, set fire to the boat with them inside, anything to hurt them in the hope that it would drive out this unbearable rage. No, she would never hurt Craig. The goth witch had cast a spell on him and he didn’t know what he was doing. This had to be done properly or she’d never get what she wanted.
Mandy breathed deeply, remembering the mediation exercises she’d been taught in anger management. When she opened her eyes she felt much calmer. So what if they were having sex? Freya was prob
ably crap at it. Soon he’d be back with her and together they’d burn up the sheets like they used to.
With a shaking hand she poured herself a glass of red wine and curled up in front of the small television, attempting to take her mind off what was going on in Craig’s boat. Soon the bald man would get his hands on Freya and she wouldn’t be in her way anymore.
Mandy’s lips curled into a cat-like smile, the thought of Freya dead in a box cheering her. The morbid bitch would probably enjoy it.
CHAPTER 19
Will couldn’t move. At first he’d thought it was because he was still cuffed to the bed, until he realised every muscle in his body refused to obey his frantic commands. His face felt better, less puffy and misshapen, but he was drained of every last drop of strength.
“Will?” said a soft musical voice he’d come to know quite well.
He tried to call out to her but the sound was muffled by the bandages. At least he could move his lips now, that must be progress.
Her face appeared in his line of sight and he felt the muscles in the side of his mouth strain in an attempt to smile but he lacked the energy.
The nurse stared down into the pair of pretty blue eyes and smiled. She’d been right, she knew the owner of those eyes couldn’t have done anything bad.
“Hello Will.”
She said my name, he thought excitedly.
“It’s okay, we know you’re not Docherty,” she said, running her fingertips through his hair when his eyes blazed with hope. “The police are tracking him down as we speak. You’re going to be feeling pretty rotten, you had an allergic reaction to the Penicillin because of course we didn’t think you were allergic to it, but you’re going to be okay. The infection’s clearing up too and you’re healing. We’ll soon have you back on your feet.”
Will didn’t want to be back on his feet, he wanted to stay here forever and look at her. He loved her soft roundness, her long curling eyelashes and sing-song voice.
“I’ll bet you’re feeling a wee bit weak,” she said sympathetically.
He managed to muster the energy to nod his head.
“You can’t eat yet, you’re still being fed intravenously, but I can get you some water through a straw.”
She disappeared from view and he recoiled when Harry appeared in his line of sight.
“Will, I’m so sorry. I thought you were Docherty, I really did,” he said, looking genuinely upset. “I mean, why wouldn’t I?”
Because you should have fucking checked, Will snarled in his head.
“We’d no reason to think…I mean…oh Christ, what can I do to make this up to you?”
Nothing, retorted Will, wishing he could shout the words in the bastard’s face. I’m going to sue the fucking arse off the prison service. He was getting his fight back, he could feel it flooding his veins, breathing fresh life into him. If he’d had the strength he would have punched Harry in his smug mouth, something he would never have dreamed of doing before because he was scared of the bastard. But now he was done with Harry, with the job, everything. This was a new beginning for him with his scarred face. He didn’t know what sort of future it was going to be but he was determined to make the best of it.
“I’ll see you get the best care Will,” continued Harry. “The service will pay for the plastic surgery, you’ll be good as new. No one will ever know.”
Will’s eyes burned with a ferocity that silenced Harry. They both knew the head warder was in the shit, that he should have been on the seg unit when the rioters had broken through but he’d nipped upstairs to the staff room to phone through a fucking bet on the horses, the prick was addicted, which meant they were understaffed. Someone of Harry’s stature and capabilities would have evened up the odds a bit and he might not be lying here now.
The nurse appeared before him with a straw stuck in a glass of water.
“Here you go,” she said encouragingly, placing it between his mangled lips.
He tried to suck but was unable to form the necessary seal around the straw, so all he achieved was some wheezy inhaling. The frustration at his inability to complete such a simple task made him want to cry.
“It’s okay, take your time,” soothed the nurse. “Have another try.”
This time he was successful and the cool liquid slipping down the back of his throat was heaven-sent, so much so he actually moaned with pleasure. He realised what he’d done and looked away, embarrassed, but the good woman continued to smile indulgently.
“Better?” she said.
He managed one slow nod.
“You’re getting there. We’re removing the bandages tomorrow.”
Will swallowed hard.
“It’s okay, I’ll be right here with you.”
The nurse smiled when those pretty blue eyes shone with pleasure. As she started to run her fingers through his hair again his body relaxed, his breathing slowed and those eyes turned hazy with pleasure. She tried not to think about how that made her feel inside, she didn’t even know the man, hadn’t heard one word pass his lips yet. On top of that he was going to have a face full of scars. Somehow she knew that wouldn’t make a difference.
“Do you fancy going to the pub tonight?” said Craig, holding a mug of tea out to Freya.
“Thanks,” she replied blearily, pushing herself upright on the bed. After another strenuous attempt at making a baby she’d fallen asleep, exhausted by the day’s trauma.
“I don’t know,” she mumbled, taking a sip of the hot tea. “Did you phone Muir?”
“I did and he spoke to the aunt again. Apparently Mandy had already left for her date when he called.”
“Did he believe her?”
“No. I think she’s here and she did that to your parent’s graves. I spoke to Steve. He and Gary eventually managed to get the list of names from Toby and the ones they did get hold of denied it. Unfortunately some of the tour group had come into Greenock on a cruise and had already sailed.”
Freya nodded. “I think it’s Mandy too.” This made her feel a bit better. Mandy was an enemy she knew she could handle.
“Steve and Gary said they’d be in the pub tonight if you fancy going. If not that’s fine, we can stay here and get more practice in,” he said, sinking onto the bed beside her and kissing her neck.
She thought over her reply, giving herself time to enjoy his lips on her skin. “Hmmm, why not. It would be nice to catch up with them properly and your mum said she was going.”
He pulled back slightly to look into her eyes. “I noticed you shaking earlier after you’d seen the state the graves were in. Are you okay now? I need to know before we go to the pub.”
“I haven’t experienced a craving like that in a long time but it’s fine now. I won’t be tempted to order anything alcoholic.”
“Good,” he smiled, running his fingers through her hair.
“Don’t worry about me, I’m fine,” she said, putting the mug of tea on the floor, pulling back the covers and getting to her feet.
Craig pulled her back down to him, rolling on top of her so she couldn’t escape.
“Get off me you daftie,” she said, laughing.
“I’m not letting you go until I’m absolutely certain you’re fine.”
Freya melted inside. He was just looking out for her, like he always did. “I am, I promise.”
“You wouldn’t lie to your husband, would you?” he said, dipping his head to kiss her bare breasts.
“Never,” she murmured.
He raised his head so she could look into his dark earnest eyes and know how sincere he was being. “Because I still don’t think you understand how much you mean to me.” Despite how far she’d come Freya still had low self esteem, not thinking herself good enough for him, which was ridiculous.
“I know you love me,” she said, stroking his face.
“That word doesn’t do justice to what I feel for you.” He smiled at the delight and wonder on her face. No one had loved her between her mother dying when she
was eleven and fifteen years later when they met up again and - despite how often he said it - she still couldn’t let herself go and fully believe in it. “We’ve already agreed we’re not letting the lack of a baby or mad Mandy come between us. If we can overcome that we’re certainly not letting a dram split us up either.”
“Craig, I’ll never touch alcohol again. You’ve no worries on that score, honestly. I‘m well aware one more drink could kill me.”
“Good because you’ve no idea what it would do to me to lose you. If Mandy tries to hurt you I will kill her.”
Freya was alarmed. “No babe, you won’t. If you do you’ll lose your job, that I know you love, and you might even go to prison. She is not doing that to us, she’s not worth it.”
“I would kill anyone who hurt you,” he said determinedly.
“Don’t say that, please,” she whispered, planting a soft kiss on both his cheeks then his lips. “You’re scaring me.”
“You know I’d never hurt you.”
“Course I do. This isn’t you Craig, you don’t talk about killing people. What’s going on?”
“I just want you to know that I’d do anything for you, whatever it takes.”
Her eyes searched his, studying every thought and feeling that ran across his face. This wasn’t like her man at all, he was normally full of smiles and jokes, not this.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “What am I doing to you?”
“It’s not you, it’s all this shit that keeps getting flung at us and I’m sick of it. Mandy’s my fault. If I’d broken up with her properly this wouldn’t be happening now.”
“She’s no one’s fault, she’s just some stupid bint with a personality disorder.”
“And this time she will go to prison for what she’s done, I’ll make fucking sure of it. This time she’s really done it.”
“I know. Come on, this holiday is supposed to be relaxing us,” she smiled. He was the one who had started this conversation to reassure her and now it was the other way around.
When she unzipped his jeans and slid her hand inside his underwear his eyes flared then slowly closed with pleasure.
The Drowning Tide (Blair Dubh Trilogy #2) Page 16
