Greyfriars House

by Emma Fraser

  ‘I brought coffee and sandwiches,’ Jamie said, plonking himself beside me and reaching into the small rucksack he’d carried on his back. He brought out a brown paper bag and held it up for my inspection. ‘Egg mayonnaise, cheese and tomato and tuna.’

  My stomach grumbled in response. I’d had no appetite for breakfast earlier.

  ‘And,’ he glanced at Tiger who was looking at him wagging her tail hopefully, ‘some treats for you, Tiger.’

  The man was practically perfect.

  ‘You must miss all this empty space in Glasgow,’ I said as I nibbled on my egg sandwich. Tiger had wolfed down her treats and headed off to explore a tussock of grass.

  He grinned. ‘That’s why I need my annual fix here. More often if I can manage. It lets me forget about the creeps for a while. As a police officer your view gets skewed. You tend to think the world is full of bad people. Every now and again I need to be reminded that the world is a great place, with more good people than bad in it.’

  ‘That’s what Mum used to tell me.’ Would Mum have recognised the terror-filled woman from last night? Or the one sitting here, her heart tripping? I doubted it.

  ‘Were you close?’

  ‘When I was a child, and in the end, yes.’ My voice caught. ‘In the middle not so much. I wish I’d spent more time with her before she got sick.’

  He stayed silent, waiting for me to go on.

  ‘I wasted so many years. I kept telling myself when I accepted a case that I would see it thorough to its conclusion, then I would take a break, go on holiday, spend more time with Mum. But it never happened. It never seemed to be the right time. Before she died, she made me promise to spend less time at work and more time enjoying life. I think she would like to know I’m on this hill. That I kept my promise to come and see my aunts.’

  He studied me with his big brown eyes. ‘How are you getting on with them? What are they like?’

  Tiger had returned from her explorations and was resting, her head in Jamie’s lap.

  ‘Neither of them are the way I imagined. It’s difficult not to like Georgina. There’s something warm and charming about her. She must have been very beautiful at one time – still is really. I don’t see much of Edith. She’s quieter. I get the impression if anyone raised their voice, she’d burst into tears.’ I accepted the plastic cup of coffee he’d poured for me. ‘I’m still not sure why they wanted me to come.’

  I told him about them not being in touch with Mum despite the death of her parents and how mystified and hurt Mum had been, and how Georgina had started to tell me about the past.

  ‘I don’t know if they are trying to make amends – via me now Mum is dead – or hoping to excuse, at the very least explain, their behaviour towards her. I sometimes wonder if they’re scared I will sell my share of Greyfriars – I don’t think they could afford to buy me out – but I don’t really think that’s the reason. All I do know is that the house feels…’ I tried to find the words to explain but couldn’t. Sort of sad and haunted, as if it holds secrets? ‘Not quite right,’ I finished lamely.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  I tried to laugh it off. ‘Oh, nothing. The house is so big, so dark, it’s difficult not to feel spooked. I’m far more used to bright lights and traffic.’

  ‘Have you always lived in London?’

  ‘No. I was brought up in Edinburgh. That’s where I went to school.’

  ‘Did you go to university there?’

  ‘No. Cambridge, actually.’

  He whistled. ‘Lucky you. It’s a beautiful city.’

  ‘I know I was lucky, but I wasn’t always happy.’ The words were out before I could stop them. I could just imagine him with a suspect – he’d have them confessing all sorts of stuff before they knew what they were doing.

  ‘So why weren’t you happy?’ I’d hoped my confession had slipped past him – although I already knew enough about him to suspect that little did.

  I was quiet for a while, wondering what to tell him. He stayed silent, allowing me time to gather my thoughts. I wasn’t used to talking about myself. Most men I knew tended to talk over women and, particularly in the company of other men, only wanted to talk about themselves, jostling each other with their words and their need to impress. Jamie didn’t appear to feel the need and subsequently struck me as more confident, more self-assured.

  ‘When I first went to Cambridge I was a bit of an oddball. I didn’t have many friends at school. I rarely, if ever, went to the other girls’ homes or even into town with them. I spent most of my time with Mum in the library out of school hours. I was shy and awkward in company, and even more so by the time I went to university. Up until then I’d had little interest in clothes or hair styles – or boys for that matter – any of the stuff most girls my age were interested in.’ I glanced over at him. He was still listening intently. ‘Everyone at university appeared so confident, as if they knew everything there was to know. To be honest, to begin with, I was intimidated. There was such a competitive atmosphere. Even from first year, people spoke of changing the world, getting in to the best chambers. But although they talked about it, I knew I could make it happen. If I wanted it badly enough. And I did. I spent every waking moment in the law library. Looking back, it was easier to closet myself away there. Libraries were always the places where I felt most at home and it meant I had an excuse, even if only to myself, not to go to all the parties everyone else went to. In fact I rarely went anywhere – never drank – apart from once when I made a bit of an idiot of myself – didn’t join any societies or clubs. God, I was so boring! The archetypal, introverted swot!’

  I slid him another look. He was still looking at me, a small smile playing around his mouth. ‘I find it difficult to imagine you as that girl.’

  I didn’t. In many ways, hidden, deep down inside I was still her. ‘I made it my goal to come first in all of the exams. Law isn’t so much about brains, you know, it’s about the ability to memorise.’

  ‘It must require some brains,’ he teased.

  ‘Yes, of course. But a good memory is even more important. First you memorise – then you apply your brain to see how one case might be relevant to another. Luckily that seemed to be a particular skill I had. Because I loved reading I was very fast at it and read as many of the old law books I could fit in around my lectures. I also read books on psychology. The more I read, the more I was fascinated by the detail of crimes, in particular why a person did what they did. I realised quite early on that if I understood what sort of person the victim was and the background of the accused, I could make a case to myself and once I made the case, it was a simple next step to finding the evidence to support it.’

  I smiled ruefully. ‘All that swotting and not going out eventually paid off. I got a first and a pupillage in Lambert and Lambert, the chambers I’d set my sights on before I even started the post-graduate course. Even then I had to prove myself. I had to be better than the men, more determined – and way more ruthless. We might have a woman prime minister but the glass ceiling is still very much there. My pupil mistress was one of the first women who’d been called to the bar and she drilled me constantly. After my pupillage I applied for a tenancy at Lambert and Lambert and was accepted. If I’d worked hard before, it was nothing compared to the hours I put in then. I worked all the time, and still rarely went anywhere. The first two years were tough in every way – I barely made enough to cover the cost of my tenancy at chambers. Most of the cases I was offered were rapes, domestic abuse, child neglect and not what I had in mind. But every barrister needs to start somewhere. I kept on telling myself that in time I would get the kind of cases I really wanted – the chance to defend innocent people of crimes they hadn’t committed – and in the meantime I could put up with anything. So I continued to accept all the rubbish cases, the ones no one else wanted. But here’s the thing – I won. And kept on winning. The trouble was that the more successful I was at winning those cases, the more of them I was asked to
take on.

  ‘If that sounds self-pitying, it’s not meant to be,’ I added quickly. It was important he understood. ‘I knew how lucky I was. There were women, and many men, who would give an arm and a leg to be in my position. In the last few years, I’ve been able to pick and choose my cases.’ With one regrettable exception. Lucy and her trial wasn’t something I was ready to share with him. ‘I make good money now – enough to have bought a flat in central London and a decent car.’

  He shot me that quirky smile of his and I felt my cheeks flame. ‘Now I sound big-headed, but I’m not. It’s the simple truth. I’ve never had any time for coy women.’

  ‘I’ve never cared for coy women either.’

  The look in his eyes made my heart give a little run of beats. ‘But the financial rewards are the least of it. I love what I do.’ I crumbled the remains of my sandwich between my fingers, feeling as if I’d done a bad job explaining myself. Me, who was usually so articulate. But I wanted to try and make Jamie understand how important my job was to me, how it defined me. It felt important that he did. I flung some crumbs to a seagull who’d been watching us for the last few minutes. It gave a pleased squawk and gobbled it up.

  ‘What’s the most excited you’ve ever felt? The most alive?’ I asked.

  ‘Apart from catching a bad guy and seeing him go down?’

  ‘I’ll take that as a given.’

  He took his time thinking about what I’d asked.

  ‘When I reach the top of a mountain – when I’m sailing and the weather turns. Anything where I’m pitching myself against the elements, pushing myself harder, further than before.’

  ‘That’s how I feel in a court room. It’s an adrenalin rush – my very own rollercoaster ride. It makes me feel alive – and powerful. Too powerful, I’ve begun to realise…’ I trailed off, dismayed at how much I’d revealed about myself.

  But if I’d thought he wouldn’t pick up on my words, once more I was mistaken.

  His gaze sharpened. ‘What do you mean “too powerful”?’

  No wonder he’d made Inspector.

  ‘Justice being served isn’t the same thing as winning,’ I said, recalling the conversation I’d had with Georgina and Edith. I’d started off wanting to defend the powerless but somewhere along the line, I’d lost my way.

  ‘What about Susan Curtis? You saved her from prison, didn’t you? Don’t you think you achieved justice for her?’

  ‘I thought you didn’t approve…’

  ‘I don’t approve of bullies. In particular those who abuse women. You must have felt good when you won that case?’

  ‘More than good. I felt fantastic. At that moment, life was perfect…’ Until I’d learned about Lucy and hard on the heels of that had come the news about Mum. In less than a day I’d gone from feeling on top of the world, to doubting everything about myself.

  A sudden breeze whipped my hair around my face. I’d rarely spoken as much about myself, said some things I hadn’t even admitted to myself. I wasn’t, however, ready to tell him everything.

  Anxiety rippled through me, making my stomach clench. What if Giles stopped me coming back to Lambert and Lambert? And though I’d tried not to worry about it, I still wondered if someone would report me to the Law Society. In which case, I might be barred from working as a lawyer at all.

  He eyed me speculatively as if well aware I was keeping something back from him. I averted my eyes. A large bird swooped overhead, scattering the flock of seagulls that had joined their pal in hopeful anticipation of more crumbs.

  ‘It’s a golden eagle,’ Jamie said, following my gaze.

  ‘“I am the swift uplifting rush/ Of quiet birds in circled flight,”’ I murmured.

  Jamie cocked a questioning eyebrow.

  ‘Lines from a poem Mum and I both loved. Enough about me,’ I said, before he could probe further. ‘Tell me more about you.’

  He leaned back against the rock and tucked his hands behind his head. ‘What else would you like to know?’

  ‘Everything’ was the simple answer although I didn’t say that. What he’d been like as a child? Was he married? Dating? Had he ever been in love?

  ‘Let’s start with your connection with Balcreen. You say you come every year?’

  ‘My family comes from Oban. It’s where I went to school.’

  ‘Oh. Have they moved on?’

  ‘No. Mum still lives in the house where I was born. Dad died from a heart attack when I was fifteen.’

  ‘I’m sorry. That must have been tough.’

  ‘It was. He was a good man.’

  ‘Don’t you get on with your mother?’ I asked, sitting up and wrapping my hands around my knees.

  ‘We get on great. She’s amazing. You should meet her.’

  ‘Then why don’t you stay with her instead of renting a cottage?’

  ‘Partly because I’m used to living on my own–’ in which case he couldn’t be married I thought with a lift of my heart ‘–and partly because one or more of my sisters is always at Mum’s with their kids.’

  ‘You don’t like children?’

  ‘It’s not them. They’re cute – in reasonable doses. If you met my sisters you would know what I mean. I love them, a lot, but they don’t know the meaning of the word privacy.’

  ‘How many sisters do you have?’

  ‘Four. All older.’

  ‘What do they do?’

  ‘Two are married – Becky and Catriona – and live in Oban – Becky is a teacher, and Catriona is a nurse. She has three children. Bethany, the eldest, breeds horses in Kent, and has two under five. Marcia – she’s the youngest, has a deli near Oxford. They are all at home at the moment. I’m expected there for lunch tomorrow.’ He removed his glasses, and polished them on his T-shirt before replacing them. ‘Why don’t you come too? We could sail there and back.’

  I hesitated. It was another step in a direction I wasn’t sure I wanted to take.

  ‘I’ll tell them we’re friends.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘Though I suspect my sisters won’t believe me for a second.’

  Everything was there in the space between his words. We both knew that we were already more than friends – or could be.

  He sat up. ‘Please come. So what if they jump to conclusions? I’d like them to meet you. My family rarely gets together.’ He lifted an eyebrow. ‘Although I’m warning you they can be a bit overwhelming.’

  There was a challenge in his eyes as well as his mouth.

  ‘I wouldn’t like to impose.’

  ‘You wouldn’t be. You’d be doing me a favour.’ He lowered his voice. ‘I want to spend more time with you while I can.’ He reached across and brushed my fringe away from my eyes. ‘Much more time.’

  My skin tingled under his fingertips. Wasn’t this all too soon? Where was the in-between bit, where we pretended to be less interested in one another than we were?

  He leaned towards me, drawing his finger along the contour of my cheek and under my chin. He lifted my face and kissed me. His lips were warm and firm and I relaxed into him, placing my palm against his stubbled cheek and returning his kiss, feeling every nerve in my body come alive. Tiger whimpered and thrust her body between us, forcing us apart.

  ‘Can I take that as a yes?’ His lovely eyes were dancing. ‘You will come tomorrow?’

  I nodded.

  ‘I don’t know what it is about you,’ he said, kissing me on the lobe of my ear and sending a shockwave of desire from the tips of my toes to the roots of my hair. ‘But I can’t remember the last time I wanted to get to know someone as much as I want to get to know you.’

  We were definitely missing out the in-between bit. ‘You know pretty much everything there is to know.’ I pulled away, uncertain whether I wanted to start something, particularly when I had no idea where it would end.

  ‘Tell me more about Findlay,’ I said, moving the conversation to safer ground.

  ‘What’s your interest? Apart from the fact he rescued you and
Tiger?’ If Jamie was disappointed in my reaction he didn’t show it.

  ‘I think he might once have been engaged to my Aunt Edith – if he’s the same Findlay.’

  Jamie gave a low whistle. ‘The old dog. I hadn’t a clue.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘He did tell me once, when he was drunk, that he’d been in love but she broke it off. Apart from that one time, we never speak about our personal lives. All we talk about is our time in the army. Particularly his. It’s far more interesting than mine ever was.’

  The sun had come out and was making me feel pleasantly drowsy. I leaned back on my elbows and turned my face to the sun. ‘Go on,’ I prompted.

  Jamie leaned back against his rock. ‘That first time, when I took him home, I noticed the beret in his house, and recognised the emblem of the SAS. Michael, my godfather, was one of the Originals so I knew a bit about them. I asked Findlay about it and eventually, grudgingly, the story of his time with the SAS came out. I doubt he would have spoken to me about it if I hadn’t been an army man myself once. You’ve heard of the SAS?’