In the Mists of Time

by Marie Treanor

  “Yes, you’ve got four, fully paid up!”

  As he expected, his workshop members were all middle-aged or older, trying to get their heads around technology they hadn’t grown up with or worked with. He began with his full disclosure.

  “Hello, I’m Thierry Duplessis, and I hope over the next few weeks to help you do whatever it is you want to with your computer. I have degrees in computer science and I’ve worked with computers all my life, even the time I spent in prison. You should know that I was convicted of computer fraud—and am therefore not as good as I thought I was. However, I have served my time and wish now to pass on whatever skills I can. Legally, of course…”

  * * * * *

  Rab, who led the woodwork class, was a young man of few words but great talent with wood. He also turned out to be a good teacher and by the time the workshop ended for the evening, Louise was pretty enthused about her new project to build a coffee table for the B&B lounge, recycling old wood.

  The workshop took place in one of the outhouses, where Rab seemed to both live and work. There was a wooden staircase, little more than a ladder up to a private loft area while, apart from a tiny shower room with toilet, the ground floor was taken up with cutting machinery, workbenches, and finished and partially finished furniture. It was a fascinating place to Louise, so she wasn’t altogether surprised when time was up and she opened the outhouse door to discover Morag leaning against the wall, waiting for her.

  “Must be fun in there,” Morag observed, glancing from Louise up to Rab, who stood behind her at the door. “Come on, drag yourself away to the pub.”

  “Lead me to it,” Louise said amiably. “Thanks, Rab!”

  Rab nodded. She couldn’t be sure because it was dark outside now, but it struck her he might have been blushing. He seemed too young and kind to have done time in prison.

  “Chrissy’s coming too,” Morag said as they walked across the semi-lit yard to the side of the house. “And Izzy, if Glenn can stay in with Jack.”

  “They need a Cerys,” Louise observed, “so they can both come.” Several caravans were scattered across the yard. At the door of one, two men were talking.

  “Aye, teaching two women to change their own tires,” one of them said in broad Glasgow accents. “Not exactly what I thought I’d be doing, but actually it was a good laugh. What about you, Froggie? Teaching them to hack the Bank of England?” He broke off to nod and grin at Louise and Morag. Although Louise didn’t know his name, she’d seen him around since the project began. Once or twice, he’d been in the pub with Glenn.

  She smiled back, just as his companion turned around and she saw that it was Thierry. His gaze locked with hers, but he didn’t move or speak, and for once, Louise’s tongue seemed to have stuck to the roof of her mouth. Even in the semidarkness, his eyes drowned her—in memory or desire, she didn’t know which, and she didn’t want to think about it. She just knew her heart beat far too fast.

  “Evening,” Morag said, and Louise hurried after her. “Definitely pub time,” Morag murmured.

  * * * * *

  “So,” Izzy said when she’d delivered the second drink of the evening to the table and sat down. “How come Thierry thinks you don’t like him?”

  Louise felt her face flame. Since it was a Tuesday evening, the pub was quiet, save for the four women—and Kenny the barfly and Ron the fisherman, who sat at the bar—but she really didn’t want to discuss this in public. Or at all, really, even with her best friends.

  “Dislike?” Morag said before Louise could speak. “Is that what it was by the caravan?”

  “No, of course not,” Louise said hastily. God knew, it was anything but. It was herself she disliked.

  “So Thierry is going to fix your computer?”

  “No, well, maybe, I don’t know,” Louise said, flustered. She reached for her glass as if for protection. “He doesn’t know if he has all the parts, and in any case, he thinks I should have a new one.” She glanced around the three sceptical, expectant faces of her friends and knocked back half her whisky. “To be honest, I’m not that comfortable about having him around the house.”

  Chrissy set down her own glass. “Because he’s an ex-con? Louise, he’s one of the gentlest men you’ll ever meet! I never thought you would be so prejudiced.”

  “You mean asking a computer fraudster to build me a new computer?” Louise retorted. “I’m sure that sounds a great idea to most folk!”

  Chrissy opened her mouth to retaliate—the men at Ardknocken House were like her children—but before her angry words could emerge, Izzy said, “Oh no, that’s not it. You’re happy to have Glenn in the house, so I really can’t see you baulking at Thierry. Plus you know damned well he’s not going to hack the B&B computer.”

  Louise sighed.

  Morag said, “There was a look. At the caravan.”

  “What sort of a look?” asked Chrissy, apparently mollified for now.

  Morag raised her glass. “I’d say she likes him.”

  “Oh sod off, Morag,” Louise said crossly.

  “Ah,” Izzy said as if it was becoming clearer. “So that’s it.”

  “No, that isn’t it!” Louise exclaimed.

  “Then you don’t like him?” Izzy teased. “Isn’t this where we came in?”

  “Oh for—” She took another sip of whisky and plonked her glass on the table. “Right now, I like him a hell of a lot better than I like you guys.”

  Izzy frowned at her. “What on earth happened? He only came to look at your computer.”

  “And he was only gone an hour,” Chrissy added. “How did he manage to piss you off in that time?”

  “He hasn’t pissed me off, and it’s got nothing to do with this morning!”

  “You met him before,” Morag said, intrigued. “I knew there was something. Come on then, spill. If it’s good, I’ll buy us all another drink. Where did you meet him before? When?”

  Louise sighed and gave in to the inevitable. “Yesterday. In the hills. Up by the waterfall. The mist was thick. I was afraid he’d fall off the edge, so I pulled him away.”

  The three faces continued to gaze at her.

  “And then?” Morag prompted.

  “Then…oh wow.” She grabbed her glass again.

  Morag began to laugh softly. “Oh, Louise, Louise.”

  Izzy and Chrissy stared at her in wonder. “Really?” Chrissy sounded more delighted than anything else. “Did you take him home to the B&B? How did that get past the village?”

  “No, I didn’t,” Louise said.

  “Outside in the mist,” Izzy said just a little dreamily.

  “I blame the mist,” Louise returned. “There’s something isolating about it, as if it cuts you off from everything else just because you can’t see it.”

  “A little cocoon,” Izzy agreed. “Your own little world… What?” she added, becoming aware of Louise and the others gazing at her.

  Louise, who was sitting beside her, gave her a friendly nudge. “I’m sure you and Glenn have lots of little moments. I don’t. Not with strangers. Or anyone much, really. That’s why I don’t want him around.”

  “In case he thinks you’re easy?” Chrissy said.

  Louise blinked. “Because I was easy. Seriously, have you not heard a murmur of this up at the big house?”

  “Not a whisper,” Izzy assured her.

  “I don’t think he’s a blabbing kind of guy,” Chrissy added. “The opposite, in fact.”

  They’d all been leaning forward over the table, talking in discreet undertones that couldn’t carry across the room as far as the bar. As the pub door was flung open with a blast of icy March wind, Louise actually jumped. But it was her brother, Aidan, who stepped in the door.

  As Louise smiled with as much relief as welcome, Chrissy threw herself out of her chair and flew across the room to
hurl herself into Aidan’s arms. It was one way to defy gossip—be open. In fact, neither Chrissy nor Aidan cared what other people said, and Louise was the first to admit that Chrissy was good for her brother. Izzy, who knew Chrissy better, had said that worked both ways.

  As Aidan hugged Chrissy, murmuring something in her ear and pressing a brief, forceful kiss on her lips, others pushed in behind him—residents from the big house. Archie, Rab…and Thierry.

  “Put her down and shift,” Archie commanded, shoving past towards the bar.

  Before she could be seen, Louise jerked her head away, towards Izzy, who grasped her hand briefly under the table, presumably in support.

  Aidan was walking towards their table, his arm still around Chrissy. “Evening, all,” he said, ruffling Louise’s hair by way of brotherly affection. “What are you drinking?”

  “Oh we’ve still got plenty,” Izzy demurred.

  “Line them up,” Louise commanded, “while you have the chance!”

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Thierry ordering drinks at the bar while Archie and Rab wandered over and sat two tables from Louise’s. The Ardknocken House residents were careful never to force their company on the villagers, and the presence of Louise and Morag meant they would keep their distance, although they did murmur civil hellos.

  At the bar, Aidan and Thierry seemed to be exchanging idle chat while the drinks were being poured. Thierry didn’t so much as glance towards Louise. She should have felt grateful rather than piqued. Beside them, Kenny was holding forth to Ron the fisherman, whose gaze, however, was focused not on Kenny but on Thierry. Well, Ron had already stated his views on the ex-cons. Perhaps he had difficulty marrying up his prejudice with the quietly spoken man talking to the ex-cop.

  After a moment, Ron’s voice drifted over. “Are you Aidan Grieve? Believe I’m staying at your place!”

  Aidan smiled with his usual friendliness, murmuring a reply as he gathered his drinks. Again Ron’s gaze flickered to Thierry, who, oblivious, was walking away with his own pints. Still he didn’t glance at Louise.

  I’ve seen him off, she thought and couldn’t understand why she didn’t feel more relieved.

  Because she’d never known sex like the sex she’d had with him. So urgent and intense… She blinked, trying to refocus on the conversation around her.

  “How’s the house?” Aidan asked Chrissy. They were doing up an old, ruined cottage by the shore.

  “Looking good!” Chrissy enthused. “All the walls are plastered and we’re ready to decorate. Kitchen’s going in on Monday. We should be able to have that housewarming party pretty soon.”

  “Before you furnish,” Morag advised.

  “It’s not going to be that kind of party,” Chrissy said with dignity.

  “Course it is,” Morag argued. “Everyone in the village will be there. The walls will be heaving.”

  Chrissy looked thoughtful. “More room without furniture,” she said.

  “Exactly. We’ll be there on Saturday. Cheers.”

  Everyone laughed, although Chrissy and Aidan were exchanging glances as though seriously considering it. At least, if not this Saturday, then some time quite soon.

  Later in the evening, as Louise brought her round from the bar—one for the road—she discovered her table empty, apart from Aidan, who was leaning across the table between to speak to Rab. Izzy was standing beside Archie, but there was no sign of either Morag or Chrissy, who’d presumably gone to the ladies.

  As Louise set down the drinks and sat, a shadow fell over her. She glanced up quickly, and her heart leapt when she found Thierry standing there.

  “I’ve got all the parts for a new computer,” he said. “If you want me to do it for you, I will. Just say.”

  His dark eyes held hers only for an instant and then he turned away and went back to his seat.

  “Thanks,” Louise croaked after him. As the others returned and conversation resumed, she realized she was joining in far more naturally. Bizarrely, she felt…happy.

  Chapter Four

  “Got a minute?” Louise asked her brother, who’d dropped in for breakfast with their parents. While Cerys helped them to their armchairs, Louise followed Aidan into the kitchen with the dirty dishes.

  “Sure. Everything okay?”

  “Yes, fine. Why?”

  Aidan shrugged. “You seemed a bit on edge last night.”

  “Oh no,” Louise said hastily. “This isn’t really anything to do with me. You know Nicole Graham?”

  “Of course.”

  Louise told him about Nicole’s claim to have been attacked and her assumption that no one would believe her. “Would you talk to her? I know you have an instinct for the truth, and if it is true—which I think it is—maybe you could persuade her to go to the police?”

  “Sure, I’ll talk to her,” Aidan said, frowning.

  “When?”

  Aidan blinked. “As soon as possible. Now, if she’s around.”

  “Thanks, Aidan,” Louise said with relief, grabbing her phone.

  Ten minutes later, she opened the door to Nicole. The younger woman was very casually dressed, and she wore no jacket, just a baggy shirt and jogging pants, her bare feet shoved into sneakers.

  “You remember Aidan, don’t you?” Louise said, ushering her into the living room. “And my parents.”

  Nicole waved slightly awkwardly across the room to the old people, who smiled at her without much obvious idea who she was, and nodded to Aidan.

  “You’re not in the police anymore, are you?” she said abruptly.

  “No, but I was quite disturbed by what Louise told me. She said you didn’t want to go to the police, but do you want to tell me what happened so I can at least advise you?”

  Nicole sat on the window seat beside Aidan while Louise leaned against the back of the sofa.

  “I didn’t notice the mist come down,” she said.

  “Were you walking with this guy?” Aidan asked.

  “Sort of,” Nicole said doubtfully. “When it got misty, I started to walk back down, but it moved faster than I did. And then I ran into him coming up. I told him he should go back—too many places to fall when you can’t see. He said he’d be fine and walked on, but then, a minute or two later, he caught up with me again, said I was quite right.”

  “How far did he walk with you?” Aidan asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe a hundred yards or so.”

  “How did he behave?”

  Nicole shrugged. “He was okay at first, but he kept watching me instead of his feet. It made me uncomfortable.”

  “Did you tell him that?”

  Nicole shook her head. “No, I just walked faster. He kept up for a bit, and then he grabbed my arm. I shook him off, and he grabbed me again. When I told him to let me go, he was panting. He put both arms around me and hung on even when I struggled. So I kneed him in the balls and ran.”

  “Then you felt threatened by him?”

  Nicole lifted her gaze from her hands. “Very.”

  Aidan’s eyes were very steady, holding her gaze. “Did you feel there was a sexual element to his grabbing you?”

  “Explicitly,” Nicole said wryly.

  “He was aroused?” Aidan asked tactfully.

  Nicole nodded.

  “So he frightened you. You felt threatened. Did he hurt you?”

  “He didn’t rape me.”

  “Can you show me how he grabbed you?” Aidan asked. “Where on the arm?”

  Nicole gripped her left upper arm and then her right.

  “Are you bruised there?”

  Nicole’s eyebrows lifted. “I don’t know.” Unexpectedly, she pulled her shirt down from the left shoulder. Beneath it, she wore a pretty vest top, but it was the fingerprint bruise on her arm that swiftly distracted Louise. Blue and yellow
, it wasn’t easy to miss. “Yes,” Nicole said in vague surprise.

  Aidan lifted his gaze from the bruise back to Nicole’s face. “Did he chase you after you kicked him?”

  “I don’t know. I heard someone. I thought it was him, but it turned out just to be Louise and that other man.”

  Aidan blinked from Nicole to Louise. “What other man?”

  Shit and shit and shit. “Just one of the Ardknocken House men,” Louise said casually. Just, dear God…

  “But he wasn’t the man who attacked you, Nicole?” Aidan asked.

  Nicole shook her head. “No. I’m sure I’d never seen this man before. I’m sure he doesn’t live here.”

  “Okay. Can you describe him? What did he look like?”

  Nicole frowned, gave a helpless little shrug. “Sort of…ordinary. Maybe forty or fifty, slightly balding, darkish hair…”

  “Was he clean-shaven? Bearded?”

  “Clean-shaven.” She turned her head to one side, gazing out the window as if an effort of remembrance, but said no more.

  “What about his voice? What sort of accent did he have? Local?”

  “No, it was English.”

  “Okay, good. Anything else about his voice? Deep or high or—”

  “Ordinary,” Nicole said ruefully.

  “Was there anything out of the ordinary about him? The way he walked? Any tattoos? Moles? Birthmarks?”

  After a few moments, Nicole shook her head again.

  “What was he wearing?” Aidan asked.

  “Walking boots, and one of those wax jackets with a hood. Khaki coloured. Sorry, I’m not being very helpful, am I?”

  Aidan smiled at her, though since she didn’t turn to look at him, it was probably a wasted effort. Most women seemed to melt at his smile. “Actually, you’re doing very well,” he said. “Do you have any idea why he might have attacked you?”

  “I thought at the time it was rape.” Her face had flushed, and she still didn’t look at either Aidan or Louise.

  “And now?” Aidan asked gently.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. It was very sudden. Like he was two different men. Maybe he was…disturbed. Schizophrenic or something.”