1
The flashback came from nowhere.
In the last place that Fiona Gilchrist would have expected it to happen.
Her happy place.
Nearly midnight, so she was alone in the stables with the smell of the horses and the sounds of the big animals shifting in their stalls as they settled to sleep. A soft, welcoming nicker came from a big, warmblood gelding as she lifted her hand to stroke the glossy, dark-chestnut coat that was almost a perfect match for the colour of her own hair.
‘How’s that poor sore foot of yours?’ she asked quietly. ‘I’ve come to give it a wee bath with some Epsom salts.’
The horse swung his enormous head around to watch her put down a stainless-steel bucket and a pile of clean bandages. She could feel the warmth and the huff of his breath on the back of her neck but, as she straightened again to lay the palm of her hand on his neck, she could feel the shiver that rippled across the horse’s skin. It was the kind of movement that would be there if the animal had simply been annoyed by the touch of a fly, but she could sense muscles tensing below her hand and she’d been around horses long enough to know that it was the seed of a fight-or-flight response to something deemed dangerous.
It wasn’t just this horse, she realised suddenly. It felt like every living creature in these stables was holding its breath. Even the black and white cat who lived in the shadows and the mice who would be sniffing around the bins for any fallen grains or oats.
Everything was on alert. Waiting…
Later, much later, when she could think about it clearly, Fi realisedthathad been the trigger. That feeling like the world had paused because something terrible was about to happen.
The familiar, comforting aromas of clean straw, warm horses and fresh manure morphed into a memory she’d never been able to escape. A sickening, smoky smell of aftershave interrupted by rapid panting of breath laced with whisky. The sounds had become an echo of heavy footsteps on a wooden floor and a key turning in a lock. The soundtrack of being trapped in that room with him.
She could even feel the pain.
Fear was digging sharp claws into her skin now, reaching for something that lay even deeper than her bones.
A horse nearer the main doors to the stables made the kind of snorting sound that suggested it was spooked. Another stamped hard enough for a solid steel horseshoe, which Fi had recently nailed onto its hoof, to thump loudly on the concrete beneath the layer of straw. She could hear – andfeel– an even louder thump of her heart against her ribs. She edged around the door of the stall and found she had her hands wrapped around the handle of one of the large metal shovels that were used for scooping up soiled straw.
What happened next was a blur. She saw the shape of the man coming out of the shadows of the unlit entrance to the huge barn. The horse behind kicked out at the metal bucket in its stall and a high-pitched neigh of alarm from a stablemate joined the clatter of the bucket hitting the wall. The next thing Fi was clearly aware of was that the man was lying on the cobbles of the central walkway. A man she recognised as the stable manager. Her boss.
He wasn’t moving. Oh, dear Lord… had shekilledhim?
She stood there, frozen, the horror sinking in. Was this history repeating itself?
Had she finally shown her true colours – as her father’s daughter?
But, only seconds later, she heard the man groan. Then he swore vehemently as he pushed himself onto all fours and got, unsteadily, to his feet. Fi stepped back slowly under the glare from his narrowed eyes.
‘What thehell…?’
‘I–I’m so sorry, Ron… I didn’t know it was you…’
‘Who did youthinkwould be wandering around here at this time of night?’ He was touching what was probably a large lump on the back of his head. ‘You’ve always been a bit weird, Gilchrist, but this really takes the cake. I should call the police. This is assault. You tried to bloodykillme!’
‘No…please…’ Fi backed away even further. The confusion of the flashback was fading. The adrenaline levels in her body were dropping. The absolute panic was gone but the fear was still there. A different sort of fear but still powerful enough to be crippling. A fear of being locked away.
Powerless…
‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to hurt you.’ The words came out in almost a whisper. ‘It was… it was… self-defence.’
‘From what?’ His gaze flicked up to the wild curls on her head and then his lip curled as the blatant stare dropped to rake her entire body. The snort of laughter that followed held no amusement. ‘You think anyone would believe that I was that desperate?’ He started to shake his head but winced visibly as he spat out his next words. ‘Who’d wantyou?’
The thought came from nowhere, but Fi realised that whoever had made up that saying about sticks and stones being able to break you but that words could never harm you couldn’t have been more wrong.
This was a physical pain that could only come from injury. It was tearing open old wounds that had never really healed, but at least she’d learned that it was possible to survive. She just needed to think of how she could escape. To get as far away as possible from what she had mistakenly believed was a sanctuary.
It was, ironically, the stable manager who provided exactly what she was looking for.
His eyes were no more than slits as he stared at her. ‘You’refinished,’ he snarled. ‘You’ll never work in this industry again if I have anything to do with it. Get your stuff and get off the property or Iwillbe calling the cops.’ He turned away. ‘I’ll be back in fifteen minutes, and you’d better be long gone.’
