She was just thinking how quiet the road was as she walked along its curving sweep when a car approached, its female driver seemed to glare at her from behind the wheel. As the car reached her, Juliette could’ve sworn the driver swerved a little towards her.
She yelped and dived into the banking to avoid being clipped by the wing mirror. ‘Bloody hell! Get a bit closer next time and do the job properly!’ Juliette shouted at the car’s retreating form as it headed towards the village. She stood, brushed the grass and seeds from her legs – an action she’d carried out once too often already – and took a deep breath.
Once calm, she carried on following the vague directions that her mum had provided and eventually found the location of a little croft off the main road. From the descriptions and stories, she was almost certain it was the place her mum used to live with her parents before leaving for the mainland, seeing as there was nothing else around for quite a distance. It was nothing but a ruin now, but Juliette could imagine her mother, as a young girl, playing in the fields that surrounded the now run-down building. What a shame there was so little left to show for the once loved family home.
She snapped a photo of the pretty setting and took a few more shots of the small wood that would have once provided shade to the animals. She had often wondered why her mother had never returned to visit, but seeing the little house in such a state of disrepair she decided it was maybe a good thing. Perhaps she’d send the photos to Dexter and see if he thought Mum would want to see them.
* * *
Later, when she returned to Thistle House, Morag was waiting for her. Gone was the smiley countenance that usually greeted her. It was replaced by one of concern and her fidgeting hands told Juliette that something disagreeable had happened, or wasaboutto. ‘Oh, hello, Jules. Could I possibly have a wee word in your ear?’
Morag’s expression caused worry to niggle at her. ‘Sure, is everything okay?’
The older woman waved a dismissive hand, but her narrowed eyes didn’t correlate. ‘Och yes. Come on through to the kitchen and I’ll make a fresh pot of tea.’
Once they were seated, Morag folded her hands on the table in front of her.
She sighed deeply before she began. ‘I’ve been talking to Reid MacKinnon today.’
‘Oh yes.’
Another sigh told of her discomfort. ‘He made a bit of a complaint, I’m afraid.’
Juliette scrunched her brow. ‘Complaint? About what?’ What on earth could he have to complain about?
Morag cringed and chewed her lip for a moment. ‘I feel ridiculous even mentioning this, so please forgive me. How does the saying go about shooting the messenger? After the incident the other day, he’s asked if you could move your car from where you’ve parked it. He says you’re causing an obstruction. I think he’s being a pedantic pain in the arse, to be honest.’
Confused, Juliette held up her hand. ‘I’m sorry, Morag, but I don’t have the foggiest clue what you’re talking about. I’ve only spoken to Mr MacKinnon on the phone and I was very civil, given the circumstances. I’ve never actuallymethim face to face. So, I’m not sure what incident you’re referring to.’
Morag scratched her head, clearly she was equally befuddled. ‘Oh. But… Well, he says you almost ran him over. He must be mistaken.’
The penny dropped and Juliette felt the colour drain from her face. With wide eyes, she said, ‘Oh!Thatwas Mr MacKinnon? He didn’t actually introduce himself, just gave me a mouthful. Shit!’ She lifted her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, excuse my language. I’m so sorry.’
Morag shook her head. ‘It’s okay. He’s been such a grumpy sod lately, honestly. He rarely smiles these days, and he has such a handsome face when he does. But he seems to have forgotten how. I’m presuming he’s blowing this all out of proportion. But he cycles down to the village from his house and he says your car is creating a blind spot which, he says, isn’t safe for his son, Evin, either. I’m so sorry. You can always pull into the yard at the back.’
Juliette nodded, her suspicions about the boy’s connection to Mackinnon proved correct. ‘Absolutely. Of course. No problem.’
Morag went silent for a few moments. ‘When you say you spoke to him on the phone, what do you mean?’
With a vengeance, the colour returned to Juliette’s cheeks. ‘Oh, erm, actually, I applied for the museum job a short while ago. He rang and told me I wasn’t suitable as I lived too far away.’
Morag’s brow crumpled. ‘But now you’re here?’
Juliette held out her hands and smiled nervously. ‘Now I’m here.’
‘And how long were you planning on staying on Skye?’
Juliette shrugged. ‘I’ve taken a sabbatical which is due to end just before the next term begins.’
Morag tilted her head. ‘Term? What is it you do for a job?’
‘I’m a university librarian. And I’m passionate about history too, which I told him. I know it’s not the right type of experience really, but—’
Morag threw up her hands in exasperation. ‘But you’d have been perfect! I don’t believe this. He said there were no suitable candidates. And here you are, a personable woman with intelligence and a desire to do the job. Ugh.’ She pursed her lips. ‘I feel like he’s chopped off his nose to spite his face, silly bugger. And I’m guessing it’s because you’re English.’
Juliette gasped. ‘What has he got against the English?’ The changing colour palette of Juliette’s face was now cerise with anger. Howdarehe reject her because of her nationality? There were laws against that kind of discrimination.
Morag backpedalled. ‘Oh, no, it’s not the English,perse. It’s… Oh dear, I fear whatever I say will make matters worse. But it’s suffice to say his ex-wife is English. She broke his heart and now he has trust issues.’
