Myths Of The Moon

‘Carla, that’s the most ridiculous thing I ever heard…!’

‘Well, I’m not sure…I wasn’t what he thought he was getting. I expect he felt duped…’

‘I know it’s wrong to speak ill of the dead,’ Becky said flatly, ‘but Rufus didn’t want a wife and equal partner, he wanted a subservient little slave to indulge his every selfish whim. Frankly, Carla, Rufus was a waste of space, and you know it…’

‘Becky…!’

‘He spent most of his time subtly ridiculing you, to compensate for his own weak character! Undermining your confidence in your writing, your appearance, everything…while he wallowed in misery about the unfairness of his life, his failures in business, the injustice of that partnership that went sour, started drowning his bitterness in whisky…I mean, I’m sorry about his tragic accident, Carla, but the man ruined your self-confidence!’

‘Becky…’

‘The trouble with you,’ Becky drove home her point, ‘is that you’ve never had enough self-esteem! You’ve got this image of yourself as hopeless and inept—you’ve never shaken that off since your dad used to tell you how disappointed he was in you! Now here you are, a big success as a detective-writer, and you put yourself down still; you lock yourself away like a recluse…’

Carla laughed ruefully. ‘Have you quite finished? I do not lock myself away like a recluse. I enjoy my own company…’

‘But you don’t make any effort to socialise, Carla.’ Becky thrust an impatient hand through her short blonde hair, and sighed at the stubborn tilt to her friend’s chin. ‘I honestly think that husband of yours has put you off men for life,’ Becky added crisply.

Carla gazed back, her pale, heart-shaped face set determinedly within its frame of straight dark hair, steady resistance in the large, purplish-blue eyes.

‘Maybe he did.’ She shrugged carelessly. ‘I just wasn’t any good at being the meek, biddable wife. To top the lot, I wasn’t even any good in bed…’

Carla’s grin lightened the words, but behind her eyes was a pain she kept fiercely dampened down.

‘Huh!’ Becky’s snort was derisive. ‘You and your guilt complex! It never occurred to you that it could have been the other way round…?’

‘Oh, Becky…!’

A knock on the half-open stable-door to the kitchen made Carla swivel round abruptly. Daniel stood there, a quizzical look on his face.

‘Good morning. Sorry to interrupt,’ he said evenly, nodding and smiling briefly at Becky before glancing back to Carla. ‘Do you have some milk and eggs I could use?’

Carla caught a fleeting glimpse of Becky’s widened brown eyes as she took her first proper look at the stranger the whole village was gossiping about. Then she resolutely avoided her friend’s gaze.

‘Of course—but I was going to bring you some breakfast,’ she said hastily, standing up and darting to the fridge. ‘I’ve got bacon and tomatoes grilling at the moment…’

She felt hot all over. How long had he been standing there, listening? How much of her conversation with Becky had he overheard? Why did he have to creep up on her like that?

‘Maybe it was the delicious smell that lured me over.’ He grinned, raking a hand through his dark hair, and eyeing her flushed face. ‘But it’s all right, I can easily cook for myself. The problem is obtaining the ingredients!’

His rueful tone reminded her forcibly how dependent he was for support.

‘Whatever you’d rather do,’ she agreed. ‘But, since I’m already cooking for you this morning, maybe you’d like to join me here? This is my friend Becky Pascoe, from Carperrow Farm. Becky, this is…Daniel.’

‘Delighted to meet you.’ Daniel reached to shake Becky’s outstretched hand, his expression unreadable. Carla found the slight pinkness in her friend’s cheeks oddly reassuring. It wasn’t just her, then. Other females, even down-to-earth and happily married ones like Becky, were affected by this man’s subtle charisma…

With enviable composure, he sat down at the table. He was wearing a checked shirt, denim jeans, and a ribbed crew-neck jumper in dark forest-green which emphasised the colour of his eyes, not to mention the impressively lean width of his chest and shoulders. He’d discarded the sling the hospital had discharged him with yesterday. His left wrist was bandaged, but he seemed to be flexing the fingers deliberately, as though impatient for recovery.

‘How are you getting on?’ Becky was asking. ‘Do you have any idea yet why you came to Penuthna?’

‘I haven’t a clue.’ His expression was wry. ‘But the fact that no one seems to have missed me points to a holiday, maybe.’

‘True. But the police haven’t been able to trace where you could have been staying, have they?’

‘Not yet.’ He flexed his shoulders, as if easing hidden tension. Carla busied herself dishing up bacon, tomatoes and sausages, while Becky chatted vivaciously, an excited glitter in her eyes. Daniel’s replies were brief and humorous. As Carla brought the plates to the table, Becky jumped up and excused herself reluctantly.

‘That looks wonderful! I’d love to stay and eat with you, but Tom’s minding the baby so I’d better dash back. Come up and see us soon…’ She smiled from Carla to Daniel, adding quickly, ‘In fact, come and have dinner. Both of you. I’ll ring you, Carla…’

When her friend had gone, Carla met Daniel’s shuttered gaze with an inward groan of embarrassment. How could Becky be so…insensitive? Practically pairing them off together! It was ridiculous. One minute voicing concern for her safety with a stranger in the house, the next inviting them to dinner as if they were a long-established couple!

‘Sorry about that,’ she said lightly. ‘I don’t think Becky knows quite how to treat you…’

‘How do you think I should be treated?’ he queried calmly. ‘Like a circus freak or like a normal human being?’

‘There’s no need to be so…touchy,’ she felt compelled to retort. ‘I didn’t mean that…I mean, I just don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.’

‘And what idea would that be?’ He sounded amused.

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, do I have to spell it out?’

‘I’m afraid you do.’ There was a silky trace of mockery beneath the light tone.

Furious, she sat down, watched him begin to eat and forced herself to do likewise. ‘This is a very small village. Gossip is one of the few pastimes available to people…’

‘It’s bound to happen,’ he pointed out easily. ‘A woman on her own offers accommodation to a strange man—tongues wag. You should have thought of that before you issued your invitation.’

She froze in the act of slicing her grilled tomato, large mauve-blue eyes simmering with annoyance.

‘You know, I could almost get the idea that you’re enjoying this!’

He shrugged slightly. ‘Having a blank slate for a memory is no joke. But watching you tiptoeing around your own conscience, juggling with your guilt complexes, is reasonably entertaining.’

‘Oh, is it?’

‘Perhaps the word “entertaining” is too offensive, Carla. Sorry. Maybe “intriguing” is a better word.’ He didn’t sound particularly sorry. The sea-green gaze was amused, and irritatingly aloof. Carla pushed her plate away, and regarded him balefully. What kind of viper had she opened her doors to?

‘Tea or coffee? And what guilt complexes would these be?’ she enquired at last, adopting her sweetest tone.

‘Coffee, please. Black, no sugar.’ He grinned remorselessly. ‘What guilt complexes? At a guess, they’re all to do with your marriage…’

So he had been eavesdropping! There was a hot wash of colour in her cheeks. She was glad to hide behind her dark swath of hair as she poured boiling water into two white china mugs. Tipping milk into hers, she carried both back to the table, and clicked Daniel’s down with scant grace in front of him.

‘My marriage is none of your business,’ she pointed out, ‘and I think your time would be best spent delving into your psyche, prying into your past, don’t you? Not snooping around overhearing conversations and poking your nose into my life!’

‘Ouch. Firmly put in my place.’ Daniel laughed shortly. The wry twist of his lips as he eyed her furious expression struck an answering chord somewhere inside her. Despite her fury, she found herself attempting a weak smile back.

‘All these arguments, and we hardly know each other.’ She raised her eyebrows mockingly.

‘Yeah,’ he agreed, deadpan, ‘just think what hell we’d be if we were a couple.’