Bad Heir Day Read Free

they?” Anna said, not at all sure what he meant. She reeled slightly. Orlando’s breath was pure alcohol. One flick of a lighter and…
    “Yah. Put it this way—Lavenham always says she screws like an animal.”
    “But that’s rather flattering, isn’t it?”
    “Not really.” Gossett paused, then nudged her. “Like a dead dog ,he says. Haw haw haw .”
    Anna did not smile. “Have you met her?” she asked coldly.
    “Not exactly, not in the flesh, no.”
    “You have, actually.”
    “Sorry?” Orlando looked blank.
    “Met her. You’re meeting her, in fact. Sebastian Lavenham is my boyfriend.”
    There was an exploding sound as Orlando Gossett choked on what Anna calculated to be his seventh glass of champagne. “ Christ .Oh my goodness. Oh fuck .I really didn’t mean…I’m sure he was joking…”
    “Yes.” Part of her refused to believe Seb could ever be so cruel. Part of her, however, feared the worst. “Excuse me, I really must go and powder my nose.” At least she had an excuse to get away from him now.
    “Well, you won’t be alone,” Gossett remarked cheerily. “Half of Kensington’s chatting to Charlie in there. They say there’s more snow in Strawberry St. Felix’s bag than in the whole of St. Moritz.”
    Seb having completely disappeared, Anna decided to pass some of what promised to be a very long evening exploring the castle.
    As she wandered from the thronging hall, ringing with the depressing sound of everyone but her having a good time, Anna wondered where she and Seb would be sleeping that night. And whether it would be the same place. The traumas of the journey were beginning to catch up with her. She longed for a lie-down.
    The passage she was walking down was very dark, of a blackness so intense it almost felt solid. Anna inhaled the deep, cool, mildewed smell of centuries and wondered what it would be like to live somewhere so ancient. To have a past of burnished oak refectory tables, tapestries and mullions; Anna, whose own past was rather more semi-detached, G-plan, and Trimphones, was fascinated by the air of age and decay.
    The darkness was now absolute. Anna, proceeding steadily onwards, stuck her hands out in front of her, terrified of being impaled on something sharp—perhaps another of the intimidating halberds she had noticed festooning the hall. The silence was ringing in its intensity—the noise from the hall having long receded. Yet, straining her ears, Anna thought she heard the faint sound of a door closing. A bolt of fear shot through her as she realised the castle might be haunted. That, of course, was the downside of old places. Say what you like about semis, Anna thought, you rarely saw headless green ladies in them. Unless you’d knocked over one of Mum’s china shepherdesses. On seeing a dim light in the distance, Anna felt weak with relief. Approaching, she saw that the faint glimmer was a large, diamond-paned oriel window, the deep recesses of which held two cushioned seats facing each other. She collapsed on one of them gratefully. A sense of calm ebbed slowly through her as she gazed out into the night.
    Directly in front of her, picturesquely distorted through the ancient and tiny panes of glass, a full moon with a searchlight beam silvered the vast expanse of the loch. The water shimmered and wrinkled like liquid satin, edged with the thinnest of watery lace as it rippled peacefully up the pebbly shore. All was silence.
    “Beautiful, isn’t it?” said a voice beside her.
    Anna leapt out of the seat and tried to scream, but found she could only manage a petrified croak. Yet even in her terror she couldn’t help noticing that the voice was less marrow-chilling and deathly than low and well-spoken and shot through with a warm thread of Scots. Anna opened her eyes. The moonlight shone on tumbling dark locks. A shock of hair, in every sense of the word.
    “Terribly sorry,” gasped the diffident waiter. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
    “Well, I