Secrets Dispelled Read Free

cooking—at one point he’d toyed with being a chef, before he’d decided he preferred creating with a chisel instead of a spoon. Tonight, after a swift glance at the dark clouds outside, the way the trees bent in the wind and the rain that coated the windows, he’d decided it was a stew or spaghetti evening. After a moment’s thought, Coll settled on spaghetti bolognaise. Easy, fast and tasty. He began to chop onions efficiently and opened the Aga hob.
    Just after he’d relocated to the area, he discovered the cottage he’d bought and moved into needed a new roof and the central heating updating before winter. Jess and Jeff, siblings and the castle’s co-owners, had offered him one of the apartments in the castle until the work was completed and he’d jumped at it. After all, it would only be for a month or so. Jeff had even offered the use of a barn for Coll to work in so he didn’t get in the way of the tradesmen in the cottage.
    How the best-laid plans went wrong, Coll mused as he added minced beef to the onions and began to brown them. Here he was six months on, and happy where he was. Rising damp and dry rot had reared their ugly heads, and his cottage had to be completely gutted. In the end he’d decided the best way to deal with it all was to knock the cottage down and rebuild. Luckily the planning officer agreed, Jeff and Jess were happy for him to stay in the castle, and in effect he also helped the night watchman.
    Coll turned to the shelf where he kept his spices and took down a new jar of oregano. When the castle had been rebuilt many years after it was ravaged by fire, Jeff had made sure both apartments within it had private east-, south- and west-facing balconies from different rooms. It suited Coll. He grew herbs on the south facing one, dried his washing whenever possible on the one that was situated on the east side of the building and enjoyed a glass of wine on a dry and midge-free evening on the patio which pointed to the west. He had a patio heater there. He also had a midge-eater, but was resigned to the fact that as fast as he got rid of some blighters, they were replaced by the next group. In the middle of the so-called summer, the only way to sit out after sunset was to cover up, slosh on repellent and keep a midge net handy.
    So much for al-fresco scening. He wished. In fact in many ways, so much for scening full stop. Ever since his mentor Alex Sunderland had told him to, ‘go forth and scribe’, he’d prevaricated. Not because he didn’t think he was ready, he knew he was. Alex was the best artistic scriber bar none, and Coll knew himself privileged to be taught by the master. More because he couldn’t find anyone who called to him on the deep, primeval level he knew he needed. He wasn’t prepared to settle for less, therefore he waited as patiently as he could manage. Hopefully it wouldn’t be long before he could put his tuition into practice on his own sub, not someone chosen for his lessons.
    With a mental smile at his introverted thoughts, Coll opened the jar of the oregano he’d dried himself on the back shelf of the Aga and the aromatic scent filled the air.
    Coll sniffed with appreciation then almost dropped the jar and dusted himself and the work surface with oregano flakes, as the unexpected sound of the landline telephone broke into the tempting sizzle from the hob. The landline was really only there for the net. It had nothing to do with the club, and as he usually used his mobile, the harsh ring was unexpected and intrusive. Coll slid the pan off the hob, cursed and dried his hands before he picked the phone up.
    “Youse yins, fucking pervs. Ya need to watch it or the lassie’ll get more than a wee Glasgae kiss. Gan find her ootside yer door, fucker. An’ remember, nae playing wi’ guns.” The mixture of dialects was so thick, and the voice so distorted that it wasn’t until he heard the dialing tone that Coll went over the words in his mind and made some sense