The Calgary Chessman by Yvonne Marjot

Author:Yvonne Marjot
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: scotlandcalgarychessloveromance
Publisher: Crooked Cat publishing

13

Saturday came in cold and miserable, quite a contrast to the last few days. I crawled out of bed late, to find the house deserted. When I shuffled downstairs in my dressing gown, I found a brief note thanking me for my hospitality. The archaeologists had left me £40, which I thought was kind of them, especially as they didn’t seem to have eaten any breakfast. Three mugs were neatly stacked on the drainage board, but otherwise the kitchen was just as I’d left it.

I stuffed the money into the kitchen drawer and made a mental note to turn it into petrol as quickly as possible before the price went up again. There was no letter. No personal contact from Niall. No suggestion that I might ever find an excuse to see him again. Just as well. I wasn’t interested. So there. I forbade myself to feel disappointment. I couldn’t expect Niall Webster and his colleagues to keep loneliness from my door indefinitely, and my unexpected find in April had provided far more entertainment than I’d had any right to expect.

Sam was nowhere to be seen, and a quick peek into his room revealed his bedclothes and yesterday’s clothes on the floor, but no boy. When I checked in the porch and discovered that his football gear had disappeared, I guessed he’d gone down to the village pitch to see if there was a game on. As soon as I thought the word football, I remembered the notice outside the village shop. Was today the inter-village footie tournament? Maybe. If so, then turnout might be lower than usual – they were no doubt hoping for better weather. I hoped he’d enjoy himself, and tried not to think about the muddy boots and extra laundry.

I glimpsed my sour-faced reflection in the window, shaken by a sudden gust of wind and distorted by drops flung at the pane. I sneezed, and then winced as the raw patch in the back of my throat smarted. All that sniffling yesterday had been more than just a reaction to exercise; I must have already been incubating this cold, and today it had decided to exert itself.

I went to the kitchen intending to make coffee and toast, but ended up with warm water and some painkillers. I made my way back to bed and tried to get comfortable, but every time I lay down my nose blocked and I couldn’t breathe properly. Standing up was no better: a throbbing sinus headache was threatening and all my joints ached. Work, or even thinking about work, was definitely out of the question. I wedged myself half-upright in bed and tried not to think about anything.

For a while I attempted to meditate, and to persuade myself I felt better than I did, but my head was throbbing in time with my pulse and with my eyes shut I felt dizzy. So I gazed at nothing and let my thoughts ramble round my head, which seemed to work slightly better than trying to empty my mind altogether.

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