A Calculated Risk by Cari Hunter

Author:Cari Hunter [Hunter, Cari]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bold Strokes Books
Published: 2023-09-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Had someone asked twenty-year-old Jo Shaw to picture her ideal home, she would have described the cottage she had just parked in front of. Some of the finer details might have varied—she had always wanted a duck-egg blue front door—but in essence, a traditional three-storey gritstone weaver’s cottage with mullioned windows and a canal-side setting would have been right up there on her wish list. She pulled on the handbrake before the car had come to a complete stop and felt the tyres slip on the loose stone driveway. Perhaps her decision to rent a flat on the city limits was akin to her forsaking her favourite brew for fifteen years, and she knew damn well what had led to that.

“Do you want to come in for a cuppa?” Isla asked, heedless of the irony that made Jo yank on her keys and then fumble them into the footwell.

Jo stayed low for a moment, mashing her car key into her palm as she chewed over Isla’s offer. It didn’t take long for her to rule against an uncaffeinated drive home, and she resurfaced full of resolve to share a nice pot of tea and be civil.

“Yes, please,” she said, which might have erred on the side of civility, because Isla gave her a funny look and got out of the car.

Unlike Jo’s flat, which pilfered heat from all its neighbours, the cottage was cold, and it was also pitch black, until Isla flicked on the hallway light. Crouching to take off her boots, Jo smelled woodsmoke and porridge and muddy grass, scents evocative enough to give her a crystal-clear image of what Isla’s life here was like. She had omitted the cat, though. A fluffy ginger-and-white with a tear in one ear collided with them en route to the kitchen, introducing himself with the half-starved wails of an over-domesticated and temporarily neglected pet.

“Haggis,” Isla said, “has a tendency toward high drama.”

Jo picked him up and made his day by scratching him around his collar. “Poor little thing. You’re almost wasting away here…oh.” She stopped by a high-tech automated feeder whose timer suggested supper had been delivered less than an hour ago.

Isla kissed his nose. “He’s quite convincing, isn’t he?”

She filled the kettle and lit the stove but seemed to run out of energy somewhere between collecting mugs and milk. Jo watched her wander in an unsteady circle, and then gently put a hand on her shoulder and ushered her toward the hall.

“I can sort this. Go and get ready for bed. Are you having tea?”

“Mm.” Isla rubbed her forehead. “White, no sugar.”

“I know. I’ll bring it up for you.”

“There’s biscuits.” Isla pointed vaguely. “Bread for toast or whatever.”

“I’ll sort it,” Jo said again. “Be careful on the stairs. If you think you’re going to keel over, sit down and shout me.”

Isla walked down the hall like a myopic drunk, one hand on the wall for support. She stopped halfway along and turned, knocking a photo frame cockeyed. “Jo?”

“What?” Jo started after her, but Isla waved her back.

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