Free In the Blood by Steve Robinson Page A

sorry,” he said.   He dropped the offending tuft onto the grass beside the path, brushing dust from his hands.   “Down to business as it were.”   He studied Tayte now with forced determination.   “I’ve told Lady Fairborne all about you and what you’re up to here in our little part of Cornwall.”
    Tayte would have liked it put better.   He immediately felt as if he were up to no good.
    “She was quite excited about the project.”
    Tayte was waiting for the good news and he wished the reverend would hurry up and get to it.
    “She’s very keen to see your work and expressed her interest in obtaining the finished result.”   Jolliffe moved closer to Tayte and slowly whispered, “It would guarantee her full co-operation.”
    Everyone has an angle, Tayte thought.   He twisted his lower jaw, considering.   He was sure his client would go off the rails at the idea of a total stranger having a copy of the chart he was paying for; even if they were technically family.   But it was an interesting proposition.   “I can’t promise anything,” Tayte said, but he wanted this interview.   “We should be able to work something out.”
    “Of course,” the reverend said.   “I do understand.”
    “So when will she see me?”
    The reverend threw his hands out.   “Right away!” he said, clearly very pleased with his accomplishment.   “Lady Fairborne is at home this afternoon until three o’clock and can see you any time before then.”
    Tayte was surprised at his luck and relieved to find someone so enthusiastic about his work.   He was expecting some complication, like she couldn’t see him until next week.   He checked his watch: ‘13:21’.   There was enough time if he left immediately.
    The reverend placed a hand on Tayte’s shoulder.   “I was concerned that our many distractions would enchant you and keep you away too long,” he said.   He led Tayte back towards the lych gate.     “You’re to call at the side entrance in the north-east wing.”   Jolliffe gestured with his hands as though drawing a schematic of the house and grounds.   “You’ll have to go all the way around the headland to find the main gates first,” he added.   “And be sure to ask for Lady Fairborne if she’s not there to greet you herself.”
    Tayte took the reverend’s hand and firmly shook it.   “Thanks again.”   He turned to leave.
    “Perhaps we’ll see you at one of our services?” Jolliffe said.
    “I’ll see what I can do,” Tayte replied, but he doubted it.

 
     
    Chapter Twelve
     
     
    A my Fallon was sitting alone on a red settee, staring into a cold inglenook fireplace.   Like so much of their furniture, the settee was from the Victorian period, gathered over the years on weekends away or on specific antique-hunting trips when they were looking for something special.   Each piece reminded her of Gabriel.   She knew where they bought every item and every item linked to other memories, often of romantic breaks together that began with a customary pre-dinner bath, stimulated by champagne and the heady aromas of scented candles and fragrant oils.
    The black lion on the heavy iron fire-back returned Amy’s stare from deep within the grate.   It was early afternoon, still bright outside.   She’d not long been back from the river and Martin had not long since left; a quick cup of tea to calm her nerves.   Something stronger was suggested, but she knew she would find no answers at the bottom of a bottle - she’d already looked there.
    As soon as Martin had left, she’d changed into her comfy clothes: a faded pair of jeans that were so old and torn they were beginning to look trendy again, and one of Gabriel’s old shirts: pale blue with a faint herringbone weave that had also seen better days.   She was stroking her shirt sleeves and thinking about what Gabriel had said that last night they shared together.   The conversation was often on her mind.   There was