Chapter 90

Chapter 90
CLAIRE’s POV

Jake’s words are scarring me and playing with my mind. Damit, I need to speak to Nathalie as soon as possible and find out if she can dig anything up. There must be police records she can delve into.

As we enter back into the warmth of the cabin, Hector goes straight to his water bowl and begins lapping up water like a dog severely dehydrated. A smile creeps on my face.

Clive takes my coat for me and hangs it up in the small room that is to the right of the front door. It looks like a boot room. Wellingtons and a whole manner of boots are inside it and jackets of every type. I spot a riding jacket. Interesting, I never saw horses here or stables.

“Do you ride?” I ask him.

He doesn’t answer me straight away, and a shadow glosses over his eyes. “No, not me. It was my late wife’s. I haven’t been able to, you know…” he lets the sentence hang. I get it, he can’t talk about it. I want to ask him what actually happened to her, but now doesn’t seem to be the right time.

“Are there horses close by?” I ask as I toe the heels of my boots and slip them off once the laces are untied. I pick them up and carry them into the boot room and place them next to a pair of green wellingtons.

“I used to have horses,” he says as he does the same with his boots then closes the door as we exit the small room. Jake is nowhere to be seen. Thank goodness.

“And you don’t anymore?” Maybe because of his wife.

“Not anymore. They were my wife’s and they are now stables with her sister in a different area not too far from here. I couldn’t face seeing them every day. They missed her, you know. It’s incredible how animals can miss their owners.”

It makes me feel sad inside, for him and for the horses. I have huge empathy with animals, more so than humans after my experience with Jonathan. Even though I know Clive is a safe man, at least I think he is. I hope he is. I’m definitely more an animal person.

“I understand,” I say simply as he leads me towards the farmhouse kitchen.”

“Coffee? Tea? Water?” he asks as I take a seat at the old pine table.

“Coffee please, nice and strong. I am still shaken up with everything if I am being absolutely honest.”

I sit down and lean my forearms on the table and place my head in my hands. Clive comes round to me and rubs my back between my shoulder blades.

“Claire it’s going to take a while. I can organize for you to speak with someone if you think it will help.” His tone is soft and caring; it makes a lump form in my throat.

“I’ll be fine,” I mutter quietly. “I just need time.”

“You know you can talk to me. I won’t judge. Whatever happened, happened. He deserves what he got, Claire.” Now his voice sounds angry.

“Let me fix you that coffee, nice and strong. How about a tot of whisky or brandy in it?”

“Yes please, either. Thanks, Clive.”

I watch his large form going about making the coffee as he takes a glass jar from the cupboard with coffee beans in it and places some into his small grinder on the counter.

I haven’t had freshly ground coffee since, well forever. It doesn’t take long before you can begin to smell the aroma. It hits all sorts of the right spots.

“We killed him,” I say. Clive doesn’t move a muscle; he doesn’t even turn to look at me.

Then he slowly turns around and leans against the counter, with his hands resting on it behind his back. His eyes give nothing away; it’s like he is giving me the floor to speak.

“I, we didn’t have a choice,” I explain biting my lower lip to try to stop myself from bursting into tears. I hope Jake doesn’t come in now.

“Claire, he deserved what he got. Now he can’t hurt anyone else.” Clive comes towards me, the coffee forgotten for now. He bends down onto his haunches and reaches for my hand. It feels tiny as it slips inside his large hand.

His eyes meet mine, they’re full of warmth and compassion.

“There’s more,” I tell him. It’s like I need to suddenly tell him every last detail.

“Take your time, lass. We have all evening. Jake will be busy now; he has stuff to do.”

I don’t even want to know what stuff Jake has to do. Although, I am wondering what could he possibly have to do other than split the logs. It’s not like we are close to a town, and he seemed to appear out of nowhere on foot.

And whilst I think that, where did he even come from?

“It was my best friend, she, she tried to kill us both.” I let out a deep breath. It feels good to get it off my chest.

Clive lets go of my hand and stands up. “I think you need a stiff drink; Claire then let’s go into the lounge and sit on the sofa where you can tell me everything.”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. The lump in my throat is so painful, and my eyes are filling with more tears. My nose is running and I am practically ugly crying.

Clive reaches into a cupboard and pulls out a bottle that looks like it’s brandy. The liquid is a soft brown color, the bottle almost green. He takes out two shot glasses and unscrews the bottle then pours us each a shot.

He hands one to me and downs the other. I down my shot feeling the burn at the back of my throat.

Am I doin the right thing telling Clive everything. Nathalie said I should be on my guard.

It’s too late now. I’ve started.

As I stand, I see a shadow at the window and drop the glass. It shatters as I stare at the face the other side.

“Lass, are you okay?” Clive comes towards me in two strides and takes me into his big, strong arms.

I’m not alright no. I shake my head.

“Jake,” I say.

He furrows his brow. “What’s that, hen?”

“Jake at the window,” I say. Clive releases me and turns around.

When I look past his shoulder, there is nobody there.

Is my mind so distraught that it’s playing tricks on me?