Chapter 4

Siobhan was equally as logical about her relationship with Mike. The worst of the furore over her split with Casey Spark had died down and the few reporters that pursued her eventually gave up as her ‘no comments’ became increasingly acerbic, eventually achieving the heights of ‘what is it about “no comment” that you do not understand?’

She was relieved that Cass hadn’t said much either, just that they’d ‘decided to take a break from each other’. He did pester her a little, but it was difficult given that he was filming in Greece. She spoke to him a couple of times on the phone before refusing to accept his calls, texts or emails.

She was surprised how hard it was to forget Mike, but that didn’t stop her concluding that a relationship with him was unworkable in the long term. They had so little in common, she thought. The jet-setting lifestyle of a popular international model versus a travelling trouble-shooter that never left the British Isles. The parties and publicity versus his quiet, geekish interests. Besides, how could he respect a woman who undressed to be photographed – even if many of the pictures really were artistic. Even as she thought that last she knew he would respect her ... as he respected almost everyone.

It was something of a relief to be requested for a shoot in Canada and she flew off to Vancouver determined to set aside her thoughts about Mike Barrett. Unfortunately, the shoot was in a remote part far from ‘civilization’. Now the Yukon Territory hasn’t got much in common with the Derbyshire Peak District in England, true. However, she had been a city girl. Just being away from city streets, among open spaces and trees, away from bars and clubs, made her think about Mike and his simple, practical approach to life. It wasn’t exactly primitive where she was; in fact many people from less fortunate parts of the world would have found the provision for her comfort downright luxurious, but most of it was merely necessary.

It didn’t help that, knowing she was unattached again, various of the crew (mainly the photographer) kept hitting on her. They couldn’t seem to grasp that she was just not interested. But the photographer was a gifted artist, and Siobhan a practised professional ... with a beautiful body ... and between them they produced some excellent images; Siobhan, slim, elegant, in various conditions of undress, against backdrops of trees, water, rocks and wide open spaces. And once, briefly, closer than she liked to a bear.

Images of Mike kept intruding; as she pressed her hand against the bark of a tree, she remembered him stroking a gnarled old oak. By a waterfall, she remembered him by a water-wheel, trying to explain how the different types worked. When the photographer was having problems with his computer in the evening, she thought of Mike’s deft touch and clear explanations.

“Try rebooting it,” she told the irritated artist.

“I’ll lose my work...”

“Only what’s on the screen now. You’ll still have the original, and you’re not making much progress with it at the moment, are you?”

He grunted and shrugged. After several minutes of futile fiddling and increasing obscenity, he hit the restart. When he had everything up and running again and co-operating with him, he looked at her.

“How would you know what to do?”

“I didn’t really, but I briefly had a boyfriend who was good with computers.”

He grunted again and went back to what he was doing. Siobhan, however, had a shower and went to bed, where, much to her annoyance, she lay there for some time unable to stop reviewing her ... brief encounter? Was that what it was?

At the end of the assignment, she spent some time in New York, but found the social scene she’d once been such a part of ... boring and shallow. A week or so after she arrived, she was accosted by her ex-fiancé at a party.

After dancing round the conventional greeting ritual, he asked in a sugary tone, “Darling, won’t you give me another chance?”

He was clearly not a sensitive man: well, we knew that, of course – but he ignored the expression on her face. She was looking at him as one might regard a ... dead rat, perhaps.

“I mean,” he went on, “weren’t we good together, Baby?”

There was some interest in their interaction from those round about, which grew as people noticed her expression and the way she was staring at him.

“I told you I had no interest in talking to you or seeing you again,” she spoke quietly, but enunciated her words very clearly and there was a gradual hush as more people became aware of the meeting ... several of whom were particularly interested in why the engagement had been broken.

“But since you mention it,” she went on, her voice rising, somewhat, “no ... we obviously weren’t good together. Not good enough for you, at least ... or you wouldn’t have wanted to introduce a second woman to our relationship. How is she, by the way?”

“Oh, she was a nobody. She went on her way. You’re the one I really want.”

“Oh? How do you think that makes me feel? That the woman you wanted to share our bed ... was a nobody? Actually, you know, that comment just about sums you up. She wasn’t a nobody. I don’t know who she was, but she may not have been famous, or clever, or rich. She may have been no good at anything except sex ... but she was somebody. She was a person, just like me, just like these other folks round here. Notice ... I don’t include you in the category,” her voice dropped, and she hissed the next words, quietly, clearly, and heavily laced with vitriol, “so ... go away, leave me alone. If I ever see you again, it will be ten years too soon.”

“Why, you snooty, puritanical, bit...” It looked as though he was going to take another swing at her, but found his wrists held.

“I think you need to take a little time to rest,” a voice suggested ... it emanated from one of the two security personnel who were holding his wrists. With little apparent effort, they escorted him from the room, followed by his agent, who was shaking his head in dismay and disgust. There were several seconds of silence before everyone began talking at once. Siobhan looked at the glass in her hand, made a face and put it on a table nearby ... She looked round, but most avoided her glance. She stood tall and left the room, head high. As she did so, a couple of women who’d not looked away from her, touched her arm as she passed, the first saying, “Good for you, girl!” The second just smiled.

Over the next few days, Siobhan received a succession of delivered flowers, cards and chocolates. After the first few the cards were consigned straight to the circular file and the flowers and so on were diverted to local old-folks homes and hospitals.

She felt stifled ... and flew back to London where she was welcomed at the small Park House hotel. Unpacking her bag, she found the Blue John pendant tucked into a small interior pocket. She took it out ... looked at it. It seemed that her gaze sank into the stone and she just looked at it for some time. Shaking herself, she placed the chain round her neck and dropped the pendant inside her top, wondering why she hadn’t been wearing it. She was only there for a couple of days before accepting an assignment in the Highlands, near Inverness.

Fiona went home the next morning. Her mother gave her an ‘old-fashioned’ look, but didn’t question where she’d been all night.

“Moira said you’d been in with a young man...”

“Uh huh.”

“Is he nice?”

“Uh huh ... he’s here to do some work on some computers.”

“Oh.”

“Tasted haggis for the first time last night. Discovered he liked it. Of course, it was Auntie’s cooking.”

Her mother laughed. “That would do it.” Then, after a pause, “Will you bring him here to meet us?”

Fiona frowned. “Maybe ... I don’t want you ... or him ... to get the idea I’m serious about him.”

“Why ever not?”

“Because I’m not. He’s really nice, but I want to finish my degree ... go on for my doctorate if they’ll let me ... then I want to travel. I don’t want to settle down. He ... he’s not the one for me. Not yet, anyway.”

“Hmph. You young folk...”

Mike was annoyed. A call at breakfast had him back at the office shortly after. Instead of a clean install of the original software, the IT manager had loaded a backup copy from an external hard-drive, which of course carried the original infection. The idiot had then connected the workstation back into the network before checking. Mike really should not have trusted him with even the basic task of a clean install. At least he knew where the problem was...

As he worked, he found himself smiling. He could have finished the job himself the previous night, but he’d been with Fiona instead. Which had been a lot more fun. This meant he’d have an extra day in Edinburgh. Perhaps, another night with Fiona ... Knowing where and what the problem was, he first reformatted the workstation, then the external hard-drive with the system backup. The rest of the system responded to the normal security software and was up and running mid morning.