The Ardmore Inheritance by Rob Wyllie (reading the story of the .txt) 📕

the case he doubted if she was likely to admit it if it had been her who had been in touch with Mrs Priest. For a moment he thought about pursuing the matter, but then decided to keep his powder dry. Instead he said,

'Aye, it was a tragedy right enough, a terrible thing altogether. But you asked about me, well, there's not much to say really. I'm thirty-two years of age, six-foot two, weigh one hundred and eighty pounds, born and brought up in Glasgow, did law at Glasgow Uni, joined the army, went to Afghanistan, came out, got a job with Maggie Bainbridge Associates. That's my life in one sentence.'

'Is that all you're going to give me?' she said, her tone subdued. 'Because I can't help noticing you didn't mention your marriage to Flora McLeod.'

He gave her a grim look. 'That's because it hurts, if I'm being brutally honest with myself. It was my biggest screw-up and make no mistake.'

'But she's lovely your Flora, isn't she? Beautiful and clever too. The beautiful and clever Dr Flora Stewart with the handsome-hero husband.'

And now he noticed it, as clear as a blue sky in summer. Jealousy. He remembered at the same time what Rory Overton had said. She's still jealous babe. That's what it is. Jealous of me and jealous of Esme.

'You knew Flora of course. When you were kids I mean.'

'Yes I did. We were at the primary school together, in Lochmorehead. That girl who was murdered by her husband was there too, I don't know if you knew that?'

'Yes I did. Morag, wasn't it?'

'That's right. Morag Robertson. But she was more friends with Kirsty and Flora. They were so bloody popular, all of them.'

There it was again, a bitterness that seemed to be undiminished after more than twenty years.

'They had their own stupid language. Kirsty, Flora and Morag, making up silly words for everything, and they wouldn't tell me what they were. It was pathetic.'

'And you weren't part of this?' He knew he was treading on dangerous ground so checked himself just as he was about to ask the question beloved of TV interviewers the world over. How did that make you feel?

But she answered it without being asked. 'It didn't bother me. I had plenty of other friends at the school although sometimes that was quite hard because we were away quite a lot. You know, when my father had another posting. Although we always came back when we could.'

'Because of Ardmore House and the estate I suppose?'

'Yes, it's in the Macallan blood. We didn't like to stay away from the place for too long. No, more than that, we couldn't stay away. That's why my father always tried to get a posting to the Ardmore base. He felt exactly the same.' And it explained too why gaining ownership of the place was such a big deal for each of the twins. Maybe it was time to bring up the subject again? But then a waiter appeared alongside their table, a plate in each hand.

'Fish for you madam I believe, and the bourguignon for you sir?'

'That's right,' they said simultaneously, causing each to smile.

The main course passed pleasantly enough, with Elspeth doing most of the talking, much of which, being focussed on her world as a social-media influencer, Jimmy neither understood nor was much interested in. From time to time the waiter would come to refill their glasses, and each time it seemed hers was quite empty. And with each glass marking a milestone, there was a perceptible drop in her mood. Something wasn't right, he could tell that.

'Are you sure you're ok Elspeth?' Jimmy asked again, as gently as he could.

'Yes, why do you keep asking?' She spat out the words, her voice loud enough to cause a number of the other diners to steal a glance in their direction.

'Sorry, I'm just concerned for you that's all. After all, you've been through a lot.'

'No, look I'm sorry too Jimmy,' she said, this time quieter and with a smile that was obviously forced, 'I shouldn't let my troubles spoil our evening.'

He heard her phone vibrate, and for a moment she froze, as if deciding how to react. And then finally she said, 'I'm sorry, I'm being a hopeless date, and I've had a little too much to drink as well. I'm just going to pop to the ladies’ room and freshen myself up, and then I'll be fine.'

She picked up her clutch bag from beside her chair, popped her phone into it then stood up.

'Won't be long,' she said.

A man at an opposite table caught Jimmy with a look that spoke of solidarity. Women, they're such high-maintenance aren't they? The waiter appeared again and attempted to top up Jimmy's glass, he placing his hand over the top to decline. He was already beginning to feel drowsy, the combined effect of the rich food and rather more wine than he was used to. But when she came back, he would have to raise the subject immediately, irrespective of her mood. Have you done a deal with your step-mother? This was work after all, and that was the question he needed answered. He couldn't duck it any longer.

The only problem was that after nearly ten minutes, she still hadn't returned. Odd. He began to wonder if the alcohol had overcome her and she had passed out in the ladies. He got up and approached the nearest waitress, a fresh-faced teenager wearing an eager smile.

'Excuse me.'

'Hi sir, can I help?'

'Aye, it's my date,' he said, his voice apologetic. 'She went to the ladies quite a while ago and she's not come back yet. I'm a bit worried about her.'

'No worries sir, I'll go and look. What's her name?'

'Elspeth.'

He followed the girl through an archway and into a narrow passageway, at the end of which were two doors marked Hommes and Femmes. The waitress pushed open the right-hand door and went in.

'Elspeth? Hi Elspeth, are you ok?' He could hear her call