The Lake by Louise Sharland (best ereader for pc txt) 📕

‘It’s nothing to do with you, my darling,’ says Marie-Claire with an embarrassed smile. ‘This is perhaps just a little bit too far out of her comfort zone.’ She points to my bedside table. ‘A cup of tea for you, and I will expect both you and my fiancée in the canteen for breakfast in fifteen minutes.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’ I attempt a feeble salute. ‘And thank you.’

‘De rien.’ Marie-Claire smiles and taps a finger against her watch. ‘See you downstairs.’

I quickly shower, dress, and apply makeup, concentrating on the dark circles under my eyes. I make a concerted effort to be bright and cheerful at breakfast. I haven’t spoken to Julia since we accessed the student database at St Andrews University. I suspect that she has already worked out the reason for my absence most of yesterday evening, because there is a new frostiness in her demeanour. Caleb, I am told, has already come and gone.

‘Everything all right?’ Julia enquires, not looking up from where she is buttering her toast.

‘Fine.’

She glances up and our eyes meet, a silent exchange of both knowledge and guilt.

‘I’m glad you both managed to drag yourself from your beds,’ says Marie-Claire, placing a large cafetière on the table in front of us. She studies my face, her eyes creasing in concern. ‘You look very pale. Did you get any sleep last night?’

‘I’m fine,’ I reply and force a smile. ‘Really.’

Marie-Claire places a splash of warm milk into a mug, adds coffee and slides it towards me. ‘And the situation with your niece?’

‘Sorted,’ I reply. ‘I spoke to her yesterday.’ I sneak a peek at Julia, but she is studiously checking emails on her phone. ‘I’m grateful to both of you for all your patience and support.’

Bright and cheerful. Bright, and cheerful.

‘Just glad it’s all sorted,’ says Julia, with little conviction.

Marie-Claire gives us both a curious glance. ‘Speaking of being sorted,’ she says, ‘we’d better hurry up and finish our breakfast. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to miss a moment of our masterclass.’

‘Not like I care.’

‘Julia!’

‘Well, it’s not like I’ve ever disguised my dislike of this whole ridiculous exercise.’

There is a moment of silence as Marie-Claire takes in her fiancée’s words.

‘Ridiculous exercise?’

‘A shambles,’ Julia mutters, and I watch as Marie-Claire’s ebony cheeks slowly grow rosy. ‘That ludicrous McKinley woman with her flagrant self-promotion and arrogance. A domestic drama that I didn’t really want to have any part in.’ She avoids looking at me, but the implication is clear. ‘And now a so-called masterclass in which we’re supposed to be grateful for being given the opportunity to read our mediocre work aloud to some poetic has-been!’

‘What has gotten into you!’ I can see that Marie-Claire is close to tears.

‘I’m tired of the bullshit,’ her fiancée replies, and throwing her napkin down, pushes back her chair and storms from the dining hall.

‘I’ll talk to her,’ I say. ‘Why don’t we meet you at the theatre in a bit?’

Marie-Claire nods and blows her nose. ‘She always gets like this when she drinks too much.’

I rush to follow Julia out into the quad where she is lighting a cigarette. ‘I didn’t know you smoked?’

‘I don’t,’ says Julia, taking a deep drag. ‘I nicked one of Marie-Claire’s.’

‘You’re angry with me, aren’t you?’

‘Furious.’ Julia’s jaw tightens. ‘I saw you yesterday afternoon leaving, in your car. You went to St Andrews, didn’t you?’

There’s no point in denying it. ‘Yes.’

‘And did you find him?’

‘I did.’

Julia takes another drag, angrily blowing smoke out through her nostrils. ‘What if he complains to the university? What if they check who logged into the student database and put two and two together?’

‘He won’t.’ I think of the look on his face when I told him that Desra was in Scotland, and that he clearly knew. ‘You’ve got nothing to worry about, Julia. There’s no reason for him or anyone else to suspect your involvement.’

‘That’s not the point, though, is it?’ she says. ‘I should have never done it in the first place, and you should have never asked me to.’

This isn’t the first time I am being forced to question my conduct, and probably won’t be the last. ‘I’m sorry, Julia, I really am, but McKinley’s got away with too much for far too long.’

Julia drops the cigarette, taking her time to grind it into the gravel at her feet.

‘What did he say?’

I know what she means, but I take my time answering. ‘It’s clear they were together at Lakeview.’ I breathe in deeply, desperate for any last remnants of her cigarette smoke. ‘And he knows she’s here, in Scotland.’

‘Jesus.’ She sighs, then, studying me with fierce intensity, she says, ‘What’s the big but?’

I look up at the clear blue sky above. ‘He got a work placement lined up next summer with a top company in Japan.’ I feel the tears falling. ‘Says a sex scandal could ruin his future career.’ I’m glad of a nearby bench and I stumble my way towards it. I feel it give as Julia sits down beside me.

‘You never said if your niece mentioned any inappropriate behaviour.’

‘What?’

‘From McKinley.’ Julia’s expression is flint-like. ‘You said Lisa visited her flat.’

‘Yes, but—’

‘And did McKinley do anything? Try anything?’

‘I don’t know,’ I reply. ‘Why are you asking me this?’

Julia sighs again and runs her fingers through her thick, blonde curls. ‘I’m sure there’s something going on between her and Turner. She’s hardly discreet, is she? Getting him to drive her to Edinburgh, tarting herself up every time he’s anywhere in the vicinity. They stayed in the boathouse the other night drinking together until God knows when.’

‘But Marie-Claire said …’

Julia gives a wry smile. ‘Marie-Claire would give Hannibal Lecter the benefit of the doubt.’

‘Do you think I should talk to him?’

Julia gives a derisory snort. ‘If you want answers, Turner’s not the one to talk to. Becky is.’

I head back to my room to brush my teeth and collect my notebook before the masterclass. On the desk