“Come on. Get ready for the interrogation.” He knocks on the door, setting my pulse racing.
This is more than I had signed up for today. I’d pretty much downed a bottle of red wine on the flight to steady my nerves which meant I wasn’t on my A-game today with conversation.
“Danny!” The door opens, and a bohemian-looking lady, probably in her 80’s at a guess, reaches up to hug her handsome grandson.
Her body is draped in colourfully patterned clothes, mismatched with vibrant chunky jewellery dangling from her necks and arms. She’s got a hint of the Walker dark features through the grey.
I look down at my own attire, more akin to living rough in the woods, and silently curse Danny.
His large biceps curl around her frail ones. I wonder if this is his grandmother on his mother’s or father’s side. Surely his mother’s side?
“Hello, my dear, so lovely to meet you.” Her accent is strong; I have to focus on every word to keep up.
“Charlie, this is my grandmother, Edme.”
She smiles at me warmly as she reaches for a hug, giving me a strong whiff of sherry.
“So lovely to meet you, Edme,” I say. “Your cottage is truly beautiful.”
She bundles us into the cottage, as quaint on the inside as it is on the outside, a world away from Danny’s luxurious gaffs. I expect she’s never wanted to move even though he has offered.
“Sit down, sit down!” she fusses. “I’ve just made tea and lunch for us. I hope you are hungry!” My stomach growls in response.
We’d been hiking for hours without a cafe in sight. I’ve been living in London too long, I realised when I asked where I would get a flat white coffee with almond milk only to be given a look of disapproval by Danny.
“Look, you don’t need to eat it if you don’t want to,” Danny murmurs as she goes to the kitchen.
“Why wouldn’t I eat it?” I frown.
“You’ll see,” he smirks
“Do you need any help?” I call into the kitchen.
“No, dear.” She comes through the door carrying a tray with three bowls on it.
“Danny said you liked fish.” She declares, setting down the tray on the table, and I peer in horror at the massacred hollowed out fish heads staring up at me with their glassy eyes.
“It’s called crappit heid.” He explains to me, holding back a smirk.
“Some would call it fish haggis.” Edme explains proudly to me. “We ram the fish with oats, suet, and onions. Then we sew the head shut again and boil it in our seawater. It’s very healthy.”
I pick up the bowl of steaming fish heads and plaster on my lying happy face. “Sounds yummy.”
“Here.” Danny leans in, watching me trying to spear a fish head with my fork.”You open it from this end.”
He levers my fork in, and the head opens. I tentatively gather a small sample of food onto my fork and take a bite.
It’s not bad. If I don’t think too much about what it is, I can cope.
I nod a sigh of relief at him as he chuckles.
“Would you like some sherry in your tea, dear?”
“Sure!” I giggle, thinking Edme was a bit of a good time girl in her day. “I’ve heard some of your songs, sweetie. They are beautiful.” She takes my teacup and adds a generous amount of sherry.
My eyes pop wide. How would she have heard my songs? Surely she’s not on OpenMic?
“Danny shared them with me years ago.” She explains, her eyes twinkling at my surprise. “He talked about Tristan’s sister who was a singer.”
“It’s just a hobby.” I blush. “I’m not an actual singer.”
I turn to Danny in disbelief. “I didn’t think you liked them. You seemed so distant at any of my gigs.”
He cocks a brow. “Seriously? It’s called self-preservation, Charlie. Can’t you read me at all?”
“I knew back then that he carried a torch for you.” Mischief dances in her eyes as she looks between us both. “I knew I would meet you one day.”
“Careful grandma.” Danny scolds gently. “Don’t scare her away.”
“I’m not scared,” I replied deadpan. And for the first time in my procession of flings and relationships, I meant it.
I stare over at him, and he holds my gaze, a recognition passing between us.
If Danny Walker wants me to move to the Shetlands, live on a sheep farm, and make him fish haggis every day, then sign me up.
Danny
“Mr. Walker, Charlotte Finnegan is here to see you. It’s an unscheduled meeting. I said not to disturb you?”
The disapproval of Michelle, my PA, is apparent over the intercom. Why is this girl expecting to see the CEO unannounced?
Michelle’s right. I had the board of directors meeting in 15 minutes.
But my curiosity is piqued.
She’s never been brave enough to arrive at my office uninvited before.
In fact, when I see her in the office at all, she runs in the other direction, afraid people will smell the sex hormones fuming from both of us if we stand too close.
And of course, it’s her birthday today.
“Send her through,” I confirm.
There’s hesitation on the other end.
“The board meeting, sir.”
“Yes, I know,” I reply sharply, irritated at being challenged.
“Yes, sir.”
There’s a soft knock.
“Come in.”
She enters, and I stop typing, leaning back in my chair.
“So you knock now?”
Her hair is messily bundled in a bun on top of her head, hair escaping everywhere, and she’s wearing her reading glasses. A fitted white shirt that needs an iron run over it is rolled into figurehugging jeans showing her long legs.