Absent in the Spring (The Shakespeare Sisters 3)

For the second time in the video call, Lucy found herself telling her sisters her story of woe, listening as they commiserated with her. And it felt good to not be hiding everything, to have it all out in the open with them. They were her family, after all. At least she’d always have that.

32

Justice always whirls in equal measure

– Love’s Labour’s Lost

Warmer weather had finally arrived in Edinburgh while she’d been away. Blossom had fallen from the trees, creating a pale-pink and white blanket of petals in Prince’s Park, and the early snowdrops and bluebells had been replaced by a riot of yellow daffodils, their trumpets heralding new beginnings. A shaft of yellow sunlight shone through Lucy’s office window, reflecting on her laptop screen. She angled it, trying to read the contract she had up on there, highlighting the parts she wanted to change.

‘Lucy, do you have a minute?’

She looked up to see Malcolm Dunvale standing in her office doorway. She clicked save on her document then pulled the screen down. ‘Of course. Do you want me to come to your office?’ Please God, don’t let it be bad news. She’d had enough of that to last her a lifetime.

‘Yes please.’ She followed him to the glass-walled room, walking in as he pulled the door shut and sat on the corner of his desk. ‘I just wanted to let you know the Glencarraig thing is over.’

‘It’s over? How?’ A sense of panic washed over her. ‘I thought you were waiting for a court date to be confirmed.’

Malcolm shrugged. ‘All I know is that the two parties have come to some kind of agreement and the case is off.’ He gave her a tight smile. ‘I thought you’d be pleased. Hopefully now we can forget all about it and just get on with our work.’

She didn’t feel pleased, though. She felt as though the final corner of the rug was being pulled out from under her, and she was t

umbling downwards. Even though she’d been taken off the case, Lachlan’s inheritance was still one of the last things tying him to Edinburgh.

And maybe tying him to her.

‘What kind of agreement have they come to?’ she asked.

‘I’ve no idea. Apparently Dewey and Clarke are taking care of that, and John Graves will sign off on the other end. As far as Robinson and Balfour are concerned, the case is officially closed.’

‘Oh.’ It was hard to ignore the look of relief on Malcolm’s face. As her boss, she knew she’d put him in an awkward position, and he was clearly pleased to be free of it. She should be pleased, too, shouldn’t she?

‘Do you know if Mr MacLeish is keeping the title and the lodge?’ she asked. For a moment she could see Glencarraig in all its glory, against the backdrop of mountains and hills. Had he given it all up just so he never had to see her again?

‘Which Mr MacLeish?’ Malcolm asked her.

‘Lachlan. The client.’ She swallowed hard.

‘I’ve no idea. He was vague about the details, just said there was nothing for us to worry about. And asked for me to pass on his thanks for the hard work, of course.’ He frowned for a second. ‘Am I right in assuming that you haven’t spoken to him?’

‘That’s right.’

He looked at her for a long minute, and she could almost guess what he was thinking. Why had she put them all in such a tight position, only to pull away from Lachlan? He didn’t voice the question, though, just stood and stretched his arms, his action all but dismissing her. ‘Right, well, that was all really.’ He paused before nodding at her. ‘This is a good thing, Lucy. You can get on with your work and not worry about how this affects your career any more.’

She nodded, and attempted a smile, whispering a thank-you as she left the room. As soon as she was back at her desk, she lowered her head into her hands, covering her face with her palms.

It was as though she’d gone from treading water to being washed away by a tidal wave. There was an emptiness inside her, a profound feeling of loss. As though the final tie that bound her to Lachlan had unravelled.

You don’t have to worry how this affects your career any more.

But right now her career was the last thing on her mind.

Her fingers hovered over the dial pad of her telephone, as she stared at the black plastic handset. Next to the phone her full cup of coffee had cooled to a barely tepid mess, her stomach too churned up to be able to drink from the mug that Lynn had brought her. Lucy rolled her bottom lip between her teeth, tasting the metallic tang of the soft flesh inside her mouth.

She reached out to pick up the handset, then pulled her arm back again, as though she’d just been burned. God, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so indecisive. That kind of behaviour just wasn’t in her genes. She was Lucy Shakespeare, the girl who took charge. The woman who made decisions and stuck by them.

Or at least, that was who she used to be.

Before she could bring herself to lift the receiver to her ear, the telephone started to buzz. She looked out of her office window to see Lynn gesturing at her.