“Miss Godwin can’t find anything missing,” he told Colin. “We’ll be awhile and the vet is nearly here. She can’t spend the night here, the door needs a new lock, the last one looked approximately four hundred years old so wasn’t much of a deterrent. It was easily broken.”
Instantly, Mrs. Byrne offered, “You can stay with me, dear.”
“She’s staying at Lacybourne,” Colin put in and ignored Sibyl’s stunned eyes flying to his face.
To hide her reaction, she dropped the cat who ran off without hesitation, clearly this scene was beneath him, and bent over Mallory who was now struggling to sit up.
Colin went on. “Mrs. Byrne, can you take Sibyl for something to eat? I’ll wait here for the vet and then bring Mallory to Lacybourne with me. I’ll leave when the police are finished. I’ll phone and ask Mrs. Manning to leave the backdoor open so you can get in that way.”
“Colin, I couldn’t eat anything –” Sibyl started to say but Mrs. Byrne interrupted her.
“I suppose that the Great Hall is still being, er… done up, so we shouldn’t go in there, is that the case?” Mrs. Byrne asked mysteriously, Colin stared at her nonplussed and she continued. “You know, the portraits being cleaned. That type of thing.”
She was a sly old fox, Colin thought as he caught on and nodded.
“Yes, avoid the Great Hall if you would,” he muttered.
Sibyl watched this exchange mutely with a befuddled expression then she gave Mallory’s dazed head a scratch and stood.
Before she moved away, Colin pulled her to him for a quick kiss and then commanded gently, “Go, pack a bag and then have something to eat. I’ll meet you at Lacybourne.”
She nodded and, without a word, walked back into her cottage, Mrs. Byrne trailing behind.
Shortly after they left the vet came and declared Mallory fine. The dog was unsteady on his feet but it was only a shade worse than normal as he wasn’t the most graceful of canines at the best of times.
While he waited for the police to finish, Colin considered the attractive idea of what it meant that Sibyl had phoned him first; that she had phoned him before any of her friends at the Centre or any of the nameless, faceless people he did not know that must inhabit her life in England. She’d even phoned him before she’d phoned the police.
He decided to take this as a good sign.
Colin exchanged his rather than Sibyl’s contact information with the police, deliberately misleading them as to the nature of their relationship. It wasn’t exactly a lie, as they would be getting married soon; it was just that Sibyl didn’t know that yet.
The police were preparing to leave when his mobile rang again.
Sibyl’s name was on the display.
“Sibyl,” he said in greeting.
“Colin, I’m ordering you a curry. What do you like?”
“I’ll find something at home.”
There was a pause then Sibyl said quietly, “Colin, would you please just tell me what kind of curry you like?”
Something about her soft tone told him she was not exasperated but curious. She was finally asking him something personal about himself and it was about what kind of Indian food he preferred.
“Lamb vindaloo,” he answered shortly.
She gave a faint laugh and whispered, “Of course, vindaloo,” before she rang off.
After the police left, he checked that the house was secured or as secure as it could be. Then, once he had the big, groggy dog in his car, he went home.
They were there before him and he found them in his huge kitchen drinking tea as if they did it every night of their lives. Or, at least, Mrs. Byrne was drinking tea. Colin saw the yellow box with flowers and Oriental writing on it and smelled the pungent, weird aroma and knew that Sibyl was drinking the Asian organic hot drink she sipped on a frequent basis.
Whatever it smelled like, if he kissed her after she drank it, she tasted of flowers.
Sibyl started when she saw him and then ran to him then she ran right passed him and Colin was, for the first time in his life, upstaged by a dog.
“Mallory!” she cried, crouching low, and gave her dog a hug and a kiss on his head.