The man came forward. He was in his mid-thirties, Luke guessed, and was wearing a baseball cap and a pair of dark sunglasses so that most of his face was obscured. He didn’t look like the sort who would spring to mind when thinking of medieval carvings, but Luke supposed you could never tell.
‘Is Orla at home?’ he asked.
Luke very nearly answered on automatic pilot because of the man’s use of her first name, which seemed so familiar, but something stopped him in time.
‘Who’s asking?’ Luke said.
‘A friend.’
‘And your name?’
The man stared blankly at him. Or, at least, as blankly as only a pair of dark glasses can stare.
‘I’ll come back,’ he said, turning quickly and shuffling off.
Luke remained at the gate, watching the man, who had thrust his hands into the pockets of his jeans and headed into the centre of the village.
I’ll come back.
Luke didn’t know why, but those words rattled him and he wished he’d responded to them now. They’d almost seemed threatening. For a moment, he thought about going after the man and telling him that he really shouldn’t bother wasting his time coming back, but Luke felt awkward and so left it.
Returning indoors with the bouquet of flowers in his hand, he found Orla in the china room, choosing a cup and saucer to photograph.
‘Have they gone?’
‘Every last one of them,’ he told her.
‘Good.’
He nodded, wondering whether he should mention the man in the sunglasses to her and deciding against it.
‘I found these,’ he said, handing the bouquet to her.
‘Where?’
‘On the steps by the front door.’
Orla turned the flowers over. ‘Was there a note with them? A card?’
‘No, nothing that I could see.’ Luke saw, at once, the fear in Orla’s face. ‘I’m sure they’re meant kindly – whoever left them. Maybe they’re for the Wild Man.’ He laughed, but Orla obviously didn’t find his joke amusing.
‘I don’t want them.’
‘You don’t?’
‘Take them away, please.’
‘Okay. I’ll get rid of them.’ Luke didn’t argue, hearing the anxiety in her voice. ‘Orla?’
‘Yes?’
‘I’ll – erm – I’ll be in the great chamber if you need me, okay? I’m going to do a spot of work in there.’
She nodded, and he left her.
Luke was uneasy for the rest of the day and spent a fair amount of it pacing back and forth in front of the windows which looked out towards the gate, dreading seeing the man in the sunglasses again. He found it hard to concentrate on his work with the threat of the man’s return hanging over him. Then he’d get annoyed with himself because the gates were closed, the doors of the castle were locked and One Ear was most definitely in residence. So why was he feeling so uneasy? It was probably all unfounded and the man in the glasses had been trying his luck to meet the once-famous model, having heard about her on the television. It was a news story which would live only for a few days at most, and then it would be forgotten. He felt completely sure of that. Well, almost completely. But, just an hour later, he saw another small crowd outside the gates of the castle and standing there at the back was the man in the cap and glasses. Luke considered what to do. If he went down again, he’d most likely give the crowd false hope. Either that or really annoy them. They would probably lose interest soon enough and give up and go.
But you didn’t, a little voice reminded him. You stayed until she let you in.
Luke sighed, watching from the window for a while, willing them all to go away. He wondered if Orla had felt the same way when he’d arrived and parked outside her gates. He still felt bad about that, but it had all worked out and he knew he’d done the right thing in trying to see her.
‘Back to work,’ he told himself. He was probably worrying about nothing. This whole TV thing had knocked him a little, but Orla was still unaware of it, and that was the main thing.
It was when they were having dinner that Luke began to wonder if he should tell her or not.
‘I was in the garden earlier and there were still people at the gate,’ Orla told him. ‘They couldn’t see me, but I could see them. I don’t like it, Luke. I wish they’d all go away.’
‘They will.’
‘When?
Luke watched the tortured frown on Orla’s face deepen and he could stand it no longer.
‘There’s something I didn’t tell you,’ he began hesitantly.
‘What?’
‘The castle – the Wild Man – it featured on the local news and they mentioned your name as the owner.’
Orla’s face drained of all colour. ‘How did they find out?’
‘I guess it got mentioned somewhere. Social media? Maybe someone tweeted a photo of the Wild Man and it got picked up by the TV station. I’m not sure how all those websites work these days, but it looks like our Wild Man’s gone viral.’
Orla’s whole body seemed to tighten and, when she spoke, it was slowly and deliberately, each word filled with fear and rage.
‘I thought I was safe here.’
‘You are,’ Luke assured her.
‘I don’t feel very safe!’
‘There’s nothing to worry about.’
‘I don’t like being watched, Luke. I don’t like being looked at and I don’t like random people leaving random bunches of flowers on my doorstep.’
‘I know.’
They continued to eat in uneasy silence. Luke wondered whether it would be wise to mention the man in the sunglasses. On the one hand, he might just scare her but, on the other, at least she would know and he wouldn’t feel terrible about hiding anything else from her.
‘There’s been a man hanging around,’ he suddenly blurted, taking them both by surprise.
Orla’s knife and fork clattered to her plate as she looked up.
‘What man?’
‘Just a man. He was in his early thirties, I think. Wore a
