‘He knows me?’
‘I don’t know,’ Luke said honestly. ‘I’m not convinced he did. Your name was mentioned on TV so he might have picked it up from there.’
Orla stared down at her plate, unable to eat any more.
‘What if it’s Brandon?’ she whispered.
Luke swallowed hard. The thought that the man in the dark glasses might be Orla’s stalker had crossed his mind too, although he’d done his best to shut the thought out. After all, wasn’t he in London? And the story had appeared on the local news, so how would he have seen it? Luke sighed. There were no end of ways he could have seen it, of course. Once information was out in the public domain, it had a way of finding the wrong people.
‘It’s most likely just some random guy,’ Luke said at last.
‘But what if it isn’t? What if it’s him? What if he’s found me?’ She scraped her chair back on the flagstone floor and it screeched alarmingly.
‘Orla – you mustn’t get all worked up. Whoever he is, he’s probably long gone by now.’
But Orla wasn’t listening to him. She’d left the room.
Luke followed.
‘Orla – talk to me.’
‘I’m tired.’
He let her leave, glancing at One Ear as he trotted after his mistress, leaving him alone for the rest of the evening.
Orla couldn’t settle that evening and she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep. She felt horribly restless, with the same uncertainty flooding her system as the time after the acid attack. And a part of her couldn’t help blaming Luke for what was happening because it was him who’d uncovered the Wild Man and shone a spotlight on her home. But she really shouldn’t blame him. It wasn’t fair. Besides, she adored the strange stone creature he’d discovered. It was a precious link back to the past and an important part of the castle’s story.
She thought about ringing her mother. For all her faults, Bernadette was the one person on the planet who had been there for Orla when she’d been at her most vulnerable. She’d seen the whole horror of what had happened to Orla unfolding and had helped her to pick up the fragile pieces of herself and guide her towards her recovery. A recovery Orla felt still wasn’t complete, and she couldn’t help feeling it was under threat again with these crowds of strangers at her gate. At her door.
She thought about the flowers again. Luke had got rid of them, but Orla could still feel their malignant presence. If they’d been from a true friend then surely there’d have been a card or note with them. Flowers were something Brandon used to send her. At first, single roses would be posted to her in padded envelopes or left for her where she was working. Then the bouquets started arriving. But he always left notes with them. But maybe he wasn’t doing that now because he knew she’d recognise his handwriting. Maybe he was being careful because of the restraining order. If he didn’t sign anything, she had no proof they were from him.
Or maybe you’re being paranoid, she told herself. Maybe the flowers were some kind of tribute to the Wild Man, or maybe they’d been delivered to the castle by mistake. There were any number of explanations that didn’t involve former stalkers, weren’t there? It’s just that Orla couldn’t think of very many of them.
The next day began with a perfect summer morning, and Luke approached Orla after breakfast.
‘I thought I’d pop into the local shop and get a few things. Want to come?’
Orla hesitated. She couldn’t help it. Staying safely indoors was still her default setting even after all the progress she’d made in recent days, but she found herself nodding and was rewarded when Luke smiled.
‘Good,’ he said.
They left the castle together, walking through the gate and making their way towards the market square. Orla was thankful that there wasn’t anybody hanging around at the gates that morning or she wouldn’t have been able to pass through them. Maybe the interest in the Wild Man was waning. She hoped so. Still, she couldn’t help feeling anxious as they entered the market square, and she looked around, peering down the little side streets that led off from it. One was full of towering hollyhocks and she could just make out a dark shape in the shadows. She shaded her eyes from the sun, trying to get a better look and then felt a chill run the length of her spine. It was Brandon.
She gasped. ‘Luke!’ she cried as she saw the man in the shadows turn and walk away.
‘What’s the matter?’ Luke asked.
‘I’m not sure. I thought I saw . . .’
‘What?’
Orla looked again, but there was nobody there.
‘Orla – what is it?’
She swallowed hard. ‘Nothing.’
‘Are you okay? You seem a bit – twitchy.’
Orla nodded, although she was feeling deeply unsettled, as if a part of her mind had reverted back to a time when she wasn’t quite in control of it.
‘Do you want to go back to the castle?’ he asked her.
She took a moment to think about it, but she wasn’t going to let the fear of shadows win over her today.
‘No. Let’s go shopping,’ she said.
The next day, Orla asked Luke to accompany her for her morning walk to the beach. He usually did, so she felt odd asking him, but she wanted to make sure she had somebody by her side – she was still feeling anxious after the incident in the village where she thought she’d seen Brandon. She was wearing her big hat and dark glasses again. They went just a little way towards putting a barrier between her and the world.
‘I can take One Ear if you don’t want to go out,’ Luke told her.
Orla shook her head adamantly. ‘I won’t be a prisoner to fear. Not any longer.’
‘I really
