Luke couldn’t help but be mildly amused by it all, but he could tell that Orla was feeling uneasy about the attention. He’d been hoping she’d join them, but she wouldn’t, which he thought was a shame because he knew how much she loved her home. She could get so much out of sharing that love with others, but these things took time, he reasoned. She’d made so much progress already and he couldn’t expect even more miracles. Not yet, at least.
‘I don’t like having all these people here,’ she told him.
‘I know you don’t. But it won’t last for ever,’ he promised. ‘It’s just something new. Well, old. Really old, actually. But interest will wane.’
‘I hope you’re right,’ she told him. ‘I don’t like living in the spotlight.’
‘Don’t worry – it’ll all blow over.’
Only it didn’t. It got worse.
Luke wasn’t sure what had made him turn the television on one evening, but he was glad that he had because there was a reporter standing in the middle of the square in Lorford doing a piece to camera. The next shot was of a lone fishing boat down by the quay, and that was when Luke turned the sound up.
‘Legend has it that the creature was hauled out and dragged to the castle, where it was locked in the dungeon.’
There was a cut to Lorford Castle.
Luke cursed. Orla would not be happy about her home being all over the local news. Luke watched on as a shaky piece of amateur footage of their Wild Man was shown, probably taken on a phone under his very watch by someone he’d let into the castle.
‘And here’s the carving,’ the voiceover said. ‘Thought to be a contemporary representation of the legendary Wild Man.’
There were some other shots around the village and then another piece to camera inside the church.
‘The castle is now owned by former model, Orla Kendrick, and isn’t open to the public.’
Luke cursed again. Why on earth did they need to mention who owned the castle? Orla would be furious if she found out.
The reporter went on, ‘But you can see something very similar at the church.’ There was a close-up of one of the wodewoses carved into the font.
‘Luke?’ Orla called through from the kitchen. ‘Dinner’s ready.’
Luke grabbed the remote control and switched the TV off before Orla had a chance to see it. What she didn’t know couldn’t harm her, could it?
Chapter 18
The day after the news story aired, Luke realised that he’d been wrong. The interest in the Wild Man of Lorford wasn’t going to go away. At least, not immediately. The news story he’d seen had made the situation worse and it was only a matter of time before Orla found out about it.
Sure enough, as he was working on a section of wall in the great chamber, Orla entered the room.
‘There are more people by the gate.’
‘Really?’ Luke tried to sound surprised.
‘I don’t understand why people are so interested in him,’ she said, speaking of the Wild Man as if he were her own personal friend and it was up to her to protect him.
‘I guess he’s just caught the public imagination,’ Luke said. ‘I don’t know. Maybe it’s a slow news week.’ He blanched at his reference to the news and hoped she hadn’t picked up on it.
‘But these aren’t all villagers, are they? Surely everyone from the village has seen him by now.’
Luke had his back to her and continued to work, hoping the situation might resolve itself.
‘Luke!’ she cried. ‘I don’t want all these people – all these strangers – here!’
He turned around and immediately felt guilty when he saw her ashen face.
‘I’ll go down and tell them to leave. Don’t worry about it.’
‘What do you mean, don’t worry about it? Of course I’m worried about it! I chose to live a private life here and that doesn’t include half of the world showing up at my gate and demanding to be let inside.’
Luke could hear the distress in her voice and hoped that all this unwanted attention wasn’t going to stress her too much. He’d hate to see her upset by it all.
‘Okay, okay! Leave it to me,’ he told her.
Opening the castle door, Luke saw the flowers. It was a small but beautiful bouquet, tied with a ribbon, just left there on the steps of the castle. He looked around, puzzled, wondering who could have left them there. Leaving them for a moment, he made his way to the gate, where at least a dozen people crowded.
‘When’s the castle open?’ asked a middle-aged man with a large camera swinging around his neck.
‘I’m afraid the castle isn’t open to the public,’ Luke told him.
‘But we’ve come to see the Wild Man,’ a woman said.
‘The castle’s a private home,’ Luke explained.
‘How can a building like this not be open to the public?’ the man with the camera went on. ‘It’s a disgrace!’
‘Something like this is of historic value to the nation,’ the woman added.
‘The church is worth a visit,’ Luke said, doing his best to remain calm. ‘There are some fine carvings on the font – very similar to the Wild Man here.’
The man with the camera tutted. ‘Not the same. Not the same at all.’
There were some disgruntled murmurings of agreement and Luke looked into the small crowd of angry faces, imagining how ugly things could turn if there were even more of them there. It still seemed odd to him that a little carved figure could cause so much interest.
‘I’m sorry to disappoint,’ he told them and, slowly, they began to move away. Except one man. ‘Can I help you?’
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.