‘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 baseball cap and dark glasses. I didn’t think much of it, but he asked for you by name.’
‘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.