‘Don’t give me that artificial bonhomie shit,’ Elsa
told him. ‘And what are you doing in a bloody castle like
this? You can’t kid me you’re native, not with a BBC
accent like yours.’
‘Go easy, Elsa,’ Roland Sadler said mildly.
She rounded on him. ‘And who asked for your
opinion, mate? You’re just the hired hand around here and
not even a good one at that.’
Conrad interrupted smoothly. ‘Actually I’m from
the south of England as you’ve no doubt guessed, but my
heart is here in the Highlands. That counts for rather a lot
in these nomadic days, don’t you think?’
‘You know, I think I’ll include you in my article
after all,’ Elsa told him, blinking through her smoke.
‘Honoured, I’m sure,’ Conrad acknowledged with a
little bow.
Not when I’ve finished, you won’t be, Elsa thought with
satisfaction.
They ordered a meal of locally-caught salmon with
organic vegetables, Highland mushrooms in whipped
cream from the home farm, and a plateful of other healthy
things; but Elsa insisted on French wine rather than
anything plucked from local bushes and home-made. Once
Conrad had hobbled off to his kitchen she glanced again
around the room and this time her eyes were arrested by a
grotesque thing hanging above the fireplace.
48