Wild Fiction

Conrad glared at him. He walked over to an upturned crate in the shade of the roof overhang, sat down on it, and rested his arms on his thighs. Rebecca walked over to him and ruffled his hair before crouching down next to him and putting her hand on his leg. ‘It’s okay, let’s just find a nice hotel and relax and do nothing until we can get on that flight. I don’t trust him either but there’s nothing else we can do.’
Conrad nodded and looked straight ahead.

Chapter 28

It was a balmy afternoon and the author was walking barefoot around the garden sniffing at all the flowers. He stopped at the yesterday-today-and-tomorrow, put his head back, and sucked the perfumed air into his nose. ‘Ahh,’ he breathed out. He walked on and saw the wild roses that were clinging to the south wall of the house and then he caught the heady scent of ripe blackberries. He knew there wasn’t a blackberry bush in the garden. The smell must have been coming from over the wall, from the forest.
The crunching of car tyres on the gravel driveway jolted him from his reverie. He turned around and saw Genevieve backing out of the garage. She had a scarlet scarf wrapped around her head and was wearing her black Genevieve Kennedy-Onasis sunglasses. Curls of auburn hair escaped out from beneath the scarf.
The engine responded with a deep-throated roar. The wide tyres spun as she slipped the clutch and sped down the driveway and out of sight. The phone rang and he ran inside.
‘Hello,’ he said slightly out of breath.
‘We’re back,’ Rebecca said.
A large grin broke out on his face when he recognised Rebecca’s voice. ‘I’m so happy to hear...’ he began before hesitating and pulling himself upright. ‘What happened?’
‘The phone may be bugged. Come around and we’ll tell you. You know where we are.’ There was a click and the line went dead.
He dropped the receiver and rummaged through the kitchen drawers. ‘Where are they, where are they?’ he said speaking into the drawers and the bowl of knickknacks lying on the counter. ‘Never there when you’re in a hurry, bloody hell, where did she put the damn keys?’