Chapter 5

Sally waited while Sol Brown gathered his thoughts. He fascinated her; for such a good looking man, he was dressed strangely. Old fashioned, like his manner and the precise way he spoke.

Aunt Aggie would have loved him.

Sally frowned as a thought struck her. ‘You said you were related to Taj. So that means you’re probably related to Aunt Aggie. Or were, before she died?’

Sol shook his head. ‘I don’t know. I grew up not far from here, but I don’t remember ever visiting here when I was a child.’ He tipped his head to the side. ‘So is there really a ghost in the house or were you just trying to scare off an unwelcome visitor?’ His grin was wide and a rush of warmth settled in Sally’s chest.

 It was the first time she’d felt warm all day. Before she could answer there was a clatter from upstairs, and a wry smile crossed her lips. ‘We like to kid ourselves, but it’s probably the pipes in this old house. Who knows?’ She lifted her shoulders in a gentle shrug. ‘Okay, Mr Brown.  Come back into the kitchen with me while I serve up, you can tell me why you thought I could help you. Then we can eat back here in front of the fire.’ Sally had decided she could trust this stranger. He seemed genuine, and she owed him for chopping the kindling and getting the fire going.

Sol followed her back into the kitchen and then put the wine glass down, before he picked it up again, his fingers playing nervously on the table top. Finally a chuckle broke the silence as he shook his head.

‘I hope you find it amusing. When you said that you ran classes, and that you also had a group of eighty-year olds, I was under the impression that you were actually practising Tantric massage.’

‘No, sorry, I’m a plain old yoga teacher.’ Sally stood and opened the fridge, and took out some cheese to go on the sauce bubbling on the stove. ‘And you wanted to come to a class to see Tantric massage?’

‘On no.’ This time the head shake was vehement. ‘I simply wanted to interview you. To get the practitioner’s point of view.’

Sally lifted a saucepan from the hanging rack about the stove, and spooned in enough soup for two. ‘And why would you need to interview me about that?’

‘Because I’m doing a thesis, and my final report is due at the end of the month.’

‘This month?’

He nodded.

‘But today’s the twenty-first.’

This time the nod was glum. ‘I know. Nine days.’

Sally moved the saucepan onto the flame and stirred the sauce. ‘So tell me about your thesis.’ She closed her eyes as he began speaking. She could have listened to his voice all night. Deep, warm and soothing.

‘My second degree is psychology. I decided that vet science wasn’t for me but this week, I wonder if I should have stayed with it.’

‘Because you’re running out of time for your thesis?’ She put the spoon on the plate at the edge of the stove, and sat at the table.

‘No, because of the animals.’

Sally picked up her wine, and took a sip, letting the full bodied red burst on her tongue. She was getting used to the way his conversation moved all over the place; she hadn’t enjoyed herself this much for a long time.

A very long time. Pre Blake the bastard days, if she was honest.

‘Okay, so what do animals have to do with your thesis on massage?’

‘Oh, it’s not on massage. My thesis is on “Ayurvedic Therapy and the Psychological Dimension of Illness.”

‘Um, what does that mean?’ Sally wrinkled up her nose. ‘And what does that sort of science have to do with animals?’

‘What I needed for the final research was some actual enlightening on Tantric Massage, the non-sexual, yoga application. And the animals have nothing to do with that, of course. They’re at the farm I’m minding this week.’

‘At Peats Ridge.’ She was learning to follow his conversation as it darted about.

He nodded. ‘Yes. I was mad to take it on, with it being so far from the university. I’ve not had time to be in the library much this week, so when I saw your ad—well, I thought I could get a hands-on—oops, poor choice of words— a first hand—’

Sally couldn’t help herself. She actually snorted before it turned into a laugh. ‘So you’re really sure you weren’t after a good old bout of Tantric massage.’

It surprised her to see the colour in his cheeks. His very nice cheeks. He had a cute cleft in his chin, and she was tempted to reach out and touch the dimple.

‘No. Of course not. I told you’—the voice was very precise now—‘interview only.’

‘I might be able to help,’ she said slowly. ‘I’ve got a lot of notes upstairs in my study. When I trained at the college, I actually did Ayurvedic massage as one of my subjects. And I’ve implemented a lot of what I’ve learned in my classes—particularly with older people at the home.’

‘Really?’ As Sol sat forward, his whole face lit up. ‘That would be lifesaving for me.’

‘I’m happy to help, but it might take me a while to dig it all out. I’ve got some references to a lot of academic research that might save you some time.’ The sauce began to bubble on the stove and she hurried across and lifted the pot. ‘Leave it with me and I’ll give you a call in a couple of days.’

She spooned the sauce into two bowls, sprinkled them with cheese and picked up the last two bread rolls that were in the bread basket beside the stove. Sol stood and took the bowls from her and she led the way back to the fire.

‘I’ll pay you of course, for your trouble.’

Sally waved a dismissive hand. ‘No, you won’t.’

‘Well, I’ll owe you.’

The glimmer of an idea began to take shape and she smiled as she sat on the sofa. ‘I might just take you up on that. But not until you meet your deadline.’