Read Online Ravens Gathering by Graeme Cumming - Free Book Online Page A

manage under the circumstances.
    “As I said earlier, it’s been a while since I was back here. 
I thought I’d go and explore some of my old haunts.”
    “The woods?”  She knew she sounded stupid as she said
it, but she was still reeling from his sudden lack of interest. 
Awkwardly, she gestured down the corridor.  “What about...?”
    He nodded his understanding.  “I think we’ll be pushing
it to get finished before your husband comes home, don’t you?”
    It was true, she supposed, but she was disappointed that
Martin wasn’t champing at the bit.  Most men would be.  Even Ian.
    “So I thought I’d take advantage of the remaining daylight,
and go for a walk in the woods.”  He leaned in close to her.  “Of
course, you could come too if you wanted.”
    Walking wasn’t really her thing, but maybe the woods could
provide some other opportunities.  “I’ll need ten minutes,” she said, then
she was off to her own room.  She didn’t see the frown on her guest’s face
as he watched her go.

Eight
     
     
    Before moving to Ravens Gathering, Ian McLean had driven a
Porsche.  Life had been good to him – financially, at least.  Not that
he had been handed everything on a plate.  He’d worked bloody hard for
over thirty years, so the rewards were more than justified.  Some of his
colleagues balked at the idea of having such a flash car, worried about what
their clients might think.
    “They’ll be suspicious that we’re making too much money at
their expense,” was a typical comment.
    “No,” Ian would correct them firmly.  “They’ll know
that we’re earning well because we’re working hard for them .  And
if you’ve got clients who’re going to be jealous of you for being successful,
then you really ought to be looking for a different class of client.”
    Which was true.  He had worked with his clients for
years, building up a strong relationship with them all.  A lot of them had
become friends.  He’d attended weddings, christenings, birthday parties
and funerals.  They all knew he was looking out for their best
interests.  And they all knew he made his money earning commissions on
products he sold them.  But they also knew he’d be there providing a service
even when there wasn’t a product to sell.  It was the way he’d always
worked, and they were happy with it.  Quite a few had made a point of
admiring his cars when he came to see them at home or their places of
work.  No envy.  They were pleased for him, he could tell. 
After all, he’d known them long enough.  He knew people, knew what made
them tick, knew which buttons to press.  Not that he’d abused that. 
He genuinely wanted the very best for his clients.  Sometimes they just
needed a little more convincing.
    So the Porsche had been a measure of his success.  To
be fair, it had also been a chance to let his hair down while he still had
some.  Like a lot of people, he had come to the realisation that life is
the wrong way round.  In his teens and twenties, he didn’t have the life
experience to make the best of his youthfulness.  At that time, he’d had
the energy and vitality to do anything he wanted to.  He just hadn’t had
the confidence or the experience to know that he could.  He also didn’t
have the money.  As he’d aged, and gained the confidence and knowledge
that would allow him to do those things, his body had seemed less willing, and
he was under no illusion; he knew his looks were fading.
    Sports cars are for the young, he’d thought.  Yet he
hadn’t been able to afford anything decent until he reached his
mid-forties.  Not that he felt old.  A combination of squash and
running kept him in good shape.  He ate healthily – well, most of the
time.  And his enthusiasm for business kept his mind sharp.  But he
also felt that the time would come soon enough when getting in and out of
something low-slung would become a major operation.  His own reactions to
seeing older