Look Back at Me (Fleckney Fields Series, Book 1)

Oncoming Storm

A massive bouquet of toffee coloured roses was delivered to the surgery on Monday morning, together with a large box of assorted desserts, which Viola was obviously supposed to share with Fenton and Snezha.

"One thing for sure, Holyoake has an excellent taste in pudding," Fenton said, chewing a rose water macaron. "God, I miss Miss Rosa's baking."

"You do know you can come back there any time, don't you, Alan?" Viola said with a laugh.

She still wasn't sure whether she'd have any sweets but she enjoyed their small tea party in the waiting room.

"Never," the Welshman said firmly and picked up a bite-sized piece of ginger cake. "Every time I come in, she rushes to me and... touches my arm."

Snezha snorted into her mini pain au chocolat. The very tip of her nose was now covered in powdered sugar, and Viola gave her colleagues an affectionate look. Some sort of joyful contentment filled her heart. Perhaps, she'd been quite wrong all along: she wasn't alone at all. She stretched her hand and picked up a dainty triangle of phyllo pastry filled with feta and spinach. She bit into it, her mouth filing with buttery and zesty flavours. Fenton was right, Rhys knew his treats.

On the same morning Viola received Klaus' bloodwork results. Anything that a human being needed to have in their blood was virtually absent from his - while all the alarming markers were there. She shook her head and immediately picked up her phone. The number he'd given them was disconnected, and Viola dialled the Hall, since his Uncle was his emergency contact. Ms. Atieno informed Viola that Mr. Bjornsson was out of the county that week and promised to ask him to call Viola back at his first convenience. Viola emailed Klaus, assuming he would have some sort of a device, but received no answer from him. By mid-morning Wednesday she decided he could be moved from the patient category to the category of 'unreasonable family members one is allowed to pester.' She had no appointments in the afternoon, and arranged time away from the surgery with Fenton. The Welshman didn't ask for any clarification, giving her a cheeky look.

"Trust me, Alan," Viola grumbled, pulling on her coat. "I'd very much prefer to be heading for a nice cuppa and some pudding, as you seem to assume. As opposed to dragging myself into the Fleckney woods to wrangle yet another uncooperative male into taking care of his health."

Fenton's face grew serious.

"Should I go with you? I'm concerned for Bjornsson's mental state," he said gravely.

"Thank you, Alan. But it won't be necessary." Viola checked her keys and her phone in her handbag. "I believe I've established enough rapport with him. If not, I'll just drag him back to the surgery by the collar of his lopapeysa. Judging by his test results, he won't be able to put up much of a fight."

Fenton shook his head. "Please, drive carefully," he added. "It's been snowing for the past three hours."

"It is mad weather, isn't it?" Viola said absentmindedly. "The last February snowstorm, I assume."

***

According to the information Niklas had given the surgery, he was staying in the Ekollon Cottage. It was a small cabin, in the East of the Bjornsson estate, hidden deep in the darkest part of the woods. Ten years ago it had been empty, and no one had lived in it for ages. The children in Fleckney, of course, always thought it was inhabited by the Witch of the Fleckney Moors - there were no moors in Fleckney - and there were ghost stories told about it. The only way to access it was through the Ferguson farm, one of Bjornsson's tenants.

Viola drove her Panda along the bumpy road, when her phone rang. Not willing to risk it and to slide into the ditch, dragged by the loose snow on the side, she simply braked and stopped the car.