With meticulous care, and changing gear according to driving-test standards, I eased the car past the sleeping Luke and parked it out of sight in the pub car-park. I walked the long way, around the edge of the green and in front of the row of cottages, to get to number three. Something made me stop as I was about to push open the gate and peer over the top. Neatly stacked behind it was a pile of tins, positioned to crash over when the gate was swung into them.
‘The crafty sod!’ I breathed, reminding myself that Luke was by no means a dumb blond. By dint of sucking my tummy in so much I felt dizzy I managed to squeeze through the few inches the gate would open without setting the tins tumbling. As I opened my front door without being seen I felt as pleased as if I’d conquered Everest and it wasn’t even seven in the morning yet.
I wasn’t so lucky on leaving. Luke must have already been awake, for he was out of his car and striding purposefully towards me before I’d even locked the door. But I didn’t really care if I had to meet him now, though I didn’t want to be delayed too much - two cups of coffee, a bath, washed hair, loads of concealer cream to cover the bags under my eyes, and one of my nicer dresses had done a lot to restore my strength of spirit. Everything seemed easier in the daylight too, it was the thought of not being able to see him if he was creeping around outside the cottage that had given me such Technicolor heeby-jeebies last night.
I picked up the tins and put them to one side, wondering where he’d got them from. They weren’t the usual sort of thing a man carries around in the boot of his car, and I couldn’t imagine the immaculate Luke rootling around in people’s dustbins for some of improvised alarm material. He got to me as I opened the gate and stood there, with his hands on his hips, blocking my way. ‘Where have you been?’ he demanded angrily, for all the
world as if he was my father, though my father learnt not to ask that sort of question some years ago.
‘On a dirty stop-out, if that’s any of your business,’ I retorted flippantly.
His mouth tightened for an instant, then he widened his eyes and looked at me reproachfully. Natural injustice being what it is, sleeping in the car had done remarkably little to dent the sheer impact of his looks, despite the garish bruising around his eye. He might look a little worn and crumpled around the edges, seedy almost to the really stern critic, but he was still good-looking enough to cause a flutter in most maidenly, and non-maidenly, bosoms. Not mine though.
He gazed at me with limpid eyes. ‘I know I made a mistake last week, it was stupid of me, but I was jealous. Won’t you forgive me?’
I shook my head in disbelief, surely he didn’t really think I’d fall for this one? ‘No,’ I said in a pleasant voice and saw him start with shock.
‘Please, Susie,’ he went on gamely. ‘I know you’re angry with me about Rose, but that was just… business, it’s you I’m really fond of. Can’t we start all over again?’
I didn’t even need to say anything this time, for his face changed from that of the polished charmer who was having one last try at soft-soaping the female to that of an extremely fed-up man who’d spent an uncomfortable night in a car and blamed me for every painful minute. ‘We’ve got some things to talk about,’ he said in a hard voice and grabbed my arm. ‘Let’s go inside.’
Just how stupid did he think I was? If I could help it there was no way I was going anywhere with Luke Dillon in future without a whole gaggle of witnesses to monitor my every step. I was a lot happier out here especially as I knew Mrs Tanner would already be on net-curtain duty, as she’d told me countless times, she rose with the lark. ‘I’ve got an appointment in Leicester,’ I said politely, ‘I can’t.’
His grip tightened. ‘Cancel it.’
‘No.’
We eyeballed each other. I think he was wondering what to do next. I shook his hand off and stepped back a pace. ‘What’s this about, Luke? Rosewood Cottage?’
He shifted from one foot to the other. ‘You don’t want to make trouble, do you, Susie?’ He must have seen from my face that I wouldn’t mind doing so in the least, for his eyes narrowed. ‘All right,’ he said with a heavy sigh. ‘Martin and I have been talking it over, and we’re prepared to offer you-’
‘If you’re intending to offer me a share, forget it,’ I interrupted. ‘I’m not interested in cheating old ladies.’
Luke glared at me with intense dislike. ‘Not interested in cheating old ladies,’ he imitated in a contemptuous falsetto. ‘You’re so bloody pious you make me want to vomit.’ I saw his hands flex reflectively, and I wondered if I was really so safe after all. ‘Martin said you’d take this attitude,’ he said in a resigned voice. ‘So what do you propose we do?’
‘We do?’ I echoed. ‘It’s quite simple, Luke. Mr Jenkins is withdrawing his offer, unless of course he’d like to make one for the full value of the property with planning permission - ’ a quick glance at ‘Mr Jenkins’ showed he wouldn’t like at all - ‘and meeting any of the costs involved in making his planning application. Incidentally,’ I asked curiously, ‘you took an incredible risk in making that application. Why didn’t you wait until after you’d completed before you put it in?’
His face clouded with anger. ‘That’s bloody Martin’s fault!’ he spat. ‘He said it would take at least three weeks to notify Mrs Murray, and the cottage would have been ours by then. Instead it was done by return of ruddy post, and he wasn’t even there to take her call. I could wring his bloody neck!’ he declared vehemently. ‘If it hadn’t been for his stupid mistake we’d have had an easy seventy thou apiece. And your nosing around,’ he added, throwing me a vicious look, as if my neck was next in line for wringing. I stepped backwards a pace just in case.
‘And what’s Miss Goody Two Shoes intending to do now? Report us to the police?’
I shrugged. ‘What’s the point? I’ll have to tell Stephen but neither of you have committed an actual crime yet and I don’t want the agency to be damaged by loads of scurrilous rumours.’ Tension seemed to drain out of the rigid line of his shoulders. I wondered if the two of them had hatched this little plot without Nigel’s knowledge. If what I’d heard about him wasn’t grossly exaggerated Luke was probably worrying, quite justifiably, that his position as favoured acolyte might be in severe danger if Nigel ever got to hear he had endangered the whole scheme by some money-making on the side.
‘As a matter of interest,’ I said casually, ‘did you talk to me at Rose’s wedding only because you saw me as a way of getting to her?’
‘No,’ he said instantly. ‘Nigel hadn’t realised Jeremy even knew Hamish Laing before we saw him in the church, let alone that they were good enough friends for him to be best man and was still working out a new plan. I thought you were rather pretty -’ well that was a small amount of balm to my injured self-worth - ‘and of course it wasn’t going to do any harm to chat up Rose’s best mate.’
No wonder he was so useful to Nigel if he was always on the look out for contacts like this. Did he ever do anything without an ulterior motive?
‘And the car accident. Did you put us in the ditch on purpose?’
‘Of course not!’ he exclaimed, looking shocked. It was his first reaction I believed was genuine. ‘But I won’t pretend it wasn’t useful. It advanced the whole thing by weeks. I had Rose eating out of the palm of my hand. Nigel promised me a bonus if I got the signature by the twenty-fifth of this month.’ He scowled savagely. ‘I would have too, if Rose hadn’t turned out to be such a prudish little bitch. You wouldn’t think it from the way she behaves. I had it all fixed, keep her out all night, a bit of snogging, maybe more, a few timed and dated photos and Bob’s your uncle. But,’ he said in disgust, ‘she wouldn’t go to my house and insisted on going to yours.’ I felt a chill wind go down my arms and spine despite the warmth of the morning. Rose had no idea how lucky she was. Luke glared at me. ‘Don’t look like that. It’s business and between the two of you you’ve lost me an absolute packet.’
‘But you didn’t waste much
money on me, did you?’ I asked derisively. ‘You’re such a cheapskate you wouldn’t even take me out for a decent meal until you’d decided I could be useful and there might be some profit in it.’ Call me small-minded, but I was almost more annoyed about that than anything else. He was still looking like he was the one with the justified grievance so goaded, I added, ‘But look on the bright side -’ he didn’t appear to want to - ‘at least you haven’t already spent someone else’s money, unlike Nigel. No wonder he’s so desperate for a result.’
Luke stiffened. ‘How come you know about that?’ he asked, suddenly suspicious. Oh well done, Susie! I thought. You’ve made one smart-arse remark too many and really landed yourself in it. ‘Martin said you must have stolen one of his disks to know so much about Rosewood Cottage. Did that prat also record a whole lot of stuff about Champion on it?’
‘I didn’t steal anything and it was Martin who told me about Nigel,’ I said truthfully, shifting my bag on my shoulder, and unconsciously putting the printout of the Champion file under the protective cover of my arm.
Luke shook his head. ‘Martin wouldn’t do that,’ he said, with misplaced confidence as it happened, and held out his hand. His eyes were fixed on my handbag. ‘Are you going to give it to me, or shall I take it?’
I swallowed hard, wondering what to do. I was under no illusions about who would win in a fight, he could easily snatch my bag, extract the file and leg it to his car before the first person even got to a window in answer to my cry for help. Then, with wonderful timing, Eddie from number two emerged from his door. ‘Morning, Susie,’ he called, giving Luke a nakedly curious look. ‘Don’t usually see you leaving this early. I didn’t think fat-cat estate
agents ever rolled in before ten o’clock, unlike us real workers, of course.’
‘It’s the first time I’ve ever heard advertising called “real work”,’ I retorted.
He grinned. ‘There was someone trying to get hold of you last night. Came and bashed on your door several times.’ He glanced at Luke again.
‘I wonder who it was,’ I said blandly. ‘I was spending the night with a friend, but I daresay he or she’ll come back. Now, I must dash or I’ll be late.’ I looked pointedly at Eddie and said, ‘Do you want to come and collect that tape I promised to lend you from my car?’
‘Tape?’ he asked, puzzled, then his face cleared. ‘Yes, of course.’
We walked in a stiff threesome across the green, while Luke muttered quietly in my ear about what would happen if I started making trouble for him. Luckily, I couldn’t hear most of it, but he sounded so unlike the polished charmer I’d first met that I had no difficulty in promising to keep my mouth shut. Naturally, I didn’t tell him I had no intention of keeping my promise.
Hamish’s offices were in a large Victorian house that must have been built for some industrialist to show off how much money he’d earned, and appeared to be serving much the same purpose for the firm of Harrison and Cartwright, solicitors. The pictures were real paintings, not prints, the pile of the carpet in the reception area was deep enough to lose a Chihuahua in, the magazines were new, and brass gleamed all over the place, from the plaque outside with the firm’s name on it, the lion’s head knocker and letter box, to the decorative rail around the receptionist’s desk. They probably needed to keep one person on the payroll permanently going around with a can of Brasso. No wonder they charged so much, I thought, as I took a seat on a sinfully deep sofa, and tried to calm my nerves by flicking through the legal notices in the London Gazette.
‘I’m not sure Mr Laing is in yet,’ said the motherly receptionist who’d spoken to me yesterday. My heart sank to my freshly varnished toenails - out of sight, but a confidence booster, and I needed all the help I could get in that department right now. My little scheme was going to be scuppered before it even cast off if Hamish saw me waiting for him in reception. She rang through to check and turned back with a smile. ‘He must have come in before I got here.’ She looked just like her voice, a smiling woman in late middle-age with a well-rounded figure and a comfy lap that was probably used by several grandchildren. ‘Mr Laing’s secretary will be coming for you in a minute,’ she said. ‘I do hope you can sort your problems out quickly. I can’t abide cruelty to animals. He is all right, isn’t he?’
I stared at her blankly for a moment, unable to think what she was talking about. Then, just as she was beginning to look as if she thought I was either mad or callous, I remembered my fictitious cat. ‘Yes, he’s fine,’ I said quickly.
‘Oh good, I was so worried for you. I adore cats. I’ve got three of them, two Persians and a Burmese. What kind is yours?’
‘Um, just a moggy,’ I faltered, praying that Hamish’s secretary would come along and rescue me from this well-meaning woman before I put my foot in it.
‘But even non-pedigrees are beautiful, aren’t they?’ she asked, in the indulgent voice of someone who knows that her own are infinitely superior. ‘Ah, here we are, dear. Jessica’s here to take you to Mr Laing.’
Jessica had probably turned to being a top-class legal secretary when she decided she was bored of being a supermodel. The mere sight of her inflated my collywobbles to super-giant size. How could Hamish possibly be pleased to see me when he had that to look at every day? She didn’t even have the decency to be witheringly superior and imply I probably wasn’t rich, important or good-looking enough for her to bother with so I could boost my flagging nerves with some spine-stiffening dislike and resentment. Instead, she asked me with absolute courtesy if I would mind taking a seat for a moment, since Mr Laing was taking a call. ‘He knows that you’re here and will come out for you as soon as he’s finished. I’m going to fetch him a coffee, would you like one too?’ She glided off down the passageway as if it was a catwalk leaving me staring blankly at a painting on the wall and victim to a whole host of butterflies. I felt like getting to my feet and running away, but I probably wouldn’t be able to make my exit unobserved, and the actual humiliation of Hamish knowing I’d bottled out of seeing him was even worse than the potential humiliation of his refusing to hear me out.
His laugh sounded so clear and close that I almost jumped out of my skin. I looked up and saw his door wasn’t completely closed so his voice was quite audible. Instead of politely burying myself in a magazine and pretending I couldn’t hear, I pricked up my ears. I was burning with curiosity to know what - and who - could make him laugh like that at eight-thirty in the morning. ‘Yes, it was great fun. We must do it again. Look, I’ve got a new client waiting so I’d better go. See you soon.’
Do what again? And with whom? I thought with sudden despair. It hadn’t taken him long to find someone else to amuse himself with, had it? That had to have been a woman, he wouldn’t laugh like that, not in that intimate way, with a man. Was it Merial? Had he decided to take her up on those lures she’d been casting his way? What remained of my confidence, so nicely boosted by outfacing Luke earlier this morning, was seeping steadily into the floor under my feet. The door opened and Hamish, wearing one of his ultra-conservative suits and a stupefyingly discreet tie, appeared saying, ‘Miss Tradescant? Won’t you come in?’
His welcoming expression froze into immobility as I rose slowly to my feet, knees shaking. I longed to ruffle his hair, loosen the immaculate knot of his tie, pull his shirt out a little, mess him up a bit, make him look more human. He was at his most formal, most solicitorish, most unlike the person I knew he was. All the words dried on my tongue in front of this unapproachable waxen image. Heart thumping, I waited for some reaction, a smile, a scowl, anything would be better than this damning indifference. ‘Well, well, Miss Tradescant,’ he said after a pause. ‘A famous gardener, I presume? And Lily? Your second name?’
I found my tongue at last. ‘Mum wanted to call me after her favourite aunt, Lily, but my father refused to have a child called Lily Gardener, so they chose Susanna, which means the same thing.’ He didn’t look particularly interested and I couldn’t blame
him, frankly. He was standing with one hand on a polished brass doorknob, eyeing me from under heavy brows. I had the distinct feeling that whether or not I was going to be allowed to enter his office hung in the balance, and the scales were inexorably tipping up against me.
I was saved by Jessica sashaying back with a laden tray, carrying it as if it was a diamond necklace resting on a velvet cushion. She apologised for taking so long, and Hamish smiled at her in a way that made my stomach crease up with longing that I might have one of those too. ‘It doesn’t matter. We’ve been introducing ourselves.’ He stepped back from the door and then I got my smile, except mine was so glacial that it sent shivers down my spine. ‘Won’t you come in, Miss . . .’ He hesitated. ‘Tradescant,’ he finished, with mocking emphasis.
I was so conscious of him that the hair on the back of my neck prickled as I walked past him into a spartan and immaculate office. I wondered if it was always like this or got progressively more untidy during the course of the day. Hamish waved me to a chair in front of his desk as Jessica followed us in. ‘You wouldn’t prefer to be over there, Mr Laing?’ she asked in a surprised voice, with a look at a low table and three chairs set up in one corner of the office as an informal discussion area.
‘I think Miss Tradescant will be more comfortable here,’ he said.
Jessica looked as if she was wondering why I’d be more comfortable with the width of his large desk between us. I knew; but it was his comfort he was thinking of, not mine. She set the tray down on the edge of the desk without comment, handing out the coffee, in bone-china cups too, and placing a plate of biscuits within reach of both of us. ‘Will that be all, Mr Laing?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ he said with another of those smiles. It faded from his face as he turned back towards me. ‘So, Miss Tradescant, you have a property dispute, I understand,’ he said as the door closed behind his secretary.
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