Tilting her head to one side, she wondered what she was really like. A contrary sort of person, she decided, one moment serene, the next a flurry of energy and enthusiasm. She also tended to say what she was thinking, which wasn’t always wise. Neither was it wise to stay in the house of a man you were very strongly attracted to. A man you wanted to touch. Constantly. And she’d lingered too long.
Quickly washing out her own underwear and hanging it on the towel rail, she gave a wry smile. Her underwear was pretty but definitely big. Big knickers, big bra, not something Beck would be used to.
With a little shake of her head for thoughts that really didn’t matter, she walked out. The smell of frying reached her as she descended the stairs, and her stomach rumbled in anticipation.
He turned as she entered the kitchen, eyes sombre. ‘Hungry?’
‘Very.’
‘Good. The tea’s made, only needs pouring.’
Whilst she poured the tea into the two mugs, he dished up eggs, bacon, sausage, tomato and fried bread.
‘Tuck in,’ he ordered as he placed the meals on the table.
They ate mostly in silence, and when they’d finished both sat, staring down into their tea. She couldn’t think of anything to say, nothing that might not have thorns on it, anyway.
‘I’m not much good at small talk,’ he eventually apologised quietly.
She smiled. ‘Neither am I. Did I thank you for rescuing me?’
‘No thanks were needed.’
She lapsed back into silence, and then asked quietly, ‘Where’s Spanner? I never see him around.’
‘Spanner?’ he echoed softly. ‘He died.’
‘I’m sorry. Shall you get another dog?’
‘No.’
Because his life was still unsettled? Because he might have a murder charge hanging over his head? ‘Why Spanner?’ she asked curiously. ‘It seems an odd name for a dog.’
‘Because when I found him as a tiny, abandoned puppy he was trying to chew a nut off a piece of scrap metal.’
‘Oh.’
‘And you? Is business good?’
‘So-so. I’ve just finished a large commission. Barn conversion. I opened a small shop in Croydon.’ She grinned, then qualified, ‘I’m renting out a small area in a wallpaper and fabric shop. I persuaded the owner that it would be good for his business. When people came in to buy decorating materials, he could steer them in my direction. Or, alternatively, if they came to see me, I could make my selections from his stock.’
‘Sounds a good arrangement.’
‘Mm, seems to be working OK. And your days of inactivity will soon be over,’ she teased. ‘A few more weeks and the conference centre will be finished. You’ll be able to go to work.’
He gave a small, rather cynical smile. ‘I already do go to work. The restaurant is doing very well.’
‘Restaurant?’
‘Yes. Why the look of surprise? Don’t I look as though I could run a restaurant?’
‘No. Yes. I don’t know,’ she denied lamely. ‘Just that…Well, I don’t know,’ she laughed. ‘I assumed you were waiting to run the conference centre.’
‘No, neither will I run it when it’s finished. I shall put in a manager.’
‘Oh,’ she murmured inadequately. She didn’t know him at all, did she? She’d made a lot of assumptions about him, about his lifestyle, daydreamed a lot of exciting possibilities, but the simple fact remained that his life was none of her business. Nor ever could be whilst he was still engaged to Helena. Realising the silence had gone on too long, she murmured, ‘And it’s doing well, you say?’
‘Oh, yes,’ he agreed, his cynicism more marked. ‘Ever since Helena disappeared, bookings have rocketed. Everyone wants to get a glimpse of the murderer.’
‘Except you aren’t.’
‘No, but people believe what they want to believe. And it’s very good for business. At the moment, to get a table, you would have to book three months in advance.’
‘And you have no idea where she might be?’
He shook his head.
Still picking idly at the rim of her mug, and without looking at him, she blurted, ‘Are you still engaged to her? I mean, were you, before she left?’
‘Why do you want to know?’
‘Oh, no reason, I just…was trying to think of a reason why she might want to disappear. I wasn’t being nosy…Yes, I was,’ she corrected honestly, because she wanted to know about the impossibly beautiful Helena, about their relationship. Wanted to know why he had seemed so sad in November. Wanted to make it right. And how women did tend to fool themselves, she thought wryly, into thinking they were the only ones who could comfort. ‘You don’t think she’s dead?’
‘No.’
‘Why?’
‘No concrete reason,’ he said as he got to his feet and collected their plates. ‘You will need to contact your insurance company.’
‘Yes.’
‘You were fully insured?’
She nodded.
‘But you will need a car to conduct your business, won’t you? Does the insurance cover for hire?’
‘Don’t know.’
He gave her a look of reproof. ‘Well, if it doesn’t, you can use the Land Rover,’ he offered as he scraped the plates into the bin, rinsed them off and put them into the dishwasher, and then he halted, gave a wry smile, and took them out again. ‘You get so used to the little luxuries of life,’ he murmured. ‘Like electricity.’
‘Yes,’ she agreed, because she hadn’t considered it either.
‘The perishables from the fridge I’ve put in the garage where it’s colder. So, if you need milk when the current bottle’s finished, that’s where it is.’
She nodded and got up to dry the dishes he was washing. She felt almost stifled by his nearness, needed speech to cover the fact. ‘Won’t you need your car?’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t go out much.’
‘Because of Helena?’
‘No, by inclination. And if I do need transport I can use Helena’s car.’ When he’d finished washing up, he walked across to the Aga. Using an oven glove, he bent to open one of the doors. Lifting the lid on something, he peered inside, stirred it, then closed the door again. She smiled. He didn’t look prissy, or silly, doing it, just like a very masculine man doing something he did rather a lot of.
‘Even when I find you somewhere else to stay, you might not be able to go home for a few days,’ he added quietly as he turned. ‘The road isn’t just blocked with one or two trees—whole stretches of the forest have come down. I don’t even think it’s a possibility that you would be able to walk into Horsham and hire a car. Or get the train. I have no idea if they’re running. In the meantime, if you need some privacy, there’s a spare room you can use.’ Putting down the oven gloves, he indicated for her to follow him and then showed her into the room next to Helena’s.
Now, this she liked, she decided. Navy blue walls and carpet, light plum-coloured paintwork that was picked up in the bedspread and curtains,