‘Hello, Miss Sarah Carver. I fancied a stroll, so I took you at your word.’
CHAPTER FIVE
SARAH RETURNED the smile, not sorry for company on an afternoon which was already beginning to drag. ‘So you did, Daniel Mason. Come in. I’ll give you the tour.’
‘Thank you. Only I prefer Dan. May I call you Sarah?’
‘Of course.’
‘After you left,’ said Dan, as she took him round, ‘I was told all sorts of tall tales; how you do your own plastering and tiling and God knows what besides. That can’t possibly be true?’
‘Yes, all of it,’ she assured him. ‘But Harry saw to the basic, essential things required by the building survey. And he put in new windows and did all the finishing after I’d done my bit.’
‘And no one does it better than Harry Sollers. But he’s well known for preferring to work solo. So how come he agreed to work for—I mean with—you?’
‘I asked him and he said yes.’
Dan gave her a head-to-toe scrutiny rather too personal for comfort, and grinned. ‘Of course he did.’
Sarah turned to lead the way downstairs. ‘This is the only one I’ve furnished, but otherwise the houses are all the same.’
‘You’ve done an amazing job,’ he told her. ‘If they were in London they’d sell in a flash—and for a lot more than you’ll get down here. I’d like to stay a while, Sarah,’ he added. ‘Unless you’re busy?’
She could hardly say she was, since he’d spotted the open book. ‘For the first time in ages I’m not. I was reading when you came.’
‘Fred told me that you’ve got young Ian Sollers staying here at night. What time does he get here?’
‘About six, as a rule.’
‘What will you do after he gets here?’
‘Go home.’
‘And where’s home?’
‘You ask a lot of questions!’
He smiled. ‘It’s the quickest way to get answers.’
‘You could have asked around in the bar.’
Dan shook his head. ‘I was pretty sure you might not like that. Though I was told,’ he went on, ‘that you don’t socialise with the local lads. Why?’
‘It seemed best to steer clear of complications in a community like this.’
‘Is there a non-local man in your life?’
‘Yes. My godfather. They were pretty impressed at your pub because he wined and dined me at Easthope Court recently,’ she said lightly.
‘Well-heeled godfather, then!’
‘He’s a QC, and successful, so I suppose he must be. More important from my point of view, he takes his responsibilities as godfather very seriously. He wasn’t happy when I insisted on bidding for this lot,’ said Sarah wryly. ‘He doesn’t like my flat, either.’
‘At the address you didn’t give me,’ he reminded her.
‘It’s no secret. I live in Medlar House.’
‘Really?’ Dan grinned. ‘I used to go to dances there when it was a girls’ school.’
Another one! ‘They were obviously popular, those dances.’
‘I went to an all-male school. You bet they were popular.’ His eyes gleamed reminiscently. ‘Socialising with the Medlar House girls was one of the great perks of getting to the upper sixth in my place of learning, believe me.’
‘Oh, I do,’ she assured him.
Dan glanced at his watch. ‘Damn. Time I hiked back. I promised to give Dad a hand. But I’m free later, so will you have dinner with me, Sarah? Please?’
She looked at him thoughtfully. The evening promised to be long, with the prospect of tomorrow morning’s transaction hanging over her. And Dan Mason, though a lot too confident of his own charms for her taste, was here on a temporary basis, not a permanent fixture.
‘I can see you weighing up the pros and cons, so just for the record I’m happily unmarried,’ Dan informed her.
‘Then, thank you. Dinner it is.’ Why not? It would be a good way of passing what would otherwise be an interminable evening.
‘Great,’ said Dan, his smile a shade too smug for Sarah’s taste. ‘I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty. Any preference for eating places?’
‘Not really—as long as it’s not Easthope Court.’
When Ian and Josie arrived with Nero, for their last evening as caretakers, Sarah thanked them warmly for their help.
‘We’ll miss coming here,’ said Josie wistfully.
‘If you need us somewhere else any time,’ added Ian, ‘you just have to say.’
‘I certainly will,’ Sarah promised him, and bent to give Nero a goodbye hug.
She felt quite wistful herself on the way back to the flat, but cheered up at the thought of going out. Not sure where Dan was likely to take her, she wore the tailored black linen trousers with their jacket over a cream silk camisole, and brushed her hair into a mass of loose curls. She was glad she’d taken the trouble when Dan came to collect her wearing a formal lightweight suit, topped by a look of deep approval which was highly gratifying.
‘You look wonderful,’ he told her.
‘Thank you. Where are we going?’
‘A London chef recently opened a country inn type restaurant a few miles from here. I thought you might like it.’
‘Sounds perfect—’ Sarah whistled as she spotted the banana-yellow Ferrari parked in the courtyard.
He patted the bonnet lovingly, then held the passenger door for her. ‘This baby is my reward for slaving long hours on a City trading floor. I won’t make you blush with my father’s comments. Boy’s toys and all that. And, as he says repeatedly, it’s not even necessary. I walk to the bank from my flat.’
Sarah laughed. ‘So when do you drive it?’
‘At weekends.’ He slanted a grin at her as he turned out into the road. ‘To some country hostelry—with a charming companion on board, of course.’
‘Of course. In the company I used to keep they were known as bird-pullers,’ she informed him.
‘Bird-pullers!’ he exclaimed, laughing. ‘Exactly what kind of company did you keep?’
‘The kind you get on building sites.’
As Dan had promised, the inn was picturesque. Baskets of flowers hung outside a rambling low building divided inside into several small dining rooms.
‘Choose anything you like from the menu. It’s all first class,’ Dan assured her.
He was right. But Sarah enjoyed the perfectly cooked sea bass rather more than Dan’s company while she ate. Because his conversation centred on his success in his job, and the bonuses which had enabled him to buy his expensive car and his equally expensive flat, she found her attention wandering, and surfaced guiltily to hear him describing a recent holiday in St Tropez. Her brief encounters with Alex Merrick had been stormy, she thought suddenly, but a lot more interesting. Though after tomorrow there would be no more encounters. She was unlikely to see Alex again once the sale had gone through.
‘That’s a very thoughtful expression in those big dark eyes, Sarah Carver,’ remarked Dan.
‘It seems