Holly was woken by the sound of rain beating down on the roof of the house. She reached for her phone and saw that it was almost eight o’clock. The room felt pleasantly warm so that signified that the boiler was still working. She pushed the duvet aside, got up and walked through to the bathroom. As she did so, she heard the familiar clicking sound from downstairs of Stirling’s nails on the flagstones and a little whine of greeting.
‘Be with you in a minute, Stirling.’
She put the bathroom light on and took a good look at herself. Her recent walks in the fresh air were definitely doing her good and she had more colour in her cheeks. Whether she was as beautiful as the old man had said was debatable, but she was reasonably happy with what she saw. After cleaning her teeth, she ran her fingers through her hair and decided to wash it after she had taken the dog for his walk.
Downstairs, she was delighted to see that her improvised barrier – a suitcase – had been enough to keep the dog from coming up to jump into bed with her. He had relinquished his basket and was lying on the floor, with his nose at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for her. As she appeared, he jumped to his feet, the whole back half of him wagging along with his tail, as he made delighted whining sounds. Holly removed the suitcase, stepped off the stair and gave him a hug. It was, she reflected, rather nice having somebody so pleased to see her in the morning, especially as she had only just climbed out of bed.
‘Hello, handsome, ready for your walk?’ As ever, he rushed to the door with great enthusiasm. Holly pulled on her new Wellingtons and buttoned herself into the yellow oilskin. She picked up a hat and unlocked the door. It was noticeably warmer outside than the previous days, but there was a gusty wind and the rain was relentless. Even Stirling hesitated before venturing out. Holly pulled up her hood, locked the door and set off along the stream with him. By now, dawn should have been breaking, but it was still pitch black. Nevertheless, after a few minutes, her eyes became accustomed to the gloom and she was able to pick her way alongside the now far fuller stream as it rushed past, swollen by the rain. They did an abbreviated circuit this morning and were back at the house by half past eight, by which time a grey glow was visible in the eastern sky and she could begin to make out shapes and objects. As she opened the door, she glanced over to Jack’s house and was pleased to see the bag with the bottles had disappeared, hopefully before the onset of the rain.
No sooner had the dog got inside the house than he shook himself, sending water everywhere. Holly struggled out of her waterproof gear, hung the coat on the back of the door and grabbed an old towel. She called the dog over and set about drying him. Within a very short time, the towel was soaked, as was she. The dog obviously loved all the attention and was doing his best to reciprocate by rubbing himself up against her. Her jeans were now wet, her jumper soaked and even her hair. There was an all-pervading smell of wet dog in the house and some of it, she realised, was now coming from her. Finally, she gave up. He still wasn’t completely dry, but at least he had stopped dripping. However, no sooner had she released him and stood up than he shook himself once more and she could still feel droplets landing on her.
‘Oh, God, dog! What a bloody mess.’
Just at that moment, Stirling ran across to the door, tail wagging, and three seconds later, the doorbell rang. Holly went over and opened it to find Jack on the doorstep, getting wet. She motioned him inside. ‘Hi, come in. I’m terribly sorry, but this place, this animal and I all stink to high heaven.’
He came in as instructed, shaking raindrops from his arms and shoulders as he did so. He gave her a broad smile. ‘Smell? I can’t smell a thing apart from that haunting perfume you’re wearing.’
‘Eau du dog, I think you’ll find it’s called. I’m just about to make tea, if you can stand the smell and the mess.’
‘I don’t want to interrupt. I just came round to thank you for the amazing wine. There was no need for that.’ He crouched down on his heels and stroked the dog as she went over to fill the kettle. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him. He had strong arms, broad shoulders and, squatting down, his jeans were really rather tight-fitting. Once again she found herself surprised to be feeling attraction, if that was what this was, to somebody so different from her normal choice of man. Jack was scruffy, Jack was an outdoor type and, putting it bluntly, he wasn’t exactly as well off as most of her men had been. Hastily, she busied herself with the teapot. The kettle boiled and she filled the pot. By this time, the dog was hinting strongly that he would quite like a bit of breakfast as well. Remembering the biscuits she had bought the previous day, she dug out the packet and gave him one. He settled down on the floor to crunch it up. Holly put the tea, milk and mugs on the table and sat down.
‘Here, come and have a seat, Jack. How about breakfast? I’ve got some fresh cereal if you want it.’
He sat down and shook his head. ‘No, thanks. I’ve already had some toast, but don’t let me stop you.’ Holly took another look at his amazing greeny-blue eyes. They were friendly, but somehow mysterious. As she poured the tea she found herself reflecting that when it came to neighbours, this one would do very nicely indeed.
‘Here.’ She passed the mug across.
‘Thanks.’ There was a slight pause while she wondered what to say. She realised that part of her very much wanted to ask him about his relationship with Dolores, but she couldn’t think of a way of doing that without sounding pathetic. Seeing as they were both English, she tried the weather.
‘Wet weather gear needed today.’
‘The forecast’s for the rain to last all morning, maybe all day. I’m afraid Brookford gets more than its fair share of rain. By the way, they were saying this morning the bookmakers have reduced the odds of a white Christmas right down. Some big depression supposed to be coming across from America.’
‘That would be fun.’ She glanced out of the back window. ‘Not so much fun in Greta, though.’
‘Greta?’
‘Greta the Porsche. The first three letters on the number plate are GRE, so it seemed a logical choice of name.’
‘The first three letters of my old heap are XYX. Not a lot you can do with those. But, name or no name, the Land Rover’s just about the best vehicle around if we really do have a white Christmas.’
Just then, the phone started ringing; not Holly’s mobile, but her father’s old landline. Nobody had used it up till now and Holly had to dig around under a pile of clutter before she found it. She gave Jack an apologetic smile and picked it up.
‘Hello.’
‘Hello, is that Holly Brice?’ The voice sounded familiar. ‘It’s Justin Grosvenor. I wasn’t sure if the phone was still connected.’
‘Hi, there. You’re the first phone call I’ve had since I got here.’
‘Well, look, Holly, I was wondering if you were free this afternoon. How would high tea sound?’
High tea sounded impossibly old-fashioned if the truth be told, but the idea of spending some time with Justin Grosvenor had distinct appeal. ‘That sounds lovely. Where and when?’
‘How about I pick you up at three?’
‘That would be great. See you then.’ As she put the phone down and turned back towards Jack, Holly found herself thinking rather naughtily that the last thing she had been expecting down here in the wilds of the country was that she would end up having tea with two handsome men on the same day. The fact that one of them was most probably married and the other one a bit too rough and ready for her normally rather discerning taste was something she decided to shelve for now. She wondered what Julia would think when she told her.
Jack had finished his tea by this time. Beside him, the dog had demolished his biscuit and exhausted his search for crumbs. Both of them stood up, the dog heading for his basket, Jack heading for the door. He paused when he reached the doormat.
‘The forecast for tomorrow’s very good and I’m planning on going