Kitabı oku: «His Defiant Mistress», sayfa 3

When Sarah’s doorbell rang very late she pulled on her dressing gown and climbed down from her platform, stiffening when she heard the angry, clipped tones of Alex Merrick over the intercom. She buzzed him in, and smothered a snort of laughter as he came storming across the hall in his shirtsleeves, hair on end, and a great tear flapping in one expensive trouser leg.

‘I’m glad you think this is funny! Why the hell didn’t you tell me?’ he demanded, advancing on her with such menace Sarah had to force herself to stand her ground.

‘Good evening, Mr Merrick. Come inside before you wake my neighbours. What should I have told you?’

‘That you’d sold one of the cottages,’ he snapped.

‘I haven’t. Harry Sollers’ nephew Ian is doing me a favour by sleeping there, that’s all. I made it perfectly clear to your Mr Harris that I had my security arrangements in hand,’ she added frostily.

Alex controlled himself with obvious difficulty. ‘He relayed the message, but it obviously lost something in translation. I took it for granted you were sticking to your plan of sleeping there yourself. I was at a charity dinner earlier, and went home by way of Medlar Cottages to check on you. I got savaged by a bloody great monster of a dog for my pains.’

‘That was just Nero, doing his job. Did he bite you?’ she asked solicitously.

‘No. I fought him off.’ Alex glared at the ragged tear. ‘I was fond of this suit.’

‘If you’ll tell me how much it cost I’ll reimburse you,’ she said promptly, and won a look of such blazing antagonism she backed away a little.

‘I didn’t come here for money,’ he snapped.

‘What, then?’

The angular, good-looking face hardened. ‘I should think that’s obvious,’ he snapped, and started towards her.

CHAPTER THREE

SARAH BACKED away in such knee-jerk rejection Alex glared at her, incensed.

‘For God’s sake, I’m not in the habit of hitting women!’ He controlled himself with obvious effort. ‘My sole aim was to make sure you came to no harm, alone in one of those cottages. If you’d had the courtesy to let me know what you’d arranged all this nonsense could have been avoided.’

She took in a deep breath. ‘I suppose you feel I made a fool of you?’

‘Not at all. I made a fool of myself,’ he said bitterly, and turned to go.

‘Have some coffee first,’ she offered, surprising herself as much as Alex. ‘You look a bit shaken.’

‘Is it any wonder?’ he demanded morosely. ‘I’ve never thought of myself as a coward—dammit, I love dogs. But that one scared the hell out of me.’

She felt an unexpected pang of remorse. ‘Please have some coffee. Sit there for a minute and relax while I make it.’

When she got back with a couple of mugs Alex was looking round the room, frowning.

‘It seems emptier in here tonight.’

‘I took a few things down to the cottage for Ian. He provided his own bedroll, plus a couple of garden chairs and a television.’ She smiled demurely as she sat on the windowseat with her mug. ‘On future evenings his girlfriend Josie will be keeping him company, but tonight she was at her kickboxing class.’

‘Kickboxing?’ Alex stared at her in horror. ‘Then thank God I missed her, if she’s as big as the boyfriend.’

‘I don’t know. I hope not.’

‘Frightening thought,’ he agreed, and drank deeply. ‘This is wonderful coffee. Thank you.’

‘The least I could do. Though a shot of caffeine is probably the last thing you need right now.’

‘It hits the spot just the same.’ He yawned suddenly. ‘Sorry. I don’t suppose I could have a refill?’

Sarah eyed him doubtfully. ‘Is that wise?’

‘Probably not.’ He heaved himself up, but she waved him back and took his mug.

When she returned with the coffee Alex gave her a speculative look. ‘This is a very attractive flat, but it’s obviously the home of a single woman.’ His eyes followed her as she crossed to her windowseat. ‘That must surely be from choice?’

Her chin lifted. ‘It is.’

‘And you obviously think it’s none of my business! Though I already know you don’t lack for male admirers, Miss Carver,’ he added wryly. ‘The day I came looking for you it was like trying to detach Snow White from the Seven Dwarfs—only you’re the small one. Those pals of yours may be getting on a bit, but they’re a hefty bunch.’

Sarah unbent a little. ‘I’m a constant source of entertainment to them. In the beginning they were thunderstruck, because I was doing some of the work myself. They kept popping round to check up on the city girl.’

Alex laughed, his eyes dancing in a way which put her on her guard. This man was dangerous.

‘I suppose they think it’s an unsuitable job for a woman?’ Alex commented. ‘How did you get into it?’

‘My father was a building contractor. I was brought up on building sites, so I’m doing what I like best and hopefully making a living out of it.’

‘With no distractions allowed.’ He smiled wryly. ‘Once you put me right about your relationship with Oliver Moore, I wondered if you’d shut yourself away in your ivory tower here to mend a broken heart.’

Sarah gave him a scornful look. ‘Even if I had it would be none of your business, Mr Merrick.’

But damned interesting, thought Alex, wondering just what there was about this girl that got under his skin. Right now her narrow face was scrubbed and shiny, her hair—the colour of bitter chocolate instead of the blonde he normally preferred—was a tangle of unruly curls. And her pink dressing gown was elderly and faded, and a shade too small, even for someone of her size, which probably meant she’d had it for years but couldn’t bear to part with it.

Sarah decided to give him a hint by relieving him of his coffee cup, and he promptly stood up.

‘Time I was leaving.’

‘I’m sorry about your near-death experience with Nero,’ said Sarah, on her way to the door. Though she wasn’t in the slightest.

He paused, giving her the crooked smile she was surprised to find she was beginning to find attractive, whether he practised it or not. ‘You may laugh, but it wasn’t at all funny at the time.’

‘No, indeed. And you ruined your suit—or Nero did.’

‘No point in sending him a bill, either. Nor,’ he added quickly, ‘will I send one to you, Miss Carver. I shall write tonight off to experience. Thanks for the coffee.’

‘The least I could do after you’d risked life and limb to make sure I was safe,’ she assured him, and eyed him curiously. ‘But why did you feel you had to?’

‘Because I want the cottages. I had to make sure they wouldn’t be vandalised,’ he lied.

‘I see. By the way, did Nero actually hurt you?’

Alex shook his head and raised a muscular leg to show her an unmarked shin through the rip. ‘I had a fight to detach him from my bespoke suiting, but he stopped short of actually savaging me.’

‘So no worry about rabies, then?’

He blenched. ‘Good God! I hadn’t thought of that.’

She eyed him with derision. ‘You’re in no danger from an aristocrat like Nero.’

‘Just the same,’ he said with feeling, ‘I’ll give your property a wide berth from now on—at night, at least.’

‘Very wise.’ She opened the door, but Alex seemed in no hurry to leave.

‘How about changing your mind?’ he asked casually.

‘About what, exactly?’

‘Having dinner with me one evening. We could just talk business, if that would make the idea more attractive.’ He listened to himself in disbelief. This kind of persuasion wasn’t his style. Probably because he’d never had to use any.

‘No—thank you,’ she said distantly.

His jaw clenched. ‘Why not? Do you find me repulsive?’

‘No.’

‘Then have you sworn off men as some kind of vow?’

Instead of saying Just you, Alex Merrick, as she yearned to, Sarah shook her head. ‘I’m just not socialising with anyone right now.’

‘Except Oliver Moore,’ he reminded her.

‘That’s right.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘After all, he is my godfather.’

‘So you said.’ Alex moved closer, struck by sudden compassion. ‘Are you still in mourning for your father? Surely he would want you to get on with your life?’

Sarah’s smile vanished. ‘As I keep pointing out, my life is my concern, and no one else’s, Mr Merrick.’

‘Message received,’ he said stiffly. ‘Goodnight, Miss Carver.’

Sarah felt very thoughtful as she climbed back up to bed later. If she were honest, and she tried hard to be most of the time, she knew she should have told Greg Harris that she’d arranged a night watchman for the cottages. But Alex’s highhanded message had really ticked her off. Though he’d certainly paid for it. Sarah grinned at the thought of the vice-chairman of the Merrick Group fighting off a large German Shepherd.

But what had actually sent Alex storming round here afterwards? He’d been so blazingly angry when she’d opened the door to him Sarah had felt a thrill of apprehension, afraid for a split second that he’d throw her on the floor and take his revenge in the time-honoured way. He’d certainly been hot to vent his rage in some way on the person responsible for his clash with Nero. But she hadn’t known he’d check up on her himself—had she? Sarah thought about it, and reluctantly admitted that she’d been aware of the possibility. Visiting the cottages to make sure she was safe had been a chivalrous gesture, and maybe—just maybe—she’d hoped that he would do it. But she would have expected Nero just to bark, not launch himself at Alex in attack mode. She would have a word with Ian on the subject. Injury to innocent visitors was something to be avoided. But, chivalrous or not, she reminded herself tartly, Alex’s name was still Merrick. And her reaction to it was still the same as the first time she’d heard it.

On her very first day at Barclay Homes she’d found that the firm was actually a subsidiary of the Merrick Group, which had swallowed up other building firms in the area. A small outfit like her father’s had never stood a chance. Sarah knew with the logical part of her that the Merrick Group had not caused his death. But the illogical, emotional side of her still held them accountable.

CHAPTER FOUR

SARAH SAW no more of Alex Merrick after their midnight encounter. But to her surprise—and disgust—she kept wondering if he’d ring, or call in again. To counteract this she worked like a demon on the last touches to the cottages while Harry painted the exteriors, and Ian moved into number two at night, rather than spoil any of Sarah’s work on the show house. When she ran out of indoor jobs she repointed the waist-high walls dividing the front gardens, and when she’d finished those Charlie Baker drove her to a local nursery to choose a flowering cherry for the back courtyard of the show house, and a Japanese maple for the front. It was only sensible to go the extra mile to make the properties as attractive as possible to prospective buyers.

‘Is something worrying you?’ asked Harry, as he helped her plant the trees one evening.

‘Yes. I’m wondering what on earth I’m going to do with myself when this lot goes up for sale.’

‘What are you doing this weekend?’ he asked, surprising her.

‘Nothing much. Why?’

‘How do you feel about barns?’

Sarah straightened, eyes gleaming. ‘Are we talking barn conversion?’

He smiled as he trampled the earth in round the cherry tree. ‘Could be.’

‘Tell me more—’ Her face fell. ‘But if they’re up for sale I can’t do a thing about it until I sell this lot.’

‘These barns are not for sale. Leastways, not yet.’

She wagged a dirty finger at him. ‘Stop teasing, Harry!’

He chuckled. ‘My sister’s married to a farmer. When I was there for dinner last Sunday Bob told me he’s had to cut back a bit, so he’s got three smallish barns he doesn’t use any more. He’s got planning permission to do them up, but not enough cash to do it with. If you offered to buy them for development I reckon he’d jump at the chance.’ He nodded in approval as Sarah’s eyes sparkled. ‘That’s better. You’ve been a bit down in the mouth lately.’

‘Have I? Sorry. Anyway, when could I have a look at the property?’

‘I’ll talk to Mavis when I get home and let you know.’ He looked up as a van came up the lane. ‘Here comes the nightshift.’

Sarah bent to hug Nero as he came bounding to greet her. ‘Hello, my lovely boy. How are you today? Hello, you two,’ she added, as the others came up the path.

‘Hi, there,’ said Josie, eyeing the newly planted Acer. ‘Gosh, it looks better and better here every time I come. Don’t you dare go lifting your leg on that tree, Nero.’

‘Don’t worry, Miss Carver, I’ll tell him not to, and he doesn’t need telling twice,’ said Ian proudly.

‘Of course you don’t, you clever lad,’ said Sarah, giving the dog a last stroke. ‘Right, then, time I went home and got cleaned up. See you tomorrow, Harry.’

‘I’ll give you a ring later, boss.’

Sarah felt weary as she drove back, conscious of a sense of anticlimax now the cottages were ready to sell. Tomorrow three estate agents were coming at different times to view.

When the phone rang while she was eating her supper Sarah seized it eagerly. ‘Harry—’

‘Afraid not. It’s Alex. Alex Merrick,’ he added, in case she was in any doubt.

The unexpected pleasure of her reaction struck her dumb for a moment. ‘Oh, hello,’ she said at last.

‘How are you?’

‘I’m very well.’

‘Glad to hear it. Are the cottages finished?’

‘Just about.’

‘Then let’s meet to discuss the sale. Friday would be good for me.’

He still wanted them, then. ‘Sorry. I can’t make Friday.’

‘When then?’

Never, for a Merrick, if she followed her instincts. But it would be interesting to see how high Alex would go with his offer.

‘Are you still there?’ he demanded.

‘Yes. I could do Saturday morning.’

‘Right. I’ll see you at the cottages at ten.’

When the phone rang again shortly afterwards it actually was Harry, with an invitation to Sunday dinner at the farm so she could have a look round.

‘How lovely! Please thank your sister for me, Harry.’

The houses passed the building inspector’s final examination with flying colours, and the visits by the estate agents went equally well. They forecast figures much higher than Sarah had dared hope—the highest from one of the more exclusive agents, who assured her he’d have no trouble in shifting all six houses if she put her business in his company’s hands.

But if she did Sarah knew only too well she’d lose a hefty percentage of her profit to them. But that was far preferable to selling them to a Merrick. Though she might as well meet Alex Merrick and know what figure he had in mind, if only for the pleasure of turning him down. The vice-chairman of the Merrick Group would probably beat her down mercilessly. Just let him try, she thought fiercely.

Instead of spending the evening glued to columns of figures on her laptop Sarah went early to bed that night, feeling more relaxed now the die was cast. She achieved a good night’s sleep for once, and turned up at the cottages next morning full of energy for the last minute touches. She swept and dusted throughout, then buffed up the latest thing in stainless steel door furniture on each of the cottages while Harry cleaned the windows.

‘But don’t let on about me doing women’s work,’ he warned, when they went down to the Green Man at lunchtime.

Sarah zipped a finger across her lips. ‘Not a word. Though you’ve done it miles better than this woman would have done.’

‘You mean there’s something you can’t do, then, boss?’ he teased.

‘Lots of things—and cleaning windows as well as you do is way up there on the list.’

‘Have you decided which agent’s going to handle the sale?’

‘Not yet. I’ll have a chat with Oliver over the weekend and let them know on Monday.’

Close as she’d grown to Harry, Sarah felt it best to keep her meeting with Alex Merrick to herself.

She spent some time next morning over her choice of clothes for her Saturday rendezvous. Her aim was somewhere below the full-on babe outfit of an evening with Oliver but well above the scruffy look of her working day. And, most important of all, Sarah was determined to obliterate Alex’s last impression of her in striped pyjamas and the dressing gown her mother had given her for her fifteenth birthday. She felt a little uneasy about seeing him again after the disaster of his encounter with Nero. But this was different; it was a business meeting, she reminded herself, though not the occasion for one of the suits she’d worn in the office. She settled for a pair of black linen trousers and a plain white shirt, and because the forecast was showery armed herself with the short black trench coat she wore for trips into Hereford. She’d treated her unruly curls to a blow-drying session for once, and tied them back with a silk scarf, then surprised her face by applying some make-up for a change, instead of just the usual smear of moisturiser—though this last came in handy when she found she’d run out of polish for her flat black shoes.

Sarah drove down to the cottages at nine to relieve her house-sitters, who had tidied all their gear away and left milk for her coffee. She thanked them warmly, and after a romp with Nero waved them off to enjoy their weekend. Sarah went on a tour of all six houses, then sat down in the show house to read the paper she’d bought on the way. She skimmed through the news items, and even did half a crossword, but at last felt too restless to stay indoors and went outside.

After a week of sunshine and showers, the gardens in all the cottages were looking surprisingly well established. Sarah had time to make a thorough check on all of them before the familiar Cherokee nosed down the lane. When Alex got out, holding a briefcase but otherwise looking casual in jeans and sweater, she strolled up the lane towards him.

‘Good morning.’ He met her halfway, smiling that smile of his, and shook her hand. ‘Congratulations. You’ve done a great job here.’

‘Thank you. Take yourself on a tour, if you like.’

‘Come with me—please?’

‘Certainly.’

This time Alex was in no hurry. He put his briefcase down on the kitchen table, then made a thorough exploration of every house, taking such minute notice of every feature that Sarah was more glad than ever that she’d bought top-quality fittings—especially when he commented on the Belfast sinks installed in the curving, custom-built counter tops in all the kitchens.

‘You’ve achieved a very clever balance between traditional and modern,’ he said, when they eventually returned to the show house.

‘Thank you. My aim was a country cottage with local appeal, but which would also tempt a town buyer looking for a weekend retreat.’

‘Where did you get the vintage furniture?’

‘I put the contents of my family home into storage when the house was sold. I sent for some of them last week, so I could make the show house look like a real home. At which point,’ she added, ‘Ian Sollers promptly moved into number two at night, to avoid any possibility of his damaging anything.’

‘Not to mention any Nero might cause,’ said Alex with feeling.

‘Nero doesn’t do damage. He’s a very well-behaved dog,’ said Sarah firmly. ‘He was just doing his job that night.’

‘You obviously love dogs!’

‘I do.’ Sarah shrugged. ‘But even if I had room for one dogs aren’t allowed at Medlar House.’

‘So sell your ivory tower and move to a place where you can keep a pet. In your kind of job you can take a dog with you on site.’

‘True,’ said Sarah. ‘But I don’t want to move right now. I’ve only just got my flat into shape. Talking of property,’ she added, suddenly brisk, ‘would you care for some coffee while we get down to business?’

‘Thank you.’ Alex promptly sat at the head of kitchen table, as though chairman of the board was his rightful place.

Sarah made coffee in china cups with saucers, and carried a tray to the table. ‘Only instant, I’m afraid.’

‘Fine,’ he said, waiting for her to sit down. ‘Now, then, Miss Carver. How much do you want for the entire property?’

Sarah multiplied the highest price by six and gave him the answer.

Alex stared at her in disbelief. ‘That’s totally unrealistic.’

‘It’s the price I was advised to ask,’ she assured him.

‘But any other buyer would want only one cottage,’ he reminded her sharply. ‘If I buy the entire row you’ll have to come down, Miss Carver. A long way down,’ he added.

Sarah had done her homework in so much depth and so repeatedly she knew exactly how low she could go and still make the profit necessary to make her venture a success. ‘I suppose I could come down a trifle.’

Alex snorted. ‘You’ll have to do a lot better than that!’

‘Look,’ she said reasonably, ‘if you don’t want them I’m assured I’ll have no problem finding other buyers.’

He stared at her in exasperation. ‘I do want them, but only at a reasonable figure.’

‘You mean what the Merrick Group considers a reasonable figure!’

‘Exactly. Nothing personal. It’s just business.’

‘I know all about the business done by the Merrick Group,’ she retorted, before she could stop herself.

His eyes narrowed. ‘And what, exactly, do you mean by that?’ he asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

Her chin lifted. ‘Merely that your group is big enough to submit tenders which put smaller companies out of business.’

Comprehension dawned in his eyes. ‘You said your father was a builder—’

‘He was taken over by Barclay Homes, which as you well know is a subsidiary of the Merrick Group.’ Sarah wished now she’d kept her mouth shut. ‘Shall we return to the matter in hand?’

‘By all means,’ he said curtly, and made her an offer only a little higher than the lowest possible she could accept to make a profit.

‘Now you’re being unrealistic,’ she said scathingly.

The coffee cooled in the cups while they haggled, Sarah coolly resolute and Alex growing more and more exasperated as he fought a battle he’d expected to win with barely a shot fired. In the end he slapped a hand down on the table, making the cups rattle, and named a figure which was, he said very emphatically, his top offer, and Miss Carver could take it or leave it.

‘Do you want your answer now?’ she asked.

Alex fought for control. For God’s sake, he thought furiously. He faced tougher customers than Sarah Carver every day of his working life. ‘Yes,’ he snapped.

She shook her head. ‘I need time to think about your offer, Mr Merrick. I quite understand,’ she added, sweetly reasonable, ‘if you want to back out.’

To hell with it, thought Alex. Only the prospect of unsuitable tenants on land adjoining his luxury hotel kept him from doing just that. He got to his feet and snapped his briefcase shut. ‘Ring my office at nine sharp on Monday morning with your answer, or kiss the sale goodbye, Miss Carver.’

Sarah nodded briskly. She got to her feet to see him out, and followed him down the path.

‘Thank you for coming. Goodbye.’

‘Goodbye, Miss Carver,’ he said formally, and made no further reference to the deal before driving away.

Sarah watched him go, frowning. Now she had to get through the rest of the day with nothing to do. From a practical, purely financial point of view she knew very well that she should have said yes to Alex’s offer there and then. But because his name was Merrick she was not only going to turn him down, but make him wait all weekend before she did.

Sarah decided to stay on site all day, until Ian and Josie turned up in the evening. Perhaps she could persuade her young caretakers to spend the entire day here on Sunday while she was out with Harry. The weather forecast was good, and they would probably enjoy a day spent in the sun in the courtyard of number one. She’d offer to stand them a takeaway lunch as inducement. Until the cottages were sold—whoever bought them—she would need the services of her young security guards. Sarah locked up with care and drove back to the local Post Office stores to buy food, added a paperback novel to her haul, and then returned to Medlar Farm cottages for the day.

She passed some of the time with more gardening in the sunshine, though by now there was very little left to do. The shrubs looked healthy, the lawns were greening up satisfactorily, and the property as a whole was very different from the barely habitable row of houses she’d first seen with Oliver.

Sarah rang him later, to tell him about the offer she’d had from Alex Merrick.

‘Splendid, darling. I’m very proud of you. Is it all signed and sealed?’

‘Of course not. I haven’t accepted the offer, Oliver.’

‘You mean you didn’t jump at it?’ demanded Oliver in astonishment. ‘My dear child, what were you thinking of?’ He paused. ‘I suppose if he were a rose by any other name you would have said yes to Alex right away.’

‘Exactly, Oliver. How percipient of you.’

‘Far be it from me to try to run your life,’ he said, an edge to his voice, ‘but if you’re going to succeed in your line of business sentiment’s a luxury you can’t afford, Sarah.’

‘I know, I know,’ she sighed. ‘Don’t worry. The agents who valued the houses assure me they’ll have no trouble in selling them.’

‘Or in creaming off some of your profit,’ Oliver reminded her.

‘True. But it would be worth it,’ said Sarah. ‘I can’t bear the thought of Merrick hotel guests living in my cottages.’

‘Ah, but that’s not the plan. I had a little chat with George Merrick the other night and put out some discreet feelers on the subject. Apparently young Alex intends to use the houses as retirement homes for long service employees of the Merrick Group.’

‘What?’ Sarah’s eyebrows shot to her hair. ‘Are you sure about that?’

‘I’m merely passing on what his father told me. In confidence, by the way,’ warned Oliver.

Sarah shook her head in wonder. ‘I was sure Alex Merrick meant to put them to work to make money, as an annexe for his hotel.’

‘I hinted as much to George. But he said that Alex, much to old Edgar’s disgust, is hell-bent on philanthropy. And he makes it very plain who’s in charge these days. So instead of making them pay for themselves, the cottages will house deserving ex-employees who will live in rural, rent-free bliss in your first venture into property development, Sarah. Should you sell to him, of course.’

‘Well, that’s a turn-up for the books,’ she said, deflated, and stayed silent for a while, thinking it over.

‘Are you still there, Sarah?’ demanded Oliver.

‘Yes. I was thinking. Much as it grieves me to say so, if what you say is true I suppose it would be a pity not to let Alex Merrick have them.’

‘At the money he’s offering it would be downright stupidity to turn it down, my girl. Forget about his name for once and accept his offer. As your practical father,’ he added with emphasis, ‘would have urged you to. And take my advice—which to anyone else is inordinately expensive—in future transactions use your head, not your heart, Sarah. And ring me on Monday to let me know what happened.’

Harry collected Sarah from Medlar House at twelve next day, in cords and a tweed jacket, and sporting a new haircut.

‘You look very smart, Harry,’ she told him, and dumped her rubber boots in the back of the pick-up.

‘So do you,’ he said, eyeing her crisp striped shirt and newly laundered jeans. ‘A mighty big improvement on those overalls of yours.’

‘Practically anything would be. I hope it’s not putting your sister out to have an extra guest for lunch,’ added Sarah.

‘If you can put Mavis and Bob in the way of making a bit of money she’ll be glad to do it every Sunday,’ he assured her. ‘They never had sons, which means paying for labour now the girls are married and can’t help out any more, so things are a bit tight on the farm these days. Mind,’ he added awkwardly, ‘I didn’t say that to influence you.’

‘I know that, Harry! But it struck me yesterday that I’m going to be like a lost soul with no work to do. I do so hope the barns are a feasible proposition.’

To Sarah’s intense relief they were. After introducing her to his sister and her husband, Harry kept in the background while Mavis, a smaller, jollier version of her brother, insisted on serving coffee before she let her large, amiable husband take Sarah on a tour of the barns. The meal giving out savoury aromas in the big farm kitchen would be ready in one hour exactly, Mavis informed them.

‘So you’d best go too, Harry,’ she said, ‘and make sure Bob brings Miss Carver back here on time.’

Sarah was jubilant later, on the way home. The barns were small enough to be viable for conversion, though not to the holiday lets the Grovers had intended. Permanent dwellings were essential for Sarah to gain her necessary profit. A lane separated the barns from the main farm, and gave good access for the equipment Sarah would hire—also for the tenants who would eventually occupy the finished houses.

‘What do you think, Harry?’ she asked. ‘If I make an offer to your brother-in-law are you game to go on working with me?’

‘Wouldn’t have mentioned the barns else,’ he assured her. ‘So you see them as a workable proposition?’

‘I certainly do.’ She gave him a sparkling look. ‘Mr Grover told me he owns fishing rights on a short stretch of the river, too, which could appeal to male buyers. And for women who don’t fish it’s not far to Hereford for retail therapy.’

Harry laughed. ‘You had all this worked out in your head before Mavis dished up the rhubarb crumble.’

Sarah grinned. ‘I certainly did.’ She sobered. ‘But I can’t make a firm offer until I sell the cottages. With luck I should be able to some time next week.’

‘You’ve got someone interested in one of the cottages?’

Sarah nodded. ‘I’ve got a possible buyer for the lot, but I haven’t clinched the deal yet.’