come inside,’ she said—with reluctance, he acknowledged with a twitch of his lips.
Looking disturbingly tougher and more formidable in jeans, and a sweatshirt which showed off impressive shoulders, Alex walked into the room and stood stock still, his eyes wide instead of showing their usual narrow gleam. ‘I don’t remember anything like this!’
‘You mean when your company did the makeover?’
He gave her the crooked smile Sarah felt sure he practised in the mirror.
‘I was thinking more of the old days, Miss Carver. My school socialised with the Medlar House girls. I used to come here to dances.’
Of course he had. ‘I believe this was a music room.’
‘Is that why you have a balcony?’
‘No. It’s a sleeping platform I built myself. The flight of steps as well. Once I’d sanded and sealed the floor I built the window-seat, too, and installed the shutters,’ Sarah couldn’t help adding. ‘The room was originally just an empty shell with huge windows—plus a tiny kitchen and bathroom, of course, or I wouldn’t have bought it.’
Alex looked round slowly, taking in the art nouveau chandelier, the trio of antique mirrors on the wall and the framed family photographs hung between them. ‘It’s a uniquely attractive room,’ he said, with gratifying respect. ‘I congratulate you.’
‘Thank you. Perhaps you’d like to sit down and tell me why you want to see me?’ She returned to her perch on the window-seat.
Alex sat on the edge of the small sofa, his expression grave enough to worry her. ‘I took a detour past the cottages tonight on my way home.’
Sarah stared at him in surprise. ‘Do you often do that?’
‘I do sometimes, to get away from traffic. But tonight I had a different reason. As you know, we’re building a spa-type hotel on the site of the old Medlar Farm, a couple of miles from your project. Don’t worry,’ he added, ‘it’s not high-rise. It’s designed to look organic, blend into the environment. It won’t affect your property—particularly if you agree to sell me your cottages.’
‘I see. So is there a problem?’
He nodded. ‘Security. Late this evening someone got into our night watchman’s cabin at the hotel site while he was on his rounds. He heard a car drive off, and got back to find the Portakabin vandalised.’
‘Did they get away with anything?’
‘One small television—the solitary thing worth taking. The place was probably trashed in frustration, or just for the sake of it.’ Alex looked grim. ‘From now on two men with dogs will be on permanent night duty at the site. I drove back via Medlar Cottages, to see if you’d arranged any security there.’
‘No,’ she said unhappily, ‘I haven’t.’ She brightened. ‘But the problem’s easy enough to solve. The first house is ready to live in, so I’ll move in there until the others are finished.’
Alex gave her a patronising look. ‘And what if someone decided to break in one fine night?’
‘I’ll spread the word in the pub that it’s inhabited,’ she said promptly. ‘Then with the security lights and burglar alarms functioning I’ll be fine.’
He shook his head. ‘Your decision. But I don’t like it.’
‘You don’t have to like it,’ she pointed out.
‘I know,’ he said morosely, and stood up. ‘Give me your mobile phone.’
‘Why?’
He held out an imperative hand.
Sarah took the phone from her holdall and handed it to him. ‘It’s charged and working,’ she assured him.
He keyed in some numbers. ‘Ring me anytime if you need me, or just feel worried,’ he ordered, handing it back. ‘Make sure you lock up behind me. Goodnight.’
Sarah glared, incensed, at the door he closed behind him. What earthly right did the man have to come ordering her about? Being fast-tracked to group vice-chairman so young had obviously gone to his head. Damn him for disrupting her life. The last thing she wanted was to move into one of the cottages. Until Alex Merrick had shown up tonight she’d been quite pleased with herself. The cottages were well on schedule, and she was likely to make a sizeable profit on the sale. But now she would have trouble sleeping tonight.
Next morning Sarah was waiting in the lane when Harry arrived. ‘Good morning. Could you do me a big favour?’
‘Depends, boss,’ he said, with a smile which would have surprised his cronies at the pub. ‘What do you want?’
She told him about Alex’s visit, and the reason for it. ‘I haven’t given much thought to security,’ she said, depressed. ‘So I’ll just have to move into number one for the time being. Will you cart my sofabed down here in the pick-up, please?’
‘No,’ said Harry, so flatly Sarah eyed him in dismay.
‘But, Harry, I’ll never sleep at the flat for thinking someone might be breaking in down here and wrecking the place.’
‘And you’ll sleep better here on your own? What good would a little thing like you do if someone did break in?’ he growled.
Sarah pushed her cap back on her head. ‘I’ll be straight with you, Harry, I can’t afford a security firm.’
He gave it some thought. ‘I’d offer to move in myself,’ he said at last, ‘but better I get Ian to sleep here, bring his dog.’
Her eyes lit up at the thought of the young giant who’d helped with the roofing. ‘Would Ian do it?’
‘Slip him a few quid and he’ll jump at it. He shares a bedroom with his kid brother at home, so he’ll be glad of some space for a bit. And he’s nearer to his current job here. You’ve got a kettle, and the fridge is working, so with his portable telly and Nero for company he’ll be in clover.’
‘We need to fetch my sofabed just the same, then.’
Harry laughed. ‘Ian’s six foot five in his socks, boss. He’d have your sofa in bits. He can bring his camping gear.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I’ll give him a ring when he’s on his break.’
‘And while you’re at it could you ask Peter Cox to spare us a minute some time today, to make sure the security lights and alarms are all working?’ said Sarah.
‘Stop worrying, boss. I’ll see to it all.’
Ian Sollers was only too happy to do a bit of easy moonlighting, as long as Miss Carver didn’t mind Josie coming round of an evening to watch telly with him.
‘The girlfriend,’ said Harry, reporting. ‘Nice kid, Josie.’ His lips twitched. ‘And if the youngsters get a bit wrapped up in themselves there’s always Nero to keep watch for intruders. He’s a German Shepherd, and a big lad—like his master.’
Once
