the front door he paused to look down at her. ‘Take good care of yourself, Anna. Tom told me you developed pneumonia because you went back to work too soon after a dose of flu.’
Her eyes flashed. ‘Tom should mind his own business!’
‘As a brother and a doctor,’ he drawled, ‘I imagine he feels that your health is his business.’
‘True, but it’s very definitely not yours, Ryder Wyndham—or should I say Squire and pull my forelock?’
‘By all means if you want to, Anna,’ he said, infuriating her, and fixed her with a glacial blue look. ‘Tom told me you’d been ill for the simple reason that he wanted me to keep an eye on you. Here’s my mobile number. Call me if you need anything.’
‘How kind. But I won’t,’ she assured him, and held the door open wide.
‘Keep the card anyway.’ Ryder nodded casually and went down the path to the Land Rover waiting at the gate.
CHAPTER TWO
ANNA heard from her father before he began evening surgery. ‘What’s up, Dad?’ she said, surprised. ‘I thought you were ringing tonight.’
‘I just couldn’t wait that long to give you my news, darling—’
‘Hold on. Before you start, I’ve got news for you too. Ryder says Gramp bought the cottage from the estate years ago. Did you know about that?’
‘No—at least not until this morning. Father left the cottage to you, Anna.’
She sat down with a thump on one of the kitchen chairs. ‘What?’
‘You get the cottage, and he put a sum of money equal to its value in trust for Tom and me. Old Fanshawe’s a dry old stick, but he had a twinkle in his eye when he told me my father had been playing the stock market for years. The old devil. He let me assume that the estate was paying for the work on the cottage. And all the time he was turning it into a desirable property to leave to you. He made it over to you years ago, Anna. Are you still there?’
‘Just about,’ she said faintly.
‘I’m having trouble taking it in too,’ admitted John Morton. ‘I had no idea Father had so much money to leave. But I wish he’d left it differently, instead of landing you with the responsibility of the house.’
‘Knowing Gramp, he had his reasons, Dad.’
‘He obviously expected you to sell it.’
Anna looked round her with assessing eyes. ‘I’m not so sure about that. He knew how much I loved the place, so maybe he thought I’d live here.’
‘You can’t commute to London, Anna!’
‘True. But it would be a perfect weekend retreat for all three of us.’
‘That hardly seems fair.’
‘What does Tom say about it?’
‘I haven’t told him yet.’ John Morton’s voice softened. ‘Now, forget about the will for a minute—how do you feel, darling?’
‘Thunderstruck.’
‘I mean physically.’
Anna thought about it. ‘Is a sudden yearning for bacon sandwiches a good sign?’
‘Excellent. But I didn’t buy any bacon for you.’
‘It’s a fine afternoon. I’ll drive down to the village shop.’
‘Good idea. Buy plenty of milk and fresh fruit too. Take care of yourself, pet. I’ll ring you tomorrow.’
Anna put on the ancient sheepskin jacket always kept in her wardrobe at Keeper’s and went out to the car, delighted by the idea of her grandfather playing the stock market. Good for him, she thought proudly as she drove through cold late afternoon sunshine.
Anna left the village stores later with a bag full of shopping and a head buzzing with condolences and local news, but arrived home with a proud sense of achievement because she’d managed it all without feeling exhausted. Her own home, she reminded herself in triumph. Keeper’s Cottage was now officially her very own property, all signed and sealed. She couldn’t wait to tell Clare.
Clare Saunders was an attractive forty-year-old divorcee, who owned a flat bought with her share of the proceeds when her marriage to a fellow journalist came to an end. The two women had met at a party and took to each other on sight—so much so that when Clare heard Anna was in sudden need for somewhere to live she suggested they try sharing for a month to see how it worked out. It worked out so well that John and Tom Morton soon looked on Clare as an extra member of the family.
With no chance of talking to her friend until Clare got home from work that evening, Anna settled down with a book for the daily rest her father had insisted on as part of her recovery programme. But excitement over her windfall made it hard to rest and even harder to concentrate on the written word. Her mouth tightened. A shame she hadn’t known all this sooner. There would have been no need to coax Ryder Wyndham to let her stay here. Though at one time that would have posed no problem at all. As he’d reminded her, they’d been good friends when they were young.
She gave up on her book and leaned back, her mind on the past. She’d spent almost every school holiday here with Tom after their mother died. Hector Morton had been only too pleased to look after his grandchildren, ready to give any help he could to his grieving, hard-working doctor son. He’d kept a watchful, tolerant eye on Anna and Tom as they roamed the estate with Ryder. Edward Wyndham, the eldest son, was several years Ryder’s senior and, as heir to the estate, too involved in helping his father run it to have time for siblings. Dominic had surprised everyone, not least his parents, by appearing on the scene when Ryder was thirteen and Anna ten.
But five years after that everything changed for Anna.
The Wyndhams gave a party to celebrate Ryder’s eighteenth birthday and, to her wild excitement, Anna received a formal invitation. John Morton bought her the dress of her dreams and Hector drove her to the Manor that night, proud as Punch of his granddaughter. Anna received a warm welcome from all the family, but felt shy as she was introduced to the other guests. The boys were friendly, but the girls ignored her. They were sophisticated creatures, with long hair and strapless satin dresses, and the moment she laid eyes on them Anna found that her new elfin haircut and pastel chiffon party frock were all wrong. For the first time in her life she was conscious of the social gulf which yawned between Anna Morton from Keeper’s Cottage and Ryder Wyndham from the Manor. His mother, unfailingly kind as always, made sure that her youngest guest never lacked for partners when the disco music started thumping out in the marquee, but once supper was over Anna couldn’t get away fast enough. She thanked her hostess and, with the excuse that her grandfather was waiting for her, slipped away, desperate to go home.
But Ryder went racing after her and when he found that Hector’s old shooting brake was nowhere in sight, drove her home in the sports car he’d been given for his birthday. He’d laughingly demanded a goodnight kiss for taxi fare, the first they’d ever exchanged, and with a careless wave drove back to the party, leaving Anna to stand at the gate gazing after him in a daze. To Ryder the kiss had so obviously meant nothing more than an affectionate
