that astrology stuff. It’s not just a room for stargazers, is it?’
‘It’s a room for whoever wants to stay in it,’ Robin replied sniffily. Neve’s influence on the room had collided with her thoughts about Will even though she’d known him for less than twelve hours, and that was after thinking that Tim’s return to her life was significant. She was going to wish she’d never picked cosmic destiny as part of the room’s inspiration – or at the very least she would have to do some research into how it worked, instead of believing every encounter with a person of the opposite sex had a special meaning.
‘Get you, Robin!’ Molly laughed. ‘You’ve already thought about it, haven’t you? I want all the details. What’s he like? What’s he going to do with the house, and on a scale of one to ten, how sexy is he?’
Robin sank back into Molly’s white leather sofa, wondering briefly if any of the grime from Tabitha’s house was still clinging to her and was about to upset the pristine simplicity of Groom with a View.
‘He’s nice,’ she started, noncommittally, ‘and his dog is adorable. I think he’s a bit overwhelmed by having to deal with Tabitha’s house on his own – I have no idea where the rest of her family is. If he’s her nephew, then she’s at least got a brother – or a sister who kept her own surname – somewhere.’
‘Unless they’re dead, and it’s all been left to Will.’
Robin tipped her head on one side, considering. ‘Possibly. Anyway, he’s not sure what to do with the house. He’s made noises about selling it, but I think he’s a long way off making that decision.’
‘So you have time, then.’ Molly made a few swift clicks with the mouse, and then joined Robin on the sofa.
‘Time for what?’
‘To get him to change his mind, to convince him not to sell.’
‘Why would I want to do that?’ Robin asked, although she knew what Molly was going to say, and she had a couple of reasons of her own that had nothing to do with Tim or Malcolm.
‘To protect Goldcrest Road, of course. God, Robin, haven’t you been paying attention to anyone? To Mrs Harris’s mad tirade, to Tim’s blue-eyed, weaselly charisma.’
‘That’s not how you described him last night!’
‘Oh come on, he’s gorgeous, but we both know he has his sights fixed firmly on number four. If Will’s there dealing with his aunt’s stuff, all vulnerable and confused, Tim’s going to pick him off like a duck at a fairground. We need to launch a campaign, and you need to be at the heart of it, because you’ve already wormed your way in. He’s in your guesthouse, under your roof, drinking your tea.’
Robin pressed her fingers to her lips. ‘I offered to help him with Tabitha’s house,’ she murmured. ‘Why did I do that? I don’t have the time.’
‘There you go, then,’ Molly said triumphantly. ‘You’re already doing it. You’re in the perfect place to prove to Mr Nightingale just how great Campion Bay is, and that Tabitha’s house, once it’s been put right, is an ideal second home for him – or first home – whatever.’ She sipped her tea and beamed at Robin.
‘Why do you care so much?’
‘Because I’m here too, silly. I don’t want Tim turning this place into some swanky seafront apartment building, or a bloody Costa Coffee.’
‘Even if you end up with lots more rich clients on your doorstep?’
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