need some cash up front.’
Pulling out a cheque book and putting it on the desk, Carrington suggested, ‘Say ten thousand?’
‘Ten thousand will do fine.’
Dave’s voice was casual, but Eleanor knew it was a great deal more than he had expected.
The financier wrote the cheque and passed it to him, before asking, ‘You have some transport?’
‘Yes, we have our own van. All we need are a few directions so we can find the place.’
‘When you reach Dunton Otterly, take the road to Little Meldon. Greyladies is about half a mile south of there.
‘Simply follow the main street through the village, and carry on until you come to Grave Lane on the left. The entrance to the manor is about five-hundred yards down the lane, on the right.’
‘Got it.’
‘You’ll see a gatehouse and some tall, wrought-iron gates. Jackson will open them for you.’
Slipping his cheque book and pen into an inside pocket, Robert Carrington rose to his feet.
Dave stood up too, clearly intending to shake hands across the desk, but the older man gave him a perfunctory nod, and held out his hand to Eleanor.
Each time he’d touched her it had been like a small electric shock, but seeing no alternative, she braced herself and took it.
A mocking gleam in his eye, he said, ‘Thank you for your time, Miss Smith. I do hope you think it’s been worth it?’
He was as smoothly abrasive as pumice stone, she thought vexedly.
Without waiting for an answer, he released her hand and moved to the door. ‘I’ll expect you both sometime tomorrow afternoon.’ He sketched an ironic salute, and was gone.
Feeling limp, totally wrung out, Eleanor stood and listened to his footsteps receding down the uncarpeted stars.
‘Well done, kiddo!’ Dave flourished the cheque. ‘How did you manage to persuade him?’
‘I didn’t persuade him,’ she admitted.
‘So what did you have to promise him?’
‘Nothing. The only thing he seemed set on, was that we should stay at Greyladies.’
His ill-humour returning, he said resentfully, ‘Well I hope he’s damn well satisfied. It’s going to be hell stuck in the country in some crumbling old manor house.’
Dave hated the country, she knew. He always said it got on his nerves. A city boy through and through, he was only really happy when there were pavements beneath his feet and a snooker hall handy.
‘We’ll no doubt be relegated to the servants’ quarters and forced to eat with the staff…’ He pulled a face. ‘But as that’s what his lordship’s insisting on, we don’t have much choice.’
‘Can you make a guess as to how long the job might take?’ she asked.
‘A couple of weeks… If he’s paying really well, I might even stretch it to three.’
‘Three weeks?’ She couldn’t keep the dismay out of her voice.
Presuming her objection to be dislike of the country, the same as his, he said, ‘Don’t worry, I have every intention of coming back to town at the weekends. We can charge the petrol to his lordship.
‘Now I’d better get this little beauty paid into our account before the bank closes.’ Thrusting the cheque into his pocket, he added, ‘I can’t wait to see the manager’s face, after the way the snooty git talked to me this morning.’
‘Dave, you will be…polite, won’t you,’ she asked anxiously. ‘After all, we did have a cheque that bounced.’
‘That was yesterday. Today we’re riding high with ten thousand in the black.’
‘But we still owe Greenlees—’
‘Don’t worry about Greenlees. I’ll call in and explain the situation, give them a post-dated cheque they can cash as soon as Carrington’s is cleared.’
He went to fetch his coat. Looking in at the door on his way back, he said, ‘I reckon we’ve earned an early night, so I’m off home as soon as I’ve sorted that little lot.’
‘I thought perhaps we could go out later? Maybe have a meal somewhere?’
‘Sorry, kiddo. I’ve promised to play snooker with Tony and the boys. Pick you up tomorrow about three o’clock. I’ll give you a toot, so be ready. Love ya.’
A moment later he was gone, leaving her standing gazing blankly at the closed door.
Surely, if he really loved her, he wouldn’t always put “Tony and the boys” first?
But it wasn’t just a case of putting his friends first, she admitted dismally, apart from when they were working, he never seemed to want to spend any time with her….
Time…
All thoughts of Dave were abruptly driven out of her mind as once again she heard Robert Carrington’s deep voice saying with mocking emphasis, “Thank you for your time, Miss Smith. I do hope you think it’s been worth it?”
Though the time spent in his company had been anything but comfortable, and she had managed, in one way or another, to make a complete fool of herself, she couldn’t deny that it had been worth it.
After all, they had been given a job they badly needed, and a substantial cash advance to take them out of the red.
She should be vastly relieved, and of course she was. But some still small voice warned that nothing would ever be quite the same again. That just his entry into her life had shifted the balance and changed it in some fundamental way.
She felt a bit like Faust, as though she had sold her soul to the devil to get this job. Oh, don’t be a fool! she told herself crossly. All she had done was fail to correct Robert Carrington’s lie.
If she’d put his back up by saying she hadn’t agreed to stay at Greyladies, instead of having a job to look forward to, Smith and Benson might well be finished as a business.
And not only finished, but in debt.
Robert Carrington’s visit had changed everything, made all the difference. Not only to the business, but to her personally.
That was the rub, the reason for her malaise. His effect on her had been so potent that mingled with the relief was dismay and agitation, an alarming feeling that he had somehow breached her defences.
While Dave always seemed to be retreating from her like an ebb tide, Robert Carrington had swept in and swamped her, got inside her head.
She shivered. Then making a determined effort to put her inner turmoil aside, she went to fetch her mac and bag.
As
