anything.’
Phoebe walked ahead of him down to the hall. ‘You don’t think there’s a chance Cindy will turn up?’
‘I know she won’t,’ he said grimly. ‘You were quite right. She’s in hospital—and the boyfriend too. I’ve just been on to the casualty department at Westcombe. They had an accident on the bike—hurrying back for Tara, apparently.’
Phoebe gasped. ‘Are they badly hurt?’
‘Tom ligaments for him, and a broken collarbone for her. It could have been very much worse. I’ll call in there after I’ve dropped you off, with a dose of unpleasant medicine for the pair of them.’
She said quickly, ‘Don’t be too angry with her, please. She’ll know how stupid she’s been, and be feeling really bad about it. And anger’s such an awful thing—when you’re frightened and ashamed, any way...’ Her voice tailed into silence.
‘Well,’ he said at last. ‘That was certainly a cry from the heart.’ He held out her coat for her. ‘Do I really seem so formidable?’
‘I—I was speaking generally.’ Phoebe slid her arms into the sleeves and began to fumble with the buttons.
‘Were you?’ His grey gaze was searching. ‘I’d have said you had something very particular in mind, and—’
To her intense relief, his analysis was interrupted by a sharp peal of the doorbell.
Dominic Ashton’s brows rose. ‘Now, who can this be?’ he said, half to himself.
He went to the door and threw it open.
‘Darling.’ The woman who swept in with immense assurance was tall, with pale blonde hair swept back by a velvet Alice band. Her wine-coloured cape swirled around her. ‘Mummy and Daddy are having an impromptu drinks party—such fun—and—’ she gave a girlish laugh ‘—they’ve sent me over to scoop you up.’
Now that, thought Phoebe, her own troubles forgotten in sudden relish, is something I’d really like to see. Dominic Ashton didn’t seem a man who’d ‘scoop’ easily.
He said courteously, ‘Good evening, Hazel. That’s very kind of you all, but I’m afraid I’m not available tonight. We’ve had a slight domestic crisis.’
‘Oh, dear.’ The newcomer’s rather prominent blue eyes focused on Phoebe, taking in her ordinary appearance and the elderly waxed jacket she was wearing. ‘Have I arrived at an awkward moment? Are you in the process of firing a member of your staff? I can wait in the car till you’ve finished.’
‘No,’ Dominic said pleasantly. ‘Actually that’s not it. This is Phoebe Grant, who doesn’t work for me in any capacity. Miss Grant, may I introduce you to Hazel Sinclair, who’s the daughter of some neighbours of mine?’
Phoebe murmured, ‘How do you do?’ and, in return, was given a bright smile which revealed very white teeth.
‘All the better to eat you with, Grandma,’ she said under her breath.
The social niceties concluded, Hazel Sinclair returned to her prey. ‘So what’s the problem, my pet? Is there anything I can do to help?’
He shook his head. ‘I doubt it. Tara’s nanny’s made rather a fool of herself and ended up in hospital.’
‘Oh, these ghastly girls.’ She flung her hands in the air. ‘I really don’t know how anyone copes with them. And I have to say she always did seem rather—flighty to me. Now, what you want is an older woman, a nanny of the old school, who’d keep a firm hand on poor little Tara.’
‘Is that what you think she needs?’ Dominic asked mildly.
‘All small girls do, my dear.’ She tapped him roguishly on the arm. ‘Especially charmers like your Tara, who can twist their fathers round their little fingers. She’s a delight, but you must be careful not to—overcompensate for the fact you’re a one-parent family.’
‘I am aware of that,’ he said, a touch drily. ‘I thought until an hour or so ago that I’d got the balance about right. Until Miss Grant arrived to correct me, that is.’
‘Oh, really?’ Phoebe found herself subjected to a somewhat sharper scrutiny. ‘Are you some kind of social worker, then?’
‘No,’ Phoebe said. ‘I’m a waitress at the Clover Tea Rooms, in Westcombe.’
‘I see.’ Hazel Sinclair clearly didn’t. She gave a silvery laugh. ‘It’s not an establishment I’m familiar with, I have to say. Is it one of your haunts, Dominic? It doesn’t sound very likely.’
‘It isn’t,’ he said briefly. ‘But Tara likes it, apparently.’ He paused. ‘I don’t want to seem ungracious, Hazel, but I was just about to run Miss Grant back to Westcombe and then visit the hospital.’
‘Of course. I must be getting back myself. The first guests will be arriving.’ She smiled at him dazzlingly. ‘If you’ve time when you’ve completed all your errands of mercy, call round. So many people want to welcome you back after all this time. Besides, it’s essential for you not to be a hermit.’
‘I think I can promise that.’ He took the hand she’d archly extended and dropped a quick kiss on it. ‘Tonight just isn’t on, Hazel, but I’ll ring you next week and we’ll have dinner.’
‘I’ll hold you to that, darling.’ She bestowed a distinctly less radiant look on Phoebe. ‘Good night, Miss—er...?’
‘Grant,’ Phoebe supplied helpfully. ‘Clover Tea Rooms. Home-baking a speciality.’
As he closed the front door behind Hazel Dominic Ashton turned back to Phoebe with a wintry look.
‘You’re not quite as demure as you look, are you, Miss Grant?’
‘I don’t understand.’ Phoebe returned the look. ‘Is there a problem?’
There was a brief, oddly pregnant silence, then he said slowly, still staring at her, ‘Do you know, Miss Grant? I think there might be. I really think there might.’
He sighed, swiftly and sharply. ‘So—shall we go now?’
‘Please,’ said Phoebe. And thought, The sooner, the better.
CHAPTER THREE
IT WAS a largely silent journey. Dominic Ashton seemed lost in thought as he expertly threaded his powerful four-wheel drive through the lanes.
And Phoebe, sitting with her hands clenched tightly in her lap, was far too uncomfortably aware of his physical proximity to be capable of producing any intelligent topic of conversation to fill the void.
‘Only six weeks until Christmas,’ and, ‘Do you think we’ll have snow before New Year?’ were all she could think of, and she instantly discarded both of them. Silence was preferable to total banality.
‘Whereabouts in Westcombe?’ he eventually asked abruptly as they approached the outskirts.
‘You
