interest.
Harriet nodded. ‘She chose me as her accountant because of the school connection.’
‘Never mind all that,’ said Aubrey impatiently. ‘What has this woman to do with our problem?’
‘She’s a professional location agent, working with people who hire out their houses as venues for films, PR events, commercial photo shoots, and so on,’ Harriet told him, human enough to feel satisfaction when his jaw dropped.
‘You’re actually suggesting I let a film crew stampede all over my home?’ he said, aghast.
‘If they find it suitable for their purposes, yes.’
Sophie’s eyes shone. ‘How exciting!’
Julia eyed Harriet with respect. ‘Actually it’s a brilliant idea. You can charge big bucks for just a day’s filming. And I can be of help in this way. I could get my people to do a shoot here, put out feelers in other directions, too.’
‘Great idea.’ Harriet turned back to her father. ‘Of course, as an alternative, you could stay with Miriam and let the entire house out for the summer.’
‘God forbid,’ he said in horror. ‘Miriam and I would kill each other in days.’
‘Then you have no option,’ said Harriet briskly. ‘I can take a room in town while the house is in use, and you can move into the Lodge, Father.’
Julia nodded thoughtfully. ‘The gardens alone would be a huge draw. Dress designers would salivate over this place—models gazing through the wisteria on the veranda, or draped over the balcony outside my bedroom.’
‘And mine,’ echoed Sophie.
Harriet looked at her father. ‘So what’s your answer?’
His mouth twisted. ‘You’ve already decided for me.’
‘Shall I put the idea to the vote?’
‘Unnecessary,’ said Julia crisply. ‘It’s a three to one majority.’
Her father sighed, defeated. ‘Oh, very well, I’ll make it unanimous, but on condition that when these people rampage over the house you stay in the Lodge to keep an eye on them, Harriet. I’ll find somewhere in town. And now, Sophie,’ he added in a different tone, ‘I suggest you help Julia clear the dining room and load the dishwasher.’ He waited until they left the room, then turned to Harriet. ‘You really think this will work?’
She nodded. ‘It must work. The roof is the top priority. I checked with Ed.’
‘Why not with me?’
‘Because you turn a blind eye to what you don’t want to see!’
He sighed. ‘You’ve changed such a lot, Harriet.’
She shook her head. ‘You just haven’t noticed before.’
‘I notice more than you realise,’ he said bleakly, ‘including why you refuse to live here at home with me.’
Harriet was relieved when her sisters’ reappearance put a welcome end to the tense silence which followed her father’s statement. Soon afterwards, Sophie drove home, and Harriet retreated thankfully to the Lodge without mentioning that someone was already interested in taking River House over for a project. It had seemed best to get her father used to the idea before hitting him with the first punter right away.
But instead of concentrating on a workable solution to the problem of River House’s finances, Harriet’s mind kept returning to the past once she was in bed. Over the years she had trained herself to forget that James Crawford existed, but running into him earlier had brought back that long ago idyllic summer so vividly that sleep was impossible.
The Lodge, once occupied by Margaret before her marriage to John Rogers, had been empty when Harriet announced at fifteen that she wanted to take it over to study there in peace. In return for her father’s permission she’d promised to take care of it herself. She was at her desk there one hot summer morning a few years later when her computer crashed. A frantic phone call to the local suppliers brought quick response in the shape of a tall young technician with shaggy black hair and bright hazel eyes which lit up with gratifying pleasure at the sight of her.
‘Hi. I’m from Combe Computers,’ he said in deep gravel tones which sent shivers down her spine.
Harriet smiled shyly and showed him into the small sitting room she’d made into a study. She gestured to the computer on the desk. ‘Can you do anything with it?’
‘I’ll do my best, Miss Wilde.’
‘Harriet.’
‘James.’ He smiled. ‘James Crawford.’
She curled up on the window seat to watch as he set to work, impressed by his skill as he took the machine apart.
‘It’s the mother board,’ he announced after a while, and opened his bulging black bag. ‘I’ll fit a new one. It won’t take long.’
He was right. Far too soon for Harriet, the computer was up and running and James Crawford was ready to leave.
‘I can’t thank you enough,’ she said warmly as she saw him to the door. ‘I was tearing my hair out before you came.’
‘A crime with hair like yours!’ He smiled down at her in the tiny porch. ‘Do you work in the evenings, too?’
‘Sometimes.’
‘How about taking time off to come out for a drink tonight?’
‘Yes,’ she said promptly.
His smile sent her brain reeling. ‘I like a woman who knows her own mind. I’ll pick you up at seven.’
‘No, thanks,’ she said hastily. ‘I’ll meet you. Where?’
From that first night in a small pub far enough from the town to give them anonymity, they’d found an immediate rapport. Unknown to Aubrey Wilde and Miriam Cairns, or to Sophie, who was away in France for the summer with her best friend’s family, they spent every moment possible together from that night on. If questioned on her whereabouts, Harriet enlisted the willing help of a friend, and lied shamelessly that she was making the most of her time with Anne during her vacation. As the time drew near for Harriet to leave for her second year at university the prospect of parting grew so painful James came up with the idea of sharing a flat near the college for the duration of her course.
‘I can freelance, and still be on call for the firm,’ he assured her. ‘Most important of all, we can be together.’
Harriet had agreed rapturously, willing to defy her father on her own account when it came to living with the man she loved, but in the end afraid to risk ruin to James Crawford’s career when Aubrey Wilde’s threats sounded the death knell to the plan.
CHAPTER TWO
HARRIET woke next morning with dark-ringed eyes which needed serious work with camouflage before
