‘So how did your day go?’
She had been about to say, ‘Really well, thank you,’ but in the dark of the back of the car she found herself saying, ‘Not as well as I’d hoped.’
‘Oh?’
‘Noneof the pubs I tried – where I used to work, for example – wanted soft cheese. And the big supplier in Fitzrovia really wants a hard cheese, too. I’m fairly sure I could learn to make that, but where? The buildings on the farm would cost a lot to bring up to hygienic standards. I don’t have the capital.’
He didn’t answer for a few minutes. Fran watched the hedgerows passing, looking out for signposts to give her clue of how near home she was.
‘Look, why don’t you come back to mine for some supper? I’ll run you back afterwards. We need to talk.’
‘Do we? Aren’t we talking now?’
‘We are, but we need to talk more seriously.’
‘OK. I mean, that would be nice. I think.’
‘You’re not sure?’
‘No. When people say “we need to talk” it usually means they’re going to sack you or break up with you. Although obviously, not in this case.’
‘Then why the doubts?’
‘I think you know,’ she said quietly. Maybe Antony had somehow forgotten that as far as she was concerned, he was the enemy. And if she liked him – he was quite kind – it didn’t make her hobnobbing with him any more acceptable. Not really.
Seb drove them up the driveway to Antony’s house, which Fran had been longing to see, but would havepreferredto do it in daylight. Still, there were a number of security lights, which helped.
It was, she had concluded before they’d even stopped in front of the door, not to her taste. If she had the millions she assumed he had, she’d have had a gorgeous period property, not this fifties-style house, which seemed designed to show off wealth rather than taste.
Pleased she could dismiss his house so easily, she got out of the car with a certain amount of grace.
‘Was there any cheese left?’ asked Seb, retrieving the cool boxes from the boot.
‘No. It all went.’ Fran was quite pleased about this. No one really wanted to buy her cheese but at least they were happy to eat it.
‘Oh, shame,’ he said. ‘I was hoping to try some.’
Fran felt awful. Seb had been so kind to her. ‘Next batch, I’ll bring some over. Which kind do you particularly like?’
‘Any of them. And when you do get round to making Cheddar, I love that!’
She smiled. ‘You’ll be the first to have some, if and when I ever manage to make it.’
‘Thanks. I’ll make sure you don’t forget.’
By the time Seb was walking back down the drive to his cottage, Antony had opened the door. ‘Come in. Now, would you like a proper drink? I’ve been overdosing on coffee all day and could do with a little alcohol.’
Franmight have had two strong cocktails with Issi but she didn’t think tea would be enough of a prop to take her through a conversation she suspected was going to be awkward. He was going to offer her help and she would have to refuse.
‘I’ll have what you’re having.’
‘Good choice. Then let’s go through to the sitting room. The wood burner should be going.’
The sitting room wasn’t cosy. It had very high ceilings and a lot of panelling. The fireplace was surrounded by small red bricks and reminded Fran of her doll’s house, which had been her mother’s. It was fine in a doll’s house, she concluded, but not so good full-sized.
‘Do sit down.’ Antony gestured to the huge leather sofas that were pulled up near the wood burner.
‘How come your fire is lit when you’ve been away all day?’ she asked.
