‘Staff,’ he said ruefully. ‘And the housekeeper will have left supper, too. There will be enough for both of us. I’ll heat it up and we can have it in here. The dining room is a bit gloomy and will be cold.’ He handed her a tumbler half full of a golden liquid. ‘It’s my favourite single malt. I hope you like it.’
She waited until he had revved up the fire, put on another log, and sat down before she sipped. ‘It’s delicious. Smoky. Strong.’
‘I know. I think we need it. It’s been a long day.’
‘Did your day not go well, either?’
‘Itwent fine. I just don’t much like being in London. Well, I don’t mind it sometimes, but today was all work.’
‘Shall we get the “having a word with” over with?’ suggested Fran. ‘Otherwise it’ll be hanging over me.’
‘You don’t want to eat first? I’m starving myself. Everything seems more daunting if you’re hungry.’
‘It seems more daunting because you’re putting it off!’ said Fran.
He chuckled. ‘It really isn’t. There – that was the microwave. Drink your whisky and I’ll bring through our supper.’
Considering they didn’t really know each other and eating off one’s lap was usually only something you did with close friends, Fran did find herself relaxing. The sofas (they had one each) were very comfortable, if rather unattractive. He handed her a plate of beef stew and mashed potatoes with green beans and set a glass of red wine on the coffee table in front of her.
As she wasn’t looking forward to the ‘we must talk’ part of the evening she decided to hold it off with light conversation, also known as nosy questioning, while she ate.
‘Have you lived here long?’ she asked.
‘All my life, on and off. My grandfather bought the farm and had this house built.’
‘It’s very – grand.’
Helaughed. ‘It’s the vision of a man who made his money quite quickly and wanted to show it all off. Not really my taste but it’s home.’
‘You could have it all extensively remodelled,’ said Fran, thinking that was what she would do if she had as much money as he seemed to have.
‘I could but I can’t quite face the upheaval and don’t know exactly what I’d do to replace it all.’
‘You’d get a good designer to do that,’ Fran said, sipping her wine and thinking how delicious it was.
‘There’s still the upheaval.’
‘Yes, well, you’d have to go on an extended holiday to get away from it all.’
‘Which I’m not likely to do.’
‘But you said you liked it down here? Living in the country, I mean. Why don’t you make your living space nicer?’
Antony shrugged. ‘It’s OK. It’s comfortable. Now, enough quizzing about interior-decoration choices, I want to talk about you.’
Just for a second Fran allowed herself to imagine what it would be like if he really wanted to talk about her and not Hill Top Farm. It was a pleasant second, she acknowledged, and then she snapped back into reality.
‘OK,’ she said cautiously.
‘I know you don’t want my help. I know that Amy has said I’m a bad person who only wants togetmy greedy hands on her little corner of heaven – and some of that is true.’
‘Which part?’ Fran couldn’t help this little dig.
‘I really do want to get my hands on your little corner of heaven,’ he said smiling, yet serious. ‘But I’m not a bad man. I just think you’ve been given a task that’s very hard indeed for anyone who hasn’t a huge amount of experience or capital.’
‘That’s probably true, but I have been given the task. I have accepted it. I have to do my absolute best.’
‘That’s great! I really admire that. But will you please accept a little help?’
