Robin stood back and admired his and Jack’s handiwork. It had been a great idea to knock the dividing wall down and create the large kitchen diner. The wood burner at the far end really finished the room off nicely.
Whilst pleased with the progress he and Jack were making on the property, Robin was still in a state of anxiety. He needed to talk to Jasmine – and fast. Now that the police had all the information regarding Adrian Hall’s van, he knew time was of the essence. Being absolutely convinced that he’d found Tom Boyd’s killer, he felt the need to forewarn Jasmine so that, when the police suddenly turned up, she wasn’t shocked or triggered by memories of them calling in the past.
Knowing he had to broach the subject with hypersensitive care, Robin thought carefully about where, when and how to have the conversation. This was potentially going to have a catastrophic effect on Jasmine and, once again, he became very aware of his feelings for her and just how protective he felt. Yes, he could tell Jack he was merely being neighbourly and try to disguise his true emotions, but he couldn’t kid himself, could he?
Robin was slowly coming to terms that Jasmine had most definitely got under his skin. His thoughts permanently gravitated back to her and flashbacks of their time together forever played in his mind. But this wasn’t just any woman he could make a move on. Jasmine was a vulnerable, young widow. He was reminded of how her hand frequently reached up to touch that heart pendant she wore. Was he wrong to want a dead man’s wife?
As if on cue, his thoughts were interrupted by Jasmine herself tapping on the window.
‘Hi!’ she called through the glass.
‘Come in, door’s open,’ he mouthed, thumbing towards the back door.
She soon joined him in the kitchen diner.
‘Wow! This looks amazing!’ she exclaimed as soon as she saw the new space.
‘Yeah, I’m quite pleased with the result.’ Robin nodded modestly.
‘Quite pleased? You should be ecstatic, it’s fantastic.’ She laughed and Robin looked into her warm, brown eyes and melted. Was he about to change all this? Would those gorgeous eyes soon be filled with tears? He gulped.
‘You OK?’ Jasmine asked, puzzled by his expression.
Robin inwardly shook himself. ‘Yeah, fine.’
‘Right, well, I’ve seen Bunty,’ she said positively.
‘Ah, good,’ he replied.
‘And is Saturday night good for you?’
‘Yes, that’s great.’
‘That’s settled then. Bunty’s looking forward to it.’ She hesitated, as though wanting to say something further. Now Robin frowned, sensing an awkward pause.
‘Robin…?’
‘Yeah?’
‘If–if you thought you had information… important knowledge concerning someone… would you…’ She stalled again.
‘Would I what?’ asked Robin, suddenly beginning to feel alarmed. Had she got wind of his dilemma? Did she know exactly what was on his mind?
‘Would you tell them?’ she finished, staring at him intently.
Robin let out a nervous sigh and ran a hand through his dark curls.
‘I think so,’ he answered cautiously.
‘Yes, I thought you’d say that,’ Jasmine said, sounding somewhat reassured.
‘Can I ask what the information is?’ Robin asked tentatively.
Jasmine blew out a breath. ‘It’s about Bunty.’
‘Bunty?’ Robin was surprised but, in equal measure, relieved.
‘Hmm, those photographs were spread out on a table when I went to visit her. They’re obviously precious to her. She looked so sentimental about them, even told me the man’s name.’
