‘Name it,’ squeaked Anthony, working up a sweat.
‘You leave the piano.’
‘It’s yours,’ shot back Anthony. Hell, he’d throw in the pianist too, for what he was about to pocket! Dizzy with excitement, Anthony produced a document for the man’s signature at grease lightning. In the background a very angry Tabitha could be heard.
‘Daddy!’ she wailed, stamping her foot.
The ‘Mystery Man’ buying the Deville’s big, white house on the peninsula was the talk of Samphire Bay. All anybody knew about him was his name, Adam Sinclair, and that he currently had a residence in Central London. End of. Zilch.
Bunty had initially thought that the Grand & Country estate agency were being deliberately evasive in not divulging information. However, after talking to Anthony, she was beginning to comprehend just how enigmatic this Adam Sinclair was. There was no mistaking the sheer frustration in his voice.
‘I assure you, Ms Deville, I know practicallynothingabout him!’ he whined down the phone. ‘And believe me, I have tried my best.’
Bunty did believe him, knowing he’d be more curious than her to obtain any morsal of information going. But seemingly all Anthony’s attempts to further his knowledge had been in vain and he was as clueless as the rest of them. Anthony had only given Adam Sinclair’s address, which Bunty and Jasmine had looked up on google maps street view. They were in Jasmine’s studio, waiting with bated breath to get a good look.
‘Here we are,’ said Jasmine, homing in on the penthouse suite in Knightsbridge. They both leant forward, squinting to focus on the property.
‘Ve-rynice,’ remarked Bunty.
‘I know, a penthouse in Central London must be worth a fortune,’ Jasmine said.
A large roof terrace filled with greenery and a swimming pool overlooked Hyde Park and bustling Knightsbridge below.
‘Blimey, and to think he wants to give that up to live here in Samphire Bay,’ said Bunty in disbelief.
‘Who says he’s giving it up?’ Jasmine asked. ‘Maybe he’s buying your house as a holiday home.’
They stared at each other, mouths wide open.
‘How the other half live,’ muttered Bunty, still staring at the screen.
‘Did Emma not glean anything? He did seem quite taken with her,’ laughed Jasmine, remembering how he had shut Anthony up to listen to her play the piano.
‘Hmm, he did rather, didn’t he?’ Bunty chuckled. ‘But no, Emma says he just remarked on how well she played and asked her to sing that song.’
‘“Champagne Problems”, very intriguing,’ said Jasmine.
Meanwhile, next door, the very same man was on the lips of Robin and Jack.
‘Yeah, some flash guy turns up late and says he’ll “take it”, according to Jasmine,’ Robin told Jack.
They were in the garden, cutting the adjoining hedge after having mowed the lawn. The cottage was all ready for Bunty to move into and they were just tidying up the outside as a final job. Now that her house was sold, they had volunteered to transport the few pieces of furniture she was taking with her.
The vast majority of the furnishings were included in the sale of the house at Adam Sinclair’s request, being in keeping with the property. All Bunty was keeping were one or two personal items; her bed, her father’s bureau, her mother’s dressing table and a full-length mirror which had belonged to her grandmother, plus a couple of her father’s paintings. It would be a wrench to leave behind the stunning glass drinks cabinet she was so fond of (and had put to good use) but, as Robin had pointed out, she could always buy another. He and Jack had promised to keep their eyes open for one in the house clearance and reclamation sites they visited.
‘So, who is this flash Harry then?’ asked Jack.
‘Dunno,’ shrugged Robin.
‘What, nobody knows anything?’
‘Only that he’s rolling in it. Oh, and he’s tall, dark and handsome, apparently,’ Robin said dryly, making Jack laugh.
‘Is that according to Jasmine too?’ he asked with a sly smile.
‘Yeah,’ came the flat reply, making Jack laugh even harder.
‘I’m sure Jasmine only has eyes for you, mate,’ he teased, just as she came out of her studio.
