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Witchstone

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2018
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She had been unaware that Jake had left his acquaintances and come to stand by her chair. She looked up at him uncomprehendingly. ‘I thought you wanted to bid for the furniture,’ she whispered, in surprise.

‘Walter knows what I’m interested in,’ replied Jake, in low tones. ‘Don’t you, Walter?’

Walter Beswick got to his feet. ‘Of course. Are you leaving now?’

Jake nodded, flicking back his cuff and examining his watch. ‘It’s half past three. I don’t want to be too late back.’ He glanced meaningfully in Ashley’s direction.

Walter nodded understandingly, but Ashley got to her feet rather indignantly. ‘You don’t have to leave on my account,’ she declared.

Jake half smiled, his lean face disturbingly attractive. ‘Don’t I? That’s good to know.’

He patted Walter’s shoulder, and conveyed silent instructions, and Walter moved his head slowly up and down. ‘I’ll ring you tomorrow, Jake,’ he said. ‘About ten?’

‘Fine.’ Jake indicated that Ashley should precede him. ‘I’ll be seeing you.’

Walter smiled, his well-rounded face beaming. ‘You will. G’bye. G’bye, Ashley.’

‘Goodbye, Mr. Beswick.’ Ashley tried to appear coolly composed, but didn’t quite make it. She felt worse now than she had done at the start of their journey, and she was convinced that she was dragging Jake away from the sale at a time when he would have been most interested.

Outside, the cold air stung her cheeks, and she hurried across to the Ferrari, holding her coat collar closely about her throat. Jake unlocked the car doors and she quickly got inside, not even pausing to take off her coat as he did and throw it carelessly into the back. She sat hunched up in her seat, her knees together, her whole attitude emanating disapproval.

Jake closed his door and looked sideways at her. Then he sighed. ‘Now what’s wrong? You’re a very transparent creature, Ashley. You don’t make any attempt to hide your feelings, do you?’

Ashley tugged distractedly at the fingers of her suede gloves. ‘You know perfectly well what’s wrong,’ she exclaimed. ‘You’ve only left because of me. You said so.’

Jake shook his head. ‘I’ve left, as you put it, because I’ve had enough. I wanted to leave. Do you mind? I’d have thought you’d be dying of hunger by now. Did you think I was going to starve you?’

Ashley made an involuntary gesture. ‘But you haven’t bought anything!’

‘Haven’t I?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘I’m not dissatisfied with the way things have gone, so why should you be?’

‘Because if I wasn’t here, you would stay!’

‘Ashley, if you weren’t here, I shouldn’t have come,’ he stated disconcertingly, and left her to ponder on that as he started the car and drove smoothly out of the stone gateway.

The light was fading when Jake eventually pulled off the road into the car park of a large, well-lit building, which looked rather like a country house. He had driven fast down the motorway and she had begun to think that he was hoping to reach Bewford in time for an evening meal. The pangs of hunger had been stilled by the motion of the car, and she had her thoughts to occupy her.

The engine was switched off and Jake said: ‘Come on! I’m hungry. They do a damn good steak here.’

Ashley hesitated. ‘But ought we to stop?’ she questioned. ‘I thought you were in a hurry to get home.’

Jake sighed, somewhat impatiently. ‘You know, you’re the most argumentative female I know,’ he said, reaching for his coat. ‘Why should you imagine I was in a hurry to get home? Did I say so?’

‘No,’ she admitted. ‘But you drove fast down the motorway.’

‘I always drive fast on motorways—and besides, I’m hungry. Aren’t you?’

Ashley pressed her lips together, giving him a rather sheepish smile. ‘Ravenous!’

Jake shook his head, and thrust open his door, and realising he was not about to comment, she did likewise.

Frost was already glinting on the ground in places, but fortunately it was dry and there was little danger of the roads becoming icy. They walked across to the lighted entrance of the building, and as they walked, Jake explained:

‘This used to be a manor house, about twenty years ago. The chap who owns it went to school with my father. Unfortunately, his family ran into financial difficulties and money was pretty tight, and that was when Paul—that’s this fellow’s name—had this brilliant idea of turning the place into a sort of country club. They owned the land adjoining it, so now they provide golf and tennis, and swimming in the season.’


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