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don’t know where she is,’ she lied, ‘but she is fine now she’s away from you.’

      ‘What’s he saying?’ asked Fergus and Carly relayed the conversation. ‘Tell him to feck off,’ said Fergus.

      ‘I’ve tried that. You go down and see him.’

      ‘Dressed like this?’

      Carly shrugged; perhaps he would now see the benefits of getting dressed on a daily basis. She turned her attention back to Nick.

      ‘Nick, you can stand there till Christmas for all I care. You’re not coming in and I’ll never tell you where she is … even if I knew.’ She put down the entryphone. Nick stood and stared at the screen for a bit. She watched as he tried the door a couple of times and pressed the button again. Carly ignored it. Nick leaned on the button.

      Carly swore and then answered. ‘I’ll call the police.’

      ‘I need to speak to her.’ Nick’s voice had a harsh tone to it now.

      ‘Never going to happen.’

      ‘I will find her. I guarantee it,’ warned Nick as he stared into the monitor. Carly watched him, her heart racing. He gave the door one last try and then walked away.

      Fergus hugged Carly. ‘You okay?’

      ‘No, not really. Beth said he’d come looking for her. I think I’m starting to understand why she’s run so far away.’

      Beth woke early in the small twin room of the B&B and pulled the pink candlewick bedspread up to her chin. It was many years since she’d slept under sheets and although she’d heard stories of bedspreads this was her first. She plucked at it as she listened to Leo snoring lightly. She hadn’t slept much, her mind full of buyer’s remorse. What had seemed a wonderfully romantic and spontaneous act at the auction now seemed like the epitome of stupid. Despite the state of the cottage, she had had a good feeling when she stood in the back garden with Leo. But her plan of buying something, doing superficial restoration, some painting and decorating and then a flourish of interior design before moving on to the next property was not likely to work with Willow Cottage. It needed major renovations, shoring up most likely or possibly knocking down, and she didn’t know where to start.

      What was she doing? She was a Business Operations Manager. She knew about planning and executing efficiency strategies and adhering to compliance as well as how to cope in a male dominated world. She knew nothing about renovation and she feared the money she had would soon be gobbled up by this project. Most of her money was tied up in the London flat and discussing its sale with Nick was something she couldn’t face anytime soon. He had successfully blocked her access to their joint account so that didn’t leave her with much. Just thinking about him made her feel anxious.

      Leo stirred and Beth turned onto her side to look at him – her gorgeous boy. He had slept well. He seemed okay even though he was miles away from London but at least he was safe. Maybe everything wasn’t such a disaster after all.

      Beth was rethinking that statement later that day as yet another Morris dancer whooped towards her with a handkerchief and an exaggerated wink. Leo was dancing and laughing as if he was high on sugar, which he definitely wasn’t as Beth was fairly strict with both his sugar and fat intake. There had been lots of skipping about, banging of sticks and plenty of very repetitive music but it was quite jolly and Leo loved it. It was all a bit bonkers and quintessentially English, especially when it was performed on a village green.

      After a jacket potato for lunch in the hectically busy tearoom, where the unsmiling Maureen served them, Beth decided they should have another look at Willow Cottage. She was really hoping that her brain had exaggerated what she had seen yesterday and now in the full sunshine it wouldn’t be quite so bad. Beth was also keen to see if she could get a look inside because that might actually be better than the exterior would have her believe. With the lure of an apple, Beth persuaded Leo to come and have another look at the cottage. She liked the fact that she didn’t have to answer to Nick, she could do what she wanted here and even if Willow Cottage had been a stupidly impulsive decision, at least it was her own decision. The village was a hive of activity today and there were cars parked everywhere and slow-moving jolly people clogging up every inch. They mingled their way through and, as they reached the pub, someone called to them.

      ‘Yoo hoo! Hello!’ It was the small elderly lady with the wheelie trolley. Beth looked around but nobody else was acknowledging the woman so she assumed she must have been talking to her.

      ‘Hello again,’ said Beth, stopping and waiting for the woman to get to her.

      ‘Now, lovey, tell me again,’ she said, slightly puffed by the effort of the last few steps.

      ‘Sorry?’ said Beth totally confused.

      ‘I want to make sure I heard right. What was it you told me yesterday?’

      Beth raised an eyebrow, the bag lady was clearly quite potty, poor old soul. ‘I asked you where Willow Cottage was because I’ve recently bought it.’

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