The Sculptress Part 33

"My word's my bond," she a.s.sured him.

"If I say I'm going to do something I always do it."

He stood up, letting the file fall open on the desk.

"Then I'll phone our Swanage branch," he told her.

"You will have to collect the key from them."

"Thank you." She waited until his back was turned, then swung the file round and jotted down the Clarkes' address on her pad. Salisbury, she noted.

A few minutes later Matt resumed his seat and gave her a map of Swanage with Peterson's estate agency marked with a cross.

"Mr. Richards is expecting you at three o'clock." With a lazy flick of his hand he closed the Clarkes' file.

"I trust you will find your dealings with him as mutually satisfactory as you have found your dealings with me."

Roz laughed.

"And I hope I don't, or I shall be considerably poorer by this evening."

Roz approached the Poacher by the alleyway at the back and knocked on the kitchen door.

"You're early," said Hal, opening it.

"I know, but I have to be in Swanage by three and if I don't leave fairly soon I won't make it. Have you any customers?"

He gave her a withering smile.

"I haven't even bothered to open up."

She chose to ignore the sarcasm.

"Then come with me," she said.

"Forget this place for a few hours."

He didn't exactly jump at the invitation.

"What's in Swanage?"

She handed him the details of Bayview.

"A "des. res." overlooking the sea. I've committed myself to looking at it and I could do with some moral support or I might end up buying the wretched thing."

"Then don't go."

"I have to. It's by way of a quid pro quo," she said obliquely.

"Come with me," she urged, *and say no whenever I look like saying yes.

I'm a sucker for a soft sell and I've always wanted to live on a cliff by the sea and own a dog and go beach combing He looked at the price.

"Can you afford it?" he asked curiously.

"Just about."

"Rich lady," he said.

"Writing is obviously very profitable."

"Hardly. That was by way of a pay-off."

"Pay-off for what?" he asked, his eyes veiled.

"It's not important."

"Nothing ever is in your life."

She shrugged.

"So you don't want to come? Ah, well, it was only a thought. I'll go on my own." She looked lonely suddenly.

He glanced behind him towards the restaurant, then abruptly reached his jacket off the back of the door.

"I'il come," he told her, *but I'm d.a.m.ned if I'll say no. It sounds like paradise, and the second best piece of advice my mother ever gave me was never get between a woman and what she wants." He pulled the door to and locked it.

"And what was the best piece of advice?"

He dropped a casual arm across her shoulders could she really be as lonely as she looked? The thought saddened him and walked her up the alleyway.

"That happiness is no laughing matter."

She gave a throaty chucide.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, woman, that the pursuit of happiness deserves weighty consideration. It's the be-all and end-all of existence.

Where is the sense in living if you're not enjoying it?"

"Earning Brownie points for the great hereafter, suffering being good for the soul and all that."

"If you say so," he said cheerfully.

"Shall we go in my car?

It'll give you a chance to test out your theory." He led her to an ancient Ford Cortina estate and unlocked the pa.s.senger door, pulling it half-open on screaming hinges.

"What theory?" she asked, squeezing inelegantly through the gap.

He shut the door.

"You'il soon find out," he murmured.

They arrived with half an hour to spare. Hal drew into a parking s.p.a.ce on the sea front and rubbed his hands.

"Let's have some fish and chips. We pa.s.sed a kiosk about a hundred yards back and I'm ravenous. It's the fresh air that does it."

Roz's head, tortoise-like, emerged from the collar of her jacket, slowly easing its frozen jaw and skewering him with gimlet eyes.

"Has this heap of junk got an MOT?" she grated.

"Of course it's got an MOT." He slapped the steering-wheel.

"She's sound as a bell, just lacks a window or two. You get used to it after a while."

"A window or two!" she spluttered.

"As far as I can see it hasn't got any windows at all except for the front one. I think I've caught pneumonia."

"There's no pleasing some women. You wouldn't be whingeing like this if I'd whisked you down to the seaside on a beautiful sunny day in an open-topped cabriolet. You're being snotty-nosed just because it's a Cortina." He gave an evil chuckle.

"And what about suffering being good for the soul? It's done b.u.g.g.e.r all for yours, my girl."

She thrust the screeching door open as far as it would go and crawled out.

"For your information, Hawksley, it is not a beautiful sunny day' she giggled *in fact it will probably turn out to be the coldest May day this century. And had this been a convertible, we could have stopped to put the top up. In any case, why aren't there any windows?"

He tucked her into the crook of his arm and set off towards the fish and chip kiosk.

"Someone smashed them," he said matter of factly.

"I haven't bothered to replace them because there's a good chance it will happen again."

She rubbed the end of her nose to restore the circulation.

"I suppose you're in hock to loan sharks."

"And if I am?"

She thought of her money on deposit, untouched, going nowhere.

"I might be able to broker you out of your difficulties," she suggested tentatively.

He frowned.

"Is this charity, Roz, or an offer to negotiate?"

"It's not charity," she a.s.sured him.

"My accountant would have a fit if I offered charity."

He dropped his arm abruptly.

"Why would you want to negotiate on my behalf? You don't know a d.a.m.n thing about me." He sounded angry.

She shrugged.

"I know you're in deep s.h.i.t, Hawksley. I'm offering to help you out of it. Is that so terrible?" She walked on.

Hal, a step or two behind, cursed himself roundly. What sort of fool lowered his de fences just because a woman looked lonely? But loneliness, of course, was the one thing guaranteed to strike a chord.

There must have been times when he hadn't been lonely but he was d.a.m.ned, at the moment, if he could remember them.

Roz's delight in the cottage, masked by an unconvincing smile of bored indifference, announced itself loudly as she stared wide-eyed at the views from the windows, noted the double glazing admitted grudgingly that, yes, she had always liked open fireplaces, and, yes, she was quite surprised by the size of the rooms. She had expected them to be smaller. She poked for several minutes round the patioed garden, said it was a pity there wasn't a greenhouse, then, rather belatedly, obscured her enthusiasm behind a pair of dark gla.s.ses to examine a small rose-covered outhouse which was used by the present owners as a third bedroom, but which might, she supposed, at a pinch, serve as a sort of study-library.

Hal and Mr. Richards sat on cast-iron chairs in front of the french windows, talking idly about very little and watching her.

Mr. Richards, thoroughly intimidated by Hal's brusque one word answers, scented a sale but contained his excitement rather better than Roz.

He stood up when Roz had finished her inspection and, with a disarming smile, offered her his chair.

"I should perhaps have mentioned, Miss Leigh, that the present owners will consider selling the furniture with the house a.s.suming, of course, a satisfactory price can be arranged. I understand none of it is more than four years old and the wear and tear has been minimal with weekend occupation only." He glanced at his watch.

"Why don't I give you fifteen minutes to talk it over?

I'll go for a stroll along the cliff path." He vanished tactfully through the french windows and a moment later they heard the front door close.

Roz took off her gla.s.ses and looked at Hal. Her eyes were childlike in their enthusiasm.

"What do you think? Furniture, too.

Isn't it fabulous?"

His lips twitched involuntarily. Could this be acting? It was d.a.m.n good if it was.

"It depends what you want it for."

"To live in," she said.

"It would be so easy to work here."

She looked towards the sea.

"I've always loved the sound of waves." She turned to him.

"What do you think? Should I buy it?"