Dream a Little Dream by Sue Moorcroft

encourage the business to make a profit.
    ‘How, exactly?’ Dominic pressed.
    Nicolas’s hands tightened. ‘With the, um, greater promotional budget to, er, bring in more clients to each therapist, so building commission.’
    Dominic began to feel a bit sorry for Nicolas, so nervous, so transparently desperately searching for funds with no real idea how to plug the leaks through which money was gushing. But he felt even sorrier for everybody who worked at the treatment centre, as Nicolas’s hopelessly unrealistic outpouring made it ever clearer that his business enterprise was doomed. He was chin-deep in financial sewage. And, any moment, someone was going to come by in a speedboat.
    Still, Dominic’s agenda prompted him to say, ‘Yes, please,’ when Nicolas heaved himself from behind his desk and offered to show them around The Stables.
    First port of call was the room in which Dominic had met Liza Reece, yesterday. Without knocking, Nicolas thrust the door open. ‘This is one of our treatment rooms.’ Dominic’s skin prickled at a flash vision of white hands on his feet.
    ‘We have three treatment rooms – the other two are in use but are similar.’ Nicolas listed all the therapies the centre offered, which he’d said at least eight times already, and waffled about equipment, which, so far as Dominic could see, wasn’t much: the couch, two chairs, a desk and a trolley. As Nicolas talked, Dominic’s gaze ran along a row of framed certificates on the wall, each bearing the name of Liza Reece: maternity reflexology, baby reflexology, vertical reflexology and foot reading.
    Nicolas was already moving on, towards the other wing of the building. ‘Back through reception, we have the staff room, kitchen and cloakrooms.’
    Dominic’s interest was caught. ‘Does the kitchen need to be so large?’ The square room accommodated a washing machine, dryer, hob, microwave and fridge, with acres to spare.
    Nicolas beamed proudly. ‘It was all in place before my time here. The hotel converted the stables with the idea of creating a spa, with a pool, hot tub and everything. Then they decided the economic climate wasn’t right so looked for someone to lease the premises and run a facility that would be an added attraction for the hotel.’ He swelled a little. ‘Mine was the successful proposal.’
    Dominic processed the layout of the building through his mind. ‘Where would they have put a pool and a hot tub?’
    ‘The pool was going to be dug behind, on the other side to the stable yard. The hot tub was to go in the wing I didn’t take on. There are showers and changing cubicles,’ he took a few steps to the end of the corridor and rapped on a door, ‘just behind this.’
    Slowly, Dominic nodded. ‘So the empty part could be leased from the hotel, too?’
    ‘So far as I know, yes.’ Nicolas shuffled his feet, the beginnings of bliss dawning on his round face. ‘Were you—were you thinking of putting in enough money to expand? Gosh, that’s something to talk about.’
    The moment of truth was obviously arriving at a gallop. Dominic jammed his hands in his pockets and sighed. ‘I think that’s too much to hope for. Shall we continue this conversation in your office?’
    But the damage was done. Nicolas bounded back to his room, throwing an airy request for more coffee and camomile tea at Pippa, rattling on about always wanting to do more with the place but needing the investment.
    Finally, when Pippa had delivered a tray of gaily spotted china mugs, Dominic had to interrupt. ‘Nicolas, hang on a minute.’
    Nicolas halted, mid-sentence, glancing between Dominic and Miranda.
    Dominic hesitated. None of his courses had armed him with the kindest way to crush hopes.
    But Nicolas was nodding understandingly, a smile lifting his jowls. ‘I think I already know what’s worrying you – you can’t see a place here for your partner.’ He beamed at Miranda, who had worn a speaking expression of wistful longing