Sign of the Times by Susan Buchanan Page A

the records.   He had been paid for forty five hours, but here he was claiming an additional twelve.   Tom frowned, trying to remember if he’d authorised more overtime. He didn’t recall doing so.
    Retrieving his messages, he heard Holly’s voice,
    “Hi.   Just wanted a chat.   Give me a call later.”
    Tom looked down at his watch. It was half three.   He still had to go to Mollinsburn and nip in to see what that daft bugger Nigel had done to himself.   He had just enough time to call Holly.   The phone trilled three times before Holly answered, “Hi gorgeous. How are you?”
    Tom hoped she didn’t expect an honest answer to that.   Bravely he told her everything was fine.
    “So, where are you today?”   Tom asked.
    “I’m in Bibbiena.   It’s a lovely little village, about twenty miles from Arezzo.    Everyone’s so friendly.   Already they call me la ragazzina scozzese , the wee Scottish girl.   I have so much copy for my book.   You’d love it.   The hotel I’m staying in is fantastic too.    It’s really just an old family home, a massive villa with a pool, in among the vineyards.   It was definitely a good decision to come here.”
    “So, where else have you been?”
    “Well, I’ve visited the monastery at La Verna and I spent quite a bit of time in Arezzo seeing how they prepare for Le Giostra.   You remember the medieval festival I told you they have all over Tuscany?   But mainly I’m just scoping out the locals.”
    “Yeah, I know.   That’s my girl.   Just keep writing and then we can retire on the proceeds,” joked Tom.
    “Ooh, listen to the big construction mogul.   You’ll soon be able to keep me in the style I ’ve grown accustomed to!”
    “All right,” conceded Tom, “No more quibbling.”
      “What are you up to tonight?”
    “I’ve some paperwork to do and one of the guys has broken his leg, so I’ll take him a bottle of whisky.   What about you?”
    “The people in the villa next door are having a get together and they invited me.   I thought it might be nice, and, I might get some material for my book.
    “You really are wicked, Holly Jameson.”
    “Isn’t that why you love me?”
    “You little minx! No, it is not.   It is one of the reasons though,” Tom admitted with a grin.   Aware of the time, Tom wound up the call, “Look Hols, I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go.   Enjoy the party.
    *
    “So, everything’s OK here then, Mike?”
    “’Cept me.   I had the hangover from hell this morning.   What did you give me last night?”
    “Yeah, that’s it.   Blame me!   You just can’t handle your drink,” Tom ribbed his Site Manager and friend.
    “I need a favour.”
    “This should be good,” laughed Mike.
    “I want to borrow Ray for a week, two weeks tops, for Castlecary.   Nigel’s broken his leg and Derek’s off sick.   One man down they could cope with, but not two and we can’t afford to be behind schedule.”
    Although Mike was a good friend, Tom hadn’t discussed the financial strength of the company with him in depth.   That was his business, plus he never liked to burden anyone else.   So Mike didn’t know just how crucial it was they meet the deadline.
    “Well, if you can authorise me overtime, I’ll put it to the guys.   Some of them are going on holiday soon, so they should be up for it.   It’s the only way I could afford to give you Ray.   You know heworks at twice the speed of anyone else.
    “You’re not wrong there.   I’ll authorise twenty five hours for now, so pick your best workers.
    “OK. That should work.   I’m sure we’ll get the bodies to do the OT.”
    “Great. Listen, I need to go.”
    “No probs.   Catch you next week,” said Mike as he walked away.

Chapter Seven

    Finally home, Tom switched on his laptop.   He loved this house.   They’d poured a lot of time and energy into it. When he bought it, it was a wreck, but he’d managed to purchase the shell of a farmhouse for