approval, at others feigning concern. By the time Tiona left they were the best of friends, and MrsTurner got out the details of the warden-controlled home she was hoping to put an offer on, heartened by Tiona’s reassurances that she would be in there by the autumn.
A hundred yards up the hill, Tiona scrambled back into her Golf and got out her mobile phone. The curt ‘What?’ on the other end made her shiver with delight.
‘I’ve got a dead cert for you. One forty. You could make two twenty on it no problem, with an Ikea kitchen and some laminate flooring –’
‘Go for it,’ he cut her off crisply.
‘Usual terms?’ she purred into the mouthpiece.
‘For fuck’s sake, just get on with it.’
Her insides quivered. She loved it when he talked to her like that. She glanced round to check for passers-by, then lowered her voice suggestively.
‘I’m not wearing any knickers.’
She slid her hand up inside her skirt, just to make sure she wasn’t lying.
‘Of course you’re not. You never do.’
There was a hint of amusement in his voice. Good. He was thawing.
‘Where are you?’
‘On a building site.’
‘Find somewhere…’ Her breath was short. Her meaning was clear.
‘Have you ever been on a building site? There’s nowhere to have a wank. Only the Portaloo. And I’m not going in there. Not even for you, toffee-drawers.’
Tiona stared at her tiny little Ericsson in disbelief. He’d hung up on her. He’d never done that before. Usually by now they’d be indulging in the filthiest of exchanges, him issuing her with instructions that made her blush even now to think of them. She must be losing her touch. Well, stuff Simon Lomax. That was the last time she was going to give him a tip-off in return for a wad of his dirty bank notes. If he did but know it, she’d got bigger fish to fry than a low-rent property dealer. A fish that was already dangling on the end of her hook, if she wasn’t mistaken.
She tossed her phone back into her bag, trying to ignore the fact that she was squirming with lust, turned on by the brief exchange. She wouldn’t be able to concentrate now for the rest of the day. It was hard work being oversexed… but at least she could hide it. Tiona often thanked God she wasn’t a man. How awful it must be to walk around all day with a raging hard-on and nowhere to put it.
4
At half past five, Jamie was woken from her nap by a mad tooting heralding the arrival of a navy-blue Bentley being driven with total disregard. It screeched to a halt and out of it spilled her father Jack, in a cream linen suit and Panama hat. And Lettice Harkaway in twenty-five yards of salmon-pink chiffon.
Jamie’s heart sank. If there was one person on the planet she couldn’t abide, it was Lettice. Her husband had disappeared in a scuba-diving incident twenty years before, leaving Lettice with a whopping inheritance and rumours of foul play that she never attempted to deny. With her flamboyant clothing designed for someone twenty years younger, her false eyelashes and her imperious manner, she’d been the queen bee of the local social scene for as long as Jamie could remember, and she’d always found her intolerably self-centred and superficial. Lettice had been brought up in Kenya, where she was used to lolling about the country club all day and coming home to a ream of servants. To this day she found it hard to remember that everyone around her wasn’t there to serve her as she waved a pudgy, bejewelled paw at whoever was nearest to do her bidding.
Jamie slid out of the hammock, suddenly feelingridiculously shy as her father bounded up the path with Lettice in tow. At the same moment, Olivier appeared from the stable yard. Bugger. She hadn’t wanted an audience. This was an intensely private moment. She stepped out on to the path, wishing she could have given him some warning.
‘Hello, Dad.’
Jack stopped in his tracks, unable to believe his eyes.
‘Jamie?’
‘I got back a
A hundred yards up the hill, Tiona scrambled back into her Golf and got out her mobile phone. The curt ‘What?’ on the other end made her shiver with delight.
‘I’ve got a dead cert for you. One forty. You could make two twenty on it no problem, with an Ikea kitchen and some laminate flooring –’
‘Go for it,’ he cut her off crisply.
‘Usual terms?’ she purred into the mouthpiece.
‘For fuck’s sake, just get on with it.’
Her insides quivered. She loved it when he talked to her like that. She glanced round to check for passers-by, then lowered her voice suggestively.
‘I’m not wearing any knickers.’
She slid her hand up inside her skirt, just to make sure she wasn’t lying.
‘Of course you’re not. You never do.’
There was a hint of amusement in his voice. Good. He was thawing.
‘Where are you?’
‘On a building site.’
‘Find somewhere…’ Her breath was short. Her meaning was clear.
‘Have you ever been on a building site? There’s nowhere to have a wank. Only the Portaloo. And I’m not going in there. Not even for you, toffee-drawers.’
Tiona stared at her tiny little Ericsson in disbelief. He’d hung up on her. He’d never done that before. Usually by now they’d be indulging in the filthiest of exchanges, him issuing her with instructions that made her blush even now to think of them. She must be losing her touch. Well, stuff Simon Lomax. That was the last time she was going to give him a tip-off in return for a wad of his dirty bank notes. If he did but know it, she’d got bigger fish to fry than a low-rent property dealer. A fish that was already dangling on the end of her hook, if she wasn’t mistaken.
She tossed her phone back into her bag, trying to ignore the fact that she was squirming with lust, turned on by the brief exchange. She wouldn’t be able to concentrate now for the rest of the day. It was hard work being oversexed… but at least she could hide it. Tiona often thanked God she wasn’t a man. How awful it must be to walk around all day with a raging hard-on and nowhere to put it.
4
At half past five, Jamie was woken from her nap by a mad tooting heralding the arrival of a navy-blue Bentley being driven with total disregard. It screeched to a halt and out of it spilled her father Jack, in a cream linen suit and Panama hat. And Lettice Harkaway in twenty-five yards of salmon-pink chiffon.
Jamie’s heart sank. If there was one person on the planet she couldn’t abide, it was Lettice. Her husband had disappeared in a scuba-diving incident twenty years before, leaving Lettice with a whopping inheritance and rumours of foul play that she never attempted to deny. With her flamboyant clothing designed for someone twenty years younger, her false eyelashes and her imperious manner, she’d been the queen bee of the local social scene for as long as Jamie could remember, and she’d always found her intolerably self-centred and superficial. Lettice had been brought up in Kenya, where she was used to lolling about the country club all day and coming home to a ream of servants. To this day she found it hard to remember that everyone around her wasn’t there to serve her as she waved a pudgy, bejewelled paw at whoever was nearest to do her bidding.
Jamie slid out of the hammock, suddenly feelingridiculously shy as her father bounded up the path with Lettice in tow. At the same moment, Olivier appeared from the stable yard. Bugger. She hadn’t wanted an audience. This was an intensely private moment. She stepped out on to the path, wishing she could have given him some warning.
‘Hello, Dad.’
Jack stopped in his tracks, unable to believe his eyes.
‘Jamie?’
‘I got back a
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