She sighed. ‘I can’t tell you that. Which is pretty mean, I know, when you’ve come to my rescue two nights running. Not,’ she added militantly, ‘that I couldn’t have handled it myself—both times.’

‘It didn’t look that way to me.’

‘You’re wrong. I really can take care of myself.’ She glanced at him curiously. ‘I was so furious with Adam I forgot to ask why you were at the Mitre tonight, Joe. Were you eating there?’

‘No. I called in on the chance that a certain bar person might serve me a drink, and to my surprise found she was doing a cabaret act.’ Joe grinned. ‘You didn’t mention that last night.’

‘I didn’t know last night!’ she said with feeling. ‘The manager sprung it on me today because the usual chanteuse was careless enough to lose her voice. The piano bar does a roaring trade on the nights Diane sings, so rather than lose good business Tim bribed me to fill in.’

‘How?’

‘By paying double my usual wages. Which I don’t deserve, because I can’t sing as well as Diane.’

‘From where I was standing your punters didn’t agree. You went down very well indeed.’

‘Flattery, Mr Tregenna?’

‘Fact. The husky, breathless voice charmed them right enough, but it was the bare shoulders and endless legs that knocked ‘em dead.’

Instead of taking offence Fen threw back her head and laughed. ‘I just can’t believe I did it. Any of it. I must have been out of my mind.’

‘But tonight a star was born!’

‘Not on your life.’ She shook her head emphatically. ‘I’m never doing that again. My nerves wouldn’t stand it. Besides, when the lovely Diane hears what happened I bet her voice will make a dramatic recovery.’

Joe slanted a look at her. ‘Pity. I enjoyed the show.’

Fen’s eyebrows rose when he parked outside one of the most exclusive addresses in Pennington, most unlike her own narrow little back street. Joe Tregenna lived in a square with well-kept gardens, in an expensive part of town where roads were tree-lined, all the lights worked, and most of the large houses had been converted into luxury flats.

‘This is it,’ he said, helping her out of the car.

Fen looked up, impressed, at the creamy façade of a villa with arched triple windows and lace-like ironwork railings and balcony.

‘It’s not all mine,’ said Joe. ‘I live upstairs. But my neighbours on the ground floor are away a lot, so I get the garden to myself when time and weather permit.’

He unlocked a side door and led the way up a narrow flight of stairs to usher Fen into a big room with floor-to-ceiling windows and curtains drawn back on the walls, so that only the wrought-iron balcony outside hampered a view of the lamplit gardens in the square. In front of the Adam-style fireplace two sofas covered in chestnut cord faced each other in splendid isolation on the expanse of pale carpet.

‘What a great room!’ said Fen, impressed. ‘I’ve never been in one of these houses before.’ She grinned at him. ‘You must have felt a bit claustrophobic in my place last night.’

‘Have you lived there long?’

‘No. I intended sharing a flat originally, but changed my mind. So I rent my little terraced house instead.’ She eyed him curiously. ‘But if you live here, what brought you down my street last night?’

‘Multiple roadworks. I’m new to Pennington, and somewhere among the diversion signs I took a wrong turning.’ His eyes met hers. ‘I’m glad I did. Otherwise it might have been a different story for you.’

‘Not at all,’ she said tartly. ‘I had it all in hand before you even got out of your car.’

Joe looked unconvinced. ‘Just the same, you might consider giving up night wanderings, Miss Dysart.’

‘I already have,’ she agreed soberly. ‘I’ve learned my lesson, believe me.’

‘Good. So what would you like to drink?’ His eyes gleamed. ‘Do artistes like you demand pink champagne?’

Fen let out a gurgle of laughter. ‘No way would I describe myself as an artiste. And I’d prefer tea to pink champagne.’

‘Then come with me.’ Joe took her along the hall to a galley-style kitchen, which by daylight, he informed her, enjoyed a view of the back garden through the full-length window.

Fen sat down at the rectangle of marble which served as a kitchen table, and watched her host make tea in a chunky white pot. He shot her a look as he took mugs from a cupboard.

‘Why the wry little smile?’

‘It just occurred to me that I had the most colossal cheek in latching on to you tonight.’

He chuckled. ‘I was glad to oblige. You’ve given me a couple of very entertaining evenings, Miss Dysart.’

‘Not all down to me. You had dinner in London before you ran into me last night,’ Fen reminded him. ‘Did you live there before you came here?’

He nodded. ‘But when the firm opened a branch in Pennington, I volunteered to relocate.’

‘Because you fancied a change?’

‘That too. But I’m single, with no children to uproot, so I was an obvious choice to make a move.’

Single, but not unattached, thought Fen with a touch of regret. ‘Shall I pour tea for you, or are you having something stronger?’

‘Tea. I’ll wait until I get back for a nightcap.’

‘By the way, did you manage to make peace with your lady?’

‘No.’ Joe’s eyes shuttered. ‘I had an illuminating—and unpleasant—little exchange with Melissa earlier on, which is why I went to the Mitre for a drink afterwards.’

‘That bad?’ said Fen with sympathy.

‘Not good.’ He looked at her for a moment. ‘Would it bore you to hear the details?’

‘Not in the least,’ she said truthfully. ‘Did she break up with you?’

‘No, quite the reverse. Melissa took me by surprise. She’d been trying to persuade me to keep on my London flat for weekends all along, but last night I learned why. She took it for granted she could just move from her flat into mine.’ His face hardened. ‘She informed me it was pointless to go on paying good money for rent on her flat when my place would be empty during the week.’

Nice lady, thought Fen. ‘You didn’t want that?’

‘No. Something she refused to believe over dinner last night. So to avoid a scene in the restaurant I put her in a taxi and drove straight here.’ He shrugged. ‘But tonight I explained, in words of one syllable, that the sale of the London flat was needed to finance this place, at which point she flew off the handle and told me she had no intention of burying herself in the back of beyond, even for me.’

‘Ah,’ said Fen, privately thinking that anyone who looked on Pennington as the back of beyond was best given up as a bad job. ‘Has she seen this flat?’

Joe shook his head and refilled her mug. ‘No.’

She smiled up at him. ‘It might change her mind if she did.’

‘No point. I’ve never thought of her as my “lady”, as you put it, so I made it very clear,’ he said, his voice extra-dry, ‘that her sacrifice was not, and never had been, required.’

‘Ouch!’

‘Exactly. Melissa went through the roof, exposing a side to her personality kept firmly under wraps before. Which is why I felt in urgent need of a drink afterwards. And thought of the Mitre—and you.’ He sat back in his chair. ‘So. Apart from the angry cousin, is there someone in your life?’

‘No. I’m on my own.’ She drank some tea to counter a fleeting wave of misery. ‘My mother died when I was born.’

Joe reached a hand across the table to grasp hers in sympathy. ‘Your father brought you up?’

‘No. Relatives.’ She detached her hand and got up. ‘Time I went home, if that’s all right with you.’

He got to his feet. ‘I obviously touched a nerve.’

She smiled ruefully. ‘Only because I’m a bit on edge after meeting Adam.’

‘I’ll try to keep off contentious subjects in future,’ he promised. ‘So, when can I see you again?’

‘I work pretty unsociable hours,’ Fen reminded him.

He raised a straight dark eyebrow. ‘Is that a no?’

‘No, it’s not. I’m off this Sunday, if that’s any good.’

‘Sunday it is. What shall we do?’

Not sure how much of Sunday he had in mind, Fen played safe. ‘You choose.’

‘Let’s see what the weather’s like and go from there. How soon do you surface after Saturday night at the Mitre?’

‘Nine-ish?’

‘I’ll ring you.’ Joe took her hand again, and turned the palm up. Fen stood very still as he bent his head to kiss it. He straightened, and smiled into her watchful eyes, then closed her fingers over the spot his lips had touched and led the way from his elegant apartment.

‘I’m afraid we’ll have to go back to the Mitre,’ Fen told him as he drove off. ‘My car’s parked there, which is partly why I forced myself on you. I don’t want Adam to know which car I drive these days, either.’

‘Curiouser and curiouser,’ said Joe casually. ‘Does Cousin Adam lust after you, by any chance?’

‘Absolutely not!’ said Fen, turning a shocked face on him. ‘He’s married, with two children.’

Joe shrugged. ‘It doesn’t always rule such things out.’

‘I know that! But it does in this case. It’s not that kind of thing at all.’ She heaved a sigh. ‘We had a quarrel. Such a bad one I’m still licking my wounds.’

When they reached the deserted Mitre car park Joe switched off the engine and turned to her.

‘Now this cousin of yours knows where you work, he’ll be back.’

‘Yes,’ she agreed glumly. ‘And from the mood Adam was in tonight I don’t think a fond reconciliation is on the cards. No matter. I can handle him.’

‘If you say so. Nevertheless, I’ll follow you home and see you safely inside your house,’ said Joe, with the kind of casual Alpha-male assurance Fen normally objected to. But he came to your rescue again tonight, she reminded herself. Be nice.

Joe walked with her to her car, and waited until she drove off before following her to narrow, treeless Farthing Street, where it was rare to find all the streetlights functioning at the same time. True to form, the one outside her house was still out of action. Fen parked on the square of concrete in front of her house, and waited for Joe to follow her round to the back.

‘It’s hellish dark out here,’ he said, as she opened the door. ‘Turn all your lights on. Better still, I’ll do it.’

‘Joe,’ she said tartly. ‘I’m perfectly capable of turning them on myself.’

He backed away, hands held up in mock surrender. ‘Of course you are. Goodnight, then, Fenella. I’ll ring you on Sunday morning.’

‘Thanks again for playing along with me tonight.’

‘No thanks necessary—I enjoyed it enormously.’

For a moment Fen felt sure he would kiss her, and felt a pang of regret when Joe merely smiled and told her to lock the door behind him.

Fen had been taken on originally for part-time work at the Mitre, but due to staff holidays she’d worked both shifts each day for the past week, with just a short break in the late afternoon. And, though Saturday was always busy, this one was made doubly exhausting by the day-long worry over whether Adam would turn up at some point, hellbent on confrontation.

‘Just thank your lucky stars the Mitre isn’t residential,’ said Jilly, as they tidied up after the lunchtime wave was over. ‘A friend of mine works at the Chesterton, and takes a turn at serving breakfast as well.’

‘Poor soul! Do one’s feet ever get used to it?’ groaned Fen.

‘Mine haven’t. Incidentally, have you heard?’ added Jilly, chuckling. ‘Diane rang the boss today to say she’ll be just fine for her Tuesday gig—surprise, surprise.’

Fen blew out her cheeks in relief. ‘Thank heavens for that! I’d planned to collapse with some mysterious complaint if Tim asked me to fill in again.’

Towards the end of a hectic evening Fen began to relax. Adam was not going to barge in and make a scene after all. Instead, just as her feet were telling her it would be really nice to go home, she saw Joe come up to the bar.

She smiled warmly. ‘Hi. You’re obviously getting a taste for our beer.’

‘Or something,’ he said, returning the smile. ‘Single Scotch and a lot of soda, please.’

Fen provided him with his drink, rang up his money on the register, handed him the change, then moved on to the next customer. It was half an hour before she had any opportunity to speak to Joe. ‘Same again?’ she asked.

‘Better make it a straight soda.’

By this time the bar had quietened down enough for him to ask if she’d had any problems during the day.

‘Nothing other than my aching feet.’

‘No visitations from angry cousins, then. What time do you get off?’

‘In half an hour or so. But don’t worry. I won’t need a bodyguard tonight.’

He leaned closer to look her in the eye. ‘Does that mean you don’t want me to follow you home?’

She shrugged, determined not to look too eager. ‘You can if you like.’

‘Don’t overwhelm me with enthusiasm,’ he said dryly. ‘I’ll wait in the corner over there, nursing my drink.’

It seemed a long half-hour. Fen had begun to consider herself reasonably proficient after two weeks in the job. But with a steady dark gaze trained on her at intervals from the far corner of the bar she was all fingers and thumbs as she poured drinks and took money—something noted with huge glee by Jilly, but with less by Tim Mathias when he made his rounds.

‘Any problems, Fen? That’s the guy who was staring at you when you were singing.’

Her eyebrows rose. ‘Really? I thought you meant Adam.’

‘No. Adam saw you when he came in to book a meal for next week—’

‘Which night is he coming?’ she said quickly.

‘Tuesday.’

‘In that case can I switch shifts?’

‘After you helped me out over Diane I can hardly refuse, can I? Time you went home now,’ Tim added. ‘You too, Jilly.’

In the staffroom Jilly eyed Fen speculatively. ‘The bloke who was watching you out there—is he taking you home?’

‘Sort of. I drive and he follows behind to make sure I’m safe, that’s all. He’s the one who came to my rescue the other night when I was mugged.’

‘Is he, now? He can rescue me any time he likes,’ said Jilly enviously, and sighed. ‘Heigh-ho. Time I was off home to the arms of my beloved. If he’s still awake by this time.’ She paused. ‘Look, kid, is this chap on the level? What does he do for a living? Something exciting?’

‘He sells insurance,’ said Fen, chuckling at Jilly’s disappointment.

The sight of Joe Tregenna leaning against her car was so welcome Fen realised she would miss him on the nights when he wasn’t waiting for her. Which was idiotic. She didn’t need a bodyguard. She wasn’t the nervous kind. Just the same, she liked having Joe around. Liked it a lot.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ he said, as she joined him.

‘About what, in particular?’

‘Tomorrow.’

‘And?’

‘If we make an early enough start, how about making for a beach somewhere?’

‘We’re a fair distance from any beach.’

‘Not the way I drive.’

Fen laughed. ‘I don’t like the sound of that.’

‘I’m careful. You’ll be perfectly safe. A couple of hours and we could be stretched out in the sun.’

‘In that case, you’re on!’

‘If it rains we’ll think of something else,’ Joe said, taking her agreement for granted.

Fen thought about this on the drive to Farthing Street, knowing that with any other man this would be a total turn-off. But with Joe it was different. And the reassurance of his headlights in her driving mirror went a long way to restoring the sense of security she’d taken utterly for granted until recently. She’d sailed confidently through life, certain that bad things happened to other people, never to Fenella Dysart. Not that the episode with a couple of naughty kids could be counted as very desperate. But she could have done without it, just the same. In the circumstances.

When Fen arrived she waited for Joe to park his car. ‘Are you coming in?’ she asked, as he strolled towards her.

‘Only to see you through the door. As I said before, you could do with a light out here.’

‘It’s better when the streetlight’s working.’

‘Why isn’t it at the moment?’

‘No idea.’

‘Complain to the council. In the meantime do something about security lights.’

‘I only rent the place,’ she reminded him, as he followed her inside. ‘And for what I pay I doubt the landlord would cough up for such an exotic extra.’

‘Couldn’t you have found somewhere more comfortable?’ Joe frowned as he took inventory of the cheerless little kitchen. By way of fittings it boasted a couple of cupboards, a small electric cooker, a single-drainer sink, an elderly washing machine, and the brand new microwave Fen had obviously bought herself. ‘Not exactly glossy magazine material.’

She shrugged. ‘I needed somewhere in a hurry. This was available because it’s vacation time. Normally it’s a student let.’

‘Was the flatshare in a more salubrious part of town?’

‘No. In London. What time do you want to start in the morning?’

‘I’ll check the forecast and give you a ring.’

‘Fine. Like some coffee?’

‘No, thanks. Now I’ve made sure you’re safe I’ll take off and let you get those feet of yours to bed. See you tomorrow.’ Joe smiled at her, sketched a salute, then went out, leaving Fen staring, crestfallen, at the door he’d closed behind him.

One thing she had to say for Joe Tregenna: he wasn’t asking for a thing in return for his help. As any other male of her acquaintance would have done. Though she would have rather liked a goodnight kiss. She sighed. Maybe he just didn’t fancy her.

Oh, well, she thought philosophically, as she turned the key in the lock, it was probably a good thing he hadn’t stayed. He wouldn’t like the sitting room any better than the kitchen. She didn’t either.

She kept her television and video recorder upstairs on the dressing table in the bedroom. Which was marginally more comfortable than the other rooms due to curtains she’d bought ready-made, with matching covers for the bed, a couple of cushions, and the new mattress which had been vital before she could bring herself to sleep there. The bedroom now felt more like her own personal space, which the sitting room, with its hideous wallpaper and imitation leather furniture, never would.

She smiled wryly as she got ready for bed. She’d never been given to mooching in her bedroom all day as a teenager, but these days, with a whole house at her disposal, she led a typical bedsit type of existence.

The phone rang early next morning, startling Fen awake. She stretched out a hand for the cellphone kept charged by the bed, and blinked owlishly as she said a hoarse hello.

‘I woke you,’ said Joe Tregenna, amused.

‘You certainly did.’ She yawned, and turned to look at her watch. ‘You sadist! It’s only just after six.’

‘I’ll be round in half an hour. The forecast promised sunshine, so let’s make the most of it. See you.’

Fen put the phone back, shaking her head in amused disbelief. The possibility that she might have fancied a lie-in after such a hectic working week had obviously never occurred to him.

After the fastest bath of her life she pulled jeans over a scarlet bikini, added a stretchy striped T-shirt, and managed to gulp down a cup of coffee and twist her hair into a braid before Joe rapped on the kitchen door.

‘Good morning!’ He smiled, looking so fit and fresh in khakis and white sweatshirt it tired her to look at him. ‘How are you this morning?’

‘Not human yet. I’m not really an early-morning person,’ she warned. ‘I’ll probably snore in the car. Where are we going?’

‘Mystery trip. You can guess as we go along. Have you packed swimming gear?’

‘Yessir,’ she said, saluting. ‘Plus sunscreen, hat, sunglasses and cagoule.’

‘Have you no faith, woman? The sun’s shining out there!’

‘For now it is,’ Fen said darkly. ‘Hang on a minute.’ She raced upstairs to collect her cushions, and ran down to find Joe peering into the sitting room.

‘Hell, Fen, it’s worse than the kitchen,’ he said, appalled. ‘You actually spend time in here?’

‘None at all.’ She handed him the cushions and pulled on her denim jacket. ‘Let’s go.’

In the comfortable leather-scented interior of Joe’s car, Fen leaned back with a sigh and relaxed as they threaded through roadworks to make for the motorway.

‘Sorry,’ she said, yawning. ‘I won’t be much company for a while.’

‘Take a nap. Mind if I play some music?’

‘A lullaby would be good.’

While the Jaguar ate up the miles to the strains of Ravel, Fen wriggled comfortably into her nest of cushions and was fast asleep before they’d gone a couple of miles.

‘Are we there?’ she yawned later, when the car slowed down.

‘Not yet—pitstop for coffee,’ Joe informed her.

Fen sat up, pushed back a few escaping strands of hair, and smiled at him as he parked in the motorway service station. ‘As company on a day out I’m a washout so far,’ she said apologetically. ‘I swear I’ll improve as the day goes on.’

‘After double shifts at the Mitre all week no wonder you feel tired. Come on, out you get. We need coffee.’

‘Urgently, if I’m to stay awake all the way.’ She eyed him challengingly as they walked towards the restaurant. ‘Would you have been as keen on the trip if you’d known that I’m such boring company?’

Joe gave the matter due consideration. ‘On reflection I think I prefer peaceful silence to incessant chattering.’

‘You wait until the journey home,’ she said, giggling.

‘Do that again!’

‘What?’

‘The girly little laugh. But first,’ he added hastily, as she glared at him, ‘tell me what you want and I’ll fetch it for you.’

She snatched up a tray. ‘No need. I can get my own.’

There was an argument when Joe insisted on paying for her toast and coffee, but in the end Fen gave in rather than provide more entertainment for the girl at the cash register.

‘I asked you out, so I foot the bill,’ he said flatly, as they sat down by a window.

She buttered her toast, frowning at him. ‘Look, Joe, I’m perfectly able to pay my own way.’

He drank some coffee, his eyes gleaming at her through the steam. ‘OK. You can pay for lunch.’

Great. It would serve her right if he fancied a three-course meal in some expensive hotel. ‘I wasn’t being difficult,’ she said belatedly, remembering she had good cause to be grateful to him. ‘I just like to be independent.’

His smile disarmed her completely. ‘No offence taken. But if you’re paying for lunch I’ll treat you to another coffee.’

‘Where are we going?’ Fen asked, on the way back to the car.

‘If you stay awake for the rest of the journey I’ll tell you when we’re nearly there,’ Joe promised.

She gave him a warning look as she fastened her seatbelt. ‘Tell me now, or I don’t pay for lunch.’

He laughed. ‘I never intended you to.’

She ground her teeth in frustration. ‘Has anyone ever told you that you’re an infuriating man, Joe Tregenna?’

‘Frequently, but they invariably succumb to my charm in the end,’ he said smugly, and drove off to rejoin the motorway.

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