PART ONE

DAY ONE- FRIDAY

“Have the dining arrangements been confirmed?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And the staff have been fully briefed on the situation?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And the rooms are prepared?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And- I’m being anal, amn’t I?”

His assistant’s lips twitched, though she tried to remain professional, “Yes, sir.”

Harry Judd heaved a sigh, leaning back against one of the walls, “I’m sorry. I just…want this to go right.”

She nodded, stepping closer to him and laying a hand on his arm. They had worked together for almost seven years, so such familiar contact had ceased to be uncommon. “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” she told him softly. “It’s a beautiful house. What buyer wouldn’t be interested?”

The house in question was Sanders House, a family mansion that had been standing a few miles outside of London since the late seventeenth century. It had gone through many refurbishments it its years, but still stood- tall and proud- as a testament to the Judd lineage. It was five storeys of mighty, dark brick, designed in a grand imitation of the Gothic architecture of earlier centuries. And it was home.

“It kills me to have to sell it, Col,” he admitted in a low voice, pushing away from the wall and beginning to tidy the cushions on the sofa. A sure sign of his nerves, she knew. “Sanders House has been in our family for…well, since it was built by Alexander Judd back in the day. It feels… I don’t know… Wrong. It feels wrong to sell it.”

Colleen moved around the sofa and took his hands before they could tidy something else. “Stop rearranging the settee and let’s just think about this for a moment. I thought there was no other option.”

“There isn’t,” he confirmed. “I just really don’t want to sell the place.” Squeezing he hands, he managed a roll of the eyes that was halfway towards casual, “But how else are we going to free ourselves from the debt, though? I just can’t afford the maintenance anymore. The firm isn’t bringing in enough.”

“It’ll be a shame, but we’ll cope.”

Harry grinned at her, changing his face from merely striking to gorgeous as his clear blue eyes lit up and the worry eased out of the crevices in his well sculpted face. “What makes you think you’re coming, eh?”

With a laugh, she removed her hands from his and gave him a condescending pat on the cheek, “You’d be lost without me.” Then she stepped back to regard her boss, the man whom she now considered to be one of her closest friends.

He certainly looked capable of fending for himself. He was tall and well-defined, not overbearingly, but enough that it was evident that he would not go down easily in a fight. He was well dressed, in a dark suit that emphasised his class and breeding. His hair was also dark, loosely and stylishly styled so that it had that slightly messy look to it. His face was impressive as well, with chiselled cheekbones, generous lips and a slight amount of designer stubble over his jaw. His eyes stood out amongst all the darkness- the solitary blue beacon.

Yes, this was a powerful looking man. But she knew him well. She knew of his kindness, his playful nature. She knew his weaknesses, his insecurities. And damned if she wouldn’t go to the wall for him every time. He was her responsibility, and she wasn’t giving up on him just because he had the courage to take the measures to protect himself financially.

He rolled his eyes, and it relieved her to see that this one wasn’t forced. “We don’t know how I’d cope without you. You’ve never left me alone for long enough to test the theory.”

She bopped him on the shoulder with the heel of her hand, “Cheeky.”

“Attacking your boss…” He tutted, “That’s no way to show your respect…”

Bells chimed through the House as the front door rang, and she walked towards the door that led into the front hall. When she turned back at the door, there was a slight smirk curling on her lips, “When did I ever say that I respected you?” Then she laughed and pushed off the doorframe towards the front door. The usual butler was ill- taken down by some hideous fever- so they’d been making do. Even Harry himself was fully capable of opening a door.

There were squeals in the hallway, and he sighed, moving towards the hallway himself. The best friend was here. That meant that he wasn’t going to have an assistant for at least an hour… He stepped into the hall to greet the new arrival. The woman standing by the door rewarded him with a stunning smile as she squealed his name.

“How are you?” he asked graciously, opening his arms for the hug that he knew was inevitable.

She caught him around the waist, gave him an affectionate peck on the cheek for his co-operation. Claire Jones had never liked shaking hands with people that she knew well. It was too…formal, distant. So she hugged people close to her- a fact that Harry had found disconcerting at first. But she had trained him up, and now he was at ease with her little habit. “I’m very well, thank you,” she gushed. “And how are you?”

Harry bit his lip, uncertain of how honest he ought to be. He caught Colleen’s eye as she shut the door, and she gave him a sharp nod. “Worried,” he admitted.

Claire’s eyes were concerned as she released him and stepped back, but she kept a hand on Harry’s forearm, “Why? What’s going on?”

Quick and easy, he told himself, taking a breath. Like ripping away a metaphorical plaster. “I’ve decided to sell the House.”

“Dougie,” he allowed with a smile as they stepped into the main hall. “And this is my girlfriend, Caroline Bowen.”

“Carrie,” she put in.

The woman gave them a warm smile, “Welcome. I’m Colleen, Mr. Judd’s assistant.” Then she looked to the woman who had not as yet been identified, “I’m sorry. I don’t believe you’ve been introduced.”

She tore her gaze away from her intense study of the hallway, and offered her hand, “Lynne Mackie. I’m Mr. Poynter’s personal assistant.” Her tone brisk and her handshake was firm as her eyes bored into Colleen’s, “Would I be right in estimating that this property dates from the seventeenth century?”

“Erm…”

Dougie chuckled at the baffled look on Colleen’s face, “I’m sorry. Lynne can be very to-the-point. But she’s very thorough.”

Colleen smiled politely, “Of course. If you wouldn’t mind stepping through to the office, I’m sure that Harry will endeavour to answer any and all questions you may have.”

Dougie slid off his coat and handed it to Lynne to hang up, “Lead the way.”

Carrie smirked at Lynne, shrugging out of her own coat as Colleen began to show Dougie the way to the office, “Yeah. Slam your foot on the brake, Psycho Bitch…”

All she got in return was a bland smile and eyes filled with disinterest, “Don’t worry. You’ll be able to keep up with an adult conversation in a few years…”

Then she walked away, her pace deliberately slow as she followed the other two down the corridor. Carrie jammed her jacket down on the peg, clenching her fists around the fabric. She had promised herself that she wasn’t going to let Psycho Bitch get to her, but they’d been here a matter of minutes, and already she was nearing the end of her tether. The woman was just insufferable- plain and simple. Then she turned and followed them down the corridor sulkily.

*****

“So how did you hear of Sanders House?” Harry asked his guests, surveying them over his desk.

Dougie gave him an easy smile, “I love the architecture, the elegance and the folklore behind houses such as this one. I love to restore them to their former glory, and this one interested me from the second it was placed on the market.”

Harry’s eyes were curious, “And would you sell it on again later?”

“Perhaps.” Dougie leant back in his chair, perfectly at ease, “If I can find a buyer who appreciates it, then I may. But- then again- I might decide to keep it for myself. I do occasionally. Some properties just make an impression.”

Dougie Poynter had to be one of the calmest people that Harry had ever encountered. Everything about the man just whispered tranquillity. From the soft blond hair that fell effortlessly over his quiet blue eyes to the delicate bone structure of his actual face. He was slight in frame, shorter than Harry was and slim with it. Expensively dressed, but not in a manner that screamed for attention. And everything about him, even his smile and his hand gestures, had a certain hypnotising fluidity to it.

His PA was sitting to his left, taking notes in a pad that was now sitting on her lap. A serious faced woman who looked like her face would shatter the second she smiled. She looked up at Harry now, “Whatever happens to the property, we can reassure you that it would only be sold on to respectable owners who would take exquisite care of the place.”

Even as her steady gaze unsettled him, he couldn’t look away. “That’s good.”

Dougie smiled that lazy smile once more, “Now, I take it that we’re simply permitted to take a look around the estate over the course of the weekend?”

Harry tore his gaze away from the dark, cold blue and back to look at the businessman sitting in front of him, “Of course. You’ll be provided with rooms. One for your assistant, and… We assumed that you and your girlfriend would want to share.”

His girlfriend reached over to grip his hand affectionately, “You assumed right.” As Harry looked to her now, he was once again struck with the impression that she just didn’t belong. At least, not with these two polished individuals.

She was tall and slim, wearing jeans and a t-shirt as opposed to the suits that the other two boasted. Her hair was dyed a purple colour and fell loose over her shoulders. She also had a fringe that fell over part of her face. And her manner was a lot less businesslike, but more curious and uncomfortable with her surroundings. Harry couldn’t see how this woman had managed to get involved with the other two people in the room.

Dougie nodded as his PA just continued to look deadpan, “That’s perfect, thank you.”

*****

“More places for dinner,” Amanda fussed, slamming plates down on the counter with enough force to make them crack. “So inconsiderate of him.” That Danny Jones had no right to give her that infuriatingly cocky smile and accept the invitation to dinner when he knew full well that he wasn’t welcome. And she had no staff. They were all off with that terrible flu strain that was going round right now. She’d had to employ the cleaner to help, who- bless her heart- was no whizz in the kitchen.

The cleaner looked confused as she spared a second from cutting vegetables to look up at the clock, “But- and excuse me for saying, Ms. Rudow- isn’t it Mr. Judd’s decision who he has for dinner in his own house?”

Amanda heaved a sigh, “Yes, Sophie. But I still resent having to cook for the cretin.”

“Then why did you extend the invitation…?” the younger woman asked slowly, picking her words carefully.

“Manners, my dear,” Amanda responded. “Manners.”

“But why would you be polite to a cretin?”

Amanda heaved another sigh. “No. You don’t-” She shook her head slightly. Yes, the girl had a kind heart… But she really wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer…

“But why would you want to show good manners to a cretin?” Point proven as Sophie repeated her question, still sounding mystified.

“Not towards him, Sophie. Towards Mr. Judd.” Amanda began to mix flour violently into a bowl, “No matter what my feelings for his…acquaintance are, I cannot appear unjust. Besides, Claire is always a joy to have for dinner.”

Sophie shook her head slightly as she continued to chop vegetables. She had never understood the need to conceal what you were thinking. Surely the world would be a better place if everyone just spoke out. Then again, she was often scolded when she spoke out… “If you don’t like him, then don’t offer to feed him,” she muttered to herself.

Amanda’s head snapped up, “What did you just say?”

Sophie had to think on her feet: “I said: ‘So what are we going to feed ‘em?’”

*****

“Did you see it’s snowing?” Danny called, walking into the living room. He paused upon seeing his wife and her best friend basically pressed up against the window. “Stupid question.”

“Now that is impressive in heels of that height,” Claire was saying as they stared out.

Colleen tipped her head to the side as Danny moved closer to see what they were looking at, “They’re not that high.”

“Are they not?” Claire inclined her head the same way, “Still: They make her legs look good.”

They were watching a tall redhead unload a car, Danny noted. He had no idea who she was or why they were watching her, but they were. Colleen hummed, “Fantastic legs, though, aren’t they?”

“Something has to make up for that face,” Claire remarked.

Danny laughed, curling his arms around her shoulders, “I love listening to a female bitching session. Who is she, anyhow?”

“The buyer’s PA,” Colleen murmured. “You think I should go and help her?”

Claire shook her head, “I think she’s the type to sneer at any offered help.”

Danny drew her back away from the window, “I take it the fact that you’ve resorted to watching a woman unload a car out of a window means that you’ve finished whatever you were doing.”

“For now,” she agreed, allowing him to pull her down onto the sofa. “I heard that we were staying for tea.”

“We are.”

She gave a knowing chuckle as he pressed his lips to her throat affectionately, “You just want to get out of cooking.”

He grinned, “Maybe…”

“It’s still going to be your turn next time,” she reminded him.

He rolled his eyes, “You’re so harsh.”

They heard the front door close, followed by an exchange of murmurs in the hall. Then Harry walked in. “You have to respect a woman who refuses help in carrying three full-sized suitcases up the stairs, no matter how creepy she may be.”

Danny frowned, “What’s the deal with this chick?”

Colleen clicked her tongue as she considered, “She’s…cold, distant. Takes professional to a whole new level.”

“She never smiles, never seems to show any vaguely positive emotion. She’s just blank. Facts and figures, that’s all.” Harry sank down into an armchair, “But it’s nothing major.”

“So what’s the buyer like?”

The owner shrugged his broad shoulders lazily, “Friendly enough. Very calm. I’ll have to watch him over the weekend, though. It’s a big step to sell him the House.”

“Definitely,” Colleen agreed. “Don’t worry. I’ll be keeping an eye on him. This is my house, too.”

“A fact which I try to forget on a near constant basis,” Harry said to the Jones’ in a low tone. Colleen backhanded him over the shoulder.

*****

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit…?” So many words sprung to mind. Now to just pluck one from the air. “…judgemental?” Sophie dared to ask as Amanda violently slapped around a poor, defenceless piece of fish.

The cool brown eyes of the other woman snapped up to meet hers, “Judgemental? You stand there and suggest that my feelings for that piece of scum are anything other than logical and thought out? I have tried to be on cordial terms with the man, but it proved to be completely pointless. He isn’t worth what a pig could spit! Sitting there, like butter wouldn’t melt…”

She was still ranting about Danny Jones. Sophie now felt inclined to watch Amanda carefully just in case she attempted to slip poison into the man’s meal.

“He’s manipulative,” Amanda continued, slapping a piece of fish down on the tray. Sophie winced. “But no-one, and- I repeat- no-one oppresses Amanda Rudow.”

“Who’s oppressing whom?” Claire questioned as she entered the kitchen.

Amanda smiled at her, “It’s nothing, dear. Dinner is almost ready. We have a bottle of wine open if you want to sneak a glass with us.”

She grinned, “Don’t mind if I do. Hey, Sophie.”

“Evening.”

Despite the bad feeling towards her husband, Claire had always been on excellent terms with the house-staff, and had made close friends with a few of them. She poured herself a glass of Merlot now, and boosted herself up to sit on a patch of counter that wasn’t in use. “Are you two staying over the weekend?”

Sophie frowned, “Yeah. Why?”

“That’s fine, then.” Claire took a sip of her wine, then gestured with the glass, “If you hadn’t’ve been, I was going to suggest getting out as soon as. Snow’s starting to come down thick and fast out there. Roads won’t be safe for much longer. Not this far out of the city.”

Amanda looked out of the window at the thick flakes falling past it, “You’re right. It’s supposed to be the worst it’s been in eighteen years, isn’t it?”

“So they say.”

Someone cleared their throat at the door, “Excuse me?” Turning, they all saw Mr. Poynter’s assistant at the door, one hand resting against the frame. It was weird, Sophie mused, but she felt like she had been the woman’s face somewhere before… But she couldn’t have. She’d never been to London in her life.

“Yes?”

“Am I addressing the chef?”

Amanda gave a curt nod, “That’s me.”

“Excellent. I’m here to check the dinner arrangements.”

Amanda’s eyes narrowed as Lynne walked into the kitchen, her heels clacking on the linoleum. “Dinner arrangements?” she asked icily.

The bland smile remained in place even in the face of Amanda’s cold tone, “Just a precaution, I’m sure you understand. To make sure that he will enjoy your meal to the fullest.”

Amanda leant against the counter in a challenging stance, “Is he a vegetarian?”

Her smile vanished, “No.”

“Any allergies?”

“None.”

“Does he eat fish?”

“Yes.”

It was Amanda who smiled now, but there was a hint of cruelty in it. “Then he’ll eat what I serve him, and he’ll like it.”

“And what will that be?” Lynne pressed politely.

“Grilled salmon and couscous.”

Lynne gave a single nod, “Then I’m sure it will be satisfactory.” She started out, but then paused and turned back, “One moment. May I ask you a favour?”

“It’s Mr. Poynter’s girlfriend,” she explained with a smile, and this time Sophie could see some emotion behind it. A strange light- deep in the woman’s eyes. “She likes things with a bit of…spice. Just that extra kick, you know? I was wondering if you could perhaps add a little spice to her fish… Just to give it that extra oomph. And to her couscous. It would certainly increase enjoyment. I trust that you’ll see to it.” Then she left, her heels clacking down the corridor and away.

“Uptight, isn’t she?” Amanda remarked.

“I don’t like her.”

Claire frowned, taking another sip of her wine, “Why not?”

Sophie shrugged, “I just…don’t.”

*****

“So what do you think of the House?” Dougie asked as he unpacked his bags. When he got no response, he glanced over his shoulder. “Carrie?”

She looked up at him; asked bitterly: “Do you really want to know?”

He slid the drawer closed; turned to face her, “What?”

Carrie blew out a breath and shook her head, “It’s nothing.”

“Carrie.” He crossed to the bed to sit next to her, “Do you not want to be here…? Because it’s not too late for you to go home.”

“No.” She shook her head once more, “I want to stay.”

“Good.” He brushed his lips over hers and- where he might have left it at that- she pressed into him, indulging herself in a longer, more satisfying kiss. His lips curved against hers, telling her that he had been expecting her to do so.

*****

“Good evening,” Colleen greeted them as they walked into the dining room later on. “Let me show you to your seats.” She gestured to the table, where Harry and the Joneses were already seated. Harry was sat at the head of the table, with the married couple on either side of him, facing one another over the mahogany.

Claire watched as Lynne slipped into the room behind them. The PA studied Dougie critically, then murmured something to him through tight lips. His amusement was evident as he responded, apparently unphased by the increased tension in his PA.

Then he moved to sit next to Carrie, who had taken the chair next to Danny. As the final two took their seats, Amanda moved into the room, “If you’re ready, then the starter shall be served.”

*****

“So what are your first impressions?” Danny asked Carrie in between courses, turning slightly in his seat to face her.

Carrie smiled, setting down her wine glass, “It’s a beautiful house, to be sure. So much character and charm. And I love that it’s so…private.”

Harry nodded, his own lips curving, “It’s a great place to live. Colleen, the rest of the staff and I have lived here for years. If you have any questions, don’t be afraid to ask any of us.”

“Thanks. But- unfortunately- my opinion doesn’t count for much.” She motioned to Dougie, who was deep in discussion with Lynne about a crack in some ceiling somewhere, “They’re the business brains. I’m the romantic.”

Claire grinned, “I prefer your take. It’s much more fun.”

Someone cleared their throat at the door, and Amanda stepped into the dining room, “The main course is ready if you are.”

Harry nodded, “Bring it in.”

Once everyone had a plate in front of them, they continued to talk whilst they ate. “Pardon my saying,” Danny ventured. “But you seem different from them.”

Carrie smiled slightly as she took a bite of salmon, “Different?”

“Not bad different,” Danny clarified as Claire gave him a stern look over the table. “But, yeah. Different.”

“Opposites attract, I guess,” she decided. Then she frowned. Why was her mouth tingling…? Was the salmon supposed to be this spicy? She cast her eyes over the table. No-one else appeared to be having a problem. Maybe she was just overreacting. She never had liked spicy things… Trying to act nonchalant, she reached for her wine glass, but it did nothing to stop the burning on her tongue. She’d have to put up with it, she decided, and forked up more salmon. It would be rude not to eat it.

Harry frowned as she gasped and slammed a hand against her mouth, “What’s wrong?”

“Carrie?” Dougie turned in his seat to face her, “What is it?”

“Spicy,” she managed, though her tongue felt thick.

Colleen reached for the jug of water; poured a glass, “Here: Drink this.” Carrie drained it, but her hands still fluttered around her mouth, indicating that it had done no good.

“I read somewhere that rice helps to relieve spicy food,” Lynne remarked.

“Yeah! Eat some couscous- that might help,” Colleen suggested now, and Claire turned suddenly to stare down the table at Lynne. The PA was sitting there, staring at Carrie with her usual blank expression- probably her version of the ‘butter-wouldn’t-melt’ façade. Claire felt incredulousness rising in her throat. Why was the woman acting like she didn’t know what was going on? She had orchestrated the whole thing!

Claire looked back to Carrie just as the other woman raised the couscous to her lips. “No! Don’t-!” Then she sank back into her seat as Carrie’s mouth closed around the fork, her cry too late to do any good. “-eat that…” she trailed off, then scowled as she felt Lynne glance at her.

Carrie fanned her mouth furiously as another wave of spice hit her. Her eyes began to water, and she choked out an ‘excuse me’ before knocking her chair back and speeding from the room.

Harry stared after her in shock, “What just happened?”

“Was there something wrong with the food?” Colleen wondered.

Dougie pulled the plate towards himself, picked up the abandoned fork, “I dunno. I’ll che-” The fork fell back to the plate with a clatter, “Lynne?”

She took a casual sip of her wine, “Yes?”

“I just worked out what happened.”

She changed her expression to mildly confused, “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

“Lynne.”

There was a slight staring contest over the table, before she grinned suddenly, and all the other people at the table were gobsmacked at the change it made to her face. She looked almost… well, approachable. Her eyes glinted, and a mischievous look came into them. “Oh, come on! You have to admit that was funny!” She picked up her wine again, took another sip, “Admittedly, I didn’t expect her to run out of the room, but that was pretty damn perfect as well.”

Shock hung in the air around the table as Lynne continued to grin across at a fuming Dougie. Now that the PA had slipped out of professional mode, she was almost like a completely different person. Dougie sighed impatiently, “Stop being cruel.”

“Who’s being cruel?” Lynne set down her glass again with a shrug, “Cruel would be feeding her something I know she’s allergic to and watching her die with glee. This was just something she doesn’t like. I’m just being bitchy.” She cast her eyes upwards as silence fell between them.

Dougie held up a hand, “Don’t say it.”

“Any allergies?”

“Shut up,” he snapped, also losing his composure as he leant closer to her over the table. “She’s already convinced that you hate her, and- even though I tell her you don’t- it’s hard to prove it if you keep pulling stunts like this.”

“You told her otherwise?” she asked in a disgusted voice. “Now who’s being cruel? Dougie, she’s right for once in her life… and you want to take that away from her…?”

A dispassionate mask fell across Dougie’s face now, “She’s my girlfriend. As my PA, you have to show your respect.”

She forked up salmon now, as casual as anything, “I’m not an actress. I can’t show what I don’t have.”

“Go and apologise,” Dougie said in the same flat tone.

“But-” Lynne set down her cutlery, blew out a sigh, “I won’t mean it. She’ll know I don’t mean it.”

“Now.”

“Okay… Fine…” she said in an aggrieved tone as she stood. Then she treated the other people at the table to a bland smile as she slid her chair back in, “Excuse me.”

Dougie cringed as he remembered that everyone would have seen that exchange. Then he offered them a sheepish smile, “Sorry about that. Lynne’s very…protective of me. She’s been trying to drive Carrie away for months.”

“You don’t have to apologise,” Harry managed.

But the businessman shook his head, “I do. I’d hoped they would behave over the weekend. If this makes you reconsider the sale, then I’d prefer you say so now.” There was quiet irritation in his eyes, but Harry could see amusement creeping through even as he tried to hide it.

He smiled easily, “Don’t worry. You won’t be judged on whether your party get along or not.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

*****

“Hey,” Dougie said softly as he moved into the room later to see Carrie lying on the bed. He wasn’t sure what kind of mood she would be in, and so thought it wiser to approach with caution for the time-being. She didn’t respond; just carried on staring up at the ceiling. Dougie came in; closed the door behind him, “Did she come to apologise?”

“She didn’t mean it.”

He sighed, “I know.” Then he moved to the bed and took a seat on the edge of it, “I can’t make her mean it, Carrie.”

“I hate her.”

“Fair enough. She’s not particularly taken with you, either.” He turned so that he was lying beside her, “But I need you to tolerate each other. Not like, not even communicate if you don’t want to. I just can’t have you two at war all of the time.”

Carrie huffed out a sigh, turning and curling into him, resting her head on his shoulder in a movement that told him that she didn’t blame him. “I hope she got this lecture as well.”

“She will once I track her down,” Dougie promised her with a smirk. “Right now, she’s intelligent enough to stay out of my way for a bit.”

She sighed again, fiddling with his collar, “I don’t get why you can’t just get a new PA.”

“It’s out of the question. You know that.”

“But why?” she pressed.

“It just is.” Then he groaned as she just remained curled into him silently, “Look, she knows me, knows what I’m looking for. Any new PA wouldn’t be as good at the job.”

“But she’s a bitch!”

He chuckled, tracing patterns idly over the back of her shoulder, “I know. She knows. It’s just how she is. You still don’t have to spend the weekend here… If you leave now, you should get out before the worst of the snow comes down.”

Carrie shook her head defiantly, “What? And give Psycho Bitch the satisfaction? Not about to happen…” She felt better as he laughed softly next to her, “Besides, I love you too much to leave you with her.”

He angled his head to look down into her eyes, “What? You not think I could take her?”

“I think she would kick your bony arse to the Outer Hebrides and back,” Carrie admitted with a giggle.

“Oh, you liar.” He rolled; had her pinned beneath him on the mattress before she could blink. She giggled, kissing him softly on the lips.

“Don’t worry. I love you for who you are.”

Dougie rolled his eyes, “Great. So I’m pathetic and weedy, but that’s all fine because you love me anyway?”

“Pretty much.”

He moved down to brush his mouth over the pulse of her neck, “You never did answer my question before. What do you think of the House?”

“It’s gorgeous. I-” She broke off with a contented hum as he pressed his mouth against her neck once more. “I love the architecture and the surroundings. It’s so peaceful.”

“Could you see yourself living here?” he asked, lacing kisses up her jaw.

“I suppose. Why?” she asked, but any alarm bells were silenced as his mouth closed over hers. Weekends away were one thing, but living together was a big step. She knew she needn’t worry. Dougie was too reasonable to enter into anything lightly.

*****

“Hello?” Claire called, striding into the kitchen. “Hey, chef, are you here?”

“She went to take out the bin,” Sophie told her as she popped up from behind a counter. Claire had to peel herself from the ceiling.

“Why the hell are you hiding?!” Her heart was still going ten to the dozen.

Sophie frowned, looked down into from where she’d appeared from, “I wasn’t hiding. I dropped a bag of flour. I want to get rid of it before she gets back.”

“Too late.”

Sophie cringed as Amanda strode back into the kitchen, “I was just cleaning it up.”

“Good. Nice to know you can do your job.” Amanda smiled at Claire, “Are you just visiting or…?”

“She doesn’t like spicy food,” Claire blurted out. Immediately, Amanda knew what she meant and sighed softly.

But Sophie frowned, “Who?”

“Poynter’s girlfriend,” Amanda told her without looking round. Her eyes remained on Claire’s, “I did suspect that that might be the case. That’s why I switched the plates.”

Claire blinked, “No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did. The PA got the spicy one.”

Sophie began to sink down behind the counter again.

“No, she didn’t.”

“Yes, she did!”

Claire couldn’t help but burst out laughing as Amanda scrambled around the corner after the cleaner. Unfortunately, Amanda’s legs could cover more ground than Sophie could in crawling motion. She was cut off with ease, “Where do you think you’re going, missy?!”

“To get the dustpan and clean up the-?”

“Later,” Amanda interrupted. “We have bigger problems. About dinner: You did- Oh, get up here!” Her voice impatient, she seized Sophie by the collar and hauled her into a standing position.

“Hi,” the cleaner chirped in a vain attempt to make Amanda forget her purpose. Then she gagged and rubbed her aching Adam’s apple, which had been caught on her uniform in the yank upwards.

“Good evening, you insane child.” Amanda gripped her arm now to insure that no further escape attempt could be made. “Now, Sophie, this is important. Did you give the spicy salmon to the PA lady?”

Sophie made a palaver of thinking long and hard about the answer to this question, and Amanda knew that she was desperately trying to come up with some sort of excuse. “The PA is the one with dyed hair, isn’t she? The one that isn’t Miss Colleen?”

“Sophie, you know damn well who the PA is. You were standing next to me when she came in here!”

“Not to mention it was your idea to switch the plates in the first place,” Claire put it.

“Well,” Amanda jibed, throwing her hands up. “That explains why it all went to hell in a hand basket!”

Sophie huffed out a breath, “I’m sorry! But she-” An accusing finger was pointed at Amanda, who simply raised a cautionary eyebrow. “-gave me two plates! How was I meant to know which one was spicy?!”

Amanda raised her hands again and flexed them, wishing that the cleaner’s neck could be in them. “The one with red bits on it!”

Sophie gave a haughty sniff, “Well, you should have made it clearer.”

Claire stepped in between them before Amanda could throttle the cleaner with her bare hands. “It doesn’t matter. We messed up and Carrie got the demon dish.”

“She wasn’t allergic, was she?” Amanda asked in alarm, the thought just occurring to her.

Claire shook her head; heaved a sigh, “No. Just a spice hater. But it still sucks.”

“I think we should keep a wary eye on Little Miss Prim-And-Proper,” Amanda decided. “Make sure that she behaves.”

Sophie frowned, tapping her fingers off the counter, “I told you there was something off about her…”

*****

“Hey, Col. You in here?” Harry asked, knocking on her door. When there was no response, he pushed on the door experimentally. It swung open under his fingers, revealing his assistant’s empty room. “Hello?” He cast his gaze around. There was a notebook open on the desk and her jacket was slung over the back of the chair, so she ought to be nearby. Never mind. He could talk to her later.

He was about to leave again when movement caught his eye. Turning his head, he grinned, “You two are up early.” The two Russian Dwarf hamsters looked up at the sound of his voice. Almost immediately, the sleek grey one turned back to the continued grooming of his fur. But the other hamster- an excitable, skinny bundle of tufty, toffee coloured fur- scurried up to the bars. Harry laughed as a nose was poked through hopefully. “Hello, Rex… You want out?”

Colleen walked into the room just as he was easing Rex out of the cage, “Careful. He’s feeling bitey today.”

“Is he?” Harry winced as the hamster decided to chew on his thumb web, “Oh. Right.”

She laughed, pulling out her desk chair and sitting down, “What do you want?”

“Right now? To get this little bugger to release,” he muttered, trying to dislodge the still nibbling hamster.

Colleen laughed, “Feed him one of the milk drops. It’ll distract him.” She watched as he balanced her pet on one hand and fished about for the treat. “Did you want to talk to me about something?”

“What? Oh, yeah.” Harry grinned as Rex took the treat from him and sat down in a fluffy ball on his hand to eat it. “I wanted your impressions.”

“On what?”

“On the buyer. Potential buyer,” Harry amended. He looked up at her again, “This is your house as much as mine. I won’t sell it unless you’re okay with who it’s going to.”

She smiled, turning in her chair so she was facing him head on, “Thanks. But I like the buyer just fine. He seems decent. His companions are at war with each other, but that’s hardly his fault. He seems level-headed enough.”

“I like him as well,” Harry agreed. “So far.” He caught Rex as the hamster made a beeline for his sleeve and held him up. “We should set you on him, shouldn’t we, Reximillius?” he remarked, looking into the furry face.

Colleen couldn’t help but laugh, “What? Our guard hamster?”

“Of course!” Harry proclaimed. Rex just twitched his whiskers.

*****

It was ten past eight when there as a screech of brakes, the roar of an engine and a very definite crash.

Everyone in the House heard it. Dougie pulled back from exploring the contours of Carrie’s neck to stare into her confused eyes; Harry froze in the middle of treating George a treat so he wouldn’t feel like Rex was getting all the attention and looked to Colleen with wide eyes; Danny and Claire frowned, turning back to look at the House as they stood on the back porch; Sophie got a shock and spilt more flour, causing Amanda to roll her eyes in exasperation.

Lynne was closest to the crash when it happened. Standing in the hall, she was checking over the plasterwork. She had decided to stay out of the happy couple’s way until Dougie was less likely to strangle her for her stunt earlier on. But the cacophony of noise from the drive snapped her to attention and she ran to the door to pull it open.

Only to have a man stumble out of the snowfall and grab her.

There was a mad scramble for a moment as Lynne was knocked off her balance and they both tried to steady themselves. In the end, they reached an equilibrium by gripping onto the other’s upper arms. Wide eyes stared into wide eyes. “You have to help me,” the man gasped.

“What happened?”

“I slid on the ice,” he gasped. “And-”

Lynne shook him slightly as he lapsed into silence, gasping for breath, “And?”

“Crashed. Out there.”

Her gaze flicked over his shoulder, out into the drive, “Crashed? Crashed into what?”

“I’m not sure. A car. I think.”

Alarm bells. Big, loud alarm bells. “Car?” Her tone was suddenly blank, and her face shut off from emotion. “What car?”

The man frowned, “What does it matter?”

She shook him again, and there was a flicker of fury in her eyes, “It matters. What car?”

He motioned loosely out of the door, “That one. In the middle. There.”

Lynne released him, taking a step back as her eyes widened drastically, “No.”

“What?”

She shoved past him out of the door, striding out and across the drive. He heard the holler that she sent over her shoulder: “You’d better pray for your sake that you haven’t rear-ended my Bentley!”

The man closed his eyes on a sigh and clasped his hands in front of himself, “I’m praying for my sake that I haven’t rear-ended your Bentley…”

“You idiot!”

“Damn it,” he muttered as Lynne spun back from her examination of the car and stormed back towards him with the fury in her eyes obvious now. He backed off slightly into the House. “Hey, now… It was an accident…”

“I don’t give a damn whether it was an accident or not!” she spat, seizing him by the collar and slamming him into the wall. “Do you know what you’ve just wrecked?!”

He swallowed, “Your Bentley?”

“It’s a Bentley Turbo RL, dated 1992 and worth a hundred times more than your pathetic Hot Wheels toy!”

“Look, I’m sorry!” he begged, holding his hands up in surrender. “It’s not like I did it on purpose! I told you: It was an accident!”

“An accident?!” She slammed him against the wall again forcefully. “Why don’t I rip the roof off that electric blue monstrosity and call that an accident?!”

The man swallowed, his deep brown eyes nervous behind the thick frames of his glasses. “It’s just a car…”

Evidently, this was the wrong thing to say. “Just a car?! Only someone with a car like yours could possibly mean that! I’ve a good mind to-”

“What the hell is going on down here?” Dougie demanded, running down the stairs with Carrie hot on his heels. “Lynne, what do you think you’re doing?”

The others had begun to gather as well, concerned by the commotion. It was only now that Lynne stepped back from the man, but her fingers still twisted and there was fire in her eyes. When she spoke, her voice was low and dangerous: “This idiot has thrust his stupid little Mini unceremoniously up my Bentley’s arse!”

The thrustee winced, “That’s a mental image I could’ve done without…”

“Well, well…” It was Danny who spoke now, taking a step forward with his thumbs hooked nonchalantly into the belt loops of his jeans. “Look what the wind blew in… Tom Fletcher…”

The blond pushed his glasses up his nose to bring him into focus and gasped, “Danny Jones?”

Claire let out a happy squeal, launching herself at the new arrival, “Tom! I can’t believe it! I thought you were still in the States!”

Amanda leant on the doorframe leading into the dining room and spoke in a low voice, “No such luck. What happened, Fletcher? Did they kick you out for being too dull…?” Tom gave her an even stare.

“As charming as ever, I see, Amanda.” He waited a moment longer; cleared his throat, “Claire…? You can let go now…”

“This hug isn’t finished until I say it’s finished.”

“You know him?” Harry asked in surprise.

“Know him? Oh, yeah! We went to uni together!” Moving forward, Danny clapped a hand on Tom’s shoulder, while Lynne shifted back to hover at the bottom of the staircase next to Dougie.

Claire finally let go. “Then this bloke got a job in the States and I haven’t seen him for over a year!” Amanda muttered something to herself that sounded suspiciously like ‘good riddance’.

“Oh, my… I don’t believe it!” Someone shoved Colleen to the side to get to the front of the group. Sophie’s eyes were wide and she was panting slightly. Lynne leant back to murmur to Dougie, “Do you ever feel like you’re left out of a really big loop?”

There was fascination in his eyes as he watched the exchange. “It’s like incest,” he whispered back, making her snort out a laugh. Carrie punched them both on the shoulder to tell them to be quiet.

Amanda seized Sophie by the wrist, hauling her into the dining room past her, “Not here, you moron.” Lynne tipped her head back again to look at Dougie, noted the way he chewed on the corner of his lip when he was curious. He’d heard the hiss as well.

“Could I possibly use a phone?” Tom asked. “I’ll have to phone my office in London and tell them I won’t be able to be there for the morning. Not in this snow…”

Claire looked worried, “Where will you go?”

“There’s a Travel Inn not too far away,” he said without much confidence. “I came down the drive to ask how much further along it was. To ask for directions.”

“And total my Bentley in the process,” Lynne muttered under her breath. Dougie made a sympathetic noise, patting her on the shoulder. Carrie punched them both again.

“It’s quite far out,” Harry told him, frowning slightly. “Too far to drive in these conditions- for sure. If you’d like, you can stay here for the night. Just until the snow clears.”

Tom frowned, “Thanks for the offer. It’s just that I’m not sure that it will clear… Not soon, in any case.”

“Well, it would be suicide to go back out there just now.”

Claire drilled a finger into Tom’s chest, “Oh, no. Don’t even think about it, mister. I’m not having you die out there. What you say now is: ‘Thank you. That would be fantastic.’”

“But, Claire-”

Her fingers dug into his arm in a vice grip, and she repeated in a dangerous tone: “‘Thank you. That would be fantastic.’”

Then a short staring contest commenced as Tom tried his best to look defiant while Claire’s glare clearly read: ‘Attempt it and die.’ Then he grit his teeth and sighed, before saying monotonously: “‘Thank you. That would be fantastic.’”

*****

“I really am grateful,” Tom said to Harry later as he slid a case over a pillow. “It might have seemed otherwise before. I can’t help it. Whenever Claire and I are together, we both seem to revert to teenage mode.”

“Danny said you went to uni together,” Harry remarked, covering the other pillow.

“Yeah. That’s right.”

Harry’s eyes were on him as he observed: “But you seem closer to Claire.”

“I am.” At the silence which greeted that response, Tom sighed and opened his holdall. “Danny and I were close. At uni. But I’ve known Claire longer. And…there’s some bad blood between Danny and I now.” He pulled a phone charger out of his bag, complete with an American adapter, “Socket?”

He nodded towards the wall behind Tom, “To the side of the desk.”

“Thanks.” Tom smiled sheepishly, “Dead battery.”

“So is that why Danny’s never mentioned you?” Harry pressed. “Because of the bad blood?”

He shrugged, “Probably. We fought before I left for America. In a big way.”

“Why did you leave?”

“I got my dream job,” he admitted, in a somewhat bitter tone.

Harry was about to question him again when Colleen poked her head around the door. “Harry. We have a situation.”

“What is it?”

“Phone lines are down.”

He sighed. He’d been hoping that it was something he could avoid so he could carry on interrogating Danny’s never-before-mentioned friend, but she’d somehow managed to whip out a legitimate reason. “Excuse me,” he said to Tom, before leaving.

Alone, Tom rose from his crouching position and crossed back to the bed. He dug into his overnight bag again, glad that he had packed on just in case something went wrong. Still, he could have fared worse. A house with a couple old friends and a nice enough- if slightly curious- owner. Once they got the phone lines back up, he’d just give the office a call and let them know where he was. Satisfied that he had all that he needed in his bag, he turned back to the door and nearly jumped out of his skin. “Bloody hell! How long have you been standing there?!”

A girl in a staff uniform was standing and staring at him with wide blue eyes. Her dark, curly brown hair was tied back into a ponytail and there was flour on the navy-coloured apron she was wearing over the crisp white uniform. Her face was pretty, but right now she was wearing a look that- even as he couldn’t rightly identify it- made Tom uncomfortable. After a moment of increasing awkwardness, he cleared his throat, “Can I help you with something?”

“No!” All of a sudden, she just seemed to burst into life. “You don’t recognise me! Then again, why would you? It’s been years!”

Tom took an uneasy step back towards the bed, “I know you…?”

“Yeah! I’m Sophie! Remember? We went to high school together!”

“We did?”

“Oh, yes!” Sophie nodded so frantically that he suspected that her head may fall off. “Come on… You must remember me! I was your Biology partner in Year Six!”

Tom’s eyes widened, and he took another step back, “You… I… No… Not you. I have a restraining order against you!”

Sophie gave a nervous giggle that had Tom wishing he had further to back off. But his legs were already pressing against the bottom of the bed. “That’s dead and buried.”

“You stalked me for four years!”

“I didn’t stalk you!” she protested, moving into the room. “It’s like I told the court judge… It was a coincidence…” She shook her head, “But it doesn’t matter now, because they sent me to…rehab. I’m better now!”

He held out a hand, palm flat and facing her way, “I’d prefer if you didn’t come any closer.”

Sophie giggled again, and this time it was bordering on manic, “You’re so paranoid. I told you: I’m better.”

Tom’s instincts were telling him to hightail it right now, but his manners forced him to ask: “So what have you been doing?”

“Oh.” She spread her arms around herself demonstratively, “Just cleaning. Not many people hire staff with a record about her. But Mr. Judd is a saint. And what about you?”

“Just working,” Tom said awkwardly, though some part of him suspected that she’d already known. Paranoia, probably. He moved away under the pretence of looking in his bag for something. Just keep talking, he told himself. If he did that, then maybe she wouldn’t come any closer. “It’s so weird to come to this place and see so many people I used to know. Danny Jones… Claire Thackray, sorry, Jones, now, I’d assume. And Amanda Rudow. Sophie…” He paused, at a loss.

“Fletcher,” she supplied.

His head whipped round and his eyes were wide, “Fletcher…?”

“Yes!”

Closing his bag, he leant back against the dresser, fighting to keep his face calm even as his head was screaming bloody murder. “That wasn’t your surname before.”

“Oh, I had it changed.” It was only then that she seemed to realise the implication. “That was before, of course! Before I got better!” Another nervous giggle. “When I was still sick.”

“Right.” He’d been polite enough now, he decided. Time to escape. “Well, excuse me, but I should go and…socialise.”

“Oh. Of course. I’ll talk to you later.”

Now it was Tom who gave a nervous laugh, “Maybe.”

*****

Claire clicked her tongue as she stared out the window of the games room, “It’s still coming down thick and fast out there.”

“Yup. Definitely the heaviest snowfall in eighteen years,” Colleen remarked, making Claire chuckle. “Amanda’s normally right.”

“The wisest woman I know.” She bit down on her lip, worry in her eyes, “It’s not safe to drive anymore, is it?”

Colleen smiled and crossed to her, patting her on the back, “I’ve already made up the spare room.”

Claire laughed properly, turning away from the window properly now and leaning against the pool table. “You know me too well. Thanks. I’ll tell Dan when I see him.”

“I hope he won’t mind. Not that it could be helped…”

Claire rolled her eyes, and picked up a pool cue to break the game that Colleen had just racked up. The cue ball collided with the neat triangle with a crack, sending the balls skittering off in various directions. “Are you kidding me? He loves staying overnight here. I think he secretly has delusions of grandeur- probably because he’s not likely to get it. So he reaps the benefits of having a rich best friend. He’ll be thrilled that he and Harry can have a sleepover.”

Colleen laughed, taking a shot with her own cue and sending a red ball straight into the pocket, “Good, because we’re not getting out of here for a while. We can have our own sleepover as well, full of booze and chocolate to fight off the chill. Unfortunately, though, we have no staff, so we’ll have to serve ourselves… I’m afraid the delusions of grandeur may go unquenched.”

“You know my Danny,” Claire reminded her with a grin. “The eternal optimist if ever there was one.”

“Good thing,” Colleen decided as she shot another red ball into the depths of the pocket.

*****

“You did what?!”

Sophie winced at the shout that echoed through the kitchen. “I…spoke to him.”

“You stupid girl,” Amanda hissed savagely. “He has a restraining order against you! It is literally illegal for you to go near him! You know what that means? You can’t talk to him; you can’t touch him; you can’t invade his personal space!”

“Stop acting like my mum!” Sophie muttered, stalking to the fridge and pulling it open.

Amanda let out a derisive snort, “I'm trying to save you from prison, or a fine, or whatever else the courts can force on you. And I’m sure your mother would say the same if she were here. You’re breaking the restraining order!”

“No, I’m not! He came here.”

“Stay away from him, Sophie,” Amanda warned her in a low tone. “Stay away. Or it could all go very, very wrong.”

Sophie stared at her for a long moment, “And what do you mean by that?”

“Look at yourself.” Amanda stepped back, shaking his head, “He’s barely been here an hour and you’re already obsessing…”

“I am not!”

The cook eyed her critically, “Are you sure that you’re better?”

“Yes!” she suddenly shouted, slamming the fridge again. Amanda didn’t even flinch.

*****

“So what do you think of the House?” Harry asked Dougie as they sat in the front room later on that evening.

Dougie sighed, turning the clipboard in his hands, “I like it. But, to be honest, I’ve been too busy peacemaking to take a proper look around.”

Harry nodded, “Yeah. Must be hard to tiptoe around the warzone sometimes.”

“Oh, yes.”

Harry waited a beat, before daring to say: “Can I ask why they hate each other so much?”

“Buggered if I know.” Dougie rolled his eyes, relaxing slightly as he leant back against the cushions, “Lynne’s just got a ‘big sister’ complex where I’m concerned. Overprotective.”

“Maybe she loves you…” Harry mused.

Dougie let out a loud laugh, “Maybe not. It’s more of an owner/disobedient puppy relationship.”

“Hey, shortstack,” the topic of discussion greeted breezily as she strode in. “Have you seen my clipboard?” Then she heaved a sigh as Dougie held it up, “Should’ve guessed… We really have to get your kleptomania under control…” She took it off him and leant over the back of the sofa next to him to read it. “What were you two having big chats about?”

“How you hate Carrie.”

“Ooh.” She brightened, “Is this a private pow-wow, or can anyone join?”

Dougie slanted her a look, “It’s a discussion, not a bitching session.”

She whacked him with the clipboard, “Now who’s being bitchy?”

“At least with me it’s only occasional.” He motioned to the clipboard, “I read your notes.”

“Figured you might.” She glanced up at Harry, who was watching their interaction with a bemused expression on his face, “Epic house, by the by. You can so envision it as a film set or something equally dramatic. Love it.”

Harry smiled as Lynne shifted to brush a strand of hair out of Dougie’s eyes, “You two really are friends, aren’t you?”

“Couldn’t work together for six years without it,” Dougie replied.

The host’s eyebrows shot up, “Six years?!”

“I know.” Lynne winced, “It pains me, too. I mean: I’m twenty-four. I should be working my way up the corporate ranks of some big-name company, hating my post and contemplating seducing someone higher up the food chain to better my chances. But, instead, I’m employed by my childhood neighbour-”

“Your talented, charismatic and gorgeous childhood neighbour,” Dougie interjected.

Lynne waited for a disdainful beat, “-my childhood neighbour, who now gets to boss me around.”

“Like you ever listen…” Dougie remarked.

“I do when you’re right.” She considered, “Which is hardly ever, but that’s not my fault.” She leant closer to her employer; frowned, “You have a smudge on your cheek.”

He reached up to rub it, “Do I?”

She pulled his hand back, “Yeah. It’s pink. Roughly the same colour as- You whore!”

Dougie winced, “Can you have some class, please?”

“That wasn’t there at dinner! You’ve- Again! Since! Whore!”

“Shut up,” Dougie hissed.

Harry chuckled, “I’m beginning to wonder whether there are five of you, Lynne.”

“God forbid,” Dougie intoned, receiving a whack upside the head.

“What d’you mean?”

“You seem like a different person every time I see you,” he explained.

Dougie rolled his eyes, “No. She’s just screwed up.”

Lynne whacked him again and then grinned at Harry- who was still amazed by the fact that he was no longer unable to hold her gaze. Bitch or not, her emotion made her approachable. “I have different…personas,” she decided. “When I arrived, I was in ‘work persona’.” She passed a hand over her face; made it go blank. “Earlier, you caught me in my ‘get-on-Carrie’s wick’ persona.”

“Don’t bother,” Dougie warned Harry. “She has an answer for everything.”

“That’s what you pay me for.”

He eyed her dubiously, “I’m paying you to help me evaluate the house, not attempt to poison my girlfriend.”

“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic,” she sneered. “Don’t you think if I’d set out to poison her, then she’d be dead rather than mildly pissed off? It was just a bit of spice!”

“Which you knew she hated!”

She threw up her hands in exasperation, “Well, it wouldn’t have done to give her something she likes!”

“Can I interrupt?” Harry held up a finger as they both looked at him and he attempted to diffuse the situation. “Which persona is this?”

Lynne grinned, “My ‘defensive-against-angry-Dougie’ persona.”

“You’re so immature,” the ‘angry’ man muttered.

She chuckled, “This from the pouting man? Oh, come here! I can’t look at that anymore!” She grabbed Dougie by the chin and attempted to rub off the lipstick smear.

He squirmed, “Get off.” Then he laughed as she ignored him and continued to rub. “Lynne!”

“Just stay still,” she insisted through a similar laugh. “If you’re not going to clean yourself like a big boy, then I’ll do it for you.”

“Ahem.” Someone clearing their throat at the door made them cut off their squabble and look around. Carrie was glaring at them in disapproval, her mouth in a grim line. Dougie shifted uncomfortably, but Lynne just wiped the last of the lipstick off his cheek and pressed a smacking kiss to it even as he squirmed again.

“Perfect.”

“You’re such a bitch,” he muttered.

“And yet you keep me around…” She straightened, “Anyway, I have stuff to do. Personal Assisting and all that. I’ll see you two later.” Then she walked towards the door and put a hand on Carrie’s arm, “And how are you feeling now, Carrie?” Carrie just scoffed and pushed past her. Lynne smirked, noted the way that Dougie mouthed ‘bitch’ over the back of the sofa, and walked out of the room.

She was grinning until someone grabbed her by the collar of her shirt and pushed her backwards down the corridor and into a wall.

She winced as her back made heavy contact, “Hey! Watch it! Heels are precarious enough without the hostility!”

Claire held her in place even as she lifted a foot to swivel her ankle, checking it was okay. “I know what you did.”

“At tea.”

“Oh.” Bored again, the PA returned her attention to her ankle. “That. Look, I’m not surprised. I think everyone knows it was me.” Satisfied that she was okay, she looked back into Claire’s moody eyes. “Mostly because I admitted it. The only person I really wanted to hide it from was Dougie, and now he knows…”

“How can you be so foul?”

The PA laughed right in her face, “Foul? You make it sound like I arranged a massacre! It was a practical joke… You must have led a very sheltered life if you haven’t seen one before now. You lot have no sense of humour!” She leant her head back against the wall, still appearing unphased by the fact that Claire was holding her down. “You know, there is such a thing as being too righteous…”

“I don’t trust you,” Claire told her confidently.

“Fine.”

Claire choked on her own outrage, “‘Fine’?! Is that all you have to say?”

“What am I meant to do? Please forgiveness and swear I’ll be better?” The redhead bit her lip, “It’s not that easy to behave. And, besides, she pisses me off!”

“Everyone’s watching you,” the younger woman warned. “You won’t be able to do anything to her here.”

“Okay.”

Again, Claire was struck dumb. “‘Okay’?”

“It’s just a weekend. I can wait until you and your annoying goody-two shoes have walked out of my life.” Lynne leant in with a smirk curling on her lips, “And, for the record, I don’t care who knows that I want to get rid of Carrie. In fact: Spread it around. I could use the help.”

She made a noise of disgust as she stepped back, “You’re twisted.”

Lynne smirked; straightened her jacket. “I find it’s the best way to be.” And then she walked off down the hall, leaving a fuming Claire standing by the living room door.

*****

And that was who Danny called out for as he entered the kitchen, his eyes searching for any trace of his wife. “Claire? You in here?”

“She isn’t,” Amanda said curtly, striding out of the walk-in fridge and over to a counter.

Danny stuck his hands in his pockets defiantly, “Well, then where is she?”

“With any luck, she’s finally seen sense and she’s run away for good,” she muttered, slicing up a carrot with quick and forceful cuts.

Danny rolled his eyes, “I’m past the stage of clamouring for your approval, Amanda. Whether you like it or not, we’re married.”

“I’m aware of that,” she responded in a clipped tone.

“You’re just too protective.”

“What I am is none of your business.”

He took a step towards her; lowered his voice, “And what do you say to the return of Tom Fletcher?”

She pursed her lips, “I have nothing to say of that…man.”

“Nothing decent at least…” Danny muttered. He moved even closer to lean on the counter opposite where she worked. “I know that you don’t want him here, either.”

“Neither of you ever deserved her,” Amanda agreed in a low voice as she scraped her carrot cutting into a pan on the stove and slammed the chopping board back down onto the counter.

Danny sighed moodily, “He never wanted her like that. They were too much like an old married couple from the start to actually become one. But he…made a mess.”

“So did you, if I recall.” As he offered her a mild look, she gave him a bland smile in return, “I’m on Claire’s side, not yours or Tom’s. Remember that.” Then she cocked her head to the side in consideration, “Besides, what I want is worthless. I think people would notice if he vanished from the house, even if we alibied each other.”

The male blinked, “Kill him?”

“Expel him, you moron,” Amanda snapped. “Murder is overrated and messy.” Then she shrugged, “It’s one night. Ignore him. I’m sure he’ll return the favour.”

But Danny shook his head, “No. I need to talk to him. We don’t need the past to be dredged up.”

She slanted him a look, “Have we something to hide?”

“I just don’t want Claire to get hurt again.”

“Yes…” Amanda drawled as she began to chop an onion. “She looked simply distraught when he arrived, didn’t she…?”

Danny just narrowed his eyes at her, “Sarcasm isn’t becoming.”

“No, but I find it just falls out of my mouth when you’re present.” Again with the bland smile, “Now kindly get out of my kitchen while I have some goodwill left.”

“He shouldn’t be here.”

“He’s no more unwelcome than you are,” she said easily and saw anger flash in his eyes before he turned and strode out.

*****

“I made you soup.”

“You- I’m sorry, what?”

“Has living abroad made you dumb?” the cook asked impatiently as the blond looked blank. “Claire said you may not have eaten, so I made you soup. Lentil.”

“Oh. You didn’t have to… But thanks.” Tom approached the kitchen counter nervously. He had been surprised when Claire had said that Amanda had asked him to come down, but he had been expecting a slow and painful torture rather than a steaming bowl of soup.

Amanda shot him a dark look, “Yes, I did. You know what she’s like once she gets an idea in her head. If I hadn’t have done it, she would have.”

“Well, in that case I owe you my life and I’m extremely grateful.”

“She’s not bad,” Amanda defended.

“You’re better.” Tom took a seat at the counter where she motioned and picked up the spoon. “Seriously, though, thank you. I probably would have forgotten to eat.”

Amanda muttered to herself as she turned away to clean a ladle, “Bookish types…”

Tom smiled easily, a dimple winking in his cheek as he sampled the soup, “Still angry at me, are you?”

“My anger has become indifference.”

“I said I was-” He broke off as the violent PA with the ugly, overpriced car strode in and over to one of the far sinks without so much a glance in their direction. Then he looked back at Amanda, “I’m not saying it again.”

“Saying the word does not solve everything,” she retorted. “And you-” she barked across the kitchen. “-what are you doing?”

Lynne wandered back over with a glass in hand, “Getting a drink. I figured you’d rather I catered for myself than insulted you with such a trivial task.”

“Have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

She flashed a grin, “So I’m told.”

“Drink and get out. I have no patience for you.”

Lynne rolled her eyes expressively, “Bloody hell. Another one who might as well have had their sense of humour surgically removed… It was a joke.”

“Not a funny one.”

“You didn’t see her bolt out the door. If this were a sitcom, the laughter track would have been fierce.” She glanced at Tom; saw the curiosity in his eyes, “There was an incident earlier, Bentley-killer. You missed all the fun.”

“Sounds like it.”

Amanda sniffed, “I think you’re the only one who would call it fun.”

The PA shrugged, “Not my fault that you’re all too righteous for your own good. So…” She leant on the counter next to Tom, “What idiocy possessed you to drive through a snow storm?”

“I have work in London.”

“Work that was more important than your life?” She took a leisurely sip of her water, watching him shift on the stool uncomfortably, “What are you? A neurosurgeon? Got a theatre waiting for you with baited breath?”

He hunkered down and spooned in more soup, “No. I’m a weather researcher.”

Lynne let the statement hang for a moment, but her eyes glinted as she cleared her throat, “Repeat that for me?” He did so and she nodded slowly and clicked her tongue. “Now, I’m no expert… but I would assume that a weather researching is pretty much a self-explanatory job, right…? So…branching out from there… Your driving in a snowstorm was even more stupid… Tell me: What business does someone who knows the weather have driving in it when it’s dangerous?”

Tom felt his cheeks flush, “My plane was delayed.”

“Most airports have a hotel or Travel Inn attached.”

“I was in a hurry.”

“Uh-huh.” Lynne walked to the sink and started to wash her glass. Unphased by Amanda snatching it off her, she smiled at Tom, “And now you’re suspect, weatherman.” Then she sailed out on her clacking heels.

Amanda eyed him curiously, “She has a point.”

“I don’t like being late, you know that,” Tom said with a tinge of embarrassment. “I thought I’d be able to make it.”

“You should’ve swallowed your pride and booked into the Travel Inn.”

He set his spoon in the bottom of the empty bowl, “I know you don’t want me here. And I’ve said I’m sorry for what happened. But what else was I meant to do?”

Amanda snatched up his bowl with fury in her dark eyes, “Stop it, damn you. Stop it!” Her hands were trembling as she turned away, “Now get the hell out of my kitchen.”

*****

Dougie smiled at Colleen as she entered the living room, “Evening.”

“Evening. Can I…get you anything?”

He just smiled at her, “No, I’m fine, thank you.”

A faint blush crept into her cheeks, “I was looking for Harry… The phone lines are still out and I’m scared we’ll lose power and-” She caught herself and cleared her throat, “I need to talk to him. Do you know where he is?”

“Danny dragged him off for a game of pool.”

“And left you here?”

He grinned at the surprise in her voice, “They asked if I wanted to join them, but I could never play the game. More of a snooker fan, really. That’s where you’ll find them, though.”

“Right. Thanks.”

“No problem. See you later, Colleen.”

She looked up and met his gaze properly, her cheeks pink. Dougie felt his lips curve in amusement, taken by her timidity. “Yeah,” she whispered nervously before hurrying out of the door and coming face to face with Lynne. Colleen kept her head down as she scooted round under the other woman’s scrutinising gaze nervously and sped off down the corridor.

Lynne braced herself on the doorframe with a grin, leaning into the room, “Ding-dong! The winner of the lipstick raffle has just been announced!”

Dougie raised an eyebrow at her, “What?”

“That’s the shade, Casanova.” Lynne sauntered into the room, “The shade that I wiped off your cheek earlier. We haven’t even been here twelve hours!”

“Are you insinuating…?” Dougie laughed, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You know full well that this isn’t my ridiculous persona.”

He sighed, “That was Carrie’s lipstick earlier.”

“No, it wasn’t. Wanna hear why not?”

He spread his hands, “The floor is yours, prosecution for the Crown.”

“Thank you, M’Lud,” she responded easily.  “Well, firstly, the shade that I wiped off your cheek would never work with Carrie’s colouring and even she would know that. Secondly, Carrie tends to lean towards clear gloss as opposed to colour. And, thirdly, she wasn’t wearing any lipstick today. Game, set, match and I thank you.” She sank into a low bow.

Dougie held up a finger, “I hate to wreck your moment, Murray. But what if she put some on?”

“She didn’t. Which Murray? Jamie or Andy?”

“Andy. No-one would ever play on your team.”

“Fair enough.” Lynne eased a hip onto the back of the sofa and grinned down at Dougie, “Don’t you think I’d know if she wore lipstick?”

Dougie frowned, “What d’you mean?” Then the penny dropped. “Oh, bloody hell…”

Lynne burst out laughing, “What? Did you just think your exes kept ‘happening’ to have the same hideous shade of purple lipstick? Buying that dye was one of my best investments to date…” She grinned, “I saw Pepper the other day, by the way.  She still wears hers…” Then she slapped a hand down on the sofa, “But, anyway, back to topic. You and Colleen?!”

“I have no idea what you mean,” he said hotly.

Lynne stood up again with a smile. “Oh, yes, you do,” she said simply before turning and walking out of the room. Dougie huffed out a sigh and followed her.

He caught up with her at the staircase, “I don’t think I do.”

She gave a low chuckle, “You think I don’t know when you’ve got your seduction face on, Poynter?”

“I do not!”

She looked amused as she turned on to the second flight. He was still following behind like an obedient puppy. “I know your face. And when I walked into that room, it was in flirt mode, trust me.”

“Well, so what if it was?”

“You have a girlfriend,” Lynne reminded him with a grimace, stopping at the top of the stairs. She turned to face him, staying one step above as she planted a hand on the banister. “Or don’t you remember her?”

Dougie rolled his eyes, “Don’t be so square.”

“Look, your promiscuity is normally very endearing… And- trust me- I know better than to stand in the way of your own private Lust Train… But I thought you wanted this deal.”

“I do.”

“Then don’t blow it by being a whore,” she said flatly before turning and walking off once more.

And- once more- he followed. “Okay, okay. You understand me. Kudos to you. I like and respect that. But… look at her.”

She blinked, “I have.”

“Then how can you deny- as a woman who swings that way- that she’s hot?”

Lynne just rolled her eyes and opened the door to her room. “Good night, Dougie,” was all she said before shutting it in his face. She let him knock repeatedly for just under a minute before taking pity and opening it again. “Yes?”

“So, just to clarify, you’re telling me not to sleep with the really hot woman?”

Her lips quirked at the corner of her mouth, a sign that she was fighting a full blown grin. But it didn’t break out. “I’m advising you that it might not be wise to engage in intercourse with the owner’s assistant if we want to clinch this deal. You know how some bosses connect with their staff. It’s potentially risky.”

Dougie grinned now, wide and charming, “I live to take risks, Mackie.”

“Take one when there’s less at stake,” she recommended. “Leave the poor woman alone.” And then the door was closed again.

*****

Colleen bit into her cereal bar savagely as she sat at the kitchen counter with her head buzzing. As she chewed, she closed her eyes and hoped that when she reopened them she could have transported a few hours back in time.

“What are you doing?”

She jumped, her eyes shot open and she noticed that time had continued at its own annoyingly steady pace. And Claire was peering at her like she’d gone mad where she sat. She huffed out a sigh and bit into her cereal bar again, “Nothing.”

“Uh-huh…” With matching doubt in her eyes and her tone, she slid into the stool at the other side of the counter. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Why not?”

Colleen stared across the counter at her best friend and considered her options. She could tell Claire what was on her mind and so admit her own foolishness. Or she could stay schtum and work it out for herself. Claire could be trusted not to say anything, but… “I’ve done something stupid.”

Claire frowned, “Something stupid? Like what?”

“I’ve-” But she was cut off as there was a crash from across the kitchen.

“Sophie!” Amanda hissed loudly.

Claire laughed, jumping up out of her seat to peer around the corner. “Poor girl’s managed to spill milk all over the floor now,” she said to Colleen, feeling a little pity for the cleaner but not enough to step into Amanda’s firing zone by defending her. “Sorry, what were you-?” She turned back to face her friend. “-saying?” she finished with another frown, staring at the empty kitchen before her pensively.

*****

Danny frowned as he walked out onto the upper terrace to see that he wasn’t the only one who’d had the urge to come and stand in the snow for a bit. Harry had beaten him to it and was standing at the railings with his fingers viced on them as he stared out at the falling snow.

Danny pulled his coat tighter around himself before stepping out of the open doors onto the terrace itself. He always imagined this part of the House as the battlements, where some great Judd of old would have stood proud and looked for invaders. As was expected, there was a definite chill in the air that made him shiver. “Aren’t you freezing?”

Harry glanced back at him with a slight smile, “I’m okay. You’ve always felt the cold more than me.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re not insane for standing out here in just a shirt.” Danny joined him at the railings, looked out over the stunning view of the English suburbs. “You won’t be able to stand here for much longer, though.”

Harry tipped his head back so that snowflakes came to land on his face, “It still feels wrong to sell it. Old Sanders himself would be ashamed of me.”

Danny furrowed his brow, “I’m sure he wouldn’t be.”

Harry just laughed softly, leaning forward again and bracing himself on the rail. “Of course he would be. Disgracing the family legacy…? It just wasn’t done back when he lived…” He stared down at his hands; drummed his fingers off the wood in a simple beat, “But I guess the legacy ends here…”

“It’s your house.”

“One that I can’t afford anymore,” he added softly. “I own the structure, sure. But then there’s all the rest. Repairs, renovations, restorations. Staff wages. Supplies. Electricity and gas bills.” He drew in a long and weary sigh. “It doesn’t take long to mount up.”

“Who would own this place if you didn’t?”

He frowned slightly as he considered, “Colleen, I guess. There’s no other family.”

“And after that?”

“I dunno. You, Claire or Amanda, probably. That’s who it’s noted as on the paperwork.” He nudged Danny in the side lightly with a grin, “But the point is that none of us can afford the maintenance.”

“You’re right,” Danny agreed with a low sigh. “I guess it’ll have to go.”

Harry just nodded, “Yup.”

*****

Carrie strode down the corridor with dark eyes and one purpose: Justice.

She was sick of being humiliated; sick of being put down; sick of being demoralised. Now the snide Psycho Bitch was going to pay… She slapped out as the door opened and heard the satisfying smack of flesh meeting flesh.

Lynne blinked as her head jerked with the impact, “Well. Good night to you, too… I hope your dreams are filled with rainbows and pretty flowers.”

“I hate you.”

“Good. It would all be a bit pointless if you liked me.” Lynne probed her tongue into her cheek; winced, “You’ve got a hell of a slap, I’ll give you that. It...resonates. We done?”

“No, we are not done! What you did at tea was horrible and-”

“A mistake. I shouldn’t have done it.”

Carrie’s whole enraged speech fell out of her head with a plop and she could only goggle, “What?!”

“Yeah…” Lynne leant against the doorframe with the ease of a middle-aged woman settling in for a good natter over a cuppa. “In hindsight, I should have saved that gem for the last night. Now everyone’s just going to bug me about it all weekend…”

Carrie bared his teeth, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing. I’m as healthy as a horse.” Lynne pursed her lips thoughtfully, casting her eyes upwards, “I’ve never understood that expression… Surely horses can be poorly…”

“I don’t know why you hate me so much.”

“Just generally for being you.”

Carrie pushed past her into the room and waited impatiently until Lynne closed the door and turned to face her expectantly. Then she asked the million pound question. “Are you in love with Dougie?”

“No. I’m in love with you. Why don’t I lock the door and we get down to it, gorgeous?”

Carrie stared into Lynne’s deadpan face. She’d reverted to the stone wall effect. That meant one of two things: Either she was trying to prevent Carrie from seeing she was right or she was trying not to burst out laughing. And, unfortunately, Carrie had no way of telling which it was. “I don’t care about your sexuality-”

“Good to know.”

“-but don’t use it to displace the situation.” She clenched her fists, “Are you in love with him?”

“No.”

Carrie was stumped by the sudden simplicity. “Why not?”

Emotion came back into Lynne’s face now as she sneered, “You mean apart from the fact that I’m sexually repulsed by him?”

“Yeah.”

“Well…” She leant back against the door, “It would be close to incest, since we basically grew up in each other’s back pockets. And- let’s face it- he’s not half as pretty as he likes to think.”

Carrie pursed her lips, “He’s attractive.”

“I didn’t say he wasn’t.”

“If you don’t like him, then why do you keep flirting with him?”

“Because it pisses you off.” She shrugged, “Plus, I’m naturally flirtatious. I can’t help it.”

The shorter woman scowled, “I’m trying to ask you to stop it.”

“Right…” Lynne cast her eyes upwards, “And what’s my incentive?”

“It would make Dougie happy.”

“He loves it.” Lynne’s smile was charming as Carrie glared at her, “Calm it, Janet. Note that I said he loves it, not me.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Thank you…” She wandered over to her desk and picked up her clipboard, “Okay, Bowen. I’m bored with you now. What d’you want?”

“You to lay off!” Carrie snapped.

Lynne nodded, set the board down again and turned back with a patronising smile, “Right. And have you been to the doctor about this?”

“About what?”

She moved forward to pat Carrie on the shoulder, “These horrible delusions…”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Fine, I will.” She strode back to the door, “So why don’t you take your oversized paranoia and see if you can fit it through here?”

Temper flashed in her eyes. “I’m his girlfriend. Why can’t you just get used to it?”

“Because best friend trumps girlfriend every time.” She opened the door, “You have the tits, Carrie; I have the mind. We’ll see who survives the test of time.”

Still fuming, Carrie stormed to the door, “Don’t underestimate me.”

Lynne laughed, “Fine. Fight it. I always like a challenge.” Over Carrie’s shoulder, she caught sight of Dougie coming up the stairs, but he held a finger to his lips and pointed up. Going to Colleen, Lynne realised. The idiot. Well, didn’t that just top it all off…? She looked back to Carrie as he vanished up the second flight of stairs.

Carrie glanced over her shoulder; saw nothing. “I’m not some brainless bimbo you can intimidate.”

“Good. I like a foe with a brain. Night.” And she closed the door firmly in her face.

*****

Coleen swallowed nervously at the knock on the door and hesitated before going to answer it. It was silly of her to be so nervous over every little thing, she told herself. No-one knew what she had done and no-one ever would. It had been a moment of idle stupidity, where she had thought with her loins rather than her head.

She pulled open the door and froze. It was no longer silly to be nervous. “Dougie!”

He gave her a charming smile, no nerves in sight. But of course someone like him would never be nervous! He was too composed for that. Colleen felt immediately silly again for the bitter thought. “Hey,” he said easily. “I think we should talk. Can I come in?”

Colleen instinctively moved to block the door, “Talk about what?”

“What happened earlier in the library.” There was concern in his eyes, “You’ve seemed disconcerted ever since…”  He trailed off; let the memory speak for itself. He doubted that the third floor library had been given a show like that in a while…

“Yeah. I mean: I’m fine.” She inched the door closed to block the gap. “I think you should go.”

The lips in that oh, so appealing face curved, “Am I making you nervous?”

“More guilty than nervous,” she admitted. “But Carrie never has to know, right?”

“Right.”

“We can just forget about it and move on, right?”

“Wrong.”

Colleen blinked, “Excuse me?”