The Millionaire's Rebellious Mistress - By Catherine George Page 0,57

If she rang him there was every likelihood that he’d refuse to speak to her, so the only option was a letter. But when she’d finished it, the typewritten letter seemed too cold for an apology. With a sigh she copied it in longhand, and then went out to post it before she could change her mind. It had been incredibly difficult to express herself in a way which apologised for her accusations and at the same tried to hint that a reply would be welcome.

When no reply arrived Sarah faced the truth. It was time to forget Alex Merrick, along with fancy underwear and dresses with sequins. Life from now on would consist of overalls, a hard hat, and hard work.

Sarah was grateful to get back to hard labour with Harry and Ian at Westhope next day. In the beginning, because they were too far away for pub lunches at the Green Man, all three of them had taken sandwiches, but Mavis Grover, shocked at the thought of them functioning all day on such meagre fuel, had insisted that she would make lunch for them. Since she was Harry’s sister and Ian’s aunt, Sarah had had no choice but to accept—but only, she’d said firmly, if Mavis accepted payment. Also, the lunch must be something simple and easy to eat during their break in one of the barns, instead of at Mavis’s table. After seeing the state of all three of them halfway through the first day’s work Mavis had given in on this, but beaten Sarah down on the sum she considered fair in return for a few snacks.

The arrangement meant that Sarah ate something nourishing at least once a day—which was a good thing, she conceded wearily, when she was too tired to do more than open a tin or make a sandwich after Harry dropped her off each night.

Fred drove to visit them on site a few days later, to tell them Daniel Mason had been mugged outside his London flat. According to his father he’d been lucky to come out of it with nothing worse than a black eye.

‘Betty Mason is pretty upset about it,’ reported Fred, over a hunk of the steak and ale pie Mavis had insisted he stay to share.

Sarah plumbed a dark side of herself she hadn’t known existed as she tried not to rejoice at the news. Her only regret was not blacking Dan’s eye herself.

‘Serves him right for that trick he tried to play on Sarah and Bob,’ said Harry, and gave Ian the details.

‘If I’d known about it,’ said his large nephew, clenching formidable fists, ‘I’d have beaten him up before he ever got back to London.’

‘Best you kept out of it, lad,’ said Harry.

Sarah broke off a piece of piecrust for Nero. ‘Did Dan have much stolen from him?’

Fred shook his head. ‘Nothing at all. A crowd of thugs just jumped him for the pleasure of it, seemingly.’

Good for them, thought Sarah fervently.

During one of Oliver’s weekend phone calls he suggested coming down to take her out to lunch one Sunday soon. ‘I shall put up at the Green Dragon overnight, as usual, and drive back first thing on Monday morning. How about the restaurant we went to with Alex Merrick? What was it called?’

‘The Pheasant.’

‘That’s the one. Good food there; decent wine list, too. You can bring me up to speed on your progress.’

Speed was hardly the word. Securing and relaying the floors was hard, slow work, and Harry admitted he was as grateful as she was for Ian’s tireless help. Once that stage was over a footing inspection would be necessary before they could go any further. But by the time Oliver arrived on the appointed weekend, attired in a tweed suit of impeccable pedigree, Sarah reported that once Harry had treated all the wood they would be ready to start on the roofs before they went on to the next step of lining the walls with quick-drying membrane to render them waterproof.

‘You look tired, darling,’ said Oliver, as he drove her to the Pheasant.

‘I’ve been working hard.’

‘You never do anything else.’ He shook his head in disapproval. ‘It seems entirely wrong for a girl of your age.’

‘I enjoy it, Oliver. And this time it’s easier because I have Harry’s nephew Ian working for me on a permanent basis.’ Sarah patted his solid, tweed-clad knee. ‘Stop worrying about me. Let’s just enjoy our lunch.’

They were welcomed at the door by a smartly dressed redhead Sarah