An Exception to His Rule(71)

                Isabel went away, still looking worried.

                And, an hour or so later, Isabel, Stan and Damien mounted the steps to the flat and moved Harriet and her belongings down to the ground floor of the house.

                She didn’t protest. She didn’t have the energy.

                Her new quarters were a guest suite, with a sitting room and separate bedroom, pretty and floral and comfortable, with a view over the garden.

                Isabel unpacked for her and brought her a cup of tea but she was alone when Damien came in with a knock and closed the door behind him. He didn’t beat about the bush.

                ‘What’s wrong?’

                Harriet stared up at him, and licked her lips. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked huskily. ‘I...I’ve broken a bone in my ankle.’

                He sat down opposite her wheelchair. ‘I know that but I was wondering—’ he paused ‘—whether you’d heard that Simon Dexter and his wife Carol have split up.’

                Harriet gasped and her eyes widened.

                ‘It’s been on the news. He’s a newsworthy figure nowadays. More so perhaps than when you knew him?’

                ‘Yes.’ She stared at him. ‘I...I...no, I hadn’t heard.’

                ‘Do you play golf?’ he asked.

                ‘Oh, no!’

                ‘I thought you might have had golf lessons in similar circumstances to your riding lessons.’

                ‘No.’ She shook her head.

                ‘So how did you and Simon Dexter get together?’

                Harriet looked away and clasped her hands in her lap.

                ‘Don’t tell me,’ Damien said softly as a tide of pink entered her cheeks, ‘that you ran into him?’

                She said stiffly, ‘Not with a car. Well, not exactly a car.’

                ‘I hesitate to wonder what “not exactly a car” could be,’ he marvelled.

                Harriet tossed him an irate look. ‘A golf buggy, of course.’

                ‘Of course! How dumb can I get? How did it happen?’

                ‘My father did play golf. I was going around with him one morning when he asked me to drive the buggy up to the green while he made a shot from the rough and then took a shortcut not suitable for buggies, to the green. I’d never driven one before but it seemed pretty simple.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Famous last thoughts.’

                ‘You obviously didn’t kill Simon or maim him.’

                ‘No.’ Harriet paused and a frown grew in her eyes. ‘How did you know it was Simon Dexter? I didn’t think I mentioned his surname.’

                Damien studied his hands for a moment then grimaced. ‘Arthur.’

                ‘Arthur doesn’t know him.’

                ‘Penny, then.’

                ‘Penny doesn’t know him either,’ Harriet objected.