‘You should read Emma Hadley’s history. I’ve scanned it and printed it so you can take a copy with you. The illustrations are beautiful,’ she said. ‘You could give a talk. I’ll make a PowerPoint presentation for you.’ A tiny giveaway muscle in the corner of her mother’s mouth twitched and, confident that she was hooked, Tash sat back. ‘Of course, if it’s too much for you, I could give Harry a call. If he and Lily have got nowhere booked for half-term I’m sure he would love to help...’
‘You will be staying with us?’ her mother asked, matching her guilt play and trumping it. ‘Not just cleaning up the kitchen and then running away back to London?’
That was the thing with mothers. They could see through you, right down to the bone. A bit like a sculptor she knew...
‘Oh, I’ll have to be there,’ she said. ‘I’ll be holding an open day on the last Saturday. With afternoon tea. Is there any chance of a few of your scones?’
‘Is there any chance that you will be coming to Cornwall next year?’
She was a mere amateur compared to her mother.
‘You can count on it. I’ve decided to take up surfing.’
Her mother, ignoring that, stood up. ‘I suppose I’d better go home and get everyone organised. We’ll bring our own bedding. And towels,’ she added. ‘Mice will almost certainly have made nests in the linen cupboards.’
Oh, joy...
‘I’ll ask one of the boys to pick you up on Saturday morning.’
‘No need. Darius...Mr Hadley has loaned me his Land Rover.’
‘Darius Hadley?’ Her mother frowned. ‘That name rings a bell. Would I have seen him in Celebrity?’
‘I couldn’t say,’ she said truthfully.
* * *
Tash still had the keys and she had Darius’s permission to do whatever it took to sell the house. No need to disturb him when he was so busy. Except, of course, someone would have to inform the security people that he would be having house guests.
And an open day on the Saturday.
What should she do? Text, phone and leave a message or go and see him? Her mother would not be amused if the police arrived mob-handed to evict them. She had to be sure he’d got the message and if he was working flat-out he might not check his phone.
She would just have to go and see him.
It was quicker to take the Underground than drive across London or take the bus and, since there was a truck completely blocking his street, she’d clearly made the right decision.
There was quite a crowd watching the drama and she spotted Patsy among them. ‘What’s going on?’
‘They’re loading up the horse. Darius!’ she called. ‘You’ve got company.’
He appeared from behind the truck, sweaty, dusty. There was clay in his hair and smeared across his cheek where he’d wiped away sweat with the back of his hand and a week’s worth of beard only added to the piratical look.
‘Hang on,’ he said, ‘I just need to see this on its way.’
‘Take your time.’