Penny Jordan Collection(7)

                Alex knew, of course, that she had once had a foolish                     adolescent crush on his friend and employee but, thankfully, that was all he did                     know; thankfully, he had no knowledge of that shaming and searingly painful,                     never to be thought about, never mind talked about incident that had taken place                     when she had still been at university in England.

                No one knew about that. Only she and Ran. But that was all in                     the past now, and she was determined that this time when she and Ran met, as                     meet they would surely have to, she would be the one                     who would have the upper hand and he would be the one who would be the                     supplicant; she would have the power to deny and refuse him what he wanted and                     he would have to beg and plead with her.

                Immediately Sylvie opened her eyes. What on earth had got into                     her? That kind of warped, vengeful thinking was, to her mind, as foolish and                     adolescent as her youthful infatuation with Ran had been. She was above all that                     kind of thing. She had to be; her job demanded it.                     No, she would make no distinction between Ran and all the other clients she had                     had to deal with. The fact that Ran had once cruelly and uncaringly turned down                     her pleas for his love, for his lovemaking, the fact                     that he had once rejected and demeaned her, would make no difference to the way                     she treated him. She was above all that kind of                     small-mindedness. Proudly she lifted her head as she continued to listen to                     Lloyd enthusiastically telling her the virtues of his latest ‘find’.

                * * *

                Ran stared grimly around the unfurnished, dusty and                     cobweb-festooned hallway of Haverton Hall. The smell of neglect and the much                     more ominous dry rot hung malodorously on the still, late afternoon air. The                     large room, in common with the rest of the Hall, had a desolate, down-at-heel                     air of weariness which reminded him uncomfortably of the elderly great-uncle who                     had owned the property when Ran was growing up. Visits to see him had been                     something which Ran had always dreaded and, ironically, he could remember how                     relieved he had been to discover that it was not he but an older cousin who                     would ultimately inherit the responsibility for the vast, empty, neglected                     house.