“But I need—”
“For your other needs you can text the mobile,” he said, dipping his gaze to her breasts. “If I’m free, I’ll consider satisfying them.”
It wasn’t until Anjuli heard the front door shut that she snapped out of her outraged daze. Cursing him from hell to Heaverlock, she went to the sitting room and watched the Land Rover cross the bridge and negotiate the potholes past the castle.
Smug, conceited...So what if she’d been putty in his hands in London, begging for his body and handing him hers? It didn’t mean she wanted a repeat performance. If she wanted casual sex she could dress down and buy a vibrator.
Rob’s jacket was where she’d dropped it on the sofa. She picked it up, and before she knew what she was doing, had brought it to her face to inhale his sent. “Arrgh,” she cried disgustedly, throwing it down as if it carried the plague. What she needed was a shower. Cold water would wash the grit from her body and the dirt from her mind.
Reiver followed her from the sitting room. “Stay,” she ordered sternly.
Satisfied with her new-found assertiveness, Anjuli climbed her Gone with the Wind staircase. Maybe it was fanciful, but she felt like Scarlett O’Hara post-Civil War, living in a faded house once full of vibrant splendour. The banister was cool and smooth under her fingertips, its dark varnish worn and discoloured from other palms, other fingers that had once glided along its graceful lines.
The stairs curled to the second floor past the floor-to-ceiling oriel window at the midway landing. The remaining multi-coloured glass panels were dulled with time but she could see that they had once been beautiful. Reiver brushed past her and waited at the top of the staircase, tail wagging as he watched her slow climb.
Anjuli made a face and pitched her voice low, mimicking Rob. “It works with animals and people.”
Taking a shower was her daily dose of freezing reality, but this time the showerhead spluttered, coughed and spat out the brownest water she’d ever seen. She let it run for a few minutes but it only got darker. Then came little chunks of sediment that didn’t bear thinking about. By the time she’d finished heating water from the kitchen for a sponge bath and hair wash she was shoring herself up with the promise of wine, lasagne and Hotel Chocolat heaven. The diet could wait.
“After all, Reiver, tomorrow is another day.”
He cocked his head, watching her from the kitchen doorway as she poured a glass of red. “Do you like your new name? Don’t worry, in your case it means wild adventurer, not murderous Border mercenary.”
Reiver gave her a two-toned bark.
“Ready for a bath?”
He whined and Anjuli laughed. “You’re having a wash or not sleeping in my room tonight.”
In the end she settled for wiping him down with Rob’s towel, rubbing the worst of the dirt off his scraggly hair. By the time she’d finished and gone upstairs, the electric heater Ash had lent her had warmed up her bedroom. At some point she’d have to cram some clothing into the tiny wardrobe she’d inherited with the house. After a thorough clean, that is. It smelled of mothballs and was full of dead spiders and flies.
Who would’ve guessed that what she missed the most from her former life would be walk-in wardrobes and modern en suites? Years of spending money freely and here she was in a musty, empty shell of a house with no hot water, no central heating and no income.
Her most recent bank statements were next to her bed, where she’d dumped them. Crisp pale blue and white reminders that she needed a job, and she needed it fast. Childishly, she crossed her icy fingers. Mac was a school teacher and had arranged an interview at Heaverlock Primary, and a steady, music-teacher salary would help keep her savings for work on the manor.
After liaising with the trust, her lawyer had advised her to ask for a minimum of £80,000 from the bank, more if Brendan didn’t repay her thirty grand. Lacking an architect’s estimates she’d gone for an even £100,000—a hefty sum to lend a jobless applicant with a semi-ruin for collateral. And what if her application was successful, but the money wasn’t enough to cover the restoration and buy everything she’d need to fit and furnish her B&B? And what if Brendan didn’t pay up?
Anjuli settled back and rubbed her temples, remembering her bet with Ash. If she did a good job during the shift she owed her and lucked out at the school position then maybe her little sister would hire her on at the Heaverlock Arms. Full-time shifts should at least cover her living expenses, provided she economised. She could do that, couldn’t she? Swap champagne for cava and buy Home Budget instead of Harrods? She paused, a passion fruit truffle halfway to her mouth. Cadbury’s variety packs?